I’ve written about the Byker Viaduct before, including as recently as July, but I’ve just found this brilliant video about its construction:

I’ve long understood that it was notable for the sections being glued together, but I couldn’t quite visualise what that meant: it turns out it simply means spreading glue, by hand, on the two surfaces and spreading them together. Remarkable!

I also didn’t know that the arches in the supports were designed to allow sections of the viaduct to pass under them as part of the construction process, which is a very neat solution.

Born in 1837, Thomas Burt began working as a trapper boy, opening and closing trapdoors to let mining cars through, at the Haswell Pit at the age of 10. Just eighteen years later, he was elected the General Secretary of the Northumberland Miners’ Association—a post he held for the following fifty years.

In 1874, he was elected to Parliament, partly on a platform of truly universal suffrage—radical for a time when even campaigning for all men to have the vote was seen as bold. He lived until he was 84, but even that wasn’t long enough to see the franchise equalised across the adult population.

When the Northumberland Miners’ Association built its new headquarters in 1895, they named it ‘Burt Hall’ in his honour—which must have seemed a bit weird given that he was still the boss, and would be for another couple of decades. Naming a building after you and sticking a plaque on it thanking you for 27 years of service feels like a bit of a hint.

The statue of a miner on the top of Burt Hall is three-quarters life-sized, and was created by John Canavan, who doesn’t seem to be remembered for any other sculpture. The statue is based on one of the miners in the phenomenally popular painting ‘Going Home’ by Ralph Hedley. In 1889, the Newcastle Weekly Chronicle gave away a free print of the painting with their Christmas edition, which hung on the walls of many homes.

I’ve featured a lot of memorial fountains recently, and you may have thought that they’re looking a bit worse for wear. But over in Newcastle’s Exhibition Park, the clock erected in memory of Mr T H Nicholson in December 1927 is faring somewhat worse. The clock has been missing so long that even the Local Authority isn’t certain when and where it departed: ‘the clock was probably removed due to vandalism’ is as much as they’ve got.

I’ve struggled to find much record of T H Nicholson: even local history websites seem at a bit of a loss to who the clock was commemorating. The Newcastle Journal has a short entry about his funeral in December 1927, though restricts itself to listing the mourners rather than any facts about the man himself—though it does reveal his first name to be Thomas. His grave appears to be in St Andrew’s cemetery, just across the Great North Road from the site of this clock.

Given most of the connections in similarly aged Newcastle memorials, I strongly suspect he was in the shipping trade. There is a single sentence about TH Nicholson launching a ship on Tyneside in one contemporary press article. But—brace yourself for a handbrake turn—there is a much longer report on a Mr Thomas H Nicholson in the North Star in 1921:

“You are nothing more nor less than a contemptible hound; you shall go to prison for three months with hard labour!”

Ald C Stableforth, the chairman at Newcastle Police Court, made the above remark yesterday afternoon when he sentenced Thomas H. Nicholson, 104 Violet Street, Benwell, for inflicting cruelty on his three children.

Witness after witness said that the man not only thrashed his wife, but that he also severely punished his children and struck his infant.

Ald Stableforth said the magistrates had no doubt but that Nicholson had deliberately struck his infant and wife. It was the most disgraceful case he had ever encountered.

There are more, desperately grisly, details in the article which don’t bear repeating: suffice it to say that he’d be getting far more than three months in prison nowadays.

I’ve no way of checking whether the clock and the newspaper article refer to the same Thomas H. Nicholson. Surely they can’t be the same person, or the greater mystery would not be the missing clock, but the fact that the frame and plaque are still standing.

You’ve seen that rock before.

Your preparation for a future Only Connect round about people commemorated by fountains on Newcastle’s Great North Road continues. Having ticked off WD Stephens and ED Colvill, our attention is inevitably drawn to William Laing’s memorial fountain:

The inscription reads:

Erected by the widow of the late William Laing of Newcastle and Gosforth in affectionate remembrance of his lifelong interest and kindness to all dumb animals. 1895.

Laing was a business partner of Stephens, so perhaps memorial fountains were just de riguer in their social circle. Laing was also one of the founders of the Town Moor Temperance Festival, which has morphed these days into The Hoppings, which ordinarily takes place just across the road from this fountain.

The Laing art gallery in town is associated with the wine merchant Alexander Laing rather than the shipbuilding William Laing commemorated by this fountain. I’m not sure whether the two were related.

I left you with a cliffhanger on Monday, with my post about the WD Stephens fountain. I’m sure you haven’t slept since!

I told you that the placement of the WD Stephens fountain had required another one to be moved out its way… and this is the fountain that had to move:

A 1889 granite tribute to Edwin Dodd Colvill, located just up the road from the WD Stephens fountain. The text reads:

This fountain was presented to the city of Newcastle by Miss Caroline Sophia Russell Colvill in loving remembrance of her brother the late Edwin Dodd Colvill who was for upwards ????? years well and honourably known in Newcastle.

In the section below that, I can make out the words ‘Mayor’, ‘Stephens Esq’ and ‘1888’. Since we know from the WD Stephens fountain that he was the mayor in 1888, I suspect this recorded the commissioning or unveiling of the statue.

Below that, although there are a lot of missing letters, I’m fairly sure there is a quote from Matthew 25:

Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

Perhaps undermining the inscription, unfortunately nobody seems to know anything but the barest details of Colvill’s life—he may have been well known at the time, but he isn’t any more, which is, I suppose, a fate to which we all succumb eventually, fountain or none.

I’m pleased to report that the Victoria Tunnel is, thankfully, in somewhat better condition than its information board.

As I mosey to and from work each day, I pass a number of Victorian water fountains, none of which work. In the late Victorian era, much of Newcastle’s drinking water supply was rather too closely acquainted with its sewerage, so the building of fountains which supplied wholesome water was considered a noble and civic-minded endeavour.

This one, erected in 1906, is a tribute to WD Stephens, a local councillor, mayor, magistrate, businessman, and many other things besides. It used to feature a relief portrait of him in that big blank space, though it has long since been lost. The inscription reads:

1827-1901

A citizen of lofty ideals and strenuous endeavour.

Erected by public subscription in recognition of the openhearted charity, ceaseless activity & unfailing geniality which marked the public life of W.D. STEPHENS, Alderman & J.P. of the city of Newcastle on Tyne, Sheriff 1879-80, Mayor 1887-88

Distinguished as the president of great organizations for the promotion of maritime commerce he earned still higher appreciation in the cause of temperance and the betterment of the poor and needy.

Another fountain was booted up the road to make room for this one—perhaps I’ll tell you more about that another day—but karma comes back around, and the Stephens fountain itself eventually got booted out of the way of the central motorway and into its current location.

The fountain is Grade II listed.