From the South Wales Daily News 150 years ago today….
A Threatening Letter
Tag: Plymouth Ironworks
David Davies J.P.
By J Ann Lewis
David Davies was born in July 1857, the youngest of ten children.
His father died when David was just seven years of age, and at the age of ten, he began working at a candle factory at Caedraw. When the factory closed, David returned to school for a short time before gaining employment at another candle factory in Victoria Street. When he was 18 he began working at the Plymouth Works Rolling Mills, and after their closure, he found employment at the Ifor Works Rolling Mills.
In 1878 he became a conductor on the London and Northwest Railway omnibuses which connected the train passengers with the Brecon and Merthyr Railway at Dowlais Central Station. When the Morlais Tunnel opened in June 1879, the buses were no longer required, so he became a porter and later signalman. He married Mary in 1881 and moved to Pant, and the couple had six children – Annie, Albert, William, Arthur, Frank and Bryn, Albert losing his life in the First World War.
A man deeply involved in local politics, fighting for an improved living standard for others, he organised a large demonstration at Cyfarthfa Park, asking for 2,000 new houses to be built. He was also a J.P., served on the Board of Guardians for nine years, was one of the founders of the Dowlais Co-operative Society (later becoming its chairman), and he was also a founder member of the Dowlais Railwaymen’s Coal Club, which had its own wagons, and by cutting out the middle-man, saved the profits for its members.
In 1919, he was the official candidate (Dowlais Ward) for the Merthyr Trades Council and Labour Party. Points of his campaign were:-
- Free medical and nursing care for infants.
- Clean, plentiful, cheap milk; managed by the people for the people and thus eliminating private profit.
- Free meals for hungry children.
- Free medical treatment for the needy and sick.
He was elected mayor in 1925-26.
David died in 1940, his principal aim in life having been to leave the town of his birth a better place than he found it.
Adrian Stephens and the ‘Steam Whistle’
by Laura Bray
Following on from the recent article about J.O. Francis’ romantic reminiscences of the railway, you have to ask – what is a railway without a locomotive and what is locomotive without a whistle?
“The Western Mail” had an answer, printing, on Friday 4th January 1935, an article with the banner “Romance of the First Steam Whistle”.
Like so many inventions, the steam whistle was born in the Dowlais Iron Company. Its inventor was Adrian Stephens, a Cornishman by birth, who had come to Merthyr in the early 19th century, and had initially worked as Chief Engineer at the Plymouth Iron Works before moving to a similar role in the Dowlais works in about 1827. Here he had charge of the mill and the blowing engines.
Never a place blessed with health and safety standards, iron working was particularly dangerous, and in about 1835 there was an explosion where one of the old non-tubular boilers burst, with the loss of several lives. An investigation into the incident suggested that there was negligence – smoke and grime had made the safety gauges unreadable, and the stoker had failed to ensure an adequate supply of water was pumped in.
John Josiah Guest tasked Adrian Stephens with the job of finding a way to prevent a reoccurrence, and after some experimentation with a long tube similar to a tin whistle, and then some organ pipes that Stephens asked Guest to source, he eventually came up with a local copper tube, made like a bosun’s pipe, but wider and with a larger vent. The end of the tube was fixed to the top if the boiler, with the other held submerged in the water in the boiler. As the water ran dry, the steam was pushed up the pipe and a shrill whistle sounded, thereby allowing action to be taken before the pressure caused an explosion. Not surprisingly, the workers hated it, regarding it as a nuisance to be put out of action. Stephens therefore enclosed it in a cage, and it was in this form that it was adopted by all the Merthyr ironworks – and then added to every boiler, railway locomotive and steam ship around the world.
Stephens did not patent his invention. Writing to his niece in 1872 he said “Neither in want, nor caring for money at the time, I did not think of taking a patent”. He was even unsure about which year he had introduced it, guessing 1835, as it was before Guest was created a baronet (1838).
But his steam whistle was not the only railway connected achievement – Stephens was also credited with planning the “Lady Charlotte”, the first locomotive to be used at the Dowlais Works.
After Guest’s death, Stephens moved to the Penydarren Ironworks, where he invented, according to his son, the “Hot Blast”, which made the furnaces hotter and more efficient, before ending his career as a Civil Engineer for Anthony Hill in the Plymouth Works.
Stephens died in 1876 by which stage his invention had revolutionised steam safety. He is buried in Cefn Cemetery, within hearing distance of the Merthyr-Brecon/LNWR trains whistling up and down the track.
So the next time you hear the “whoo whoo” from the heritage railway or the magnificent Flying Scotsman, think of Adrian Stephens and Merthyr’s role in that Age of Romance.
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.
Now it always occurs to me that the doctoring system is a remainder of what in other cases would be called the truck system. Pray understand, I know how careful and skilful medical men are generally, and how admirably they perform their duties, yet there is always the thought that the system does not always co-ordinate with those general principles adopted in other things.
My own conviction is that truck in the early age of Merthyr was actually a necessity. When the works really began they were small, and no certainty of continuance. I am well aware of attempts that have been tried in various systems to alter it, but the system seems too firmly rooted to be altered for some time at least. An experiment in the adoption of a another method is, I believe, now being tried.
After a while Plymouth had Mr Probert (who by the bye, had been an assistant of Mr Russell), and so remained until his death, I think, but yet doubt that he resigned previously. Penydarren had Mr John Martin, and Mr Russell retained Dowlais, but it passed into the hands of his nephew Mr John Russell, for some time, and on his leaving Dr John Ludford White came to Dowlais.
This gentleman married a niece of Mr Wm. Forman, of the firm of Thompson and Forman, Cannon House, Queen Street, London, and after some years moved to Oxford, with the intention, it was said, of taking higher degrees. Dr White obtained the appointment through the recommendation of the London physician of Sir J John Guest, and in order that an accurate knowledge of the requirements might be, had visited Dowlais to see for himself. I remember him there, and an incident followed that will be mentioned when Dowlais is visited which will show the kind-heartedness of Sir John, and I hope also to mention one demonstrating his decision of character and another where I saw him weep.
We now return to Mr Russell’s surgery. A little further down, on the other side was Adullam (sic) Chapel, and cottages thence to the road to Twynyrodyn, while on the same side as Mr Russell’s was the way from the High Street, John Street by name, cottages somewhat irregular. The old playhouse also stood here; yes reader. It was a stone and mortar structure, and was for a long time unused.
Further on there was the Fountain Inn, between which and the Glove and Shears the road passed to Dowlais over Twynyrodyn, Pwllyrwhiad etc, but we cross and a few yards brings me to what was the boundary wall of Hoare’s garden, which continued down to where the line to Dowlais is now.
It has been my pleasure to see many gardens, but in all my experience I never saw one kept in such trim as this. Upon its being taken for the railway, Hoare started a garden and public house, if I remember well, at Aberdare Junction. Owing to the Taff Vale Company not allowing anyone to cross the line, a very long way around became a necessity to get there, and he did not do as well as anticipated or (I think) deserved.
Lower down the tramroad were some cottages on the right hand side, in one of which, adjoining the Shoulder of Mutton, a cask of powder exploded. It was kept under the bed upstairs for safety, and, lifting the roof off its walls, it fell some dozen yards away. The roof was covered with the thin flagstones often used and very little damaged. No one was fatally injured but one or two were injured, and altogether it was a wonderful escape. Moral: Do not keep a cask of explosive material upstairs under the bed!
To be continued at a later date……
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.
There has not been much reference yet to Caedraw, nor can there be much recalled to describe. The Gas Works were erected here, a Mr Evans being the first manager, and a brother of his the deputy. There were two breweries near the end of the road joining Bridge Street, one owned by a Mr John Toop; the other, which was smaller, owned by Mr Anstie, who kept the shop in Pontmorlais previously. This Mr Anstie bought the property between the road in Caedraw and the Isle of Wight, and came to reside there after improving the buildings.
The basin tramroad was ordinarily used as a pedestrian thoroughfare, in fact many houses had no other way of approach. I cannot recall anyone ever being prevented from walking the tramroad, although it might not have always been judicious to do so on account of safety. Things are so altered now, and we are accustomed to the change, that it takes consideration to recall things quite decidedly. For instance, brakes to slacken the speed or stop conveyances were unknown. The ‘sprag’ was the only thing used, and these projected at variable distances from the wheels of the trams, if the trams were going fast – for they would occasionally run wild – it was a serious matter to be caught in any narrow part of the road. It was also a hazardous thing for the haulier to put them in or take them out, and many a limb as well as life has been lost by a slip.
As one instance of there being no other way of going to or coming from a residence on the Tramroad, somewhere behind the Morlais Castle Inn can be cited. It was the residence of Mr Roger Williams (I think it was his own property). He was a public functionary, but whether relieving officer or assistant overseer is not remembered now. If we went down the Tramroad towards Twynyrodyn, before coming to Professional Row we should see a door on the right hand. This is where a Mr Russell stayed. He was a brother of the Mr Russell who was the doctor of Dowlais, Penydarren and Plymouth Works at one time. He lived in the lowest of the three houses in Professional Row, and his surgery was at the back with public entrance from the Tramroad.
Old Mr Russell, his brother, and others attended the surgery, but the one very often attendant upon the patient was the brother, about whom I remember the remark that after enquiring as to symptoms he always gave two pills in a paper, and the patients were often (very often) so hurt, that the pills used to be thrown over the Tramroad wall into the field on the other side, whence they were collected to again be served out.
To be continued at a later date……
George Overton, Engineer
I’m sure we’ve all heard of Overton Street in Dowlais, but do we know about the person it was named after? George Overton, engineer, is a person who figures prominently in Merthyr’s History, but about whom very little is known.
Information about George Overton’s early life is very scanty, and sources differ as to his date of birth. Some sources state that he was born on 16 January 1775 at Cleobury Mortimer in Herefordshire (others say he was born in 1774), and the next 20 or so years remain a mystery. In his 1825 publication, A Description of the Faults or Dykes of the Mineral Basin of South Wales (right), however, he would describe himself as a practical man who had made and used tramroads “… during the greater part of the last thirty years … having surveyed and constructed roads of some hundred miles’ extent in different parts of the kingdom …”
By the turn of the 19th Century, he had moved to Merthyr, and worked on the Dowlais Tramroad, connecting the Dowlais Ironworks to the Glamorganshire Canal in about 1791-3. This new 4ft 2in gauge tramroad costing £3,000, allowed horse-drawn wagons moving coal and iron – his scheme enabling each horse to pull 9-10 tonnes going downhill.
Soon after this, Overton was working on the Merthyr Tramroad. Commissioned by the owners of the Dowlais, Penydarren and Plymouth Works to counter the control that Richard Crawshay of Cyfarthfa Ironworks held over use of the canal, the 4ft 2in gauge tramroad was nearly 16km long and ran between Merthyr Tydfil and Abercynon. The tramroad secured its place in history when Richard Trevithick’s steam test took place here in 1804, two years after Overton completed his supervision.
From 1803, Overton had an interest in Hirwaun Ironworks in the Cynon Valley, as a partner in Bowzer, Overton & Oliver. He constructed a tramroad from Hirwaun to Abernant (1806-8), followed by work on the Llwydcoed Tramroad for the Aberdare Canal Company, and Brinore Tramroad.
In 1805 Overton married Mary, and they would go on to have six children.
In 1818 he was consulted by mine owners in County Durham, beginning his involvement in the development of what became the Stockton & Darlington Railway. Two canal schemes had failed to materialise and Overton recommended a horse-drawn tramway. His survey detailed an 82km route that he costed at £124,000, and was the first ever survey for a railway. After difficulties with landowners and re-surveys in 1819 and 1820 to shorten the route, his work was taken forward to Parliament but on the passing of the Bill, steam railway pioneer George Stephenson (1781-1848) took over. Stephenson’s team undertook a new survey and the rest, as they say, is history.
Overton had very definite ideas about tramroads and railways and how to construct them. His design for wooden trams (wagons) was adopted across most of South Wales. His expertise in this field seems to have prevented him from fully appreciating the advantages of steam locomotion “… except in particular instances, and in peculiar situations.” His last project was Rumney Railway, a plateway from Rhymney Ironworks to the Monmouthshire Canal Tramroad near Newport. It opened a year after the Stockton & Darlington Railway.
In 1815 Overton and his family moved to Llandetty near Talybont-on Usk where he died on 2 February 1827.
Notes on the Merthyr Tydfil Tramroads – part 1
by Gwilym and John Griffiths
TRAMROAD: According to the Oxford Concise English Dictionary, ‘tramroad’ is now an historical word: a road with wooden, stone or metal wheel-tracks; a ‘tramway’. Strictly speaking, ‘tramroad’ should be written ‘tram-road’ with a hyphen, but the spelling variation ‘tramroad’ has been used commonly in this district. There were many tramroads constructed in this valley in so-called ‘historical’ times, though we can still recall many of them very well indeed and had much fun in our youth having rides on the trams.
Blaen Cannaid Tramroad: This tramroad linked several of the ironstone and coal levels, as well as later mines and collieries, in the hamlet of Gelli Deg to Cyfarthfa Works. The tramroad started at some ironstone levels about 900-1,000 feet above sea-level near Blaen Cannaid, not far from the site of the sixteenth century iron bloomery or small furnace. The route of the tramroad went between Pen y Cae and Pen y Coedcae, crossing the (unnamed?) stream which fed the small reservoir near Lower Colliers Row; and thence over Nant Cwm y Glo to Cwm y Glo Colliery and Ironstone Mine.
Thereafter it continued northwards to Coedcae Ironstone Mine, over Nant Cwm Pant Bach, across the road Heol Gerrig, linking with Cwm Cannaid Tramroad at the coke yards behind the furnaces at Cyfarthfa Works. We often walked the area in the 1940s and 1950s but recall nothing of note: merely grassed-over waste tipping, etc. What a pity?
Clyn Mil Tramroad: This tramroad went from Plymouth Works up the steep Clyn Mil Incline to the east, past Prospect House (where some distant cousins of ours, the Coles, lived in the 1940s) and Tir Clyn Mil Uchaf and its lime kiln (where our great-great grandparents, David and Mary Morgan, lived and died), and then turning south towards Clyn Mil Colliery and Ironstone Mine.
One link from the tramroad deviated further up the mountainside via Coedcae and the Clyn Mil Inclined Plane to several ‘unnamed’ ironstone levels and southwards to waste tipping on Gwern Las land. Another link went to ‘Waun’ Coal Level on Gwern Las property. Another link went to a clay pit on the south side of Clyn Mil Pond and another tramroad linked northwards to ‘New’ Pit (one shaft for coal and another for ironstone) close to Tir Cwm ‘Blacks’ and then on to the brickworks at Tre Beddau.
A very extensive network of lesser roads, some only temporary, covered the higher part of Tir Clyn Mil and Tir Wern Las and these were used either for transporting ironstone or waste tipping. We have no idea as to dates or any other details, but walked all of these routes on numerous occasions, long after the tramroad lines had been removed, in the 1940s and 1950s. It was a barren area then, with industry all gone, but the despoliation was gradually returning to nature again. Here were the homes of redstarts, wood warblers, even wood larks, with skylarks, meadow pipits and cuckoos towards the higher moorland portions. There is surprisingly little information in print about the Plymouth Works as far as we can trace.
To be continued….
Bare Knuckles, White Ladies and Martyred Rebels: The Mythic Townscape of Merthyr Tydfil
by Gareth E Rees
The article below is copied, courtesy of Gareth E Rees from his website Unofficial Britain. To view the original article, please follow this link: http://www.unofficialbritain.com/bare-knuckles-white-ladies-and-martyred-rebels-the-mythic-townscape-of-merthyr-tydfil/
In the year leading up the (Not So) Great Pandemic, I was fortunate enough to take a trip around Wales, researching my book, Unofficial Britain on a sunny weekend in spring.
It was just me, my car and a smartphone. Plus some underpants. Clean ones, at that. No expense spared. Those were the days when you could buy pants on a whim, simply by walking into a clothes shop.
One of my aims of my trip was to explore the Brymbo steelworks near Wrexham, where my grandfather worked until his death in 1976, and where my uncle worked until the factory closed in 1990.
As I was to discover, the ruins of the Brymbo works are haunted by a bottom-pinching phantom steelworker and two black dogs, which I saw with my very own eyes, but that is a story you can read in the book when it comes out.
While I was in North Wales, I was accompanied to the secret mustard gas factory nestled in the Rhydymwyn Valley by Bobby Seal, who wrote about it for Unofficial Britain in 2015: The Valley Works: Mendelssohn, Mustard Gas and Memory.
On the second day of my mini-tour I drove to South Wales, stopping at Port Talbot to look at its still-functioning steelworks, where a monk is said to haunt the grounds of Tata Steel (more of that in my forthcoming book, too).
As I approached Cardiff, I decided on a detour to Merthyr Tydfil, once the great industrial centre of the British Empire, dominated by four ironworks: Plymouth, Penydarren, Dowlais and Cyfarthfa. By the 1830s, the latter two had become the largest in the world.
As iron made way for steel in the latter half of the 19th century, the Ynysfach Ironwork closed. Its Coke ovens became a hub for the homeless, destitute and society’s outsiders. At the time is was considered a den of boozing, thievery and prostitution, but it may well have great place to hang out and – from the perspective of today – at least they could all be closer than 2 metres apart.
It was here where local bare knuckle fighter Redmond Coleman became locked in an epic battle with his rival, Tommy Lyons. The fight is said to have lasted over three hours, leaving both men flat out on the ground at the end, panting with exhaustion. It would have made the infamously long fist-fight scene in John Carpenter’s They Live seem like a minor playground scuffle. Redmond Coleman was so attached to the place that he later claimed his spirit would never leave Merthyr and instead would remain to haunt the Coke Ovens.
This form of afterlife was to be the fate of Mary Ann Rees. Alas, she had no choice in her decision to haunt Merthyr Tydfil. In 1908 she was murdered by her boyfriend, William Foy, whom she had followed into Merthyr on her final evening alive, suspecting him of sleeping with someone else. Her broken body was found in a disused furnace. Rees is considered to be the White Lady who today haunts the old engine house: a sad lady in a long, flowing dress.
The decline of the coal, iron and steel industries devastated Merthyr but it remained a hub for manufacturing. In the 20th century the Hoover factory employed over 4,000 people, with its own sports teams, social clubs, fire brigade and library.
In 1985, Sir Clive Sinclair’s infamous C5 battery operated vehicle went into production at the factory. A local urban myth was that the motors for the CV were, in fact, repurposed Hoover washing motors. They created only 17,000 units before operation was shut down six months later.
The factory closed in 2009 and remains a quiet hulk by the Taff at the edge of the town. Across the road is a derelict car park, its tarmac crumbling, with moss and grass creeping across the last faded parking bay lines.
A majestic pylon inside the perimeter of the abandoned car park slings electricity over the factory to the other side of the valley, where its brethren have amassed on the hills in great numbers. Whatever has happened in the past century, power still pulses through the town, coursing through the veins of Wales.
The fall of the Hoover factory was another blow to the economically stricken town, which might have lost its role in the world, but keeps its story alive in public artworks that I saw on my journey.
The past is never far away when you walk through Merthyr, a townscape saturated in industrial lore.
… Near St. Tydfil’s Church is an ornate drinking fountain on a raised plinth. It commemorates the pioneers of the South Wales steam coal trade. Its canopy is adorned with steel motifs of coal wheels, steamboats and a miner with a pickaxe.
…On a modern brick wall in the town centre, beneath a ‘To Let’ sign, is an abstract frieze of the industrial landscape.
….A pub that has opened in the restored water board building is named The Iron Dragon, with two resplendent golden dragons sculptures jutting from either side of the stone columns that frame the door.
…The Caedraw Roundabout outside the Aldi contains a sculpture by Charles Sansbury, which transforms an earth-bound pit winding gear into a 12 metre tall spire, surrounded by a crescent of standing stones, positing some link in the imagination between the Neolithic and the industrial revolution.
…Pink granite benches are engraved with poems about the industrial past. “the stalks of chimneys bloomed continuous smoke and flame”, says one by Mike Jenkins. Another quotes the scientist Michael Faraday:
“The fires from the hills shone very bright into my room and the blast of the furnace kept up a continual roar.”
On another bench I read lines from ‘Merthyr’ a poem by local lad, Glyn Jones:
“…I find what rustles/ Oftenest and scentiest / through the torpid trees / Of my brain-pan, is some Merthyr-mothered breeze”.
In that same poem, Jones describes the post-industrial town’s decayed slum areas mid-century as “battered wreckage in some ghastly myth”.
On this bench pictured below, was a reference to Dic Penderyn and the 1831 Merthyr uprising.
At that time, the town was home to some of the most skilled ironworkers in the world. But unrest was growing….
Locals were increasingly angry about their inadequate wages, while they were lauded over by the industrialists of the town. It was time for change, but they were hopelessly disenfranchised with only 4% of men having the right to vote.
In May 1831, workers marched through the streets, demanding Parliamentary reform, growing rowdier as their ranks swelled. They raided the local debtors’ court, reclaiming confiscated property and destroying the debtors’ records. Growing nervous about the rebellion, which was beginning to spread to other villages and towns, the industrial bosses and landowners called in the army.
On June 3rd, soldiers confronted protestors outside the Castle Inn and violence broke out. After the scuffle, Private Donald Black lay wounded, stabbed in the back with a bayonet by an unseen assailant.
Despite there being no evidence that young Richard Lewis committed the act, he was accused of the crime and sentenced to death by hanging, disregarding the petition of the sceptical townsfolk, and even doubting articles in the local newspaper. The government wanted the death of a rebel as an example to others, and poor Dic Penderyn was to be it, regardless of trifling matters like proof.
He is now an important cult figure in the working class struggle, buried in his hometown of Port Talbot, but remaining here in spirit, one small burning flame of Merthyr’s fiery legacy.
To buy a copy of Gareth’s book, please follow the link on his site.
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.
Behind this part, and alongside the river, was the quarter whose savour was anything but respectable; it was known as China. It only went down the riverside a short way, from which to the Morlais Brook the cinder tip abutted on to the river.
An extract from the 1851 Ordnance Survey map of Merthyr showing the location of China.
The locality was also called Pontstorehouse, the origin of this name, according to my idea, being from the storehouse for general housing of the shop goods being a little way beyond Jackson’s Bridge on the right hand. It was, of course, on the canal bank, and the wharfinger, or storehouse keeper, was a Mr Lewis Williams of Cardiff. There was also another storehouse a little lower on the other side of the canal, kept by Mr Mathew Pride of Cardiff, but it had not the traffic of the upper one.
Between these there were one or two private stores, one of which belonged to Mr Christopher James, already alluded to. The wharves of the Dowlais and Penydarren Companies were between the canal and the river. First came the Dowlais one, with a house so that oats or other material damageable by rain could be discharged; then the Penydarren Wharf, walled round with an entrance gate (the Dowlais one described above also had its entrance doors) and adjoining was the other Dowlais Wharf, used solely for the discharge of hematite ore, or other kindred material. The tramroad ran to the end of this wharf and no further. There was a building below, which afterwards altered and converted into a brewery. It was afterwards owned by Mr David Williams.
Having reached the terminus of the canal branch of the Old Tramroad, we could go straight on and join the road between the canal and Iron Bridges; but by so doing some parts would be omitted.
To return to the road passing over Jackson’s Bridge. Crossing the Canal Bridge between the Dowlais Wharf, partly covered, and Upper Storehouse, the first house on the left having entrance from the towing-path was occupied by Mr William Harrison, the clerk of the canal, whose office was at the Parliament Lock, a short distance down the canal, and nearly opposite the Ynysfach Works, on the other side of the canal.
There being some descendants of that name yet residing, I may perhaps interest them by saying Mr Harrison himself was rather short, inclined to be stout, and fond of his garden, which was kept in very good order. It is not for me to pry into anyone’s private history; but as it is clear that he was at one time engaged in the Forest of Dean, probably in connection with the timber of encroachments, he then took a wife, and a real good, kind woman she was. One of their sons was named Maynard Colchester (who became cashier at the Dowlais Ironworks), which indicates her to have been one of the family whose home was called the Wilderness, not very far from Mitchel Dean or Dean Magna.
Mr Harrison was a great hand at trigonometry. Keith being the author of his ideal books on those subjects. There were five sons and two daughters. Mr Harrison resided at one time at Pencaebach House, and was engaged at Plymouth Works. It is said he wrote to Pitt suggesting the putting of tax on the manufacture of iron, and suggesting that his own knowledge of the trade rendered his services of great value in the collection of such tax, if imposed. If I mistake not, this may be read by his grandchildren, and to them and every other whose name may be mentioned, I beg to tender as assurance that nothing is said but with due respect.
The road around to the Iron Bridge passed on one side of Mr Harrison’s garden, and the towing path of the canal on the other; but before turning down that road, let us glance around. One road is to the right, and led to the Nantygwenith turnpike gate; the road in front led up the hill to to Penyrheolgerrig, and on to Aberdare over the hill. A tramroad from Cyfarthfa to the Ynysfach Works crossed somewhat diagonally, and passed behind the Dynevor Arms, the first house on the left having only the road between it and the Canal House.
To be continued at a later date…..
As an addition to this piece, I would like to send my best wishes to Mike Donovan who provided these marvellous articles. Mike has been unwell lately, and I, (personally and on behalf of everyone who knows him) would like to wish him a speedy recovery.
Merthyr’s Bridges: The Brandy Bridge – part 2
Within a matter of years of opening, people started remarking on the instability of the new ‘Brandy Bridge’. It was not uncommon for the bridge to ‘bounce’ if a horse and cart drove over it. In 1925 the driver of a road-roller reported serious movement in the bridge as he passed over it. When tested, it was noticed that each cross-girder twisted seriously as the roller drove across the bridge over a certain speed, but would then correct themselves after the roller had passed. After structural tests were performed, it was concluded that the cross-girders were too lightly constructed for the traffic using the bridge, and a two-ton maximum weight limit was imposed.
The Borough Council became increasingly worried about the situation. Of major concern was the fact that if a serious fire broke out in Abercanaid, the fire brigade would be unable to attend as the fire-engine weighed well in excess of two tons. The Borough Engineer examined the possibility of using one of the other bridges nearby – the ‘First Brandy Bridge’ or the old Llwyn-yr-Eos Bridge further down the river. Neither of these proved a viable solution due the cost and length of time it would take to make either bridge structurally sound enough to carry road traffic.
Again, bureaucracy between several parties intervened, and it wasn’t until 26 July 1929 that a start was finally made on a solution – constructing a ferro-concrete arch over the Taff, using the existing abutments, with reinforced concrete girders spanning the Great Western (formerly Taff Valley) Railway line, and the Plymouth Railway line being lowered to permit the line of the roadway to be maintained. The contract for the work was given to Lewis Harpur, grandson of Samuel Harpur who oversaw the construction of the original bridge. The repairs cost £4,430 and the bridge re-opened to traffic on 28 February 1934.
In December 1965, after exceptionally heavy rainfall, the River Taff turned into a torrent. The Plymouth Weir roughly 450 yards downstream, which had been disintegrating for some time, finally collapsed, releasing all the debris and silt which had been accumulating behind it. With the removal of this ‘barrier’ the flow of the river increased rapidly, undermining the foundations of the abutment on the west side of the bridge. The bottom of the abutment was ripped from its base, taking with it the bottom end of the arch, and consequently twisting the whole arch structure and breaking the roadway from the abutment. Below are some photos showing the damage.
The bridge was rendered unusable. Within five days a temporary Bailey Bridge was installed by the army, which remained in operation until a new bridge was built.
The new bridge, the ‘Third Brandy Bridge’ was built down river from the old bridge. A reinforced concrete structure, it opened in December 1967, and is still in used today carrying traffic over the river and railway into Abercanaid.
Of the two previous bridges there is no trace. The first bridge was dismantled during the 1960’s, and the second shortly after the new bridge opened.
That is the story of the ‘Brandy Bridge’…but not quite. One question remains – why is it called the ‘Brandy Bridge’?
The original bridge was informally called the cinder bridge, built to carry waste from Anthony Hill’s works to Abercanaid,and the story goes that the trams that were used to transport the waste over the bridge were horse-drawn. Apparently the horse in question was called ‘Brandy’, and it is said that the bridge was renamed in his honour. How true this story is remains unclear, but it would be nice to think that there was some truth in it, and that a simple, hard-working horse was remembered in this way.