What a story we have here – a slew of coincidences, international travel, and a reminder from the bottom of this stone to “be ye also ready, for in such an hour as ye know not, the Son of Man cometh.”
Allen Langthorn, or Langthorne as he appears elsewhere, was born in 1860 in Newchurch near Bacup (although the 1861 Census very unhelpfully says he and his siblings were born in Newchurch, Wales). He was the youngest of his siblings and his father John and mother Betty, both cotton workers, had all their children hard at work as soon as was possible. By 1881 John had become a coal miner, as had Allen, and the Langthorns had made their way down to Walsden where at the end of January Allen married Sarah Hollinrake. Sarah was just 19 at the time of their marriage, a year his junior and the middle of six children of Thomas and Grace (who are themselves buried here at 29.31) and also, unsurprisingly, were a family of cotton workers who later became farmers. At the time of their marriage all the Langthorns were settled around Naze and Gauxholme, while the Hollinrakes were almost literally right over the road at Law Hey.
Sarah had not just been 19 at her marriage, but also very very pregnant. The 1881 Census was taken on April 3rd 1881, and on that date little Edith Langthorn was only six days old. Edith’s time was very short – she was buried at St. Peter’s in Walsden that July. Five more children would come – John Thomas, Ethel, Matilda, Martha Ann and finally Bertha in 1894. Allen’s time in the mines came to an end and he became a carter, maybe to get some more fresh air, maybe to have a safer career? The man had children after all. But we said at the beginning that only the good die young and Allen’s timing was poor. In February 1894, just over a month after Bertha’s birth, he met his end in Littleborough just outside the church itself, after eating some mussels in Dearnley that disagreed with him. He was 34 years old.
The coroner’s official decision was that Allen died from apoplexy, with the impact of the mussels not identified. Don’t eat shellfish this far inland, I suppose. Flippancy aside poor Sarah was left with five children and the eldest, John, only ten years old. Who would pick up the slack, and how? Well, Sarah lived just two doors down from her parents and sisters, and as two of the three sisters moved out Sarah and the children moved in. The entire extended family unit moved to 313-315 Rochdale Road, aka a home in the long-since demolished Knowlwood Terrace. Plenty of space to share? We’ll leave that up to you to decide. Everyone was now working apart from Martha and Bertha. It was the only way to keep the household afloat. And from all accounts it rankled young John. Between these hard conditions and external forces disillusioning him about life in Todmorden, when his chance came he made a run for it…all the way to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
John arrived with $37 in his pocket and, apparently, no friends. He set about making them though, first through a year-long stint in the army and secondly through marrying young Nellie May Ewald in 1908. Nellie was the daughter of a German immigrant and his American wife and the couple lived with her parents and a number of boarders at their rather large house on 2500 North 12th Street in the Hartranft area of North Philly. John found work there first as a weaver and then as a loom fixer.
John and Nellie never had any children. He enlisted to serve in the army during WW1 and his registration card paints a picture of him for us – 5 foot 4.5 inches tall, stout, a dark complexion, black hair, and brown eyes. He never served though. A lucky escape? No; on March 21st 1919 he died from double pneumonia at the age of 34 (not 35 as it says on his death certificate). The same age as his father, but a different cause. Interestingly the informant at his death, William T. Partridge, was a hotelier who Nellie would marry shortly afterwards. A story for someone else on another day! John’s body was shipped to Owego, New York, where the Ewalds had lived prior to Philadelphia, maybe to be buried in the family vault. Nellie didn’t join him until 1954, having outlasted William as well. All there is of John here is his name on the stone.
Funny how he and Allen were the same ages isn’t it? Coincidences are rife in the yard here and this is a grave that keeps delivering them. Two days earlier, on the 19th, his mother Sarah had died back here in Todmorden, at her home at Castle View in Honey Hole. Her death notice made the April 4th edition of the paper, with the news of John’s passing not arriving until later – his notice appeared the following week.
Sarah had continued to live with her daughters, with a boarder taking John’s place after he left. The daughters all kept marrying though and by 1919 she was alone. One of those daughters was, of course, Matilda aka Tilly – we haven’t forgotten her! In 1911 she had married Ernest Barker, a nice young man who lived with his parents and siblings at 115 Longfield Road and worked as a carter. The nearly-neighbours were wed up at Cross Stone. In 1915 their daughter Ethel, named for one of Matilda’s sisters, was born, and thanks to Ancestry we have a photo of the family to help paint us a picture of them.
Ernest may have seen combat during WW1, we aren’t sure, but by 1921 he was home and working for Greenwood Baldwin’s Mineral Water Works on Stansfield Road as a delivery driver. Matilda was still working too, as a cotton weaver at Hope Street Mill. They had stayed on Longfield Road, now at 25 Back Longfield, looking out over the town. All was not well with the Barkers though. Ethel had been their only child and maybe Matilda’s health wasn’t the best? At any rate, coincidence strikes again, and in April 1924 Matilda died from pneumonia brought on by influenza. She was – you guessed it – 34 years old.
She died on April 4th, the same day Sarah’s death notice had appeared in the newspaper in 1919; her death notice appeared in the paper on April 11th, the same calendar date as John’s death notice in 1919.
Ernest and Ethel continued on, supported emotionally by his parents James and Lydia Ann who were still living up at 115 Longfield. They soon moved in with the rest of the Barkers. Pneumonia was (still can be) a killer though and later that year Ernest caught a cold that developed. Little Ethel’s second bereavement was near. In November, Ernest lost his fight with it at the age of 38, and was buried here along with his wife and parents in law.
Don’t worry about Ethel. Raised by her Barker family, she eventually got married and lived to the ripe old age of 82. Not every coincidence keeps coincidenting.