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The Cornet.

A fictionalized biography of an internationally famous, and much admired brass band musician, conductor, arranger, and manager. Source material is taken from census returns and Registry (Births, Deaths and Marriages) files, as well as the Intake Register of the Swinton Industrial School.  Additional material has been taken from the website of the Besses o’ th’Barn brass band, and with an account written by the nineteenth century author and social reformer, Charles Dickens.  A transcript of his obituary taken from the archives of the Manchester Evening News adds a mysterious element to his life and, perhaps more, to his death.

 

 

By John Owen © September 2010

Chapter One:

“Monsieur le Président. Je vous presente Monsieur Alexander Owen, Officier de L'Instruction Publique de L'Acadamie Francaise.” Alec Owen blinked, and then rose from his seat at the banquet table. He acknowledged the applause with a stiff, British-style head bow, and walked to the top table to receive his rosette. He considered the much longer journey he had made from the dark slums of Victorian Manchester to the gilded opulence of the Palais de l'Élysée.

 

Alec’s father, Hugh, had been a barber. When Alec was six years old, Hugh became ill. His wife, Mary Ann, asked a local ‘nurse’ to look at him. She said he needed a proper doctor, but of course, that was out of the question. The nurse said he had ‘consumption’; it was a catch-all diagnosis for almost any respiratory or gastric symptom. Death was common in the poorer areas of England. Infant mortality was epidemic and if a person was able to conquer the first two years of life, then the combined forces of malnutrition, poor sanitation and medical ignorance made old age an elusive goal. Hugh was thirty-seven years old at his death.

 

Physical exercise was the singular positive agent for longevity. People, rich and poor, walked everywhere, often for many miles. The use of riding horses, or draft animals also called for a certain amount of physical exertion.  The new railways were still a novelty for the rich and mystery for the poor.  Bicycles were rare, expensive and unsuitable for gravel roads or cobblestone streets.  So, ‘shank’s pony’ was the only practical means of travel for most.

 

Hugh was given a pauper’s grave. Mary Ann looked on. She was mother to several children. Some survived, some did not. She was angry at herself because she could not quite remember how many children she had had. Three were still too young to be independent. Alexander was seven and his sister Mary was five, Susannah[1] was the baby, born in the April preceding Hugh’s death in June. Mary Ann had spent all their meagre savings while Hugh was ill. She had no skill, no profession and no income. She would find it very hard to support herself, properly. With three children, it would be impossible.

 

If anyone had bothered to ask Mary Ann about her feelings for the past and her plans for the future, they would probably have been met with a blank stare. Mary Ann had no capacity to analyze her own situation; every decision she made was spontaneous and reactionary. Now, as a second-time, but still youthful widow, she sometimes confused her recollections of her two husbands. In 1839 she had married Thomas McCann who had lived next door to her. A mere six years later, in 1845 she had married Hugh Owen, declaring herself to be a widow.  She was not even sure about her feelings for her newly departed husband, or her still dependent children. She had little ability to direct her affairs. She was just ‘there’; and one day she would not be ‘there’.

 

She had known Jimmie Evans ever since he joined a neighbourhood choir. He was a small, agile man. He could read and write, a talent that allowed him to improve his position as a collier. He had become a supervisor, and he interested himself in local politics, as well as the choir. Her husband, Hugh, had also been a singer and, like most of the members, was a second-generation immigrant from Wales. Jimmie had often given her some of yesterday’s bread from the bakery where his brother worked. He sometimes irritated her by addressing her in Welsh. She was from Yorkshire and never learned any of her husband’s family language. The Industrial Revolution was bringing thousands of rural workers into the great manufacturing cities. Mary Ann, of course, never thought about it. It just ‘was’.

 

A week after Hugh’s death, Jimmie came round to her rooms with two loaves that were unsold from yesterday’s baking.

 

“Hello, Mary Ann. Sut Ydych Chi?   Well then, Mary Ann. What are you going to do now?  You’re what?  Thirty-six?  You’ve got a whole life in front of you.”

 

She had no idea how to answer. But she knew that Jimmie Evans had admired her ever since he joined the choir, and chummed with Hugh. On a whim she said, “Why not let me come and look after you?” She said it coyly, and then regretted her forwardness as soon as it was out of her mouth. But she was emboldened by Jimmie’s self-satisfied expression.  They went across the street and into the ‘Star Inn’.  Jimmie had a pint of ale and he bought Mary Ann a glass of gin.

 

“Iechyd da, Good Health”, said Jimmie. The lubrication provided by the drinks made them even more sure that this was the course they wanted to take. She brought Jimmie back to her small room and cemented the arrangement in her bed. Next day they met again, in the afternoon, when Jimmie had finished at the mine. This time, he brought some fresh bread for her. She teared-up as she revealed that the owner of the room she had occupied since Hugh had been unable to work, had given her two days to remove herself from the premises. “What am I to do? I need somewhere for me and little Alec and the girls”.

 

Jimmie reminded her of their previous evening’s brash plans.

“You can come and live with me if you like. I’ve got room for you. But I can’t look after your kids, too”.  

Jimmie had been prepared to woo Mary Ann but the pending eviction made the matter urgent. He thought there might be a way to get Mary Ann into his life without the extra baggage brought by her children.

 

“Have you ever heard of the Industrial School over in Swinton?” he asked.

“You mean the workhouse?  I’m not sending my Alec to no workhouse.”

“It’s not really a workhouse” said Jimmie, “They feed the kids, and give them a clean place to sleep. That’s more than you can do for them.”

“What makes you think I can just leave them? And, anyway, how can you be sure the school will take them in?” asked Mary Ann.

“If the kids are orphans, or if they have been abandoned, the school has to take them. It’s the law.”

 

After Jimmie had left, Mary Ann went out to find Alec. As usual, he was outside the ‘Star Inn’ waiting for some tipsy patron to drop a penny, or two as he came out, while putting his change away with the limited dexterity of a daytime drunk. She brought him home and gave him some of the new bread.

 

“Listen to me. I need to talk to you. We can’t stay here anymore. I’m going away with Jimmie Evans. In the morning someone will take you and your sister to a boarding school.   You will have to look after Mary.  I think I can get Jimmie to let me bring the baby. You must protect Mary. When I get this mess sorted out, I will come for you.” 

 

The promise was made more to assuage her own conscience than to reassure Alec.

Mary Ann was torn. She was terrified that she might lose Alec and Mary, forever. But she was flattered that Jimmie wanted her to be with him. She must still be attractive to some. And it was true that the school would provide for Alec and Mary in ways that she could not.  Alec was confused. He had little idea about what his mother was saying. Clearly, some sort of major change was about to take place, but his limited experience told him to remain detached, and not to show any emotion. He was, after all, seven years old, and he had a younger sister to look after.

 

Alec didn’t want his mother to see he was weeping. He didn’t know why he was weeping. His mother had told him that changes were happening – on top of the death of his father. Alec was not very close to either his mother or his father, but the uncertainty was unsettling for him.  It was hard for poor families to become sentimentally attached; living in squalor, with no proper washing facilities and with hunger and sickness as constant neighbours.  Mary Ann tried to teach him to read but she was barely able to make out the street names, herself.

 

His father Hugh, had given him a rudimentary exposure to music. Alec had, occasionally, gone to the choir meetings. He could read some of the words in the hymn books they used, and he could understand the basic music notations. Once, he was allowed to pretend to play the piano. With no training he had been able to tap out, with his two index fingers, the single notes of ‘Abide With Me’.

 

After dark he returned to his favourite haunt. He sat outside the Star Inn at his usual spot, waiting for something – anything.

Apart from the glow of a single gas lamp over the pub door, there was no light. The moon was at its darkest and even the starlight was blocked by low, thick clouds.  It had rained earlier. A dog made a whiney crying noise and someone dropped an iron dustbin lid into its place on top of the bin. He felt the dampness of the stone step as he shifted his seat. The pub door opened and a man staggered out. He did not notice Alec as he unbuttoned his trousers to pee against the side wall of the pub. His mate followed behind and they started to argue about something. Alec could not grasp what it was about. The two men pushed each other around but no blows were exchanged. After they had gone, Alec moved over to where they had been quarrelling. There was no loose change dropped for him. Not this time.

Alec resolved that whatever was in store for him and Mary, it could not possibly be worse than this.
 

Note: Hugh & Mary Ann Owen appear to have had at least six children. Thomas Goliah (b 1846), Martha Ann (b 1848), Emma (b 1849), Alexander (b 1851), Mary (b 1853) and Susannah (b 1857). Perhaps Susannah died in infancy, or she was taken away with her mother. She was under three-months old when Hugh died.  Alec must have retained some contact with his siblings; Emma was a witness to his marriage in 1870.


[1] Susannah was born April 14 1857. Not listed  on the 1861 census. Presumably, died in infancy.

Chapter Two.

 

Fred Baldwin was the Watchman for the close where Mary Ann lived. There was a dispute going on between the men of the Watch who were appointed by the local Watch Committee, and the new Police force set up as part of the city incorporation. Jimmie Evans knew Fred Baldwin, and he was sure that a shilling would induce him to get rid of Mary Ann’s kids. The new Police men would not come so cheap, and maybe not at all.

 

At eight o’clock next morning, Baldwin was outside Mary Ann’s boarding house with a small two-wheel trap. Alec was ready to go and he had packed up his, and Mary’s meagre belongings in a rough sack. Alec looked back to see his mother crying. He took Mary’s hand and led her to the street.It took them an hour to ride up the Bury Road to Swinton.

“We’re almost here, now” said Baldwin.

Over on the left, at the far end of a fifty yard driveway stood a large building that Alec thought might be a castle. It had wide stone steps leading to a central entrance, and two domed towers, one on each side of the doorway. There must have been twenty windows on each side of the centre block. The building was three storeys high, and with the towers going even higher.

 

Baldwin stopped the trap and called out to a boy scurrying toward the stairs.

“Hi. You there, lad. Go and tell Mr. Rowe that I have something for him.”

Eventually, Mr. Rowe came down the stone steps. He spoke, briefly to Fred Baldwin, and then took the two children back up the stairway. When they were inside he took them into a small office and stood before a high desk upon which rested a large ledger.

He inked his pen and said to Alec

“What is your full name, boy?”

He completed the two entries for Alexander Owen and Mary Owen. He confirmed their birthdates and computed the dates of their release. Under the column heading, ‘Orphans’ he checked ‘as to father’ on both entry lines. In the Observations column he wrote ‘Mother Mary 62 Edward St. Gone to James Evans - Bolton Lane, Little Hulton‘. [1].

 

Then he scribbled a note which appears to say that the mother was never to be contacted ‘at her request’. Finally he wrote his own name under the column marked ‘Receiving Officer’.

 

Many years later, long after the school had ceased operations, a historian made the following comments for a BBC Radio programme:-

“Manchester was one of the first unions to set up a large separate institution specifically for pauper children. The building, erected in 1843-5 at Swinton, was designed by Richard Tattersall. It was a long three-storey T-shaped building, with two tall towers and Dutch gables. Separate Anglican and Roman Catholic chapels were erected at either end of the site.”

 

In 1850, the Swinton school was the subject of the article ‘A Day in a Pauper Palace’ in Charles Dickens' journal Household Words which reported that it was: "... a building which is generally mistaken for a wealthy nobleman's residence". [2].

 

Alec was taken to a dormitory that he was to share with three other boys. Mary was taken away by an Assistant Matron. Over the next two days he was made to bathe, have his hair cut short and was fitted for a suit of clothes and boots. All the children were dressed in clean, but sometimes ill-fitting, clothes. At Assembly in the morning Alec caught sight of Mary and was pleased to see that she wore a starched white cotton pinafore in place of the rags she was accustomed to.

 

He was instructed to read (if he could), understand, and obey the Rules of the institution. They were posted in each bedroom and read out every Monday at Assembly. Alexander’s life at the Industrial School was structured, generally pleasant and valuable for the education it provided. It was soon noted by the Masters, that he had a facility for music. He sang lustily, and with assurance, at the Assembly hymns. The school band had mostly fifes and drums, and the odd bugle. Alec mastered these crude instruments with ease. The Music Master obtained a few old trumpets of German manufacture. They had three valves which gave a much greater range than the other instruments. Alec was allowed to practice with the instruments.

 

The school was set up as a civic work of the local ‘Poor Law Union’, part of the Borough Council. One of its members acted as a sort of superintendent to oversee the administration. Mr. James Evans was now a diligent member of the Borough Council. He revealed no personal knowledge of the young Alec but he watched his progress with some interest. His affair with Mary Ann had lasted for no more than six months. He heard that she had returned to Halifax, her birth city.

 

After five years, Alec’s release from the school was fast approaching. Councillor Evans suggested that as he was a bright boy he might be found work at the Earl of Ellesmere’s coal mine. Alec was now grown to a tall young man. He was too big to be employed underground but Evans wanted to get him into the company brass band.

 

[1] This is a verbatim copy of the entry in the Committal Ledger of the Swinton School.

 

[2] The full text of Charles Dickens’ article is reproduced as an appendix.

 

[3] James Evans is also noted in Alec Owen’s Obituary in the Manchester Evening News as being one who mentored Owen in his early career, and ‘brought him out of the School’. Of course, there could be two men called James Evans; the one noted in the school admission register, and the one in the obituary. The writer prefers to believe they are one and the same.

 

 

Appendix

 

A Day in a Pauper Palace by Charles Dickens.

Published in 1850 in the journal  Household Words.

 

IN some states of English existence Ruin is the road to Fortune. Falstaff threatened to make a commodity of his wounds; the well attested disaster of a begging letter writer confers upon him an income; the misfortune of a thief-that of being captured-occasionally ends in a colonial estate, and a carriage and pair ; both the better assured if he can tell a good story of misfortunes, and is hypocrite enough to commence as a Pentonville "model." In Manchester the high road to fortune is to be born a pauper; should especially orphanhood, either by death or desertion ensue.
  At the easy distance of five miles from the great Cotton Capital, on the road to the great Cotton Port, through shady lanes and across verdant meadows, is the village of Swinton. At its entrance, on a pleasing elevation, stands a building which is generally mistaken for a wealthy nobleman's residence. The structure is not only elegant but extensive; it is in the Tudor style of architecture, with a frontage of four-hundred and fifty feet. It is studded with more than a hundred windows, each tier so differing in shape and size from the others as to prevent monotonous uniformity. Two winding flights of steps in the centre lead to a handsome entrance hall, above which rise two lofty turrets to break the outline of the extensive roof. The depth of the edifice is great — its whole proportions massive. Pleasure-gardens and playgrounds surround it. In front an acre and a half of flower-beds and grass-plots are intersected by broad gravel-walks and a carriage-drive. Some more of the land is laid out for vegetables. Beyond is a meadow, and the whole domain is about twenty-two acres in extent; all in good, some in picturesque, cultivation.
  The stranger gazing upon the splendid brick edifice, with its surrounding territory, is surprised when he is told that it is not the seat of an ancient Dukedom ; but that it is a modern palace for pauper children. He is not surprised when he hears that it cost £60,000.
  The contemplation of sumptuous arrangements of this nature for the benefit of helpless penury, naturally engenders an argument :— is it quite fair to the industrious poor that the offspring of paupers should be placed in a better position than that of his own ? — that these should have better instruction, be better fed, and better clothed ? — that a premium should thus be put upon the neglect of their children by vicious parents ; while, there is no helping hand held out to the industrious and virtuous for the proper training of their children : so that the care of their offspring by the latter is, by comparison, a misfortune ; while desertion or neglect by the former is a blessing to theirs, to whom Garrick's paradox can be justly applied, that Their Ruin is the Making of them.
  That is one side of the argument. The other stands thus; ought the misdeeds of parents to be visited on their innocent children? Should pauper and outcast infants be neglected so as to become pests to Society, or shall they be so trained as to escape the pauper-spirit, and make amends to Society for the bad citizenship of their parents, by their own persevering industry, economy, and prudence in mature life ? Common sense asks, does the State desire good citizens or bad ? If good ones, let her manufacture them ; and if she can do so by the agency of such establishments as that of Swinton, at not too great a cost, let us not be too critical as to her choice of the raw material.
  In order to see whether the Swinton establishment fulfils this mission we solicited a gentleman qualified for the task to visit it ; and from his information we have drawn up the following account :—
  Having, he says, passed through the entrance hall, we chatted for a time with the chaplain, -who is at the head of the establishment. From him we learnt that there are in the institution six hundred and thirty children, of whom three hundred and five are orphans, and one hundred and twenty-four deserted by their parents. Besides the chaplain there is a head master, a medical officer, a Roman Catholic priest, a governor and matron, six schoolmasters and four schoolmistresses, with a numerous staff of subordinate officials, male and female, including six nurses, and teachers of divers trades. The salaries and wages of the various officers and servants amount to about £1,800 a year, exclusive of the cost of their board which the greater number enjoy also.
   We went into the playground of the junior department, where more than a hundred and fifty children were assembled. Some were enjoying themselves in the sunshine, some were playing at marbles, others were frisking cheerfully. These children ranged from four to seven years of age. There are some as young as a year and a half in the school. The greater number were congregated at one end of the yard, earnestly watching the proceedings of the master who was giving fresh water to three starlings in cages that stood on the ground. One very young bird was enjoying an airing on the gravel. Two others were perched on a cask. The master informed us it was a part of his system to instruct his charges in kindness to animals by example. He found that the interest which the children took in the animals and, in his proceedings towards them, was of service in impressing lessons of benevolence among them towards each other. The practical lessons taught by the master's personal attention to his feathered favourites, outweighed, he thought the theoretic inconsistency of confining birds in cages.
   The play-ground is a training school in another particular. On two sides grew several currant trees, on which the fruit is allowed to ripen without any protection. Though some of the scholars are very young, there do not occur above two or three cases of unlawful plucking per annum. The appropriate punishment of delinquents is for them to sit and see the rest of their school-fellows enjoy, on a day appointed, a treat of fresh ripe fruit, whilst they are debarred from all participation.
   The personal appearance of the pupils was not prepossessing. Close cropping the hair may be necessary at the first admission of a boy, but surely is not needed after children have been for some time trained in the establishment, in habits of cleanliness. The tailors of the establishment (its elder inmates), are evidently no respecters of personas. Measuring is utterly repudiated, and the style in vogue is the comic or incongruous. The backs of the boys seemed to be Dutch-built; their legs seemed cased after Turkish patterns; while the front view was of Falstaffian proportions, some of the trousers are too short for the legs, and some of the legs too short for the trousers. The girls are better dressed. Amongst them are some of prepossessing faces, intelligent appearance, and pleasing manners. Here and there may be discerned however, vacancy of look, and inaptness to learn. Among the boys, sometimes, occurs a face not quite clean enough, and a shirt collar that, seems to have suffered too long a divorce from the wash-tub.
   During the time we spent in the playground, sundry chubby urchins came to the master with small articles which they had found ; it being the practice to impress on each, that nothing found belongs to the finder unless, after due inquiry, no owner can be discovered. One brought something looking like liquorice ; another produced a halfpenny, which the master appropriated. Perhaps, the master had dropped the halfpenny to test the honesty of some of his pupils. One little fellow was made happy by permission to keep a marble which he had picked up.
   The children obeyed the summons to school with pleasing alacrity. This is owing partly to the agreeable mode of tuition adopted, and in some measure to the fact that the lessons are not allowed to become tedious and oppressive. As soon as any parties give unequivocal signs of weariness, either there is some playful relaxation introduced, or such children are sent into the play-ground. On the present occasion, as soon as the master applied his mouth to a whistle, away trouped the children in glad groups to an ante-room. Here, arranged in five or six rows, boys and girls intermixed stood with eyes fixed on the master, awaiting his signals. At the word of command, each alternate row faced to the right, the others to the left, and filed off, accompanying their march with a suitable tune; their young voices blending in cheerful harmony, while they kept time by clapping their hands, and by an occasional enthusiastic stamp of the foot.
   To enliven the routine of school duties, the master's cur takes part in them He is a humorous dog, with an expressive countenance, and a significant wag of the tail. In the intervals of lessons, his duty — which is also his pleasure — consists in jumping over the benches or threading the labyrinths of little legs under them. Now he darts with wild glee into a spelling class ; now he rushes among an alphabet group, and snarls a playful “r-r-r-r,” as if to teach the true pronunciation of the canine letter; now he climbs up behind a seated urchin, puts his forepaws on the favourite's shoulders, and, with a knowing look towards the master, recommends his friend for promotion to a monitorship.
   It was surprising to find that the pupils took not the slightest notice of the antics of the master's dog. They heeded nothing but their lessons ; but we learned that the dog was a part of the discipline. He accustomed the children to startling eccentricities and unexpected sounds : he presented a small, extraneous, but wholesome difficulty in the pursuit of Knowledge. He, and the currant bush, the pretty treasure-troves, and other contrivances, were intentional temptations which the children were trained to resist. We beg very pointedly to recommend the study of these facts to the attention of the inventors and advocates of the Pentonville Model system. They involve an important principle, — and a principle equally applicable to adults as to children. The morals of the young, or the penitence of the criminal, which result from a system depriving the pupil of every possible temptation to do otherwise than right, will assuredly lapse into vice when incentives to it are presented. Evil exists very plentifully in this world, and it must be recognised and dealt with; it is not by concealing it from the young but by teaching him to resist it that we do wise. It must at the same time be admitted that the principle can be carried too far; and if the master did intentionally drop the halfpenny, it was exactly there that he pushed his excellent principle too far.
   The teaching of the juniors is conducted mainly viva voce; for the mass of them are under six years of age. The class was opened thus:
  “What day is this ?”
  “Monday.”
  “What sort of a day is it ?”
  “Very fine.”
  “Why is it a fine day ?”
  “Because the sun shines, and it does not rain.”
  “Is rain a bad thing, then ?”
  “No.”
  “What is it useful for ?”
  “To make the flowers and the fruit grow.”
  “Who sends rain and sunshine ?”
  “God.”
  “What ought we to do in return for his goodness ?”
  “Praise him !”
  “Let us praise him, then,” added the master. And the children, all together, repeated and then sung a part of the 149th Psalm. — A lesson on morals succeeded, which evidently interested the children. It was partly in the form of a tale told by the master. A gentleman who was kind to the poor, went to visit in gaol a boy imprisoned for crime. The restraint of the gaol, and the shame of the boy, were so described, as to impress the children with strong interest. Then the boy's crime was traced to disobedience, and the excellence of obedience to teachers and parents was shown. The fact that punishment comes out of, and follows our own actions was enforced by another little story.
   By this time some of the very young children showed symptoms of lassitude. One fat little mortal had fallen asleep ; and this class was consequently marshalled for dismissal, and as usual marched out singing, to play for a quarter of an hour.
   A lesson in reading was now administered to a class of older children. For facilitating this achievement, generally so difficult, the master has introduced the phonic system, in some degree according to a mode of his own, by which means even the youngest children make remarkable progress. We need not discuss it here.
   The scene the schoolroom, during the reading lesson, presented, was remarkable. Groups of four or five little fellows were gathered in various parts of the room before a reading-card, one acting as monitor; who was sometimes a girl. It was a pleasing sight to see half-a-dozen children seated or kneeling in a circle round the same book, their heads almost meeting in the centre, in their earnestness to see and hear, while the monitor pointed quickly with the finger to the word which each in succession was to pronounce. All seemed alert, and the eyes of the monitors kindled with intelligence. Meanwhile the master was busied in passing from one class to another, listening to the manner in which the pronunciation was caught, or the correctness with which the rapid combination of letters and syllables was made. Sometimes he stayed a few minutes with a class to give aid, then proceeded to another ; and occasionally, on finding by a few trials, that a boy was quite familiar with the work of his class, he would remove him to another more advanced. These transfers were frequent.
   In an adjoining room were assembled, under the care of the schoolmaster's wife, some of the more advanced scholars. One class in this room was particularly interesting — a class composed of the monitors who receive extra instruction in order to fit them for their duties.
   After an interval the whole attended a class for general knowledge: in this the mutual instruction system was adopted. A pupil stood out on a platform — the observed of all observers — to be questioned and cross-questioned by his or her schoolfellow, like a witness in a difficult law case, until supplanted by a pupil who could answer better. A degree of piquancy was thus imparted to the proceeding, which caused the attention of the pupils not to flag for a moment. One girl, with red hair and bright eyes, weathered a storm of questions bravely. A sample of the queries put by these young inquisitors, will show the range of subjects necessary to be known about. What are the months of spring ? What animal cuts down a tree, and where does it live? Which are the Cinque Ports ? What planet is nearest the sun ? What is the distance from Manchester to Lancaster ? How high is St. Paul's Cathedral ? What are the names of the common metals ? What causes water to rise and become Clouds ?
   One urchin who could scarcely be seen over the head of another, and who was evidently of a meteorological turn of mind, bawled out in a peculiarly sedate and measured manner,
  “What does the wind do ?”
   To have answered the question fully would have taken a day, but a single answer satisfied the querist, and was of a sanitary character.
  “The wind,” replied the female Rufus, “cools us in summer and blows away the bad air.” An agreeable enough answer as we sat in the middle of the schoolroom on a hot day, when the thermometer was seventy-one degrees in the shade, and a pleasant breeze stealing through the open windows occasionally fanned our warm cheeks. This concluded our visit to the junior department.
   Meanwhile, the education of the elder children was proceeding in other parts of the building. The lessons of the senior sections are conducted in a much quieter manner than those of the junior classes ; even in a way which some persons would consider tame and uninteresting. This quietude was, however, more than balanced by another department. As we passed to the elder boys' court-yard, the chaplain threw open the door of a room, where a small music class was practising the fife and the drum. The class consisted of eight youths, who had not learnt long, but performed the “Troubadour” in creditable style. When they marched out, they headed about two hundred boys, who were drawn up in line ; the music-master acting as drill-sergeant and commander-in-chief. After passing through some drill-exercises, they marched off, drums beating and colours flying, to dinner.
   We need say no more of this pleasing ceremony than that it was heartily performed. The viands were relished in strong illustration of  Dr. Johnson's emphatic remark, “Sir, I like to dine.”
   After dinner, we visited the workshops — a very active scene. The living tableaux were formed chiefly by young tailors and cobblers. A strict account is kept of all manufactured articles and of their cost ; and we learnt that a boy's suit of fustian (labour included) costs 4s. 10½d. ; a girl's petticoat 12¾d. ; and that the average weekly cost of clothing worn by the children was estimated at 3½d. per head making 15s. 2d. for the wearing apparel of each child per year. This may be taken as a commentary on the “slop work” prices to which public attention has been so forcibly drawn of late.
   In all the industrial sections, the children are occupied alternately at their work and in school — labouring for one afternoon and next morning, and then attending their classes in school for the next afternoon and morning. This is a decided improvement on the Mettray system. In that agricultural colony the boys only attend school once a week, and work at handicrafts, or on the farm, during the other five. There is, however, something defective in the Swinton plan, as applicable to advanced pupils ; perhaps they are not stimulated sufficiently ; but it happens that no pupil-teacher had ever passed a government examination ; although last year the grant of money, by the Committee of Privy Council for the educational departments of the Swinton school, amounted to £531. Those among the scholars who have gone into other lines of life, have generally conducted themselves well ; and when absorbed into the masses of society, have become a help and a credit instead of a bane to it. Indeed, having been brought up at the Pauper Palace appears a safe certificate with the public, who are eager for the girls of this school as domestic servants. Both boys and girls, on leaving the institution, are furnished with two complete sets of clothes, and their subsequent behaviour is repeatedly inquired into.
   As we descended the steps of the school we scanned the prospect seen from it. The foreground of the landscape was dotted with rural dwellings interspersed with trees. In the distance rose the spires and tall chimneys of Manchester, brightened by the rays of the evening sun, while a sea of smoke hung like a pall over the great centre of manufacturing activity, and shut out the view beyond. It typified the dark cloud of pauperism which covers so large a portion of the land, and which it is hoped such institutions as the Swinton Industrial Schools are destined to dispel. The centre of manufacturing activity is also the centre of practical and comprehensive education. Why does this activity continue to revolve so near its centre? Why has it not radiated over the length and breadth of the land? The Swinton Institution is a practical illustration of what can be done with even the humblest section of the community ; and if it have a disadvantage, that is precisely because it succeeds too well. It places the child-pauper above the child of the industrious. Narrow minds advocate the levelling of the two, by withdrawing the advantage from the former. Let us, however, hope that no effort will relax to bring out, in addition to Pauper Palaces, Educational Palaces for all classes and denominations.
   Thus ended our visit to the "Pauper Palace." As we issued from the iron gate into the open road we met a long line of the elder girls, accompanied by a master, returning from a walk which they had taken, after school hours and before supper, for the benefit of their health. The glad smile of recognition, and the cheerful salutation with which they greeted us as we bade them good evening, were a touch of that gentle nature which "“makes the whole world kin.” It refreshed us like a parting blessing from well-known friends.

Chapter Three.

 

Alec found his place at the colliery. His official job was to act as a junior clerk recording the weight of coal output for each shift of miners. As a capable musician he was quickly brought into the bandroom and asked to audition for the bandmaster. The choice of instrument was dependent upon the current incumbents and the availability of instruments.

 

It was decided that Alec would be taken on ‘on probation’, as third cornet.The band was fully occupied with company work and concerts in local parks. Alec studied his instrument and practiced several hours every day. He soon became one of the recognized performers.He gradually outgrew the narrow capabilities of the small band. He wanted to play with other musicians in the premier league. But he had to wait for the opportunity.

 

The bandmaster announced that they had been entered in a contest to be held in Duckinfield, a small town east of Manchester. Alec had been promoted to second cornet and naturally, he studied the solo pieces for his Principal as well as his own parts. The contest was to be held on a Saturday, in a small park. A concert would follow the contest.

 

The band travelled to Duckinfield on the new railway. Alec was at first amazed at being able to travel at twenty miles an hour. The noise from the steam locomotive was exciting, and the rocking, back and forth, as they passed over points, was at first, alarming. He became dizzy as he watched the squalid houses pass by, to be replaced by the pleasant countryside. Fields full of sheep, farm houses, a canal and a succession of small villages, until they arrived at their destination.

 

The contest went well. The colliery band made a creditable fifth place (out of seven). Some of the bandsmen went off to celebrate their performance and Alec stayed close to the bandstand to run through the concert material.  During the afternoon, as he was preparing, he was interrupted by a man from another band.

“You’re too good for that lot”, he said.

He was carrying a euphonium in a leather case, and wore the livery of one of the top class bands. He invited Alec to come to audition with his band. Following the concert, the Colliery Bandmaster agreed to allow the band an extra hour before they needed to return to the station for their return journey.  Alec joined two other members and found a small public house where they could buy a glass of beer. Over the door to the pub, the landlord’s name was given as ‘Thomas Holden, licensed victualler for beer, wines and spirits’.  Their drinks were served by a young woman who turned out to be the landlord’s daughter. She seemed very pleased to see three young men dressed in their band uniforms – looking very smart. She winked at Alec as she handed him his second glass.

 

Alec’s new band was called by the strange name ‘Besses o’th Barn’ and he was pleased to find that they had their bandroom in Prestwich, close to his lodgings. His chance encounter with the euphonium player set Alec on a course which, had he known it, was to lead to international acclaim and recognition. As an accomplished soloist, he travelled from one band to another. He took jobs with the Black Dyke, Grimethorpe Colliery and several other bands. He played whatever instrument was required, favouring the cornet.

 

He returned to the pub in Duckinfield after his Besses appointment had been confirmed. He would now have a small, but steady income from the band and could afford to enjoy small indulgences. Maria Holden was still serving behind the bar. She welcomed Alec and remembered him well. They started to ‘walk out’ together.Maria was two years older than Alec. She had the self-assurance that comes from working in an inn.  Although her father held the licence he was not much help. She was running things more, or less, on her own. Thomas Holden was ever ready to sample the wares of his own establishment. He was not well and often unable to move the large beer barrels. He was breathless if he had to come up from the cellar.

Maria had engaged a casual worker to do the heavy lifting. She had a firm but friendly manner and could handle any unruly customers without help.

 

To say that Maria was calculating would be unkind. She realized, however, that her father was not likely to see another year. If he was to die, the licensing magistrates would not allow a woman to hold the licence. She was looking for a husband, and she rather liked the look of Alec. He was now quite tall. He had started a moustache partly to make himself look older, and partly to firm-up his lip. He always gave the impression that he was self-assured. His confident demeanour and his new band position gave him an aura which marked him as a leader.

 

Alec was courteous in his manner; probably a little shy. But when he held his cornet he became assertive and demanding. He had been largely denied any female company (except for his older sister, and the school matron), since his mother abandoned him. He found Maria’s attentions irresistible. Alexander and Maria were married June 6, 1870 at St. Stephen’s Church in the Audenshaw district of Manchester. He gave his age as twenty-two, but his birth and baptism records are dated in April 1851, (making him just nineteen). Maria said she was twenty-one. Perhaps his small deception was intended to convince the magistrates to grant him the licence for the public house, or perhaps he told Maria that he was older.[1]

 

Maria’s father died soon after the wedding. In the 1871 census, Alec is described as living at 85 Grosvenor Rd. (a few doors down from the pub) in Duckinfield. He is shown as ‘Head of the Household’ with Maria and a six month old daughter named Edith. He gives his profession as ‘Music Master and Tobacconist’. From this, it appears that the licence had not yet been transferred to Owen. We may assume that he was busy with the band, and that he and Maria had a shop selling tobacco products. Within two years, they had moved into the inn. Perhaps Councillor Evans was helpful in eventually obtaining the licence.

 

Alec was something of a prodigy. At twenty-two (or twenty) years of age he was already teaching others the arts of musicianship. He was studying his own instrument, the cornet, to make it produce sounds that had never before been heard. His music was mellow, vibrant at times and with extended notes that could only come from a player with two extra lungs. His lip and tongue technique was marvelled at by players and audiences, alike. He began to study conducting.

 

By the 1881 census, he had acquired two daughters (Lavinia and Clara) and a son (Gladney). Edith had, apparently, died before her tenth birthday. He now gave his address as 14 & 16 Grosvenor (the inn) and his profession as ‘Innkeeper and Professor of Music’.  He acknowledged his age correctly as twenty-nine and Maria thirty-one.[2]

 

Alec arrived at the band-room half an hour before the start. He washed his hands and face to freshen himself after the tram journey. He wore a stiff white collar and a four-in-hand knotted black tie.  Even though this was just an informal practice session, he did not remove his jacket. When most of the players had taken their seats he stepped onto the raised conductor’s stand. He knew most of the bandsmen – some of them very well.

 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. I think we will run through the opening march for next Saturday’s concert. Mr. Fisher, I believe you came-in a little late last time”.

 

He called all the band members ‘Mr’. He was courteous to all, and tried never to humiliate anyone; his criticism was always fair; his praise was always treasured. He stood erect.  He looked at the band members to ensure they were all in their places. Then he established eye-contact with each of the principal players, in their turn. His stern expression and piercing eyes confirmed his absolute dedication to the work in hand. There was no room for error or triviality.

All ready.

He raised his baton to waist height and again scanned the group quickly.

Then he raised his baton to full height and held it for two seconds.

Then, with his sweeping downward motion the brass came alive in perfect pitch and timing, and in beautiful harmony.

 

Following the practice he asked two of the bandsmen to discuss a technical point in their performance. He offered sensible suggestions for improvement. Only if mistakes were repeated or intolerable would he chastise bandsmen, (and then, rarely in the presence of others). After the discussion the teacher and the two detained players walked across the street to join the rest of the group in the local public house. In the pub he told amusing stories, drank moderately and gave out genuine praise to all who deserved recognition.

 

[1] On the marriage certificate, Alexander gave ‘James – Hairdresser’ as the name and profession of his father. His father is known to have been ‘Hugh’, a barber. As he was only seven when his father died he may have been confused and thought of James Evans as his father.

 

[2] According to his birth certificate, Alex was born April 29, 1851.

Chapter Four.

 

As well as playing the cornet, conducting and teaching, Alec set out to take certain operatic works and arrange them for brass. Astonishingly, he transcribed the orchestral score from Wagner’s ‘Tristan and Isolde’ and ‘The Flying Dutchman’ for brass band. Of course, he never heard a recording of this work, and it seems highly unlikely that he could have attended a live performance.

In 1884 he re-joined Besses o’th Barn as their Musical Director and Principal Conductor. This was a prestige appointment with one of the premier bands of the day. The Band had been consistent competition winners since 1821, although they only converted into an all-brass ensemble in 1853. Such contests of musical prowess were introduced to improve the standard of brass playing. They also gave the bandsmen a welcome opportunity to benchmark their talents against other bands from both near and far.

 

So successful at competing were Besses that in the year 1892 the Band, under Alec’s leadership, remained undefeated all year and won every major title on offer, including their first of seven British Open Championship titles.

 

Queen Victoria died Jan 1901. Sometime between 1884 and 1901 the band gave a concert attended by Her Majesty. The details of this concert are shrouded in mystery; we do not know where the event took place, nor do we know the reason for it. It seems clear that the Prince of Wales (later Edward VII) was present because he asked for a further performance after his own coronation. The Queen was so affected by the band’s presentation and especially by Owen’s performance that she commissioned and presented a silver cornet to Alec Owen. This cornet bears an inscription and the Royal Cipher. It is currently in the possession of Mr. Roger Webster, formerly principal cornet for Black Dyke Band.

 

Promoted by John Henry Iles as 1903 National Champions, Besses embarked on an extensive tour of the UK. Little could they imagine then where this first tour would eventually lead them. Hints of great things to come started with an invitation by the Prime Minister, Arthur Balfour, to play for King Edward VII at Windsor Castle. Following this engagement, the King presented Owen with a diamond scarf stick-pin. This performance led directly to a tour of France with concerts in Paris to commemorate the Entente Cordiale pact between France and Great Britain. On the Band room wall sepia photographs can be seen of Besses performing to huge crowds in the Tuileries Gardens in the very heart of Paris. Henry Iles and Alexander Owen were both presented with Officier de L'instruction Publique medals to mark the occasion and Besses had the "Royal" prefix bestowed upon them as their fame spread throughout the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alexander Owen conducting at the

Jardin des Tuileries in Paris. 1904

 

 

 

Invitations to play were received from all around the globe. In response to ceaseless requests and displaying amazing courage, the Band decided to tour the World. Between the years 1906 and 1911 they did just this not once, but twice! Both trips lasted an incredible eighteen months. Stories of players leaving home, on the pretence of heading for normal band practice, and arriving back home one-and-a-half years later may contain more than a grain of truth.

 

Detailed itineraries show that the Band played hundreds of concerts covering venues in North America, Canada, Hawaii, Fiji, South Africa, New Zealand and Australia. They were regarded as pop stars of the day and welcomed by enthusiastic crowds of thousands wherever they went.[Extract from Besses o’th’ Barn website]. An arrival parade in Melbourne during one of the tours saw the Band preceded by no fewer than twenty-two of Australia's finest brass bands. Their stay culminated in four days of concerts in the city that attracted a total crowd of over 100,000.

It took the arrival of The Beatles more than sixty years later before the city once again saw such vast crowds for visiting musicians.The wealth of information on these early tours comes largely from diaries written by various members of the Band. Luckily some of these very personal records are still in existence and carefully tended in the Band's archives or by descendants. The details in the diaries are truly fascinating and even include train and boat timetables from all over the world.

 

One such document dutifully records that during the Band's second tour of New Zealand Alexander Owen composed a march, which he named after a famous porpoise, known to seafarers as Polorus Jack. The diary faithfully chronicles the event, even down to the name of the ship (SS Pateena) on which the Band were sailing when the idea was first conceived. The score even includes a triangle part, said to be an imitation of the dinner gong, which rang to summon the players to their meal just as Owen finished writing the piece. Polorus Jack has now become one of the Band's favourite signature tunes and is often included in present-day concert programmes.

Joining them in 1884 at the age of 33, he remained with the Band until his death at the age of 69 in 1920, just three weeks before he was to have conducted them at that year's 67th annual British Open. Willie Wood, using Owen's baton, stepped in to conduct the Band at the contest and Besses duly won their third British Open title. They went on to win two more Open titles – in 1937 and finally in 1959, playing Eric Ball's ‘The Undaunted’.

 

------------------------------***------------------------------

Alexander Owen Timeline. 

Year                   Comments                                                                                           Source

 

1851   Born April 29 to Hugh Owen & Mary Ann née Adair. 251 Oldham Rd.

                                                                                                                                          B.Cert

 

1858  Admitted to Swinton  July 21                                                                          Sch Ldgr

 

1864  Released from Swinton                                                                                    Sch Ldgr

 

1870  Married Maria Holden  Wit.Richard Holden & Emma Owen (sister)

                                                                                                                                         M.Cert

 

1871   85 Grosvenor Road Duckinfield. Music Master & Tobacconist.  

                                                                                                                                         Census

 

1881  16 & 14 Grosvenor Rd (Bath Hotel?)                                                             Census

 

1899  Concert for Queen Victoria. Gift of cornet. Date?

 

1901   Queen Victoria dies

 

1902   Concert for Edward VII Gift of tie pin.

 

1904   France tour. Paris Concerts

 

1906   World Tour - Besses

1910    2nd. World Tour Besses

 

1911    530 Stretford Road, Old Trafford                                                                Census

 

1920  Died August 10?

 

 

 

 

 

Note: The following obituary appeared in the Manchester Evening News. Friday August 13, 1920. Manchester Evening News

 

Alec Owen

By B. Higginbottam.

I

 

It is with feelings of personal loss that I have to record the death of the famous band conductor, Alec Owen which took place at his son’s residence Manchester, with tragic suddenness, after returning from a band contest at Newtown, North Wales. Stretford Cemetary was the scene of the funeral and the ceremony was attended by a vast gathering representative of the musical world in which the deceased had been so prominent. The day was stormy with heavy showers, but now and then a shaft of sunshine pierced the dark clouds, and lit up the wide stretch of peaceful, pastoral surroundings, and one felt that this beauty spot was indeed a fit resting place for such a man. Never before has the “Dead March” sounded more pathetic in my ears, for it was left to his fellow bandsmen to play him to his last resting place, and the pathos of the great funeral dirge stirred its hearers to the depths in the intensity of its rendering.  Alec Owen had a life filled to the brim with varied activity to the very end, and in full measure enjoyed its savour. He has been so long amongst us of the musical fraternity, and the sense of familiarity was so close that he came to be regarded as one of our permanent institutions; whose province it was to afford pleasure and profit to all within his particular domain. To have known Alec Owen provides one of the happy memories of life, for he was one of those rare men who, after they have received distinction, put on no ‘side’, but always remembered that he was but a man. We that had the inspiration of near personal touch knew what a generous heart beat within that genial exterior, something of what he strove for, and something of what he accomplished. He was ever cheerful, ever ready with a hopeful smile, and encouraging word, whenever you chanced to meet him, though he could put on a front of stern command when he felt it to be called for in the cause which moved him most deeply. His nature was so devoid of inaccuracy, hypocrisy, slothfulness, and duplicity that he could not tolerate these things in others. His career was as honourable and successful as anyone could desire. Alec Owen had an infinite store of knowledge and a personality so unique that his death comes as a distinct loss not only to Lancashire but to even further fields. As a man of affairs he was noted for his indomitable perseverance, his talent in organization, and his unfailing courtesy and tact in dealing with those under his command, and those he served so faithfully will agree that he is a difficult – nay, an impossible man to replace. His name to-day extends throughout the world as one of the pioneers of musical art in the brass band sphere, for he accomplished feats and secured successes such as have not a rival. He was the recipient of many addresses and the holder of many costly presents acquired by the most wonderful executive talent with which he was endowed as a cornetist. Yet a more modest, unassuming individual one could not meet with.Alec Owen may be described as a self taught man, an ardent lover of music. The wonderful propensity of his talents revealed itself at a very early age. He may be said to be a native of Walkden district for it was there that he first began to earn his daily bread. Born 69 years ago, he was christened at Manchester Cathedral, and as a boy was brought up at Swinton Industrial Schools, where he learned his first rudiments in music. He was taken from there by the late Mr. James Evans of Walkden and for a considerable time worked with him at the Earl of Ellesmere’s collieries during which time he played in the Yeomanery Band at Worsley under Bandmaster Ellwood. In 1868 he first entered the contest held with Stalybridge band, and in 1875 was engaged as solo cornet player for the celebrated Meltham Mills Band with whom he has remained throughout their wonderful career. In such a proud position as this he was afforded ample opportunities for showing off his wonderful talents, which won for him thousands of admirers. Prompted by various influences he took upon himself the task of conducting a number of contesting bands, and his success in this sphere soon brought many engagements amongst which were Boarhurst, 1877 to 1884 and Black Dyke 1879 to 1884. His success with these bands, especially, is all the more remarkable from the fact of his having in a short space of time, worked them up to such a pitch as actually to defeat his own hand of which he was solo cornet player. And that too,when in the meridian of their success. In this capacity, his influence soon began to make itself known and felt on the contest field, for, as a conductor he has taken twice as many prizes as any other man.He gave his first lesson to Besses o’th Barn on February 24th 1884 and from that date up to the present they have achieved successes such as have never been equalled by any other band in the world. He first came to Irwell Bank band in a three days’ engagement at the Jubilee Exhibition at Manchester in 1887, and in 1888 the band secured first prize under his baton at the National Eisteddfod at Wrexham, North Wales. From that time Irwell Bank well over a hundred prizes under his coductorship, the most notable being the Workington 100 guineas cup presented by Sir John Randles with £35 in cash, and the Brierfield Cup 1911 – 1912, won outright in 1912. Owing to the War Alec Owen’s connexion with Irwell Bank became severed for a time, but only a few days before his death a letter was received from him again accepting the position of conductor. In 1904 Besses o’th Barn played before King Edward at Windsor Castle on the occasion of the present Prince of Wales’s eleventh birthday when Alec Owen was presented by His Royal Highness with a diamond scarf pin. When he accompanied Besses on its subsequent visit to France he made such an excellent impression that he was appointed an officer of the Academy, Paris. He made Besses o’th Barn world famous, was president of the Manchester Union Glee Club, a member of the Manchester Saxophone Quartet and a Freemason.And now, he has gone ahead, leaving some of us who journeyed with him most of the way only a little behind. Amongst the group of pilgrims to which he belonged, I look back in vain for another personality like his. The last decade has made such ravages in our ranks that a momentary glance along the line is enough, but the space occupied by Alec Owen leaves a big gap.

 

P.S. In answer to many inquiries may I state that Mr. Charles Gladney died on March 28th, 1900. Mr. Edwin Smith February 9th, 1904 and Mr. W. Range (Bolton Artillery) on July 16th, 1904.

 

 Note [JDO]:

The 21st Century reader might think that Higginbottam expanded the material to fill space (or was this just the wordy post-Victorian style?). His omissions are more startling than the padding.

 

No cause of death is given (was Owen taken suddenly ill, or did he meet with an accident?). The phrase ‘tragic suddenness’ carries a suggestion of a fatal accident, or even foul play. It is clear that Owen was not in ill-health. He had, on the day of his death, just returned from a band contest in North Wales, and was engaged to conduct at the British Open band contest (Belle Vue) in three-weeks time. It is likely that the band contest was held on Saturday August 7, 1920. Most bandsmen were agricultural or industrial workers. Following Methodist tradition, recreational activities would not occur on Sundays, leaving only Saturday available.  The journey home from Newtown would have taken most of a day. It involved a local train to connect with a main-line train at Crewe or Chester. The length of stop-over is indeterminate. It is assumed that Owen stayed in Newtown for the night of the contest, and possibly one further night (Sunday). He probably arrived in Manchester on August 10.

 

No reference is made to Owen’s parents or siblings. There is a passing reference (but no name) to one of Owen’s children (probably Gladney Owen). Most of all – no reference is made to Maria with whom Owen spent over fifty years. The particular references to Mr.Charles Gladney (for whom Owen named his first son), and to James Evans dealing with an event in Owen’s boyhood, and in the absence of many other (more important) personal details, is especially tantalizing. Mr. Higginbottam presents himself as a musician but describes the music at Owen’s funeral only as the “Dead March”. Of the major works, only Handel’s is specifically titled “Dead March” (Saul), and it is a choral piece. Presumably, he is referring to the Chopin Funeral March, although there are several other composers who wrote sombre marches for interments, (Beethoven, Wagner, etc.).

 

The known facts can be subjected to varying alternative explanations. Perhaps Mary Ann and Evans concocted a scheme to provide a good education for Alec and his sister. Certainly, a common complaint from the ratepayers was that it was unfair for pauper children to be given a much better education at the public expense, than most parents could afford for their own children.

Could it be that James Evans was Alec’s biological father? This might account for his unusual interest in Alec’s progress, and the enigmatic reference to him in the obituary. Owen may well have discovered the family secret by the time he filled-in his marriage certificate noting his father as:- “James Owen – profession Barber”. JDO.

 

 

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