Tag: High Street

The Railways of Romance – part 1

Today marks the 140th anniversary of the birth of one of Merthyr’s greatest writers – J. O. Francis. To mark the occasion, one of his excellent short essays is transcribed below, following a short introduction by Mary Owen who wrote a marvellous biography of him.

John Oswald Francis (J.O.) was born at 15, Mary Street, Twynyrodyn in 1882, and lived later at 41, High Street, next door to Howfields, when his father, a blacksmith, opened a farrier shop in the busy shopping centre. In 1896 he entered the County Intermediate and Technical School on the day of its opening and benefited greatly, like many others, from the education he received there. It formed the grounding for the rest of his life. A blacksmith’s life was not for him. In 1900, he gained a scholarship to University College of Wales, Aberystwyth, where he graduated with first class honours in English.

He lived for the rest of his life in London, where he was well known as a dramatist, journalist, broadcaster and a popular public speaker. He found fame in 1913 with his play, Change, about ordinary Welsh working-class people and the problems they were facing as changes were taking place in politics, religion and education. It was the first of its kind and gave a new genre to drama, which influenced writers for decades. Although he lived away from Merthyr Tydfil for most of his life, his knowledge of it in his youth inspired him to write about it in the years that followed until his death in 1956. His many short comedies helped to bring about the popularity of amateur dramatics, especially in Glamorgan. He was a pioneer and he became a leading member of the First Welsh National Drama Movement. He was regarded as ‘a distinguished dramatist, ‘a gentle satirist, and ‘always a Merthyr boy’.

Mary Owen

The Railways of Romance

None of us can determine which of the impressions we are always unconsciously receiving is being most deeply written on our minds. What abides is, often enough, that which might least be expected to remain. It is, too, sometimes a little incongruous, as if memory were in part jester, playing tricks with recollection – perhaps in kindness – lest the past should have too grim a visage.

Setting up to be a serious and philosophic person, I must confess to some perplexity over my remembrance of South Wales. There is an interloping thought that persists in creeping into the midst of more exalted memories. I cannot think of the high places of my early destiny – my home, my school, the houses of my more generous relations, and the chapel of my juvenile theology – but that a railway station crowds unasked into the mental scene. In the station of that Town of the Martyr in Glamorgan, an there, no doubt, small boys, stealing away from the harsh realities of the High Street, still snatch a fearful joy upon the trolleys, and staring away past the signal box, weave for themselves the figments of young romance.

Merthyr Railway Station in the early 1900s. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

The small boy’s zest in railway stations has, I may argue in self-defence, a basis in the deep instincts of humanity. In the old primitive world the barbarian, looking up on the sun, was overwhelmed by a sense of its vast power. He made a god of it, and bowed in reverence. So, also, that unequivocal barbarian, the average small boy, beholds in a railway engine an example of power well within the range of his understanding. It is, perhaps, the same old instinct of adoration that kindles in every healthy youngster his burning desire to be a railway-guard.

Even in this riper stage, when life holds joys more attractive than the right to blow the whistle and to jump authoritatively upon a moving train, I find that a railway station can still exercise a certain lure. To every good Welshman, Paddington and Euston are wondrous places. He may not be one of the happy pilgrims, but it is a pleasure merely to look at carriages that go out under such banners as “Cardiff”, “Fishguard”, “Aberystwyth”, “Dolgelley” or “Barmouth”, and if he is not quite a curmudgeon he can find a vicarious delight in the blessedness of those departing.

But Paddington and Euston have a strenuous air. They do not encourage people to loiter upon trolleys and watch the pageant of the trains. In that station of the Martyr’s Town there was more tolerance. Over Paddington and Euston it had also this other advantage – it did not monotonously receive and despatch the rolling-stock of a single company. Oh, no! It had trains in a variety that I have never since seen equalled. Almost all the lines in Glamorgan gathered to it, just as all paths are said to lead to Rome.

Simply to enumerate the companies that sent their trains to pause under that grimy but catholic roof is to recover something of the rapture of the schoolboy “with shiny morning face”. We had the “Great Western” and the “Taff”; the “London North Western”, the “Rhymney”, and the “Brecon and Merthyr”. I am sorry that, by some kindly roundabout way, the Barry Railway did not run in also. But I am sure that it was then much more than a project.

We small boys of the station-hunting breed knew the different types of engine point by point. We had each of us a favourite. Bitter indeed were our disputes on the question of comparative worth, and devotion went occasionally to the chivalry of fisticuffs. Squeaky voices were raised in partisan abuse. Young eyes shone with the light of a noble championship. (Grown-up people, I have since learnt, land themselves in the law courts for issues less important than those falsetto controversies).

The engine of each company had its own characteristic quality, fully appreciated in our loving study after school hours and in the joyous emancipation of Saturday. The “Great Western” arrived from some vague place called “Swansea” – made after the “local” model, and with its well-known “tick, tick!” rather like a stout lady in a dark-green costume catching her breath after exhausting movement. To many of us the “Taff” was the most impressive of them all. I daresay that on a general suffrage, with a secret ballot to nullify the influence of some of our brawnier members, the “Taff” would have been voted the finest thing that ever went on wheels. How big and burly was the “Taff” engine as it swung past the signal box! How cheerfully it whistled, and how inevitably did it suggest a robust representation of John Bull!

Often did we wonder what would happen if it failed to stop before it reached the buffers. About our expectant platform hung the legend of a day when an engine had crashed right through and gone in mad career almost to the door of the Temperance Hall without. But not for us were such catastrophes! They were the story of an older era, a reminiscence of giants before the flood.

An old print showing the terrible accident mentioned above at Merthyr Station on 16 May 1874

To be continued…….

Jimmy Edwards, Nancy Whiskey and an 11 year old Boy

by Brian Jones

The  atmosphere  in  the  red  double-decker  bus  was  a  mixture  of excitement and apprehension – the experienced pupils were pleased to renew old acquaintances, whilst the nervous first year boys and girls tended to quiet reflection. The bus, with the conductor keeping a watchful eye, meandered down Twyn hill, up the High Street to Pontmorlais, then skirted Merthyr General Hospital and finally reached its destination at Gwaelodygarth, near the  top gates of Cyfarthfa Park.  A mass of buses disgorged hundreds of Cyfarthfa Castle Grammar School pupils, 120 of whom were about to begin the first day of a new adventure.

The ten minute walk through the park would be repeated innumerable times over the next seven happy and eventful years. Amongst the wave of children, some marched at a brisk pace, others moved slowly and deliberately, whilst a few set off on a hurried race ignoring the beauty of the park. Soon each of the four seasons would pass leaving each of their distinctive colours and smells lingering in the memory – the odour of wet leaves crushed underfoot in autumn, the snow and ice of winter, the showers of  rain  that  heralded  a new  spring, and finally the shade of the trees providing some relief on the occasional hot days of summer.

Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

The girls peeled away – on the path to the rear of the school while the boys from 11 to 18 years of age followed the gentle downward slope to the front of the school. Only the sixth form and teaching staff could enter through the quadrangle, while the Lower and Middle schools walked a little further through the yard and into the long school corridor.

In 1957 Jimmy Edwards (left) was the star of the B.B.C television comedy series “Whacko” which was shown on small black and white television sets with poor picture and sound reception. Jimmy’s trademark handlebar moustache, mortarboard and black academic gown marked him out as the incompetent schoolmaster, forever jousting with that errant pupil “Taplow”. Their fictitious school mirrored some of the features of “The Castle” – the academic dress of the staff; the occasional corporal  punishment;  the management of the pupils by the school prefects, all of who seemed like giants to that very small 11 year-old boy. The prefects would dish out lines for the slightest perceived misdemeanours saying “100 lines by tomorrow boy” then to rattle off at breakneck speed, “Deep harm to disobey seeing as obedience is a bond of rule”.

In other respects the school where Jimmy Edwards ruled the roost was very unlike “The Castle”. There all pupils were “posh” whereas at Cyfarthfa the school was a delicious mix of children of professionals, tradesmen and unskilled workers – the sons and daughter of teachers, · electricians and fitters, production operatives at Hoovers, I.C.I, B.S.A and Triang Toys. In the comedy series all of the children were English through and through, with appropriate English surnames. In my class there were Bernstein, Lozano, Jones, Walsh, Robertson, Olsen and Muller reflecting the local ethnic mix, as a result of immigration spread over the previous century.

A few months earlier the 120 new entrants to the school had passed the  11 Plus Examination whereas on that first morning of term they assembled in the old school hall, which would soon be converted into extra classrooms. The stern looking Headmaster, Mr W.  Lloyd Williams M.A. (right) began the introductions and commenced the allocations to forms by asking, “All those who wish to study Welsh hold up your hands!” Then thirty or so pupils were placed into form 2A and the remainder allocated into three streamed forms of 2B,  2C and 2D.

Mr Bernard Jenkins (English) took charge of form 2B. A lover of golf he proved a humorous, if strict form master. Later that day we would meet our new teachers such as May Treharne (Latin); Mr  J H Davies (French) a short man nicknamed “Twiddles”; Mr  A G Harris (Geography) known as Gus who prior to World War II  had married a former school P.E mistress, Miss Florence Price, and set up home near Penydarren Park; Maud Davies (Biology) who lived in Treharris and was a cousin of the Headmaster; the History teacher, Mr G L Williams nicknamed “Nero” and Mr Trevor Jones (English) who lived in Twynyrodyn and who joined the staff in 1952.

Mr Harvard Walters (Welsh) (left) had been at the school since 1936 and much later became the Deputy Headmaster. One of his tasks was to begin the long and frustrating attempt to teach the Welsh National Anthem and school song, the first 2 lines of which were:-

Ienctyd y Castell, Caer I Ddysg a Hedd,
Gloewn Ein Harfau I’r Gad Ddi-gledd.

Many a time he would despair at the “Wenglish” of most of the pupils moaning that they were “a lot of Dowlais Cockneys”.

At lunchtime we marched to the canteen sited in its own ground to the rear of the school where under the keen eyes of the prefects we were taught dining room etiquette. Each pupil was careful to walk slowly to each of the afternoon lessons with leather satchels becoming heavier as the day progressed. New friends were quickly made and by the end of that school day new groups ambled back to the buses, however most of the pupils soon had their school tie askew, and gold trimmed school cap set at an angle.

The journey home on the bus was light-hearted although the prefects still remained in firm control. The older boys whistled the catchy tune of the song  “Freight  Train”  which  had  been  recorded  by  the  singer  Nancy Whiskey, just at the end period of the Skiffle craze. The new boy alighted from the bus at Penuel Chapel on Twyn Hill, with his school satchel seeming to “weigh a ton”, however as each of the years passed it lost its shine and became as “light as a feather”.

I remember with affection Jimmy Edwards, Nancy Whiskey and that first day at “The Castle”.

Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

Family Firsts

by Barrie Jones

My paternal Grand-parents, Caradog and Margaret Jones, lived at number 12 Union Street, Thomastown, Merthyr Tydfil.  Occasionally, in  the early 1950’s when attending St Mary’s infant school in Morgantown, my grandmother would look after me in the late afternoon until my Mother  or Father were able to call in and collect me for home.  By then, my two older brothers were attending St Mary’s primary school in Court Street; presumably they were old enough to fend for themselves but not to look after me.  So, instead of getting off the school bus to the stop at Penuel Chapel, Twynyrodyn, a short walk away from my house on the Keir Hardie Estate, I would get off at the stop by the Brunswick public house in Church Street, which was just around the corner from my grandparents house.

My Grandfather, (Dad), was born in Troedyrhiw and was a coal miner for all his working life.  Firstly, for Hills Plymouth Collieries, and in the years close to his retirement in 1961 his last pit was Aberpergwm drift/slant mine, near Glyn-neath.  In those later days, Dad was a haulier, guiding his pit pony that pulled the dram full of anthracite coal from the coal face to the pit surface.  On one occasion when staying at Nan & Dad’s, I recall him being brought home by ambulance after having received a bump on the head from a minor roof fall at the mine.  He was sitting in his chair by the kitchen fire with his head bandaged and with a vacant look on his face, which I now know to have been a severe case of concussion.

My Grandmother, (Nan), supplemented the family income by ‘taking in’ travelling salesmen and theatrical artists, (see ‘A Full House’ http://www.merthyr-history.com/?p=3526 &  http://www.merthyr-history.com/?p=3527), as well as helping to pay towards the purchase of the house, this extra income allowed my grandparents to buy some luxury goods.  Nan held accounts in several shops in the town.

One, in particular, was Goodall’s Ltd., which was located on the corner of Masonic Street and High Street, on the opposite corner to the Eagle Inn. In the 1940’s Goodall sold general merchandise but over the following decades concentrated more and more on electrical goods and lighting.  Nan’s account there, allowed her to buy items on extended purchase and a number of what may be called prestige electrical items were bought over the years.

Above and preceding photo – Goodall’s Ltd in 1947. Photos courtesy of the Alan George archive

The most memorable item Nan purchased was a television set, fitted in a fine wooden cabinet with a ten inch screen, which was placed pride of place in the front sitting room.  Staying at Nan’s meant that I could watch the BBC’s Watch With Mother fifteen minute programme for children, before being collected for home.  ‘Watch with Mother’ was initially broadcast from 3.45 pm and marked the start of BBC’s television’s broadcast for the day.  If I stayed later I would watch the older children’s programmes that were broadcast up to 6.00 pm.  Up until 1956 there was a programme free slot between 6.00 and 7.00 pm, known as the ‘Toddler’s Truce’, from that year onwards the ‘Television Ratings War’ with commercial television had well and truly begun.  Television was such a novelty then that even the ‘interludes’ would be watched avidly no matter how many times they were broadcast.  Memorable interludes were the ‘potter’s wheel’ and the ‘kitten’s playing with balls of wool’.  The first television in our house came much later in the 1950s, courtesy of Rediffusion’s wired relay network that was installed throughout the Keir Hardie Estate.  Similar to my Nan’s, the set had a ten inch screen in a wooden cabinet on which we could sample the delights of commercial television’s advertisements and their jingles, such as Murray Mints, the “too good to hurry mints”.

I recall that my Nan’s next big purchase was a radio-gram, again installed in the front room, this was a large cabinet with the radio on the right hand side, and, on the left was the gramophone with a drop system for the single 78s, large heavy records that made a crashing noise when they dropped on to the turntable.  Between the radio and gramophone was a compartment for holding a small number of records.  Among the records there were some by the tenor singer Malcolm Vaughan (1929-2010), formally James Malcolm Thomas.  Although born in Abercynon, he moved to 63 Yew Street, Troedyrhiw, when a young boy.  This was not my first introduction to gramophones, in our house we had a large ‘up-right’ gramophone with built-in speaker and storage cupboard below.  However, Nan’s was the first powered by electricity and her records were far more up to date!

Another of Nan’s luxury purchases was a Goblin Teasmade, which was placed on the bedside table in my grandparent’s bedroom, presumably on my Nan’s side of the bed!  Apparently, still manufactured today but now far more sophisticated than the machine of the 1950’s.  The Teasmade was a combined clock, kettle and teapot, the clock’s alarm would start the heating element in the water filled kettle, once boiled, the hot water would be transferred into the teapot, ready for that early morning cuppa.  Strange that such a modern contraption was kept alongside a bed that hid a chamber-pot underneath.

Having a television on the day of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II (2nd June 1953) must have improved my Nan’s street cred.  Then what family, friends and neighbours who could squeeze into the front sitting room, watched the televised ceremony.  I was four at the time and probably I was more interested in the street party that followed and so I can’t recall watching the coronation itself.  I can recall sitting with my mother, and my brothers and baby sister at the head of the long row of tables near to my grandparent’s house.  All the children were given ‘Corona’ Red Indian headdresses and mine had fallen off my head just before the picture above was taken.

The street’s residents had decorated their front parlour windows with patriotic bunting and pictures, and the  photograph to the right shows my mother standing by the decorated front window of number 13 Union Street, Mr & Mrs Bray’s house.  I also recall that there were some street races for the children with small prizes given by one of Nan’s ‘regulars’ who was lodging at Nan’s house at the time.

It is more than likely that in the next decade another coronation will be held and I wonder if my grand-children will remember that ceremony in their later life.

Memories of Old Merthyr

We continue our serialisation of the memories of Merthyr in the 1830’s by an un-named correspondent to the Merthyr Express, courtesy of Michael Donovan.

Assuming ourselves at the junction of the Mardy and High Street, we will try to go (as many did during the turnpike gate days) around to Dowlais. The Star is on the right hand, a small house and shop on the left, the Mardy House being close, in fact the front garden touched the wall of Shop House, and Mardy House itself faced out to the High Street. This was the new front; a portion of the older part adjoined and had a thatched roof. It was occupied by a Mrs David Meyrick, I believe (Mr David Meyrick Having died there). Adjoining the Mardy was the residence of Mr Edmund Harman.

An extract from the 1851 Ordnance Survey Map showing the area in question

Gillar Street comes in, and on the opposite corner was a shop where (if not mistaken) Mr William Harris first opened on his own account; then the residence of Mr William Rowland, the parish clerk. At the making of the Vale of Neath Railway it was necessary to take part of his garden, and the navvies were annoyed at his troubling so much about some fruit trees. Naturally they would move them in the early hours of the day to avoid interference, but on one occasion he went out while they were doing so, and heard one of the navvies say to the other “Look out Jim; here’s the b_____ old Amen coming”. His wrath was not modified by the hearing of this, but that he did hear it is well known.

An opening into the Cae Gwyn followed, and the Fountain public house was upon the corner of the Tramroad. Upon the right side behind the Star were some five or six cottages, and after an opening was passed that came from Pendwranfach, the Court premises and Garden followed. The house itself has been improved since then, but it was always the parent house of the town. The Glove and Shears adjoined, and abutting on its gable was the Tramroad. Just here will be spoken of again in reference to the Tramroad. Now however, we will cross it and ascend the hill – Twynyrodyn.

Some not over good cottages lined a part of the way; there was a better residence on the right before coming to Zion, the Welsh Baptist Chapel, and opposite the chapel was the residence of the Rev Enoch Williams. Facing down the road just above was the White Horse public house, with a row of cottages with gardens in front. There were but few cottages beyond Zion Chapel on that side.

The White Horse Inn. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

At the end of the White Horse, and behind the row of cottages, is the original ground used for burial of those who died from the cholera epidemic in the very early thirties (those who died at the subsequent visitation being buried in Thomastown, near the Union Workhouse).

The road had few if any cottages. In a dell, which may be called the end of Cwm Rhyd-y-bedd, there was one, and some a little further on to the left. The ‘Mountain Hare’ was the name of the public house built there adjoining the railroad leading from the Winch Fawr to the Penydarren Works.

To be continued at a later date…..

A Special Day in the Social History of Merthyr Tydfil

by Mary Owen

On this day in 1896, an extraordinary event occurred in the ‘urban district’ of Merthyr Tydfil: The County Intermediate and Technical School opened for work. Parliament had not yet recognised Merthyr as a proper ‘town’ but it had recognised the need for Welsh boys and girls to further their school studies until the age of eighteen and even to set their sights on a university education, if desired. These were children of working-class and small businessmen parents who could not afford the luxury of private or public- school tuition for their offspring. The school opened without ceremony but in a formal gathering in January 1897 Professor Villiamu Jones, Principal of University College, Cardiff, ended his inaugural speech, hoping that many Merthyr pupils would pass into that college in the future. Over seven decades a fair number did just that.

The curriculum planned for the new secondary stage -‘county intermediate’ schools – in   deprived, industrial areas of Wales was based on that of older grammar and public schools. They soon became known as county ‘grammar’ schools. Merthyr’s school was equipped to take in 100 boys and 80 girls who would pay a small fee. The knowledge of its young people broadened and their quality of life improved. Sadly, many children were not touched by this new venture and still left school at twelve, or earlier, usually because they had to, in order to earn a pittance – often down the mines – to boost the family income. The luckier ones, among whom were budding scholars, knew that a place in the school was a gift; some began to cherish ambitions of going to the new university colleges at Aberystwyth or Cardiff. Parents usually supported those youngsters even though it would mean seeing them leave home eventually – and possibly forever. Attendance numbers fluctuated but most pupils accepted that the new system of extra years and important exams would bring rewards.

Photo courtesy of the Alan George archive.

J.O. (John Oswald) Francis entered the school, at the age of fourteen, on the day it opened. He lived above his father’s farrier shop in 41, High Street, opposite the Baptist Chapel. He excelled at his studies and became a distinguished London dramatist, public speaker and broadcaster. When he left Merthyr at the age of eighteen his memories of the lively town stayed with him and inspired him to write plays and stories for nearly half a century. This is what he told wireless (radio!) listeners about the school in a B.B.C broadcast in the 1950s:

From St David’s School I went to the Higher Gradeschool in Caedraw. For boys whose parents did not send them away to school-and very few parents in Merthyr sent their children away for education- the Higher Grade was the limit the town offered us and it could not offer us much because it wasn’t linked to a university. For a boy who wanted to go on learning, Merthyr was a blind alley, a dead end. Then a rumour came flying about amongst us boys- flying for some of us like a bird with bright wings- a new kind of school was to be opened in Merthyr – a County Intermediate School that would provide secondary education up to quite a high level. And what a blessing the school was to Merthyr! What a blessing it was to me! I was young enough – and only just young enough – to take advantage of the new system. Had I been a year or two older I should have had to stay outside that learned paradise, looking rather hungrily at the gates that were closed against me. I was only a slip of a lad but I had enough sense to see what had happened. Merthyr was no longer a dead end. Merthyr was opportunity. I went for the opportunity with eager hands. At the end of my time at the County School I passed the Central Welsh Board’s examination and -manna from heaven! – I was awarded a County Exhibition of forty pounds a year. That was quite a big sum in those years and it eased my way to Aberystwyth to study for a university degree.

Fifty years on, as Francis made his way up to the school, during a visit to Merthyr, he mused on the opportunities his education had brought him:

 I am one of those lucky people…I realised more clearly than ever how much I owed to the school… I made bold to go in. I found the headmaster, Dr Lewis, who received me with great kindness. We talked together and he went off and came back with a big, brown, covered book. ‘This book is a permanent register of pupils who have been at the school’, he said. ‘I’ll show you your name.’ He opened the book and my name, written in full, was on the first page That got me all warmed up with sentiment… Then Dr Lewis took me to see the Honours Board on which were set out the names of pupils, who had won academic distinction. And there in the glory of gilt lettering, was a record of my having taken a B.A. degree-a degree I went off to work for in Aberystwyth fifty-five years ago.

Francis also hints in one of his stories that he was aware that although some pupils enjoyed the new subjects like Latin and French, they didn’t stay on, having been persuaded by proud collier fathers that their future was in coal-mining.

Others reminisce on past times at the school, now demolished, but of blessed memory:

Ceinwen Jones (now Statter), writes: I went to The County from Penydarren School in 1954. After the Easter holiday the whirlwind that was Glynne Jones arrived to teach us music. He changed my life! He set up a choir when about half the school came back (out of uniform) on Friday evenings. We went on to sing works like The Messiah. Thanks to some excellent teaching I went to Cardiff University to study French and Italian and then trained as a journalist on the Western Mail and Echo. Although being away in Reading for over forty years I have never been out of touch with friends like Sandra Williams, Merryl Robbins, Helen O’Connor and the sadly missed Valerie Baker and Byron Jones.

County School Choir. Photo courtesy of Ceinwen Statter

Ian Hopkins, a former Head Boy (1959-1960), also went on to Cardiff – to take a B.Sc. degree. He returned to Merthyr for long service in teaching and in choral activities: I entered the County Grammar School in 1953 and spent seven happy years there. Two of the teachers – without belittling the others – had a profound effect on my life, viz Elwyn Thomas (Head of Maths) and the inimitable Glynne Jones. The school choir was more than merely a musical organisation: Friday evening 6.00 pm rehearsal was the focal point of the social life of the school. Glynne engendered in me, and in many of the others, a love of choral music that has endured. In the heyday of the Dowlais Male Choir a disproportionate number of members had sung in Glynne’s school choirs.

The school had a three-form entry, one Boys, one Girls and one Mixed. Segregation of the sexes was strict with a boys’ corridor and a girls’ corridor. My memories include playing fives – the fives courts were unique for schools in our area- playing rugby for the school teams and football in the school yard.

One story: when I was in Form 2 there was a heavy fall of snow and a number of us were throwing snowballs in the classroom. Mr Thomas came in and demanded to know who was responsible. Some confessed and were given detention. Others, including me, did not- the fear of Elwyn was the beginning of wisdom! Later that afternoon, I encountered him in town and confessed and asked that my name be added to the detention list. But when the list was called out later in the week, not one of the miscreants was on it. From then on, Elwyn Thomas could do no wrong in my eyes. Perhaps that’s why I became a Maths teacher!

Many others who followed similar or different paths as adults will, no doubt, have lasting memories of ‘The County’.

The school was closed and demolished in the 1970s and the site acquired for new housing. Regrettably, and shameful to report, few records of its existence and of its countless pupils remain. It has been said that ‘even the revered Honours Board ended up on a skip’- evidently unwanted in the new replacement ‘comprehensive’ school at the top of town, part of the most recent parliamentary plan for secondary education.

Nevertheless, some facts and figures survive in an old almanack, published by the Merthyr Express at the end of 1896.It contains an invaluable review of the development of education in Merthyr from the 1840s; this ends with the then most recent step in that development – The County Intermediate School and an insight into the local efforts that were made to achieve it. It was written by Mr E. Stephens, Clerk of the Board of Education in Merthyr Tydfil. The subject of improved secondary schooling for pupils up to the age of eighteen, had been discussed over decades in Parliament, where it was championed by Henry Austin Bruce, MP for Merthyr Tydfil, (future Lord Aberdare) and at the Glamorgan County Education Department in Cardiff. A new century was nigh before it materialised:

The question of Welsh Intermediate Education excited as deep an interest at Merthyr as it did in other parts of Wales and no time was lost in taking measures to secure the boon conferred by the Act of Parliament (i.e. The Welsh Intermediate Education Act of 1889) for the creation of these schools. On the 18th of November that year, a conference was held at the Board Room of the Workhouse, over which Mr W. Morgan JP, then High Constable, presided. It was decided to ask the County Committee to make Merthyr a centre for one of the schools- to accommodate 100 boys and 80 girls… After much negotiation a site embracing two acres of freehold land was finally secured in the Clock Field at Penydarren for £1200, Colonel Morgan, the owner, contributing £300 out of the amount for the building fund. A public meeting, in aid of the scheme was held at the Temperance Hall on March 20th 1891, Lord Aberdare presiding. A premium of £25 was offered for the successful plan, but the one chosen, by a Mr Crombie of London, proved to be far too expensive. The committee then obtained a second competition, on the basis of £25 per head. The plan of Mr E. Lingen Barker of Hereford was selected. The tender of Mr J. Williams of Swansea was accepted for the erection of the schools, but before the buildings were completed and opened for scholars the planned cost had run up to £6,198 3s 2d of which the architect received £464 14s 6d; the clerk of works £128  6s and the contractors the balance. Of this account £1,557 2s was raised by local subscriptions and the county fund provided the rest. (The fifty donors and the amounts donated are listed).

Alderman Thomas Williams JP is the chairman of the local governing body and the following comprise the teaching staff of the schools. Headmaster, Mr Charles Owen M.A. salary £100 a year with a capitation of £2 per year on each boy; first assistant master Mr W.H. Topham M.A., salary £160; second assistant master, Mr A.J. Perman M.A., salary £130; first mistress, Miss Edith Heppel who won a B.A. degree at Oxford but did not receive it as that university does not confer degrees upon women, salary £180 a year; second mistress, Miss Kate Thomas, salary £100 a year. The schools were opened for work on October 12th 1896, but a ceremonial opening is to take place on January 11th, 1897.

The school (i.e. pupils, staff and buildings) established itself in the Clock Field just before the start of the 20th century, in the soon-to-be-incorporated ‘town’ of Merthyr Tydfil.

Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

Mary Owen.

Who attended the former Port Talbot County Intermediate School (1945- 52)

With thanks to Betty Harrington for the gift of the almanack, and to Ceinwen Statter, Ian Hopkins and the late J.O. Francis for the memories.