Press Gang Deadlines in Hull

 A life at sea in the 18th and 19th Centuries was the chosen career of only a few. 

To the majority it was a necessity to head for the high seas to support a family and dependants or to escape the squalor and deprivations of a shore based existence. 

Saying that the turnover of personnel was huge and a startling statistic from the era was that out of the hundreds of thousands of fatalities whilst in the service of the Royal Navy the vast majority of these were not from actual conflict but from diseases such as malaria, dysentery and those of a sexually transmitted type. 

In the interests of keeping up the numbers for the vital maritime service the power of Impressment was available. 

Not a common word in the modern vocabulary it meant the collection by force of unwilling recruits for the navy and the army. 

In its more common manifestation of the Press Gang it was a most hated and violently resisted practice and in my home city, the Port of Kingston Upon Hull in Yorkshire, England there was often bloodshed and rioting of its townspeople against its use. 

The legitimately operating Press Gangs were based in vessels anchored in the Humber Estuary known as the Inner and Outer Guard. One of these positions was just off the Old Garrison and the other at Whitebooth Roads. 

From here the Press Gangs were able to intercept merchant ships as they approached what they expected to be the safety of the harbour after many weeks, months and more on the High Seas. This was particularly cruel as many of the returning crew members would be within sight of their home Port and the welcome prospect of a reunion with loved ones who may have been witness to the very events from the shore. 

Perhaps the most common perception of the Press Gangs was of a land based contingent preying on individual seamen who may have been separated from their peers or were worse for wear from drink or other forms of stupor. 

In Hull the main Press Gang was of 12 men and an Officer. They were regularly involved in scuffles on Church Lane and in Humber Street in the Dockside areas which invariably ended in bloodshed. There were reports of sailors being dragged from stage coaches on the Beverley Road or a hunting ground which yielded forth a good quota of unfortunates was amongst those leaving the popular public houses of Ships Glory and Labour in Vain. 

In the early 19th Century a seaman crossing North Bridge was accosted by a Press Gang but wriggled out of his jacket and was then pursued. 

Workers at the Old Dock Basin saw his plight and joined in on the side of the seaman. Being outnumbered by the public the Press Gang ran down Lowgate and headed for their base on Humber Street. Such was the venom of the mob that the premises were wrecked and furnishings thrown out into the street and into the river. 

This type of public reaction was common where the actions of Impressment were seen or rumoured to be about to take place. 

A good proportion of the massed rank mobs were women which was understandable in that their menfolk, whether husbands, lovers, sons or brothers were at risk from being spirited away to the far reaches of the Empire, likely as not never to be seen again. 

Examples of mob action were common.

In 1798 a Naval Lieutenant and his Gang were attacked by a crowd and the Militia had to be called out to enact a rescue. 

In 1803 a mob chased a Gang to the Ships Glory pub and proceeded to tear the place apart. 

A spy gathering information for the Press Gang on the Beverley Road was spotted by a group of women who were working haymaking in a meadow. They challenged him .His fate is not known. 

It was not just seamen who were in peril of being forcibly requisitioned into the Royal Navy. A Shipwright in 1815 was seized as he left the Dockyard. In desperation he jumped into Humber Dock but was followed in by two of his pursuers. A fight ensued in the murky water before the civilian was rescued by onlookers who had found a rowing boat. 

One of the most violent conflicts was not on the shore within the Old Town of Hull but just out on the Humber. The two Guard Ships, the Nonesuch and Redoubt approached and attempted to board the Blenheim, a whaler on its return to Hull from Arctic waters. The crew of the Blenheim were tough, seasoned seafarers and put up a stiff resistance using the tools of their trade, knives and harpoons. 

The Blenheim was also fired upon but got through the Old Harbour Entrance and was run ashore. The Press Gang boarders closed in but two of their number were killed in the fight. One of the Blenheim crew had his hand on the bulwark when struck by a cutlass. He thereafter became known around the Port as Three Fingered Jack. 

The battle drew a large crowd who were partisan in their support for the Whaling Crew. The outcome was that the Captain of The Blenheim was sent to York Assizes Court but was acquitted of all charges and returned to Hull to a heroes welcome. 

The era of the Press Gangs became well established in the history and folklore of Hull although was not the most auspicious for its violence and as a cause of aggravation to its hard working people.

Burton Constable - population 60000

The Radio One Big Weekend at the end of May 2107 was held in the grounds of the Elizabethan Mansion at Burton Constable, some 8 or so miles to the north-east of the regional city of Hull.

It was a good choice for an event of that scale and national importance in terms of having lots of space and little chance of complaints about the noise as there are no real neighbours to the picturesque and landmark Hall.

On the downside the perceived remoteness of the rural area, narrow roads and somewhat of a pinch point on routes in and out of the venue called for a clever and customised transport scheme by the organisers.

The 50,000 crowd over the two days were taken there by 170 buses and coaches running a shuttle service from Park and Ride facilities and principal interchanges. In the course of some 625 trips what was, in effect, the population of a medium sized town were taken into and out of the music festival proving that the planning and logistics worked.

Many of the tens of thousands of visitors who were seeing Burton Constable for the first time will have remarked about its isolation in the open countryside of East Yorkshire.

The settlement actually peaked in or around the 13th Century when records showed a Manor House, 15 Cottages, 21 persons eligible to farm a measure of land called a bovate, and a windmill.

The place was deserted however by around 1488 with many similar hamlets suffering the same outcome arising from uneconomic conditions, the enclosure of land for sheep farming or as a consequence of the devastation wreaked by the Black Death even after its main outbreak in the century before.

Other bits of land became emparked whereby a Lord of the Manor could seize lands for his own use, as in creating a landscape for his own country house.

In May 2017 Burton Constable comprised the mansion, outbuildings, some Estate Cottages, a caravan and timber lodge park, lake and the usual ancillary functions for a sizeable landed environment.

Things could have been so much different.

In 1945 the esteemed team of Edwin Lutyens and Patrick Abercrombie proposed construction of a completely new satellite town in order to relieve the pressures on the bomb damaged housing stock and infrastructure of Kingston Upon Hull.

Their 1945 Plan selected as a suitable location the sleepy Burton Constable for what would be major town with a population of some 60,000 people, therefore quite close to the numbers bussed in for just one weekend of live music.

The New Town would sprawl within a radius of five and a half miles and swallow up the small villages of Withernwick, West Newton, Ellerby and Marton in its land grab bid.

This type of urban development had been pioneered in the guise of the Garden Village Movement in the inter war era and would go on in the post war and more modern eras to include the likes of Cumbernauld, Skelmersdale and Harlow.

Burton Constable was proposed because of its proximity to the Hull to Hornsea railway line operated at that time by LNER, the low lying geography of the district and the availability of wide open spaces with low levels of anticipated compulsory purchase or demolition and clearance of existing housing and other buildings.

The large population was to be distributed within 8 neighbourhoods of varying density from around 50 persons per acre down to 20 per acre. These would be arranged around a Central Area with good public transport links, wide carriageways and good provision of foot and cycle paths. The town would be relatively self sufficient in shopping and business facilities, banks and offices, hotels, entertainment and recreational amenities, technical schools, colleges and health establishments although, presumably the greater proportion of those of working age would have to  commute to Hull and the wider region for employment opportunities.

The Lutyens and Abercrombie Plan of 1945 was held to be worthy of the citizens of Hull following their heroism and stoicism in the wartime bombing that had only ceased months before and the Chairman of the Reconstruction Committee, Alderman Schultz predicted a rise from the ashes, Phoenix-like if the proposals could be brought about following the usual discussion, consultation, amendments and counter proposals that such an important process would demand.

In crude terms the idea of a New Town for Hull went for a Burton or rather, it didn't.

The Generation Game

We take for granted that with the flick of a switch, turn of a thermostat, dial up on a shower and in fact anything relying on a power supply will, well, just bring forth light, heat, hot water and facilitate all manner of creature comforts.

These things relate to our own domestic environments and lifestyles.

So, upscale everything to a commercial and industrial scale and reliability, dependability and economy are paramount to keep machines and processes operational.

In the Victorian era the inspired inventors of that time sought to establish a system of power very much like that of the National Grid today. It was an ambitious idea.

In the late 19th century, what was termed a hydraulic network might have been used in a factory, with a central steam engine or water turbine driving a pump and with a system of high-pressure pipes transmitting power to various machines. This was very much on a small scale.

In fact the  idea of a large public hydraulic power network was suggested as early as 1812. William Armstrong began installing systems in England from the 1840s, using low-pressure water, but a breakthrough occurred in 1850 with the introduction of the hydraulic accumulator, which allowed much higher pressures to be used.

The first public hydraulic network under an 1872 Act of Parliament was in the port and city of Hull, in Yorkshire, England.

A provision of the Act was that  a million gallons of water a day from the River Hull could be used at a cost of £12 10s per 250,000 gallons per year to the Hull Corporation. In this way it was also the first public utility in Hull.

With legislation in place the Hull Hydraulic Power Company began operation in 1876 from a purpose built power station on Machell Street just a few yards away from the tidal River Hull as it runs along a north to south axis before spilling out into the Humber Estuary.

In technical terms it was a major civil engineering feat. The pumping station, a low brick building with a large cast iron roof tank, ancillary buildings including a hydraulic accumulator and a large chimney stack was the steam powered engine room for a network of interconnected pipes under the city.

Machell Street- today

The six inch diameter pipes ran for some two and a half miles to serve plant and machinery in the thriving Freight and Timber Docks. In this way the infrastructure of the Port could be operated on demand and this included the distinctive dock cranes, heavy lock gates to and from the estuary and the heavy machinery which was associated with ships and shipbuilding.

Anyone who has lived around the river will be familiar with its languid, brown passage even in full flow when draining the East Yorkshire hinterland. The roof tank, manufactured by Stacey Davis and Co from their Phoenix Foundry in Derby, allowed the mud and silt to settle out of the huge volume of water so that it would not enter into the power plant.

By 1895, pumps rated at 250 hp , a major output for the Victorian era, took in some 500,000 imperial gallons of water into the system each week. The accumulator boosted working pressure to 700 psi. At a suitable distance along the main pipework were isolation valves and also air cocks to be able to drain the system of air.

Customers were able to access the system from 'T' pieces of 2", 3" and 4" from the main pipework. In this way some 58 machines of diverse type and location came to be powered by the system.

There were other private hydraulic systems installed at Hull's Albert Dock in 1869 and Alexandra Dock in 1885.The success of such systems led to them being installed in places as far away as Antwerp in Belgium, Melbourne and Sydney in Australia, and Buenos Aires in Argentina.

The Machell Street plant operated continuously from 1876 and it was only after damage inflicted on the pipework and infrastructure in the severe bombing of Hull in the second world war that prohibitive repair costs led to the company being wound up in 1947.

Hull City Council erected a Blue Plaque in 1990 to mark the historic significance of the Machell Street premises as the first public hydraulic power station in the UK.

                            The building is in some use today for storage, workshops and tyre fitting.

Sods Law

 Sourced from the digital site of the New York Public Library is this interesting reference to a Turf Maze which existed just to the East of my home city of Kingston Upon Hull, Yorkshire. 

As the name suggests it is a form of labyrinth of simple shallow excavation and yet the best documented and even fewer surviving examples today depict complex geometric and symbolic shapes. 

The record of the Hull Turf Maze comes from a publication entitled "The Repository of Arts, Literature, Commerce, Manufactures, Fashion and Politics". The date of the issue was April 1815 which in terms of context was just a couple of months before the pivotal Battle of Waterloo on mainland Europe.

The contributor is only initialled but evidently it was quite an honour to have a submission or article accepted as he or she is quite star-struck in their tone of writing. 

The Hull Turf Maze was called "Walls of Troy" which will have hearkened from the famous Ancient City whose defences were designed to thwart and confuse attacking forces. 

The location was only identified as being some four miles east of Hull and nestled close to the bank of the River Humber. In 1815 the area will have been perceived as quite lonely and remote amongst agricultural land and tracts being reclaimed from the boggy estuary. There will have been a few dispersed farmsteads and workers cottages and an early fortification at Paull to defend the approach to Hull against the then threat of the navy of Napoleon. 

The Maze was described as a duodecagon some forty feet in diameter. 

Within these parameters were twelve circumscribed grass walks each of a path thirteen to fourteen inches wide and dug out to a depth of six inches. The correspondent made it 320 ordinary paces to negotiate. 

They were a popular feature of village fairs and festivities from the 17th Century onwards although earlier Medieval versions are thought to have served a religious purpose to simulate the tortuous route of a Pilgrimage or if crawled on hands and knees as a form of penalty for sins. 

As a living natural thing many mazes if not regularly tended and maintained just disappeared or just fell out of fashion under the depopulation of the countryside with the onset of the Industrial Revolution and Urbanisation. 

It is not therefore surprising that to the present day only 8 turf mazes have survived in England and even fewer in Europe or wider afield. 

One notable Turf Maze is at Alkborough on the edge the Lincolnshire Wolds overlooking the convergence of the Rivers Trent, Ouse and Derwent. As the crow flies this is just 20 or so  miles from the likely Hull location in the Marfleet and Paull area. 

Julians Bower is meticulously kept and well worth a visit to appreciate the workmanship and symbolism. As with many such Mazes there are fabled tales of their origins. Julians Bower has a legendary link to a Knight who formed it as a Pennance for his involvement in the murder of Thomas a Becket in 1170 but it is actually thought to date from around 1670. 

Julians Bower at Alkborough, Lincolnshire 

The Hull maze has an even more hazy provenance although the 19th Century contributor claimed to have met a passing countryman who claimed credit for it. 

The illustration below may be the closest representation of the Hull Maze

Unfortunately Walls of Troy was either neglected and reclaimed by nature or intentionally destroyed under the plough some time in the mid 1800's. 

Monumental Effort

I was in Hull City Centre this morning for our regular family culture infusion when I happened to take a long hard look at the rather grubby and pollution discoloured 110 foot high William Wilberforce Monument at the eastern end of Queens Gardens. 

It is easily overlooked which is staggering given its size but largely due to the rather boring location amongst the modernist buildings of Hull College. 

As a singularly spectacular monument it is of a quality rarely found in UK cities outside of London where of course the great and the good are honoured with appropriate respect, reverence and abundance. 

The description in the Statutory Listing is as follows;

Commemorative monument, standing on the east side of Wilberforce Drive. 1834-8, by W. H. Clark of Leeds; the builders were Messrs Myers and Wilson. 

Millstone Grit and Ashlar. Massive fluted Doric column with square capital, carrying a corniced drum topped by a twelve foot high standing figure. Cubical pedestal with deep moulded plinth and plain cornice carrying on each side a segmental pediment flanked by acroteria with urns at the corners.  On the sides of the pedestal are inscriptions surrounded by wreaths, reading 'Wilberforce'; 'Negro Slavery Abolished, 1 Aug. MCCCXXXIV';

It is a fitting tribute to perhaps the most world renowned son of the city, William Wilberforce (1759-1833). He was born into a prominent Hull family, elected MP for Hull in 1780, and for Yorkshire in 1784. His political stance was independent from the first. 

In 1787 he was persuaded by prominent Abolitionists of Slavery to represent their cause in Parliament. Wilberforce worked ceaselessly  introducing Bills calling for an end to the slave trade and speaking in their support.In 1788 he secured a Select Committee to examine evidence on the inhumane practice. The campaign met with fierce opposition and frequent set-backs before the Abolition Bill at last received royal assent on 25 March 1807. 

However, powerful vested interests and Imperial economic considerations meant that slave ownership continued to exist in Britain's overseas colonies, and Wilberforce continued to strive for the abolition of slavery itself. It was only three days before his death when, on the 26th of July 1833 ,Wilberforce heard that the Bill for the emancipation of all slaves in British colonies had passed its final reading and would become law. He was buried in Westminster Abbey to reflect the magnitude of his acheivements on a global stage.

Conscious of the local connection the town of Kingston upon Hull was quick to honour Wilberforce raising voluntary subscriptions which met the cost of the commission of a monument of £1,250 equating to over £90000 in todays’ money.

Whether by coincidence or intentionally, the date of laying the foundation stone was the same day that slavery was eventually abolished in the British Colonies. 

You would expect the status and prestige associated with the subject of the statue and its impressive scale to assure a permanent siting in a very visible part of Hull city centre. This was the case originally with the monument dominating the convergence of the bustling Princes and Queens Dock Basins . 

It is difficult now to visualise the urban scene nearly 70 years before the construction of the major Civic Scheme of Hull City Hall and the Statue of Queen Victoria. It will have been fairly random and unstructured under the functional but uninspiring  name of Junction Street. King Edward Street and Carr lane as we know them now were later creations giving some focus to this central hub of Hull. 

However with the rapid expansion of Hull in the inter war era the Wilberforce Monument was considered to be hindrance to the function of the city rather than an asset. This was because of the increasing volume of road traffic using the routes through the interchange of Queen Victoria Square. It was, simply, in the way. 

It was decided by Committee as early as 1932 that the monument should be moved to the eastern end of the newly infilled and landscaped public open space that had been the former Queens Dock. There would of course be a cost incurred for dismantling and relocation and at £1500 (more than the 1830’s cost of the monument) some form of goodwill gesture from the business community in Hull would be helpful to subsidise it. 

Robert Tarran, a Councillor but also an entrepreneur involved in many industrial concerns offered the services of one of his companies to undertake the move. There is no actual indication that this was without charge but the offer was seen as generous and some concessions were given over any incurred costs for power and utilities. 

Tarran, well known for his patented designs for prefabricated housing, of which 20,000 units were built nationwide, came under a bit of a cloud in the post war years with alleged dodgy financial accounting although a potential sentence of 9 years hard labour was later quashed on Appeal.

The task of dismantling began in April 1935 and took four months of work. A scaffolding rig and crane were erected around the monument and the operation really caught the attention of the Hull population. 

Members of the public were allowed to go up the scaffolding during both phases to enjoy the view of Hull for a two shilling fee (20p in today's money). 

The disassembling allowed a time capsule of items to be encased in the plinth base including photographs of the old and new locations, newspapers of the day, coinage and some publicity material by the benevolent Tarran Industries.

On the 19th September 1935 the formal Queens Gardens were opened by Herbert Morrison, leader of London County Council at the time and the Wilberforce Monument was rededicated by Mrs Arnold Reckitt, Wilberforce's great granddaughter. The relocation will have saved the monument from wartime destruction or damage which was extensive around its former position on Queen Victoria Square.

In the very fitting words of a current campaign to raise funds to restore and illuminate the tribute to Wilberforce;

Slavery, on a grand scale is in the past but its embers are ever present. Its horrors resurge periodically through the press with the exposure of acts of supreme cruelty. The monument is a tangible reminder of what can be done with determination and good conscience. It is with pride that Hull is linked to this symbolic reminder of the value of every human life.

The Death of the Corner Shop

  He was correct in saying that Britain was a nation of shopkeepers.

Of course it was not intended as a sentimental testimony nor a compliment on the versatility of the retail sector in a time of war.

It was however wholly misguided because the corner shops in particular were the very foundations of family life in our densely populated towns and cities.

It is sad now to come across what had been a corner shop. The characteristics are still there with the brickwork by which the large display frontage was enclosed standing out in sharp contrast to the remainder of the weathered and soot infused masonry from thousands of domestic hearths.

The scrollwork of the shop front usually survives and perhaps the faint traces of a proudly etched proprietors name can just be discerned in a certain light or from a defiined angle. If converted to a house there is usually a door and window with the appearance of being out of scale and alien to the street frontage.

There is no mistaking the old shop forecourt around which a fence or boundary is attempted but it has been a short cut and right of way for a century and that is a difficult momentum to curtail, like an elephant walk.

The four corners of the junctions of old urban streets would be occupied by shops. Typically, a greengrocers, newsagent/tobacconist, butcher and baker. Their shop lights in the darker seasonal mornings and closing in nights would guide the local population to their places of work or home again. The resonance of the bell atop the heavy panelled doors giving reassurance and comfort to those still under the covers.

The customers would be personally known to the shop keepers and the regular purchases prepared for collection such was the routine and regularity of visits and acquisitions. In hard economic times the proprietors would provide a credit system to be settled on the next pay day and would be understanding of family problems and hardships. This was engendered by the fact that they were also local residents living behind and above the shop.

Small children would be handed the cigarettes, tobacco and roll-ups for their parents or older siblings with no questions asked. This would invariably extend to beer, paraffin for heaters and all manner of what we would regard today as prohibited goods or hazards to the young.

The display windows would appear to be magical in the eyes of the children. Many play and idling hours would be spent around the shop front and the goods on show would become a strong memory well into the adult years so that a mock-up in a streetlife museum evokes strong emotions and nostalgia.

The nicknames of shop keepers would also persist whether reflecting some character trait, temperament or just a rhyme concocted around their christian or surnames. They were a hub for the streets which intersected and helped to make sure that everyones circumstances and business were known, not in a bad or gloating way but out of genuine concern even if whispered as a hearsay or rumour.

Gradually the arrival of the motor car and the development of the High Streets threatened the status and viability of the corner shop. The upwardly mobile local population moved on to the newer housing in the suburbs and strong ties and loyalties to the shops became inevitably diminished.

A few battled on but could not compete with the Discount Stores and large Supermarket chains. The display windows became dull and sparse. Clear glass became shrouded in the self adhesive livery of smaller independent shop chains. Graffitti and litter collected on the previously proudly kept brickwork and forecourt. Conversion to housing soon followed but not so as to eradicate the origins of the commerce and philanthropy that had been conducted there for decades.

Sterilised and impersonal In-Store counters killed off the butcher and baker from the terraced streets. Aisles and aisles of fresh and varied but genetically uniform fruit and veg made the corner shop produce look shabby and ugly. Newspapers and tobacco were being sold just about anywhere.

It is rare now to see any surviving corner shops. If any have lasted they are likely to be operating as a Ladies Hairdressers but as a mere shadow of their former bustling use. Still, even these neighbourhood salons could be at risk if Tesco decide to do cut price haircuts.

Yer teas on the table Sir

Being a creature of habit I arrive home for tea everyday from work at just about the same time.

If there is traffic congestion I can always ring or text ahead (where safe to do so).

In a bygone age those held up on their homeward journey could have opted for a telegram or messenger to give news of a delay in getting back for their evening meal.

So what would be available say, in 1840's Victorian England?

In the case of a Yorkshire businessman the solution was to spend a bit of money on an eccentric idea.

The individual was a William Bettison, brewery owner and erstwhile newspaper magnate.

Although his commercial interests were in the city of Hull he resided in some splendour in the genteel seaside town of Hornsea. It was some years before the railway line would be built to the town (opened in 1862) and so the commute although of only around 15 miles would be by coach and horse.

By all accounts Bettison was a bit of a stickler for routine and one particular trait of his character was that he would insist that his dinner be served immediately on his return home from work.

Problems on rough, unmade roads, inclement weather, unpredictable horse drawn transport and a host of other influences could make him late for his regular mealtime and so to avoid cold dinners or no dinner at all he put some of his hard earned wealth towards the construction of a 55 foot high tower in his garden.

The idea was that from this lofty height, amongst a generally lower and gently local undulating topography a servant could spot his carriage as it descended Southorpe Hill which formed a main approach to Hornsea from the south west from Hull. A relayed message down the tower to the house would undoubtedly put other domestic staff on alert for his reasonably imminent arrival. The sanction of a dissatisfied master would be enough to galvanise swift action to have the victuals fully prepared and ready to eat.

The tower, designated  Grade Two by Historic Britain survives today ( although Bettisons mansion was demolished in the 1960's) and is a great example of "Folly"  architecture being of extravagant appearance that far overshadowed its purpose and with little other practical or feasible use.

One remarkable feature, thought to be the only one of its type in the whole country, is a full length retractable flagpole which when deployed would nearly double the height of the structure.

It is an unusual sort of tower; constructed in 'treacle' bricks which have been faultily fired in the local brick kilns. This gives a rather strange burnt black, almost slag-like hue and although there has been very little weathering in the ensuing nearly century and a half because of the hard, almost petrified qualities the bricks are by their nature very mishapen and distorted.

The bricks, from locally excavated clays (Hornsea is amongst other things famous for its glazed pottery) may have been rejects available at a cheap price, no doubt of attraction to a frugal businessman.

The interior, largely open plan does have a series of ladders and platforms which give access to a castellated roof.  The Bettison brewery operation provided some embellishments to the design with glass beer bottles embedded as windows.

Bettisons Folly still stands quite strikingly but it is now in the middle of a 1970's housing estate.

It did play a part in the wartime years of the town by accommodating the air raid siren although public access as a consequence of successive private owners was otherwise denied .

That was until only recently when for the sum of £1 plus legal costs the tower was purchased for the benefit of the residents of Hornsea by generous benefactors . On Civic Day in the town the population can ascend to the heady heights and enjoy the elevated views out over the rooftops.

The history of the tower is quite unique, as is the construction and to acknowledge this Bettisons Folly was named in a top ten listing of fascinating structures by The Huffington Post in 2012.

We may applaud eccentric characters for leaving to the nation such flamboyant folly heritage but you may have mixed feelings about William Bettison based on the footnote that it was reported that the builder, a local man, was never paid for the job.