This is another post about the Davis family, this time following one of Fred and Rachel’s sons with a less tragic life trajectory than his brother George, but certainly not untouched by it. And also his wife Betsy Ann, whose only presence in the newspapers was down to the curious terms of a will.
Thomas Davis was an important person in the building of the town, much like his father. Ever used the swimming baths in Shade School? Get your water from Gorpley Reservoir? Flushed a toilet in the Shade area? Gone into the indoor market and admired the glazed roof? Thomas had a hand in helping you do all those things. He was born in Todmorden in 1869 and, like his brothers, became a plumber. Where George also took on gas and steam fitting, Thomas dealt in plumbing, glazing and leadwork.
In 1891 he got married at Christ Church to Betsy Ann Barnes of Greenfield Terrace. Her father James was a beamer (as in cotton) but he had done well for himself and begun to gather a little property portfolio in the Hanging Ditch and Cockpit part of town. This will become important later. One of her brothers, also James, was a plumber and this is possibly how she and Thomas met. Betsy Ann is a bit of a mystery otherwise, and we wish we could dwell on her some more, but she doesn’t appear in the newspapers even as “Mrs. T. Davis” unfortunately.
Thomas, on the other hand, is in the newspapers a lot. Whether as the star witness in a potential abuse of power by a policeman case (both the PC’s case and the defendant’s countersuit were dismissed), or a member of the Lancashire Fusiliers 2nd Battalion Volunteers, or a member of the Bridge End Co-operative Society, or as the witness in a case of a drunk man jumping out of a train to catch hold of his hat and nearly getting hit by a train coming the other direction, or as a juryman on countless cases minor and major, Thomas was there. He was also there as a businessman; both the starting of his own venture in 1896, and the closing up of his partnership with brother in law James in 1913. And of course all the tenders he put before the Town Board which were accepted and allowed him to make a living leaving his mark on the town.
Meanwhile he and Betsy had settled at 2 Knowlwood Road and were trying to start a family. First came little Frederick, named after Thomas’s father. Then came Bertha, whose name’s provenance is unknown. Bertha died when a year old and was buried here. Sadly she would not be alone for long. Their final child, Frank Herbert, was born in 1900…and in 1901 Frederick died. Drowned, in fact. And only a stone’s throw from his home.
Wash Dam, aka Spoon Dam, was surrounded by a grassy slope and a stone wall that did little to deter children from climbing over it. Frederick met his end in the dam. And he wasn’t the first – in fact he was the second child in only a few years to drown there, and the inquest jury was incensed at Fielden Brothers’s disinclination to do anything about it. They argued over whether they or the Town Board had the power to force them to fence it off, or to put their own fence up. All that arguing took up more column space than Frederick’s death.
Was it ever fenced in? Good question. We don’t know.
Note the house with the curved wall to the northeast of the dam; that’s where Thomas and Betsy Ann lived. Betsy Ann was almost called to the inquest but in the end they did not out of sympathy for her position as a mother who had lost two children in the space of five years and had only one left. The couple would have no more children, but fortunately Frank thrived. The 1901 Census, taken only a few weeks later, records the three of them only at the address. When you think about it, it’s no wonder Betsy Ann doesn’t appear to be terribly active in social events or organisations; she would likely have wanted to dedicate herself entirely the (now even more precious) single child that remained.
In a later painful coincidence, Thomas would be the foreman of the inquest jury into the suicide by drowning of Edna Eastwood in New Mill Dam. Dreadful loss aside, and perhaps surprisingly given they only rented it, the Davises did not move from their house near Frederick’s place of death for some time. Life continued on for them. Thomas kept being involved in every major building project in the town, he supported his widowed mother and found work here and there for his drunken brother, and perhaps he had a little bit of financial hope in Betsy Ann’s circumstances.
We won’t pretend we understand it, but James Barnes Sr. had left some properties in semi-trust after his death in a way that is interesting from an equal rights perspective. The properties were restricted by the terms of the will to ensure that a fixed sum from their rental would go to his widow and daughter every year, and the sons would be able to sell the properties and divide whatever was left between them only after both the women had died. It was obviously a more favourable setup for the Barnes women than the men and must have been an attempt to safeguard their finances and interest after his death. The reason it came up in court was that brother Frank wanted to claim the right to vote as a property owner, rather than as a trustee. Interesting isn’t it? It’s probably more interesting if you have a mind for these things. The result was that he did not, in fact, get the right to vote. But Thomas attended and tried to help explain the situation and stood up for Frank’s potential voting rights, albeit unsuccessfully.
Unsuccessful attempts to stand up for others were unfortunately another recurring theme for Thomas. During WW1, there was a shortage of plumbers in the district due to the trade not being a restricted occupation. In 1916 Thomas’s last employee was called up and he went to ask for an exemption for the man. It was unsuccessful and Thomas appealed. This led to an infuriating exchange which was repeated in the paper and is a reminder to us now that, to the men on the draft board, this was all a bit of a lark and a chance to show off their rhetorical skills and self-supposed wittiness.
Despite some hairy moments, including two separate gunshot wounds to his legs, George Chappell survived the war and was able to return afterwards and be around for his daughter Daisy (who had been born in 1917 while he was in France). As did Frank, who had joined the Navy as soon as he turned 18 and served for a year and a half until the end of the war. It must have been a nervewracking time for his parents.
After everything was over, it was finally time for Thomas and Betsy Ann to move on. They left Todmorden for Fylde, and that’s where they finished out their lives. Thomas continued to work as a plumber even after moving but they would have been fairly well off and this seems to fit with his life of being constantly busy rather than an act of necessity. He wasn’t advertising in the newspapers or taking on contracts of a size to make his name known.
Both of the Davises died in their retirement – Betsy Ann in 1929 and Thomas in 1934. They were both returned here to be buried with their two children.
When the newspapers reported on Thomas’s funeral they mentioned that he was survived by a single son (eventually; at first they named his sister as another child and had to publish a correction on that, as well as a correction mentioning that he went into business as a sole trader rather than as a junior partner to Fred. Frank’s pride in his father’s achievements required them to be correctly named!).
Frank had married a local girl, Edith Annie Helliwell (whose parents are at 29.39), and moved to Newton-le-Willows in the meantime. He died in 1941 but isn’t buried here.