The Siren

the siren 52 hr

'I saw the hand of God upon the canal waterways' spoke Mr Fitzgarald. 'I saw how man was spending his time on the canal - his tireless effort and discontentment. 'God spoke t' me and told m' that he wanted canals to be a more better place for us all. Let everyone share what little they 'ave!'

Never underestimate the innovation of the canal worker.

ND D2 E S I N REV DITIO E

the siren (REVISED 2ND EDITION 2004)

Creator Harry Palmer Guest Contributor Olly Shapley Design by Si Walker Dedicated to Sanj Kavanagh on her 37th Birthday The Year of our Lord 12th November 2004 Acknowledgements This publication wishes to thank the Wonders Commission (The Public) and British Waterways and the continuing support by Funding Pending Live Arts The Canal Heritage Centre, Smethwick, Sandwell. Thank you to Eleanor Hoad Updates on website - www.harrypalmer.co.uk Contact Mr Palmer - [email protected] 1

LIFE ON THE RAGING CANAL The Grand Union Canal had a local and national impact essentially on an economic level - making manufactured goods cheaper, travel much faster and trade more profitable. There was also much evidence of social and cultural transformation on and around the Grand Union. As canal towns appeared, their names too took on local significance such as Smethwick. One of the more fleeting cultural contributions made by canal communities was their own language. Many of them saw themselves as seamen and even though their waterway was an inland one, they very much felt themselves to be part of the maritime brotherhood, this gave their speech and clothing a nautical feel. Parts of their music and folklore treats the 'raging canal' as if it was the ocean and many tunes and terms were borrowed from life at sea. Canal folk characters were divided into three categories: the labourers themselves who lived and worked along it, 'marginal' folk who had some connection to the canal (or perhaps lived in a town nearby) and folk heroes and celebrities who migrated to the water, borrowed from other, more established traditions (for example the Tipton Slasher, William Perry and Joseph Darby ‘Spring Heel Jack’) See website www. harrypalmer.co.uk

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William Perry (right) also known as the ‘Tipton Slasher’ with family

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Canallers were mainly a large group of unsophisticated people that formed a distinct and tight-knit social group. Their stories centred largely on the experience of transition from the towpath to the outside world. One example includes the romance between Jack Dwindle and Sarah Conniston. Jack was a mule driver who fell in love with a locktenders daughter (Stockton Locks). It was a common occurance for an outsider to chase an established local. Sarah attended school, was well educated and had many friends in the local town. Jack, a kind simple young man, had no education and yet had a wonderful singing voice. It was said that he sung like and angel! Guiding his mule and set against the competition, he would often battle along the towpath. When he had a quiet moment and to alleviate stress, he would sing many canal and seafaring songs (many of which he made up such as ‘click clock n’ heave n’ shove). It was upon hearing these songs near the lockgates, that Sarah became fond of Jack. After a long period of time they fell in love, often meeting during Jack’s journeys via Old Bush lock. Jack continued to work the canals but wrote many a romantic lament. Unfortunately the romance went no further than the songs. Such were the social divisions that defined status, reinforcing the role of the canaller as an 'outsider'. Additionally, canallers had their own superstitions (wishing on clovers, hay loads and stars) and ghost stories. The 'spirit lore' included stories of battling ghosts, other romantic stories and tales of murder.

Tipton factories near Old Bush locks

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Several people found fame and fortune as a result of events in their lives that occurred in direct relation to the canal waterways. They were often recognisable as real people, but circulated widely as more fantastic tales. Boxing great Paddy Ryan 'King of the Canals and Champion of the World' worked as a locktender in his youth and received his athletic training in the canal village of Long Itchington. Another more eccentric, yet national character, was the Great Leedini. He was trained by his infamous escapologist father, the Great Baldini and spent some 20 years wooing large public crowds. The Great Leedini came to an unfortunate death as he plunged from Asylum Bridge, Winson Green (Soho Loop, Birmingham) in his newly designed straitjacket, ball and chain. It was with deep sorrow and shock that some 1500 people witnessed this sorrowful and tragic death.

T h e

G r e a t

The Great Baldini - Father

Canal day trip to see the Great Leedini on that unfortunate day

Along with those who were 'created' from the canal waterways and those who lived upon them, many folk heroes, myths and stories transcended their immediate times. From true encounters of the fossils of gigantic reptiles found around the Stockton Locks to the boaters who flexed their muscles as the Grand Union descends into, or climbs out of, the valley of the Avon - the canals serve to remind us of mans endurance, inventiveness and sheer motivation to survive.

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SHIVERS AT SMETHWICK PUMPING STATION. When young coalmasters apprentice John Tilterly started work at the Smethwick pumping station in 1897, he certainly didn't expect the supernatural to haunt his Wednesday night shifts! Every Wednesday evening at around 9.00pm, Mr Tilterly felt a sharp and icy coldness brush up against him! On one particular evening, fellow worker Pete Brinkle walked into the pumping station when his dog Jess began barking and foaming from her mouth. So disturbed was Mr Brinkle that he never took his dog back to work with him again! It wasn't until the Smethwick Pumping Station was decommissioned in the 1920's that the ghost was left alone. It is rumoured that the ghost resurfaced again when the station was restored in 1996. It is said that you should never go into the station on a Wednesday, especially around 9 o'clock at night or you may encounter an unwelcome visit!

Taken on a Wednesday night

Troubled Jess

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WHAT A DISCOVERY! Strange discoveries sometime stretch well beyond scientific fact and chance plays an almost unbelievable trump card! It isn't until years or even centuries later that one can piece together the real story. This is the case in the discovery of a piece of coal and more importantly what was found by metal detector enthusiast Margaret Pickerton. On the 22nd March 1984 (late Sunday afternoon) Mrs Pickerton was astonished to find a small ring inside a piece of coal. To her surprise, Mrs Pickerton had pickedup strong electronic sound waves from her metal detecting machine and upon smashing the piece of coal discovered a peculiar ring that is believed to date back to the late Roman period. Archeologists have been baffled by this mystery. One theory is connected to the Jubilee mining works which supplied many of the West Midlands industry with the coal which was transported via the canals. No one has been able to explain how the ring got inside a lump of coal which dates from the carboniferous period.

Margaret Pickerton’s further investigations

Sandwell Colliery chute

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VICTORIAN ICE-SKATING CLOG It was with some amusement that local fisherman, Alf Barnsley, retrieved this skating clog from Soho Loop, Winson Green in 1972. But where did it come from? The story concerns the great winter of 1901 when the entire stretch of the canal from central Birmingham towards Smethwick became iced over. Many people came from all of the West Midlands to enjoy skating and join with the local canal families (who were usually resistant to ‘foreigners’ as they called them). It became such a marvellous four weeks in January that ice skating competitions soon started to occur. Many enthusiastic people made their own ice skating clogs. As you will see from this original clog specimen, many had managed to adapt their working boots to great effect, never underestimate the innovation of the canal boatworker!

Story donated by Ralfe Foster, Foundry lane, Smethwick 2003

The Great Winter of 1901 Low temperature inspector, Tim Boulton BCN.

Original Victorian Ice-skating clog (right foot)

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THE FRESH WATER DRAGON It is thought that a small population of these exotic creatures have become established in the more sheltered parts of the Black Country canal network. Originally imported from the central African highlands and sold whilst still in its brightly coloured juvenile form as a showy aquarium fish, the fresh water dragon proved to be an unsuitable subject for all but the most determined hobbyist, its voracious carnivorous instincts resulted in the overnight destruction of entire aquarium populations. It is presumed that the naturalised population in the canals is descended from specimens 'disposed' of by frustrated owners in the 1980's. The import of the species was banned in 1987 on grounds of diminishing wild stocks. With powerful jaws, a lizard like head and rows of large heavy scales this fish is an impressive, if rarely seen, specimen. The bright colours of the youngsters are replaced by the rough drab armour of the adult after four to six months and fully grown adults rarely venture out of the bottom third of the waterway, preferring to lurk in the depths occasionally breaking cover to snatch passing fish, mammals and edible debris. Ironically the fresh water dragon's closest indigenous relative, the stickle back - abundant in the canals, forms a substantial part of the diet of smaller specimens. It is not thought that the fresh water dragon has any natural predators, indeed there have been no reported catches by anglers, although the creature thinks nothing of taking bait, it simply shears nylon or steel with its formidable teeth and jaws. With the absence of natural enemies and the abundance of food in the canal, along with a lifespan reckoned to exceed fifteen years the failure of this species to establish a large population, and indeed to become a significant ecological menace has been attributed to its breeding requirements, specifically, to spawn successfully, waters exceeding 23 centigrade are thought to be required, meaning that breeding happens in particularly hot summers. The everyday requirements of the fish are less demanding, and indeed it is thought only to hibernate during the months of January and February, otherwise surviving in the local climate quite comfortably. In the light of this summer's particularly hot weather one of our goals will be to search for evidence of breeding, and assess the likely consequences of current climate trends on the fresh water dragon population and the wider canal ecosystem. Report by Olly Shapley, Chief Canal Aquaphilliac Researcher (CCAR) for the Mythological Research Centre. [email protected]

The Juvenile Fresh Water Dragon 8

FLAMINGOS 'HANG-OUT' WITH THE SWANS! In the summertime of 1946, two flamingos were seen on the canal towpath along Galton Valley. It was an unbelievable sight and many workmen and women thought that such a tropical bird simply didn't exist. Whilst they seemed to get on with the swans, moorhens and ducks, the police were quickly brought in to investigate what was going on. They recaptured the birds and promptly returned them to the former Earl of Dudley’s Bournville bird sanctuary.

OUR DOG DAISY

Whilst Daisy was very much a typical working canal dog, she also knew many tricks! She was a faithful dog and would reliably collect the fresh meat from the boatman's accurate gunshots! She was a good dog - she could quickly jump or swim ashore and rejoin the boat whilst it continued on its journey. But what made Daisy really smart is that she could also find duck and moorhens nests and could, it is claimed, bring the eggs back to the boat intact!

THE 52 HOUR DAY

Many of the narrowboat families were simply husband and wife with no extra crew! It was not uncommon for them to spend long periods of time without proper sleep or food. For example, 52 hours was the quickest time it would take to travel from London to Birmingham. Shifts on the steamer were calculated on distance rather than time and this obviously encouraged long hours, days and weeks to make ends meet.

52 hr

It was believed that this was a publicity stunt by the eccentric Earl who had ideas of using early photography to take shots of the flamingos for one of his newly designed chocolate products. He was let off with a stern warning from the local police Sergeant Derek Boatham.

Our dog Daisy (1904)

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Professor A.M. Mayer

Navigating in foggy weather and the 'fog navigational hearing positional system'. Despite intense competition between narrowboat traffic which kept up a healthy flotilla of trade, the tragic collision between the Narragan and the Stonington in 1846 still stands out in history. In the early hours of July 4th, a lethal combination of low lying fog and industrial smog (in this instance a mixture of greens and pale blues; the suspicion was that it was glass ether being released from Chances Brothers Glass Factory, Smethwick) visibility was limited, it is claimed, to just 15 yards. This made for grave conditions and by 7 o'clock that morning both said vessels had collided with fatal results. The tragedy killed 15 passengers onboard the Narragon flyboat and 13 tons of slag heap coal poured from the Stonington into Spon Lane Junction where the accident took place.

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Despite narrowboat fog horns already being used for indicting impending danger, on this occasion they had little effect (the confusion being its difficulty in accurately locating the direction in which the sound of the horn bellowed from) confusing the narrowboat pilots as to the speed and direction that the vessel advanced from. Immediately after the incident, Professor A.M. Mayer (as pictured) first Vice Principal of Mathew Boulton College, was commissioned by Erasmus Darwin (The Lunar Society) to devise a suitable method of audible affectivity. As you can see from the picture, Mr Mayer demonstrates the 'fog navigational hearing positional system' - an apparatus to increase, by artificial means, the distance between our auditory organs to enable pilots to locate the direction of fog horns with greater accuracy. The construction of the device will be apparent from the accompanying engraving. With its implementation to all vessels working in Industrial Special Zones (ISZ as outlined by the Birmingham Canal Navigation Company health and safety policy (now British Waterways)), the fatalities of narrowboat collisions dramatically reduced. Due to lower emissions of industrial smog from now redundant factories, the fog navigational hearing positional system was decommissioned in 1979 . At the same time ISZ's were removed from BCN company policy. No more accidents have occurred.

Chances Brothers Glass Factory emitting dangerous glass smog Chances Brothers Glass Factory typically emitted ‘smog ether’ and on July 4th 1846 it was widely reported that green and pale blue smog impaired visibility for a 3 mile radius. Cases of respiratory ill-health dramatically increased causing the first bed shortage at Birmingham City Hospital as reported in its AGM of 1846. The incident between the two vessels added additional stress to the bed shortage crisis. 11

A STRANGE CHILDHOOD REMINISCENCE Parts of this day I remember with absolute clarity, despite the 21 years since this particular ten-year olds adventure, other parts seem so strange now as to be dream-like. I recently walked the length of the canal between Brindleyplace and Galton Valley in an attempt to rediscover the location of the flooded works which I explored on that day, but I could not locate the site, although it must be said that many run-down buildings on the canal have made way for new developments in the last twenty years. As I remember it I entered the place through a window hidden by brambles at ground level next to the towpath. With my head through the window I could see a largish flooded room with steel joists at the level of the window forming some kind of frame below the ceiling of the room. I climbed in and crawled and swung across the framework, moving slowly around the outside of the room until I found an exit, partially blocked by a heavy wooden door fixed to a sloping slide mechanism. I remember the place smelt of stagnant water mixed with heavy machine oil, which still stained the exposed parts of the walls; at one point near the middle of the room the hulk of some large rusting machine peeped, iceberg-like, above the murky water. Dangling from the doorframe and completely soaking my bottom half in the process I managed to get through the gap and get a foot hold on the balustrade of the stair well beyond. Once clear of the water I headed up a brick walled staircase, which seemed to run up and around the inside off a narrow rectangular tower. I think at this point I became aware that dusk was falling outside, but persisted with my exploration regardless. Entering the first room that opened off the staircase I found the kind of scene that would not surprise someone exploring an abandoned building (darkened peeling paintwork, newspaper, part bricks and other debris, lit by fading day light through a grimy iron framed window with a few broken panes), but for the fact that running in an uneven row, diagonally across the room into an alcove in the opposite corner were a series of low glass tanks, about a foot high and individually perhaps three foot square. The tanks, unlike the room, seemed clean and maintained. They were all filled with water and had beds of fine gravel, most contained waterweed or other plants. They also appeared to be connected by tubes and channels, in such a way that the water flowed from one tank to the next and so on to the last tank which was connected to some kind of pump or filter which fed back into the first tank. The whole set-up was lit with a low fluorescent glow, although I can't remember finding where it came from. Looking closely into the water I could see some tiny shrimp type animals, glowing slightly bluish and moving around busily; fascinated I pulled up a fruit box and sat watching the creatures. After sitting still for a while, looking, I was surprised by a slight ripple on the bed of the tank, followed by a cloud of sediment, out of which appeared the mouth, head and foot wide circular body of some kind of ray or angler fish. It nosed the surface of the water and seemed lo be looking or pointing in my direction, bobbing up and down a bit like a cat asking to be fed. It did this for a bit, really seeming to be looking for attention. Eventually I became bold enough to reach out and very gently stroke the thing's head, between snout and broadly spaced eyes, with the back of my fingers. It seemed to like this and bobbed up and down some more in response, until without warning it turned and swam back down, effortlessly swallowing another smaller version of itself, as it unwisely broke cover, with one lugubrious gulp.

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It was really quite dark now with only distant streetlight coming into the room and my attention was attracted by a slight glimmer in the last tank. Transfixed, I watched as the frondy outlines of parts of the water plants lit up with pinpricks of pinkish brown light and started to separate themselves from the bodies of the plants and as I looked very closely they revealed themselves as worm bodied animals with blunt little faces, spindly limbs or fins and elaborate fern-like appendages; they were translucent and jellyish. There were about six of them, as I was watching they seemed to be performing a slow stately dance, occasionally pausing to swallow some passing microscopic morsel. In the next tank an even bigger fish than the first one loomed up from the bottom and nosed the glass separating the two tanks, waggling its head, body and tail like a tadpole, and shuffling along the glass until its nose was pushed into the gap linking the tanks. The lights of the strange creatures went out in a wave, which ran across the tank in a couple of seconds, and no matter how hard I looked I could see no trace of them afterwards. Leaving that room I went up to the next door off the staircase and stuck my head in briefly. I got the impression that there were people, possibly some bandaged, lying on mattresses on the floor and in cots supported by the walls. I got out quickly, with the lingering impression that I had been in the presence of some kind of disease. Fleeing the area I went down a passage leading off the stairs, and emerged in a more tumbledown building with no roof and large sections of the floors missing. I clambered down another, almost freestanding staircase to ground level. I could see through a large hole in the wall that I had actually crossed a bridge over a waterway into a separate building. The floor was muddy and dusted with white ash, around the edges there were the remains of a fire; leaves of ash from burnt paper work and books, which exploded into clouds of ash at the slightest touch, and charred and rusted batteries, globs of glass and occasional lumps of charcoal. I poked around a bit but found no treasures worthy of my attention, and then left trough the hole in the wall. I edged my way along a ledge between water and building, through a low tunnel and emerged on the towpath a little way down from the patch of brambles that had hidden the window where I had got in. I went home that night with the feeling that I had seen something I should not have, although I was not sure what. I got in a lot of trouble that night for being out so late, and especially because I would, or could, not explain where I had been. Story donated by George Zaman.

Demolished works

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The People's Scrapbook Galton Valley and Smethwick localities (Paradise Lost?) A record and document of canal life and communities. Five scrapbooks have been specially made by Harry Palmer (commissioned by British Waterways and ThePublic). The main scrapbook resides at Smethwick Local Archive Library and was officially handed over to them on the 29th October 2004. The 'sister' scrapbooks serve as a catalogue and feature hand-picked favourites. Each of them follow an A-Z format with each category highlighted throughout (A- all time favourites, B - Bridges, C - Chances Glass factory etc.) Each Scrapbook has spare pages at the back. These are provided for further contributions from the public after consulting the scrapbook keeper. We encourage members of the public to add to this legacy in the spirit for which it was intended. ‘Sister Scrapbooks’ can be found at: Smethwick Canal Heritage Centre, British Waterways Birmingham, The Public. Scrapbook website: www.harrypalmer.co.uk

Galton Valley

Kids on the cut!

Mr Whitehouse 14

THE RETURN. Twenty years ago I learnt one day by chance that the first-class return fare from Wolverhampton to Birmingham by narrowboat was only half a guinea. I had always imagined that Birmingham could only be visited by rich people certainly not by the clerks! For me it was a region beyond the borders of my hopes for ages to come. The fact that the cost of reaching Birmingham from Wolverhampton was much less than reaching my own home on the continent, struck me in the back as wakes up a man dozing on the high-road and sends him staggering forward on his way!

stepped ashore. I was on soil! I saw strange architecture, strange costumes; I heard strange sounds and strange languages. Everything was romantic. Even the tramcar was inexpressively romantic (which then took me on to Birmingham); the postmen with their little horns were fantastic. I could hardly believe it. It was too good and too astounding, too overwhelming to be true. Yet

At the earliest opportunity, I boarded the flyboat to Brindleyplace, and saw, first, the marvels of the port of Birmingham! I had lived in West Midlands for several years and never realised it had a port. I next realised, tossing in the small narrowboat on Birmingham Old Line, that Great Britain was so much an island - a fact with which I had hitherto been only an intellectually familiar, from enforced study of school geography. These were remarkable experiences, but they were naught in comparison with the sensation of first seeing a canal! It seemed fabulous, dreamlike, and impossible. The narrowbaot touched the Smethwick port, threw out ropes and was moored. I

Birmingham Tram Corporation awaiting Albert King

it

was

true.

And

after

sometime I grew somewhat accustomed though never entirely accustomed to the feeling - though since then I have visited Birmingham many times over several years. My emotion as I first walked from Smethwick to catch the tramcar was one of the emotions that I could not conceivably forget, one of the major formative emotions of my whole life. And therefore among the cities and the countries of Europe, Birmingham holds a unique position in my souvenirs. I have gone to Birmingham frequently since then. I have

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entered by bike, train and high-road and each time had the same thrill, recalling my first visit. It was a city in a story; its inhabitants were characters out of unread novels; its chimes were magic from the skies. It had not a street that was not a vision. Birmingham was to me incredible in its lofty and mellow completeness. Even the railway station had some of the characteristics of a cathedral. What boulevards, what parks, what palaces, what galleries, what smells, what cafes and above all what Indian restaurants! I had imagined nothing quite like it! In twenty-four days and nights I saw it all, with the most ridiculous inexpensiveness. A city of priceless gifts! A Bull Ring market with the most exotic treasures and colloquial voices singing above the competition like a choir sings to his master. A language as peculiar and formidable, to this day as an outsider returning to this city - I became aware of the local and civic pride that Birmingham truly offered. - Circa 1891 by Albert King.

CONGER HOAX IN THE GALTON VALLEY! Before I start I wanna make sure you understand, don't print my name, don't print my mate's name and don't print anything that'll give away who we are; we caused a bit of bother with this one and there was mention of wasting police time, at the time, and what's more I don't want anyone sussing us if it should happen that we get the fancy for a spot more pranking, alright? When we come up with the idea was about 4 in the morning as this rave was starting to get a bit boring, me and XXXXXX were still going something wicked and we reckoned we'd do somint a bit special to freak out some squares. XXXXXX can pretty much drive in any state, personally I wouldn't risk it you understand, but he's a bit of an animal like that. So anyway, we drove down the wholesale market, got there about 5 I s'pose, found the fish bit and looked about till we found this geezer who had some whole conger. We got im to gut two of em, can't say I fancied trying that bit me self at that point, and bag em up XXXX knows what he thought we wanted with em, but he never asked, come to that he looked almost as wrecked as us. So we carried them out, which it must be said took some doing, chucked them in the boot and headed out of town. We parked up bout half 5 under the motorway, nice and quiet, no one around so we set to. We took the head off one and the tail off of the other and taped the two big bits up with silver gaffer and kind of stapled them up for extra strength. Then we stuffed some of them long balloons in where the guts come out and taped them up too. Also we taped a couple of spanners on the underneath for ballast, like, so it'd float right way up. Then we got some fishing line and tied that in behind the gills and another bit tight around the end of its tail, so we could pull it along. After that we hid it under some bushes and went back to the car to chill for a bit. Bout half 9 me and XXXXXX got a bit of a look around and found this perfect bit on a bend where there were these two spots, say 100 metres apart, where we could both see both ways without being seen. We reeled out the line and dumped our fishy in the canal where he floated just perfect. Between us we could make the thing look like it was swimming slowly up the canal like a 3 metre bloody sea serpent. So every time we heard a boat coming we reeled it back to the start and made it swim along side with me pulling and XXXXXX tugging at the tail to make it wiggle a bit. I have to say it amazes me what people don't notice, right, I mean this bloody great silver snake thing swimming along right next to ya, 'n' ya don't bat a bloody eye lid, what's that about eh? I think the only one to notice was a bloody Jack Russel on this one boat which just totally freaked, s'pose he had the munchies, yeah. Bout lunchtime we both had enough so we cut the lines and let the thing float off. We thought that was that, but a couple of days after that there was this story on the local news, ran for about a week, about this monster eel, this old dear reckoned it ate her cat and everything. Fantastic! Eventually it was captured by a couple of busies or firemen or something, which creased us totally. Anonymous 2003

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THE FAT FISH Another species in which we are particularly interested on this expedition is the Tawny Plumph, like the Fresh Water Dragon it's breeding cycle is sensitive to the climate in a surprising way, but there all similarities end! Typically a small unspectacular looking fish, the Tawny Plumph is essentially a filter feeder, grazing on algae and micro-plankton in the sunlit surface waters of the canal. It swims slowly and has a permanently open mouth, feeding constantly; it even filters the water in its sleep! Although capable of brief bursts of speed when threatened with immediate danger the Plumph's primary mode of defence lies in the slime covering its fine scales, which has an immediate and powerful paralytic effect on predators making contact with it. Whilst not dangerous to humans, fishermen catching Plumph (a rare event, as the fish never deliberately go for bait) have reported a cold tingling sensation (a little like nettle rash) after handling the fish. In recent years there have been increasingly frequent reports of large Plumph- like fish seen, apparently basking, in the canal (some specimens even being described as obese!), the fish has been dubbed the 'Fat Fish'; at the same time the Plumph population has been seen to diminish significantly, with no catches recorded by local fishermen in the last eighteen months. Experts have suggested a surprising explanation for this - the hypothesis is that the large specimens reported are actually the mature Plumph, which have accidentally been gorging themselves on the large algae blooms that have become increasingly common in the summer months. Unable to stop feeding the fish have grown to unnatural proportions and as a consequence become virtually immobile and therefore incapable of performing their elaborate courtship rituals! It is this that is said to explain the decline in the 'normal' Plumph population. On this expedition we be attempting to collect more detailed data regarding the state of the Plumph population in the area.

Harry Palmer’s journey to locate sightings of the Tawny Plumph at the River Avon near Bristol Clifton Suspension Bridge (2004)

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'THE THING' AND THE MYSTERY OF THE ROLFE BRIDGE Usually on display at the Royal English Heritage Centre in Oldbury, this 'thing' was found in 1912 by a small number of canal workers who were involved in maintenance work near Rolfe Street Bridge at the Smethwick Junction. Whilst the men were dredging the canal, they unexpectedly dragged out of the water the strange specimen (shown below). Police along with nature lovers were quickly brought in to determine what the 'thing' was. It was originally thought that it was part of some sort of bizarre 'ritual activity ' which was going on locally. Many began to use the opportunity to re-ignite community tensions. Despite many months of effort, the police were unable to identify the 'thing ' or the culprits. To this day, the mystery still remains unresolved.

Baffled locals

Maintenance workers discovering ‘The Thing’ 18

THE FILTON HUXLEY. Early on Tuesday 7th April 1984 at approximately 7.00am, local dog walker, Neil Filton, spotted a 17-inch water creature floating in the canal. He originally thought it was a coconut due to its strange shape and texture. It wasn't until his dog barked that he realised it was moving! Upon further inspection it appeared that it was bobbing up and down and staying under the water’s surface for more than six or seven seconds at any one time. As an avid birdwatcher along Galton Valley and a keen amateur photographer, he quickly armed himself with his camera and attempted to take shots. Ecologists and forensic specialists promptly inspected the photographs and insisted they were unable to confirm the true identity of the creature. Some even proposed that the photographs were fake! Filton spent the next summer searching the canal for this peculiar creature but to no avail. Whilst he sincerely expressed his belief in the close encounter, he continued to spend the rest of the year reconstructing its head from memory and studying his poorly defined photographs. Story donated by Neil Filton, 2003

The

Filton

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CANAL WIFE HEARS GHOSTLY MUSIC IN THE CABIN! A newly wedded wife was cleaning up the cabin whilst her husband and work mates were resting from their hard days work (none played music - they were drinking and playing cards!) Everyone was in the mess when Mrs Jones went to check the storage cabinets. After she had completed her errands she put out her oil lamp. It was then that she heard something like a banjo playing behind the door that she had just locked! With dismay, the young Mrs Jones believed that the music was coming from somewhere outside (more than likely another canal boat) and it wasn't until she had checked the storage room once more (this time with her lit candle) that the music briefly played again. She explained to everyone on board what she had experienced, but the others only laughed and said she must have imagined it. Who was it that played the Banjo that evening? Story donated by son and daughter Fred and Suzy Brookes.

“Who was it that played the Banjo that evening?”

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LEGGING FOR COAL Many superstitions were borne on the canal waterways and all of them taken seriously. With legging being a cruel and tiresome activity, there were often accidents. This story concerns the Dudley Tunnel. Legging was hard, difficult and done in the dark. Often before the 12-hour journey, the crew would throw a piece of coal into the canal water. It was felt that the waters were to be respected and one needed to be reminded that their work and livelihood depended upon it. Whilst throwing a lump of coal into the water and shouting “till we get to the other side - God guide us and let us see the animals once more” was a unique canal superstition (canal 'animals' being the normal term for horses, mules and donkeys.) It would often be the case that one of the child members of the family or the wife would then walk the horse overground meeting-up at the other side of the canal tunnel. Before the introduction of steam tugs, some tunnels had full-time professional leggers whose services were used by boat crews for a recognised fee. It was during this time that this superstition died out (late 1890's).

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ROSY MACY - THE BEAUTIFUL GHOST OF PEASBROOKE ROAD After 40 years of canal service, Natalie Flimpsley and husband Charlie had retired from their working life for the Shropshire Union Railways and Canal Company. It was the first time that they had lived away from the water and they now found themselves housed in a newly built estate known as the ‘Jungle’ (now demolished and replaced with a section of the M5 motorway concourse). The couple were most uncomfortable with their new home and although they became used to it, Natalie found the atmosphere somewhat illogical. Charlie felt nothing at all. Natalie soon realised that she was not alone. She would be in the kitchen; washing up, doing bits and pieces, when all of a sudden she would feel as though something had brushed by her. Often the smell of rose perfume would accompany the experience. One evening when Mrs Flimpsley was upstairs, she saw a quaint ghostly lady slide out from the side bedroom holding a bunch of beautiful red roses. The spirit then walked across the landing, placing the roses in a vase and then disappeared into the bathroom. She decided to call her Rosy Macy. Most of the time that the couple lived in Peasbrooke, Natalie continued to have regular ghostly encounters. However, Charlie refused to believe in this ridiculous story and became increasingly concerned about the state of his wife’s mental health. He believed it was all in her imagination. Many days and nights would pass with only Natalie seeing Rosy Macy doing her rounds on the landing (sometimes she was even seen brushing the floor with her old Victorian broom.) One night when Natalie and Charlie were in bed together, Natalie told her husband again about Rosy Macy. This time Charlie had had enough! He got out of bed and screamed in a loud voice 'If you are here, let me know right now!' He looked up to the light above his bed and saw it swaying from side to side! Mr Flimpsley could not believe what he saw and the next morning he put the house up for sale. Four weeks later they were in their new home two streets away. Rosy didn't follow!

The Jungle housing estate which Natalie Flimpsley and husband Charlie moved into after 40 years of canal service. It was here where the ghost Rosy Macy appeared. It has since been replaced by the M5 motorway concourse near Smethwick. visit www.harrypalmer.co.uk 22

SHOW ME A CANAL AND I'LL SHOW YOU A BATTLEFIELD! As you walk, jog, sit by the canalside or perhaps you are a narrowboat dweller, you may be surprised to know that the canal waterways were home to many business disputes and bickering. Companies would argue over water supplies, transportation contracts, land purchases, gauge and toll prices. These weren't simply arguments - sometimes actions spoke louder than words! The canal boatman would often fight to gain advantage of time, access and payment charges or fines.

At the time of the business tender, Mr Bloansky personally guaranteed the tendering company that the start date would indeed be honoured. Unfortunately his commitment to the Italian tomato company nearly collapsed when it became clear that he was two to three weeks behind schedule. The tendering company, Fosters Italiano Tomatoes, were extremely unhappy and insisted that Mr Bloansky appear before them. A huge argument ensued and Mr Bloansky did the most extraordinary act. As a man that couldn't fail, he made one last and final bargaining plea. He stood up from his chair and exclaimed that if he had not delivered the first fifty crates of tomato puree before the middle of the month, he would send them his shirt, suit and tie! This meant that he would have to leave his job as Director and resign from duties. A courageous act even by today's standards!

People were caught - jail sentences lunatics - murderers and thieves! On a lighter note, the story of Mr Bloansky and his white shirt, suit and tie is a classic canal story that has been kept alive. Between the two World Wars, canal companies made a desperate effort to compete with railways. Mr Bloansky was Director of the Fellow Morton & Claxton Company and had obtained a contract for carrying tomato puree from London to Birmingham. Between 1938 to 1949, the company became the biggest supplier of Tomato puree in the West Midlands. To safeguard and obtain the new transport contract, Mr Bloansky had to guarantee that he would shift a further 70 crates from London to the Birmingham HP sauce factory each week! This was a tall order. He had six more boats built with their hulls modified so five crates could be stacked-up instead of four.

With skillful loading and navigation and the vertical stacking of tomato crates above the gunwale, the team of canal workers succeeded in making the deliveries on time. When Mr Bloansky retired from Fellow Morton & Claxton in 1968, he donated his shirt, suit and tie to the Canal Heritage and Safekeeping Society based in Digbeth. He had hoped that this would be a suitable reminder about the trials and tribulations that many senior management staff went through to serve the canal industry and communities. The suit went missing in 1989.

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MR FITZGARALD AND THE CANAL COMMUNITY CO-OPERATIVE A very popular family called the Fitzgarald's worked and lived along the Birmingham Old Line, between Brindley Place and Wolverhampton. They were a family of five children - three boys and two girls and Mr Reg and Mrs Polly Fitzgarald. They also had a terrier dog called Sammy who was the life and soul of the family working narrowboat. She often stood proudly for attention near the boat cabin chimney or slept next to it to keep herself warm in those cold and chilly times.

Reg’s funeral carriage Life on their working narrowboat The Friendship was not easy. For many years they all shared the same tiny cabin quarters. Many families were very insular and rarely mixed with the wider community. They provided their own entertainment and generally married between themselves. Many of the canal population had no formal education. For the most part it is not too hard to appreciate that many of the narrow boat folk were unhappy but hardworking.

There were many rogues and disreputable characters. Reg Fitzgarald was by no means the nicest of people. He was hardworking and didn't suffer fools gladly and he brought up his children strictly and firmly. Reg was well known for two main reasons. Firstly, he was one of the very few who managed to get his cargo of seven tons of coal from Wolverhampton to Birmingham in one day flat! This often meant 'bullying' his way along the towpath. He was twice awarded the workers medal from the Glaxton and Collins Company. Secondly, he used his somewhat uncivilised approach to resolve canal workers disputes. After twenty years of working on the canal he became very ill. Unsure of what it was that he had (it was assumed that it was TB) he spent three long weeks sleeping in his bed and relying on his wife and five children to manage. On the second week of illness, he started to have strange premonitions - something akin to canal fever. This lasted for three and a half days. It was these 'visions' that were to change his life and radically affect his family, friends and 24

the collective British canal working community. 'I saw the hand of God upon the canal waterways' spoke Mr Fitzgarald. 'I saw how man was spending his time on the canal - his tireless effort and discontentment. 'God spoke t' me and told m' that he wanted canals to be a more better place for us all. Let everyone share what little they 'ave!' Mr Fitzgarald went on to set up the Canal Community Cooperative Fund which rapidly grew to over twenty-five thousand members across the United Kingdom. Its main purpose was to ensure proper health care (which included accidents as well as ill health) and provide a pension scheme for canal workers retirement. When Mr Fitzgarald died in 1946, a special funeral carriage was made in honour of his life and work