My Dad Makes Sweets

by Tiffèny Davies (née Bray)

When I first started school, my teacher told my mother that I was the only one in my class who knew what their father did for a living!  “My Dad makes sweets!”, I’d said.   My mother told her, it was because I saw him at work, as the factory was in an old water mill, just off Merthyr Tydfil High Street, across the garden from our house and we would often pop in to see him on our way back from town.

My father at work in the factory

Frederick William Bray, my Great Grandfather, who established F W Bray and Sons, started his business in Glyn Terrace, Merthyr Tydfil.

F W Bray & Sons shop at Glyn Terrace. Photo courtesy of the Alan George archive

Frederick had a sweet factory at the back of the house and he would load his horse drawn cart full of jars of sweets and deliver to market traders as well as running his own stall in Aberdare market. In 1904, Frederick married, Mary Ann Vining, the daughter of a china merchant based on Pontmorlais who also had large china stalls in Merthyr and Dowlais Markets as well as a shop on Pontmorlais.

In 1934, Frederick and Mary Ann moved into Pontmorlais and established a sweet shop, continuing to make sweets in a building at the bottom of Old Mill Lane and eventually taking over the Old Mill that had, until then, been used by the Vining family in which to store China. The Vinings had bought the Old Mill in 1922 after the Millers failed to return from the First World War.

Frederick and Mary Ann had three children, Thomas, Sydney and Phyllis. Both sons joined the family business, becoming Master Sugar Boilers and also helped to deliver to all the small retail shops in the surrounding valleys.

During the Second World War my Grandfather, Thomas, served as a cook with the Royal Engineers while Sydney and Phyllis worked in the local munitions factory, which meant that there was little time for sweet making. I am told, that in order to keep up the supply of sweets, Mary Ann contacted the local Member of Parliament, S O Davies, on two occasions, to request Thomas’ return from the frontline. It is said that S O Davies would take a bag of sweets up to Parliament, to Winston Churchill’s War Cabinet.

F W Bray & Sons shop in Pontmorlais in the 1940s. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

In 1937, Thomas married Anne Berry Powell who had been working as a Night Sister in the General Hospital. After the war, they lived above their own sweet shop at Park Place, Merthyr Tydfil. While Thomas travelled the valleys, visiting the small shops, delivering and taking orders, Sydney made sweets.

When I was born in March 1963, my Father, Fred Bray, was already working in the well-established sweet making business which employed around 25 people; in the factory, the shop on Pontmorlais, market stalls in Merthyr and Aberdare as well as a newsagents on Glebeland Street, Merthyr.

F W Bray & Sons stall at Merthyr Market. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

They manufactured a range of hard boiled sweets, as well as whole sale and retail of ranges from across the confectionary spectrum. Sales representatives from brands such as Cadbury’s, Taveners, Rountrees, Walkers, Milady and even the man from Mars, were frequent visitors. To a young child, it was really exciting to be around when a travelling sales representative was visiting, they always had a case full of colourful delights out of which I might be handed a sample to try.  Sometimes there would even be promotional toys – I acquired a clockwork dalek, cuddly chipmunk (that advertised chipmunk crisps) and even a digital watch that came with Bazooka bubblegum!   I remember being closely watched as I sampled a packet of popping and fizzing, space dust which I thought was great fun and, on another occasion, Uncle Sid handed me a packet of Wotsits, that he’d been sampling, before dashing to the sink to wash out the gooey mess from his false teeth!  Needless to say, the Wotsits were a hit with the kid, and the sales representative got an order!

It would be all hands on deck to unload deliveries from the lorries of large companies and stock our warehouse ready for distribution to shops across the valleys. Our adverts read “Home Made Sweets with Glucose – Good For You!”  We had a burgundy coloured Commer van, emblazoned with the family name – F W Bray and Sons – kitted out with shelves to hold the glass sweet jars and boxes, that my Grandfather, Thomas, used for deliveries to all the small shops, all over the valleys.   As a child, it was always a novelty to sit, up front, with him in the “big van”.

The advent of the supermarket eventually meant that confectionary was being sold cheaper by them than we could buy directly from the manufacturer and, as a result the wholesale of other brands dwindled. Focus shifted to the Bray’s lines and links with the National Museum of Wales, doing sweet making demonstrations at events and fairs.

My mother and father demonstrating sweet making

As I grew older, I have memories of helping in the factory, washing jars, pasting labels, mixing the Braymix and adding colour and flavour to the sherbet. During one school summer holiday, I even operated the cut and twist wrapping machine. I sat for hours, putting sweets into holes and watching them go round, the machine picking up our branded cellophane, chopping it and spinning pincers twisting the ends before dropping them down a shute into a tray. I must say, the novelty quickly wore off!

Although, my Father told us to break away from the business, we could not help but be drawn in and we did get involved, especially when it was all hands on deck! I nagged my Father to allow me to work as Saturday staff and my sister, Fiona and I worked in the Merthyr Market Stall, my brother, Jason, who had a morning paper round, occasionally helped out in the shop on Pontmorlais.

Until 1994, when my Parents retired, they ran the business together, changing the structure to sweet making and travelling to events in order to do demonstrations, at mostly Welsh Heritage Sites. The wholesale business, shops and stalls were now gone. The watermill that used to store china, and then became a sweet factory, is now a garage.

My parents Fred and Pam Bray

My father always said that the sweet making business would end with him and advice was to break away. On the 8 of September 2024 at my brother, Jason’s installation as Dean of Llandaff Cathedral, I remember those words, and how things have worked out. The business did end when my father retired in 1994 and he handed machinery to St Fagans Welsh National Museum of History and his recipes, glass jars and labels handed to relatives in Bray’s of Cardiff. I sometimes see some of our lines of hard boiled sweets in the supermarket and Bray’s sweets were sold at St Fagans from the original glass jars with our labels.

Me at St Fagans

Dowlais through German eyes….yet again

In January, I published an article regarding the Prince of Saxony’s visit to Dowlais (https://www.merthyr-history.com/?p=8138). Here is a transcription of another German visit from “Dawlais Works, die Eisen- und Schienen-Walzwerke des Hauses John Guest, in London, 1844” by Carl Klocke.

Anticipation mounts and, finally, at the end of the valley, where the mountains close in, lie the Dowlais works, and to the left and across the top of the peak is the hamlet Dowlais with a few protruding small churches and chapels. As we approach the place, our coachman identifies one of them as Sir John’s chapel, for it was Sir John Guest himself who had it built, then there is Sir John’s market hall and his estate situated directly above the works; next, the garden for Sir John’s horses and the three horsemen on an outing who are passing us, are none other than Sir John’s surgeons. Our omnibus terminates in front of a small, neat guesthouse on the High Street of Dowlais and we are finally at the end of our journey. One can hear the steam engines at work and the roar of the bellows; from the windows on the upper storey one can see the flickering flames of the blast furnaces which, like a nearby fire storm, then illuminate the bedrooms at night and it takes some adjustment in order to fall peacefully asleep. …

Yet, one would not have seen Dowlais properly without having gone for a walk over the surrounding heights during the late evening hours. At Dowlais, Sir John can offer his guests illuminations and fireworks every evening. By comparison, the famous fireworks of the Surrey Gardens in London (where they fabulously depict the Great Fire of London in the year 1666) are but child’s play. The blast furnaces resemble a burning city, whereas further below, the fires and forges, together with the illuminated tall chimney stacks of the steam engines, looks like a city which has just recently burnt down. In the evening light, the not quite extinguished slags gleam like glowing lava; raised up to towering heaps, here and there on the outermost edge of tall mountains, they flow to the valley like burning streams of lava. … However, to witness one such sight, one must never come to Dowlais on a Saturday or Sunday, because Sir John Guest not only quotes Nelson in saying ‘that he expects every man to do his duty’, but he also adds ‘that he likes to see every man enjoy his Sunday’.

It is for that reason that – except for the blast furnaces which, naturally, cannot suffer any disruption – at a fairly early hour each Saturday afternoon, all other fires and steam engines cease their groaning, and the workers and drawn carts swarm from the near and far factories towards town.

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.

After Dowlais House there was, I think, a house, but it was enlarged for Mr George Martin, who lived there some years after. Then came the surgery, and the entrance to the furnace yard beyond. The railroad for bringing the limestone from the quarries crossed the turnpike here, and cottages continued for some distance on the road to Rhymney.

The road to the Ivor Works runs alongside the old limestone road, and just on the corner is the residence of Mr E. P. Martin, his brother, Mr H. W. Martin, occupying the smaller one adjoining.

An extract from the 1851 Ordnance Survey Map showing the two houses in question.

The first was built for Mr John Evans, and occupied for some years by him, but Mr Joseph Lamphier, who occupied the smaller, moved to Cwmavon, and both he and his sister (for he was a bachelor) rest in a grave there. My first visit to Mr John Evans’ house was when he resided at Gwernllwyn Isaf. His brother, Thomas, lived near, and also the rector, Rev Thomas Jenkins. There was also a school there – small, very small in comparison with the present, but there it was.

A short way further, and the Ivor Works are come to, but a road crosses leading up to the houses behind the works. These were built just after the starting of the works in ’33 or ’39, and several of them were the quarters of the military stationed there after the Chartist Riot at Newport. The captain had been abroad, and brought a coloured nursemaid back. This girl was was an object of curiosity to the tip girls, and, they being so much so, took an opportunity of inspecting if that was actually the colour of her skin beneath her clothes.

Instead of turning to the right, if we turned left we should be on the continuation of the road which is mentioned as turning up the side of the Dowlais Inn. Proceeding along this, we come to the stables on one side and the Market House on the other. The church is a short distance further on the same side as the stables.

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

With the introduction of the railways, no doubt there has been some improvement, but the impression yet existing is that there is more squalor – perhaps less care for appearances. That some feeling of this kind did exist is shown by what was done when a great personage was there.

There was a large order for rails in the market, and the high position of the firm stood them in good stead. To understand my meaning, it is proper to state the town residence of Sir John Guest (8 Spring Gardens) was celebrated; it was here the episode of the balance-sheet took place as described in Roebuck’s “History of the Whigs”. The order was secured, and a Russian prince was coming to see the works. Between the entrance to the works, opposite the Bush and Dowlais House, on the left side of the road going up, were a lot of cottages. They were somewhat above the average at that time, but the gardens in front were not tidy, so Mawdesley, the engineer of the Ivor Works, was called on to design and erect an iron railing which was done.

To be continued at a later date…….

Merthyr Memories: Memories of Dowlais – part 1

by “Sarnws”

If only I could sleep just for one night, in winter, in the front bedroom of the house which now stands where my grandfather’s did, in Church Row in Dowlais, nearly on the corner of Ivor Street, would I in that early morning reverie, half awake and half asleep, hear the frost hardened paving stones ringing with the footsteps of hundreds and hundreds of men making their way to the Ivor Works and the trains taking them over Dowlais Top to the mines and coke ovens beyond?

Are too, the ghosts of women scurrying from the Tip Station along Station  Road and Church Row, past the Bonevitch’s shop,  to Dowlais Market, with a basket of merchandise  in the crook of each elbow to be seen?

Dowlais Market in the 1960’s. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

In those days when times were hard, “Daddy Thorn”, as he was known to the local children would come out of retirement as a sugar puller, and make a walking stick of “rock” for a birthday present.  This fuelled our activities as roller skating was a popular pastime, and Church Row was surfaced and as smooth as silk.  I can now admit to stealing grease from the axle boxes of the goods wagons parked opposite the Stables by the market for my roller skate wheels, as the statute of limitations applies, hopefully.

You could buy spare roller skate wheels from Atkins the ironmonger down the hill from the Co-op, and I often went there to buy “carbide” for my grandfather’s flame lamp.

Dowlais Library was, still is I think, just by the site of the Co-op, and even though I did not appreciate it at the time, was told  later that the librarian was so addicted to snuff that every book was so scented.

Atkins Shop and Dowlais Library. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

I would go to the Co-op to fetch pipe tobacco for my grandfather, which came in a foil sealed tin.  I still remember the aroma as the foil was peeled back.  One of the staff on the provision counter was a  Mr. Sheen, always in immaculate whites.  To see him boning out a side of bacon was a demonstration of skill. In those days bacon was not laid out ready, but cut on demand.  If it ran out you would patiently wait and look on as the Provisions hand fetched and boned another side.

The Co-op in Dowlais. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

If the “American Cheese” came to an end the provision hand would appear embracing a barrel shaped cheese weighing  fifty-six pounds, and cut it up with the wire cheese cutter. Everyone waited, with no complaints.

At the end of Mary Ann Street there stood a bakery which in summer would be open to the world, where real bread was baked.

In Dowlais market the stall always doing a roaring trade was the faggots and peas stall.  Traditionally most people would add a sprinkling of vinegar, probably to cut the richness of the faggots.

One regular vendor was the man selling corn ointment, who, to demonstrate the effectiveness of his treatment would stamp his highly polished black boots on the flagstones.

I was told of one old lady, a self appointed arbiter of the quality of poultry sold in the market, who never bought a bird, but would go from stall to stall prodding the breasts of the chicken on show with a hatpin. She would then pronounce on the quality of the merchandise.

An older colleague could remember the matriarch of a rather rough and ready family who on pay day would take the husband’s pay, go down to the market,  and buy and don a new apron. She would then gather up the hem to form a shopping bag, and do the weekly shop .  When the family had consumed her purchases, they went hungry ‘till the next pay day.

If the term “Disposable Income” had been common parlance then it would have had no relevance for the majority who survived from pay day to pay day.

Dowlais in the 1930’s. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

To be continued…….