The above verses are included in a piece I wrote in celebration of the trip. It was about this period I began to spend a good deal of time in writing doggerel and rhyme for publication in the local press. Many of my “efforts” took the form of satires upon defaulting gentlemen—men who, I thought, should be held up to public ridicule and censure. I placed myself at the service of the people, and was always ready to show up their wrongs under my motto, “Right against Might.” For my pains in that direction I was often boycotted, and occasionally brought before the magistrates. In the latter case, an indirect charge was invariably brought against me in order that certain individuals might take “revenge out of me.” But I flatter myself that I had as often a friend behind me to save me from “durance vile.” On one occasion I was hauled up for refusing to quit the old Crown Inn, Church Green. I had occasion to go to the place where, it seemed, there had been a row a few minutes previously; indeed, I met several men in the passage who had taken part in the row and were being turned out. I made my way forward and took a seat in the tap-room. Before I had been seated many minutes a policeman came in and charged me with refusing to quit the public-house when ordered to do so. I endeavoured to convince “Robert” that I had not taken part in the row, and that I had never been asked to quit; but I soon found what a hopeless task I had set myself in trying to “convince a policeman against his will.” On the following Friday I was hauled up before the magistrates. I defended myself as best I could, but was told by the presiding magistrate that I was nothing but an “impudent scoundrel.” However, the charge against me—preferred by a policeman, and supported by no other witness—was considered proved by the Bench, who mulcted me in a fine of 10s and costs. Greatly incensed at the verdict, but more especially at the manner in which the chairman of the Bench had “sat upon” me, I resolved to take a course of action at the expense of the gentleman mentioned. So the same afternoon, still smarting under a sense of having been unfairly dealt with, I set to work with my pen, and wrote a satire on the magistrate who took the most prominent part in dealing with my case. By the dinner hour on the following day (Saturday) I was in the market-place selling copies of the satire. People bought with avidity, and before Saturday went out I had disposed of a thousand copies at a penny each; which returns enabled me to pay the fine and then make profit out of my prosecution.
THE HENPECKED CLUB AND THE KEIGHLEY SHOW
My next effusion was partly in verse and partly in prose, and was entitled, “The Rules and Regulations of the Henpecked Club.” This club was connected with the Agricultural Society’s Show, and made its existence felt on the Show Day only. At the time of which I write, the Keighley Agricultural Show was about one of the finest shows in the country. The townspeople, then, took some pride in their show. The public thoroughfare from Church Green along Skipton-road to the Showfield was decorated in a gorgeous fashion. Flags, streamers, and bunting, with scores of appropriate mottoes and devices, were numerously in evidence, and trees were planted on each side of the road and decked with all sorts of fairy lamps. Yes; those were the good old days of the Keighley Show; thousands of people flocked from all parts of a not very limited area to attend the annual event. But the principal thoroughfares of the town were not the only places which received attention at the hands of the decorators, for the residents of such places as the Pinfold went in for their own particular local celebration of the Show Day. On one occasion I saw a stuffed donkey with a dummy rider on its back, swinging on a rope opposite the Bay Horse Inn. The donkey, which was the source of intense delight to the younger section of the populace, was the property of one Harry Barwick, a tanner by trade. Not far from here—in old Bridge-street, now known as Mill-street—was to be seen a large picture, containing the portraits, rudely executed by myself as artist to the club, of some forty members of the Henpecked Club. The spectacle was of the most laughable description. There was also displayed a gigantic cradle, large enough to hold the biggest person in the world in case of emergency. The cradle was supposed to be used on the occasion of a member of the club being found guilty of ill-treating his wife. The cradle was made by a practical wag, known as Billy Bradley, who attended to it every Show Day. When there was a clean sheet of actual offenders, Bradley contented himself with “rocking” men who volunteered just for the fun of the thing. Finish was imparted to the performance by a fiddler, named Smith Keighley, playing “Rock’d in the cradle of the deep” during the operation. Many were the visitors who came to see the stirrings in this corner of the town. I remember the late Mr John Sugden, of Eastwood House, coming up in his carriage to see the fun and frolic, which were practically the sole objects of the Henpecked Club. On one occasion there was exhibited a picture, almost as large as a stage scene, representing a trial in the Henpecked Club,—a wife charging her spouse, before the President, with neglect of family duty. The counts of the charge were supposed to be—refusing to wash-up, black-lead, clean his wife’s boots, put the clothes-line out, and last, but not least, refusing to take his wife her breakfast upstairs. I recollect one remarkable and unrehearsed incident which happened in connection with the club on one Show Day. A man of the name of Shackleton had joined the club, and his wife was so disgusted that she was almost “wild.” Before the scores of people who had assembled she protested “Ahr Jack isn’t henpecked, an’ ah weant hev him henpecked.” It was, she said, just the opposite—she who had been henpecked. Just as Mrs S. was concluding her harangue a waggonette drove up, and all the members of the club got into it in readiness for a drive round the town “for the benefit of the Order,” as one of them amusingly put it. This Shackleton was among those who entered the conveyance, but no sooner had he taken his seat than his wife went up to him and seized him firmly by the hair of the head, exclaiming, “Come aat, er Ah’ll let ’em see whether tha’s henpecked er no.” She stuck to her spouse with such a tight fondness that he was soon obliged to come out of the waggonette. Shackleton took the incident quite good humouredly, and seemed to enjoy the mirth-provoking situation with as much zest as the crowd of people who were standing by. And this was a sample of the carryings-on in the days of the old Keighley Show. But, alas! there came a day of trouble to the people. In the period preceding one year’s show an epidemic of small-pox broke out in the town and the show had to be abandoned. Unfortunately that proved the deathblow of the old Agricultural Society.
CHAPTER XVI
KEIGHLEY’S FIRST SCHOOL BOARD
The agitation for a School Board for Keighley in 1875 was strongly opposed by many of the ratepayers. Both Liberals and Tories were seeking office, and there was a third party which entered into the fray. The Tory party said they would run seven of the nine candidates; the Liberals claimed to run the whole nine; so this third party came up to the scratch and said they would run three candidates for the sole purpose of splitting the votes. The names of those who composed this little party were Joseph Fieldhouse, Bill Spink, “Little” Barnes, Adam Moore, James Leach, Dick Royston and myself. Our meetings were held in Bill Spink’s little cobbler’s shop. There was no very great interest taken in the election by the public until a certain incident happened. Mr Walter McLaren (M.P. for Crewe) and I often met together at Mr Amos Appleyard’s printer’s shop in Church Green on business connected with election literature. On one occasion I went to the printer’s, and during the few minutes’ waiting before I received attention, I had an opportunity of perusing the “copy” for a bill which Mr McLaren had just previously brought in to print. The bill was to call a private meeting of Liberals at the Albion Hall to select candidates. Seeing a chance for a good, though, perhaps, unwarrantable “lark,” I altered the word “private” to public and, when Mr Appleyard came to attend to me, handed the bill to him and asked him to print it as a poster. He had delivered the bills to me the same night, and I had them posted, with the result that, instead of a hole-and-corner meeting, there was a crowded audience of mixed political opinions. The Liberal leaders were completely non-plussed. The people were asked what business they had in the hall, and were ordered to leave. But they said they had attended by public request, and refused to budge. The proceedings relapsed into a state of confusion, and no business whatever could be done. However this meeting served one good purpose, for it enlisted the interest of the public in the election. The election day at last arrived—March 31st. 1875—and it was found that two of our three candidates (Joseph Fieldhouse and Adam Moore) had been returned; Dick Royston being just thrown. This was the general rule at all the local elections: our little band of “conspirators” were pretty sure to return their candidates, or a good majority of them. Eventually Mr James Leach “put up,” and he was elected to nearly every public body in the town; and this through the agency of the party I have mentioned. At this time great interest was taken in many of the elections, notably that of the Local Board.
REMOVAL TO BRADFORD
For a time my connection with Keighley was severed as I went to reside at Bradford. During my stay I became mixed up with literary characters—Mr J. O. Mee, editor of the Bradford Observer; Mr Joseph White, author of a volume of poems and several prose works, and others. I made weekly contributions to the literary column of the Observer. I may mention that many of my best productions date from this period, when I was occupying a cellar cottage in Croft-street, Bradford. Perhaps the Editor will pardon me for introducing my verses, entitled “Joe Hobble; or, fra Howorth to Bradferth”:—
Fra Howorth tahn the other day,
Bi t’ route o’ Thornton height,
Joe Hobble an’ his better hawf
Went into Bradferth straight.
Nah Joe i’ Bradferth were afore,
But sho hed nivver been;
But hahsumivver they arrived
Safe inta t’ Bowling Green.