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Round Yorkshire With A Knife: The Wizard’s Quest Part 6 - A Flying Visit To Sheffield: Fallen Castles & A Lost Crown
Background: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-to-Jack-Black
Previous instalments -
Part 1: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-Knaresborough
Part 2: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-2
Part 3: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-3
Part 4: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-4
Part 5: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...kshire-With-A-Knife-The-Wizard’s-Quest-Part-5
I had lost my crown. A piece of liquorice toffee was the culprit, first piece out of the bag, and I was left chewing gold and porcelain. Trying to find a good dentist in this country is harder than trying to find vintage pocketknives (something I know the world and his wife remarks upon), and a dozen years since I moved north to Leeds, my dentist is still in Sheffield. Since my appointment was not until early afternoon, I thought I’d go over early and meet up with my old pal Scooby, who last accompanied me to the dreadful town of Rotherham (see http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...Yorkshire-With-A-Knife-Rummaging-In-Rotherham ).
As I came into Sheffield, I passed the recently-closed Castle Market, named after the remains of Sheffield Castle, which it was built above. When I was a kid, Sheffield had several markets (see http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...92573&highlight=woolworth's+cafe#post11392573 ), from the open-air ‘Rag & Tag’ and Setts markets to the indoor Castle and Sheaf markets. They were big too, the Castle Market spanning several floors. Now Sheffield has a small collection of tatty shops in a recently-opened mall-like structure, which they are trying to pass off as a market.
I had arranged to meet Scooby at Sheffield’s Millenium Galleries, where I’ve previously been to photograph the knives they have on display (see http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...lenium-Galleries-More-pics-added-from-Post-38), and which is well worth a visit if you’re ever in the area. In the absence of any Sheffield-made knives, I was rather saddened to see a couple of brushed steel imported knife/pocket-tools in the museum shop, which managed to be cheap and overpriced at the same time, and which could hardly have been in a more inappropriate setting. I lamented this with Scooby when he turned up, and we then sat on a bench in the adjacent Winter Gardens to catch up and to belatedly exchange Christmas presents. I had bought Scooby a spirit-level and a book on the South Yorkshire canal system (yes, it’s like the olden days isn’t it?!
). He had got me a knife, a SAK-copy, but nicely made in Solingen, Scooby had bought a dozen of them for £15 on a car-boot-sale.
After I had handed over a penny, we set off for a walk around the city, which has changed every time I visit, and gets grimmer and grottier, while still losing character. I wanted to have a look round one of the inner city areas, and hopefully track down Sheffield’s oldest working grinder, Jack Adams.
It was a miserable day, with wind-blown drizzle and overcast skies promising worse. We headed up West Street, past the old Mortons cutlery shop (see http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/showthread.php/1109231-A-knife-I-bought-at-Morton-s), where we had both spent many a time gawping at the displays of fine folders and fixed-blades in the windows. Sadly, Mortons is long gone.
We trudged down dirty streets, passing the old Sheffield assay office, which has recently closed down (and moved to another location), and plenty of derelict and disused factories. At the bottom of the hill, we spotted Ernest Wright’s scissor factory, and a sign reading ‘Sheffield Maker’s Emporium’. It was hard to resist the open door, and we stepped inside into a small showroom. A Perspex petition allows visitors to watch the scissors being made, but there was no work being done at that time. A large display case held a good range of high-end Sheffield folders, knives from the premium ranges of Arthur Wright and Taylor’s Eye Witness, there was even one of Stan Shaw’s knives. The prices were high to VERY high. It’s a nice little place, if a bit out of the way, and I’m not sure how many visitors stumble across the place and are willing to spend up to £350 on a penknife.
Down a narrow alley next to Wright’s we entered what remains of an area once known as The Crofts. My great grandfather was a professional soldier, a Colour Sargent (Regimental Sargent Major) who fought in Africa. After he left the army, he started a family, fathering six children, the second youngest of which was my grandfather. My great grandmother died giving birth to my grandfather’s younger brother, when my granddad was two. Life was hard for them, and it got worse when World War One started, and my great grandfather swiftly re-enlisted. My grandfather and his siblings were separated and farmed out to relatives, and my grandfather and his younger brother Frank ended up in The Crofts.
The Crofts were one of the oldest and poorest areas in Sheffield, ruled by ‘razor gangs’ who would slit your throat for the price of a few pints, and home to many of the city’s recent immigrants, from Italy, Ireland, and from Eastern Europe. People worked hard, but lived in poverty in appalling conditions. My granddad started part-time work aged five, and full-time work aged seven.
It must be twenty years since I’ve walked these streets, and they have not changed for the better. They have been made uglier than they ever were by the buildings and factories that line them being half ripped-down, demolished altogether, or being replaced by more tawdry modern structures. Many of the cobbled streets still follow the old routes, which don’t really make any sense anymore, looping around, and sometimes leading nowhere. At the top of the hill is the Red House, an old Irish pub, where I used to drink as a teenager. It served the best pint of Wards in the city, and there was always the priest from nearby Saint Vincent’s standing at the bar. In the 1920’s, when Sheffield Police tried to crush the gangs, dispensing with legal niceties along the way, the two groups shot it out in the street outside the Red House. Now, like the other few remaining pubs in the area, the Red House appears to have lost all its character, it is just a run-down failing pub with a forgotten history.
We descended onto Scotland Street, where I hoped to find Jack Adams & Co. There was once a brass foundry here, where on the roof of the humble brick-built building perched two giant statues of Greek gods as high again as the building itself. They were quite a shock to any stranger venturing through the area. At the other end of Scotland street lies the old John Watts factory, and what was once the Old Crown pub, where Jem Hallam and Sam Crookes, hit-men for the powerful Saw Grinder’s Union, shot and murdered James Lindlay, a notorious strike-breaker and ‘sweater of boys’. Nearby was ‘The Den’ or ‘The Lair’, meeting place of the Sheffield Anarchists, where the notorious Dr John Creaghe and his comrades plotted revolution in the 1890’s. Still a little further along Scotland Street was where the sandal-wearing homosexual Edward Carpenter and his friends set up England’s first vegetarian cafe. Almost every nook and cranny in the area has history, and yet it is unknown to most and disappearing fast.
Half of the remaining buildings on Scotland Street are derelict, and we strove to find Jack Adams' factory in vain, not realising that little more than a humble doorway lies on the street itself. Frustrated by the weather and wary of missing my dental appointment, we decided to spend what little spare time we had visiting Britain’s last intact cementation furnace, which is just down the road. It sits in relative obscurity, unknown to even many nearby residents, but all around the factories and workshops that have long surrounded it are being enthusiastically torn down.
With the time of my appointment swiftly approaching, we headed towards the nearby tram stop. A quarter of a mile away across the multiple traffic lanes lies the front of the former Globe Works (see http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...d-Demise-of-Sheffield-s-Old-Cutlery-Factories). I used to know one of the former Heads of Sheffield’s Planning Department, and he was known TO HIS FRIENDS as ‘Idiot Dave’ (and presumably as worse to others). Between him and others who have held the post, Sheffield really has been made into a mess, and it is no more apparent than here, a stone’s throw from so much of the city’s crumbling industrial heritage. It takes a brave heart and a spare ten minutes just to get across the road here, but eventually we made it to the tram stop, and I made the dentist. With another three follow-up appointments required, I will have plenty more opportunities to seek out Jack Adams and some other old Sheffield cutlers, who may yet be able to aid me in the Wizard’s Quest.
The Hunt Continues!
Jack
Background: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-to-Jack-Black
Previous instalments -
Part 1: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-Knaresborough
Part 2: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-2
Part 3: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-3
Part 4: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-4
Part 5: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...kshire-With-A-Knife-The-Wizard’s-Quest-Part-5
I had lost my crown. A piece of liquorice toffee was the culprit, first piece out of the bag, and I was left chewing gold and porcelain. Trying to find a good dentist in this country is harder than trying to find vintage pocketknives (something I know the world and his wife remarks upon), and a dozen years since I moved north to Leeds, my dentist is still in Sheffield. Since my appointment was not until early afternoon, I thought I’d go over early and meet up with my old pal Scooby, who last accompanied me to the dreadful town of Rotherham (see http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...Yorkshire-With-A-Knife-Rummaging-In-Rotherham ).
As I came into Sheffield, I passed the recently-closed Castle Market, named after the remains of Sheffield Castle, which it was built above. When I was a kid, Sheffield had several markets (see http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...92573&highlight=woolworth's+cafe#post11392573 ), from the open-air ‘Rag & Tag’ and Setts markets to the indoor Castle and Sheaf markets. They were big too, the Castle Market spanning several floors. Now Sheffield has a small collection of tatty shops in a recently-opened mall-like structure, which they are trying to pass off as a market.
I had arranged to meet Scooby at Sheffield’s Millenium Galleries, where I’ve previously been to photograph the knives they have on display (see http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...lenium-Galleries-More-pics-added-from-Post-38), and which is well worth a visit if you’re ever in the area. In the absence of any Sheffield-made knives, I was rather saddened to see a couple of brushed steel imported knife/pocket-tools in the museum shop, which managed to be cheap and overpriced at the same time, and which could hardly have been in a more inappropriate setting. I lamented this with Scooby when he turned up, and we then sat on a bench in the adjacent Winter Gardens to catch up and to belatedly exchange Christmas presents. I had bought Scooby a spirit-level and a book on the South Yorkshire canal system (yes, it’s like the olden days isn’t it?!
). He had got me a knife, a SAK-copy, but nicely made in Solingen, Scooby had bought a dozen of them for £15 on a car-boot-sale.After I had handed over a penny, we set off for a walk around the city, which has changed every time I visit, and gets grimmer and grottier, while still losing character. I wanted to have a look round one of the inner city areas, and hopefully track down Sheffield’s oldest working grinder, Jack Adams.
It was a miserable day, with wind-blown drizzle and overcast skies promising worse. We headed up West Street, past the old Mortons cutlery shop (see http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/showthread.php/1109231-A-knife-I-bought-at-Morton-s), where we had both spent many a time gawping at the displays of fine folders and fixed-blades in the windows. Sadly, Mortons is long gone.
We trudged down dirty streets, passing the old Sheffield assay office, which has recently closed down (and moved to another location), and plenty of derelict and disused factories. At the bottom of the hill, we spotted Ernest Wright’s scissor factory, and a sign reading ‘Sheffield Maker’s Emporium’. It was hard to resist the open door, and we stepped inside into a small showroom. A Perspex petition allows visitors to watch the scissors being made, but there was no work being done at that time. A large display case held a good range of high-end Sheffield folders, knives from the premium ranges of Arthur Wright and Taylor’s Eye Witness, there was even one of Stan Shaw’s knives. The prices were high to VERY high. It’s a nice little place, if a bit out of the way, and I’m not sure how many visitors stumble across the place and are willing to spend up to £350 on a penknife.
Down a narrow alley next to Wright’s we entered what remains of an area once known as The Crofts. My great grandfather was a professional soldier, a Colour Sargent (Regimental Sargent Major) who fought in Africa. After he left the army, he started a family, fathering six children, the second youngest of which was my grandfather. My great grandmother died giving birth to my grandfather’s younger brother, when my granddad was two. Life was hard for them, and it got worse when World War One started, and my great grandfather swiftly re-enlisted. My grandfather and his siblings were separated and farmed out to relatives, and my grandfather and his younger brother Frank ended up in The Crofts.
The Crofts were one of the oldest and poorest areas in Sheffield, ruled by ‘razor gangs’ who would slit your throat for the price of a few pints, and home to many of the city’s recent immigrants, from Italy, Ireland, and from Eastern Europe. People worked hard, but lived in poverty in appalling conditions. My granddad started part-time work aged five, and full-time work aged seven.
It must be twenty years since I’ve walked these streets, and they have not changed for the better. They have been made uglier than they ever were by the buildings and factories that line them being half ripped-down, demolished altogether, or being replaced by more tawdry modern structures. Many of the cobbled streets still follow the old routes, which don’t really make any sense anymore, looping around, and sometimes leading nowhere. At the top of the hill is the Red House, an old Irish pub, where I used to drink as a teenager. It served the best pint of Wards in the city, and there was always the priest from nearby Saint Vincent’s standing at the bar. In the 1920’s, when Sheffield Police tried to crush the gangs, dispensing with legal niceties along the way, the two groups shot it out in the street outside the Red House. Now, like the other few remaining pubs in the area, the Red House appears to have lost all its character, it is just a run-down failing pub with a forgotten history.
We descended onto Scotland Street, where I hoped to find Jack Adams & Co. There was once a brass foundry here, where on the roof of the humble brick-built building perched two giant statues of Greek gods as high again as the building itself. They were quite a shock to any stranger venturing through the area. At the other end of Scotland street lies the old John Watts factory, and what was once the Old Crown pub, where Jem Hallam and Sam Crookes, hit-men for the powerful Saw Grinder’s Union, shot and murdered James Lindlay, a notorious strike-breaker and ‘sweater of boys’. Nearby was ‘The Den’ or ‘The Lair’, meeting place of the Sheffield Anarchists, where the notorious Dr John Creaghe and his comrades plotted revolution in the 1890’s. Still a little further along Scotland Street was where the sandal-wearing homosexual Edward Carpenter and his friends set up England’s first vegetarian cafe. Almost every nook and cranny in the area has history, and yet it is unknown to most and disappearing fast.
Half of the remaining buildings on Scotland Street are derelict, and we strove to find Jack Adams' factory in vain, not realising that little more than a humble doorway lies on the street itself. Frustrated by the weather and wary of missing my dental appointment, we decided to spend what little spare time we had visiting Britain’s last intact cementation furnace, which is just down the road. It sits in relative obscurity, unknown to even many nearby residents, but all around the factories and workshops that have long surrounded it are being enthusiastically torn down.
With the time of my appointment swiftly approaching, we headed towards the nearby tram stop. A quarter of a mile away across the multiple traffic lanes lies the front of the former Globe Works (see http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...d-Demise-of-Sheffield-s-Old-Cutlery-Factories). I used to know one of the former Heads of Sheffield’s Planning Department, and he was known TO HIS FRIENDS as ‘Idiot Dave’ (and presumably as worse to others). Between him and others who have held the post, Sheffield really has been made into a mess, and it is no more apparent than here, a stone’s throw from so much of the city’s crumbling industrial heritage. It takes a brave heart and a spare ten minutes just to get across the road here, but eventually we made it to the tram stop, and I made the dentist. With another three follow-up appointments required, I will have plenty more opportunities to seek out Jack Adams and some other old Sheffield cutlers, who may yet be able to aid me in the Wizard’s Quest.
The Hunt Continues!
Jack
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