A Drowned Express Train - 1875

Flooding has been a continual problem for railways since their inception. In November 1875 large portions of the country were subject to flooding and the picture above from The Graphic illustrates how this affected the Bristol and Exeter Railway's services - they stopped them dead. Indeed, the article stated that the Great Western Railway was under water to such an extent that the reporter was able to canoe for half  a mile along the line, and that between Oxford and Abingdon passengers were taken off trains at Radley Station, to be conveyed to Oxford by vehicles 'of all descriptions.'[1]

[1] The Graphic (London, England), Saturday, November 27, 1875; Issue 313.

Steam on the Underground in 2012

Next year it will be 150 years since the opening of Britain's first underground railway, the Metropolitan Railway, which began operating on the 10 January 1863 between Paddington and Farringdon Street. Of course, given that electricity was in its infancy at the time the service was operated by steam trains. Therefore, for the anniversary there are [tentative] plans to operate a steam service on the line and you can read more about this at the excellent London Reconnections site.

But these days running steam trains anywhere on the railway network is not an easy task, and magnificent events have to prepared for. Thus, my joy was almost unbridled when the video above appeared on my Twitter feed last night. Using a London and South Western Railway Beattie 'Well' tank, a 'steam test' took place on the Metropolitan Line at 1 am on 26 February. The effects of steam on the modern Metropolitan stock were then tested by running two trains through it, yet, I can't imagine there were any problems. Well, I hope not, as I'm  now very excited about 2013's celebrations.

The Hours Train Drivers Worked - 1892

It is no secret that Victorian railway workers were on duty for considerable lengths of time. In 1892 the government, concerned with the possible implications for safety of long working hours, established a committee to look into the issues and report. The committee took testimony from many railway employees of all grades and because of the serious nature of what was revealed to the public, much of it was reported in the press.

Therefore, when searching for information on the Midland and South Western Junction Railway (M&SWJR), I found that the Manchester Times had reported the length that some of the companies' drivers were on duty for. One, named Evans, had worked in a fortnight one twenty-six hour shift, two twenty-four hour, forty minute ones and one twenty-four hour one. Another, Butler, had in a forty-one hour period been driving trains for thirty-eight hours, and had two spells of twenty-four hours in one week. Lastly, one driver had been on duty for twenty-eight out of twenty-nine hours.[1]

As the article noted, these were extreme cases. But there is no doubt that generally railway companies placed cost before safety by allowing such practices to exist. Indeed, it is unsurprising that in the period many accidents were caused by driver's fatigue and dulled responses.

[1] Manchester Times, Friday, April 22, 1892, Issue 1812.

Waiting Room Weekly Round-Up

This week has certainly been interesting for a number of reasons. On Wednesday I attended a wonderful lecture at the London Canal Museum by Christian Wolmar on the history of the tube, followed by a question and answer session with transport minister, Theresa Villiers. The evening, which was supporting the Westminster Society - a charity that supports people with learning disabilities - gave me a great chance to meet Christian, who so kindly wrote a short piece for my two year anniversary last week. But, the week was tinged with a hint of sadness. As I related on Friday evening, yesterday was my last ever visit to The National Archives as a student. It was certainly the end of an era you could say, but from now on (well, after I finish my PhD) I can research whatever I want at the archive and that fills me with excitement.

So here's what has happened this week:

Monday: The Size of a Railway Company Boards
Tuesday: Selling a Railway Wagon - Advertising in 1905
Wednesday: "The most desperate efforts to avoid the ladies" - Observing Station Activity (1868)
Thursday: Introducing: Ross D. Mangles - A 1840s Railway Director
Friday: The End of and Era - A Last Visit to the Archive of a Finishing PhD Student
Saturday: Lost property on the Railways - A Rule Book 

Don't also forget this week's main Turnip Rail blog post: The Station Refreshment Room after 1870 - Part 1

Also, if you like Turnip Rail, you can 'like' it on Facebook HERE.

Lost property on the Railways - A Rule Book

 If there is something the railways of Britain should be noted for, it is bureaucracy. As a railway historian this is fascinating for me, as the information systems established early in railway history have kept the huge networks of rails, staff and stations operating. Consequently, I have developed an almost compulsive urge for collecting the many rule and instruction books that the railways before 1948 churned out in vast numbers. The scope of my collecting is not limited to companies' main rule books that were issued to every employee on their first day at work, and then taken away on their last. But no, they are so ubiquitous that my collection would be quite dull. Rather, I take great joy in acquiring instructional texts that governed all the other facets of railway work. So, here, I present a few pages of my latest acquisition, a London Midland and Scottish Railway 'Instructions to goods and passenger managers, goods agents, station masters, passenger and parcel agents and others concerned at Stations in England, Wales and Ireland regarding  missing and found goods and coaching traffic, passengers' lost property and money, disposal of salvage' from 1934.

P.S. I hope to digitise and make available all my rule books when the PhD is over.

The End of and Era - A Last Visit to the Archive of a Finishing PhD Student

It has been a while since I have done any archival work. Given that I am in the sixth year of six of my PhD there is very little research to be done and the necessity of getting my fingers dirty and finding new material is really a thing of the past. Currently, my time is consumed by going over drafts of draft chapters, tweaking what I eventually hope will eventually resemble a thesis.

Nevertheless, a few days ago, while editing to death chapter five on the London and South Western Railway's Directors, I was struck by a bit of hole in my work. If I am honest, this was something that my supervisor, Colin, had pointed out to me three years ago. Yet, true to style I failed to follow his suggestion up and it was only a few nights ago, with the experience of two years extra work behind me, that I realised how much I needed the hole filled. Perhaps I shouldn't detail here what was creating the hole here, it's actually quite a boring subject. All I will say is that like a historical cement mixer, the research required to fill it won't take considerable time and will just sure up a slightly shaky section of the chapter. So, yesterday afternoon I placed my advanced document order and pedalled off this morning, with a slight hangover, to The National Archives [TNA].

I have always loved TNA. My initial forays into research were made there and it was the first place where I truly saw how history was made. After all, anyone can go to the Imperial War Museum and gawk at weaponry, while at TNA you can physically interact with the reasons the weapons exists. You can hold the process, rather than the product.

Yet, time and experience jades a historian. On my first visit to TNA, way back when, I was like a child in a candy shop, fervently, madly, reading all I was shown on my undergraduate dissertation topic, the Battle of Britain, in a state of heightened enjoyment. Currently, the feelings I have when researching are not the same. They are altered and more mature. Being at the archive is old news and handling hundreds of years old documents is run-of-the-mill. Nevertheless, I remain just enthused by the process. The fact that touching paper from the past is no longer exciting has not diminished any happiness I feel when discovering new things and adding to my body of knowledge. Just as long as I am productive, I am more than happy in my 'happy place'; being buried in a document.

So, I arrived, hoping fill the gap in my research in one morning. Nothing ever changes at TNA, in that I always find something has changed. Since my last visit six months ago the following is different:

1) There is now an outer front door;
2) We have to now push the revolving door;
3) There is a new front desk in the foyer;
4) ...which is overshadowed by scaffolding and work is being done on something;
5) They have rearranged the first floor 'greeting area';
6) The cabinet doors in the main reading room are now Red;

I always find the regular alterations at the Archives somewhat unsettling, I am someone who likes things to stay consistent. However, the constant change there, I tell myself, is good. It signifies an that the TNA is an organisation that is constantly thinking, that is trying to improve the experience for those who use it and which actually cares about its users. It shows that for all the history contained within its walls, TNA firmly has an eye on the future.

So, I settled down to work on the documents I had requested. Predictably, given the nature of the information I was extracting, I went at a pace, racing through the four documents I had ordered in advance, plus three more I requested on arrival. Mid-way through these seven I ordered three more, and then gathered the information I required from them at an even quicker rate. Another three were sent for...and then I waited.

I am not complaining at all, but when I started visiting TNA documents arrived in twenty minutes. Yet, after changes a few years back you'll be lucky to get them in half an hour, with forty minutes being the standard - but not at lunch time. Having worked at the Archive for nine months in 2005 I can testify to how hard the staff there work, and I do not blame them at all for me having to wait longer than I used to. Indeed, I think it  brilliant that they run such a slick operation, and the notion of getting documents so quickly - given how many they hold there - still amazes me. Yet, within the lunch hours, when I had to be at work down the road in the near future, the wait was frustrating. The documents winging their way to me would wrap up what I wanted to do, freeing me up to continue work on the chapter.

Sadly, fate did not work in my favour, and just as I was leaving the computer screen displayed those familiar words: 'document has arrived in the 1st floor reading room.' In my head I exclaimed 'darn', and shuffled off to work, vowing to return and finish off my research in my precious lunch break tomorrow. But my frustration did not end there. Because of a foolish error when saving my work, the most important part of it, the bit that will fill most of the hole, was absent from my hard drive. Therefore, it is another thing I will have to do in my hour of frantic research tomorrow.

Tomorrow, Saturday 25 February 2012, will almost certainly be the last day that I am at TNA researching for a qualification I am striving towards. That fills me with sadness. No doubt I will go back, and I hope that for a short time after my PhD to set up home there and research whatever I want - for my own enjoyment. But when I cross the threshold out of TNA tomorrow it will truly be the end of an era. Thank you TNA, you certainly have been a beloved friend and a trusted companion through my BA, MA and my PhD.

Introducing: Ross D. Mangles - A 1840s Railway Director

I won't bore you with all the details, but currently I am using my spare time to establish whether certain individuals in the 1840s sat on more than one railway company's board, and, therefore, created a link between the businesses. This isn't an easy task, and involves transcribing the names of all railway company directors in 1848 from a directory. It is an understatement to say it is time-consuming.

So far, one director has stood out - Ross D. Mangles. In my work I have come across some famous directors from the period, such as George Carr Glyn. But I had never heard of Mangles. This said, I am sure I have encountered a relative of his, Charles Mangles, one of the directors of the London and South Western Railway, the company on which I am doing my PhD. In 1848 Ross on the following companies' boards:


Aylesbury Railway
Buckinghamshire Railway
Dunstable, and London and Birmingham Railway
East and West Docks and Birmingham Junction
London and North Western Railway

Central to Mangles' directorships was his position on the board of the London and North Western Railway, Britain's largest and most influential company at this time. Indeed, all the other companies listed were much smaller, but had links with the L&NWR through feeding into its business in some way. Therefore, it is very likley that he was on their boards to influence their policy in the L&NWR's favour.

Ultimately, this why determining the links that were established between railway companies via their directorates is important. Viewing railway companies in the Victorian period in isolation is erroneous, as informal bonds with neighbouring ones influenced corporate policies, such as take-overs, mergers, operations and train services. Thus, while the boundary of one company may seemingly end at its railhead, its influence through its directors may go even further.