Joseph Locke Read online

  On going through the tunnel, the general was preceded in the train by a wagon bearing the men with torches, which were held to the roof and sides, the train proceeding very slowly so that the nature of the work might be closely and carefully examined, and we understand that General Pasley expressed his entire satisfaction with the work generally, and indeed declared that it was one of the finest pieces of engineering he had ever seen.

  A triumph it may have been, but it was only built to take a single track, and it was clear that would not be enough for a main line, joining two such important towns as Sheffield and Manchester. During construction, the plans had allowed for two-foot deep drainage ditches to be cut, and a total of twenty-five arches were inserted at roughly 200-yard intervals into the side walls. Locke, at least, must have been aware that a singletrack tunnel would be a bottleneck and had planned accordingly. It was just as well, as it was soon apparent that the tunnel presented special problems, particularly the need to prevent accidents on the single track. A pilot engine was kept permanently at the tunnel and no train could proceed without it. This engine had a powerful, oil-burning Argand lamp set at the front to shine a light down the tunnel – Vignoles’ tunnel lamps never materialised. There was also a very up to date addition: a telegraph wire was slung down the length of the tunnel.

  The first Woodhead tunnel was an engineering triumph. The care with which the original survey had been carried out was demonstrated when the first drifts were dug from the bottoms of the shafts, and were found to meet within a few inches of each other. It was also a monumental task. No accurate figures for the numbers employed on the work exist, but it has been reliably estimated that at times as many as a thousand and possibly more were at work at any one time. Other statistics are equally impressive. To keep the workings at least moderately dry, eight million tons of water were pumped out; 157 tons of gunpowder were used for blasting and almost 300,000 cubic yards of material were excavated. But it all came at a human cost. One of the most telling comments came from a missionary sent to the navvies from Salford, who described an encounter in his journal:

  Going over the moor, this morning, met two women. One said, ‘Have you not sometimes been to pray for Johnson?’ I said I had. ‘He is dead’, said she; ‘I have just laid him out; it is but little more than six years since I came here to live in these hills, and he is the twenty-ninth man I have laid out, and the first of them who died a natural death.’

  It has to be said, however, that the Woodhead tunnel was exceptionally difficult to build, and was by no means the only tunnel which was finished at a high cost in lives. At Otley, in Yorkshire, there is a monument in the churchyard, one of the very few commemorating railway navvies. It is dedicated to the men who died constructing the Bramhope tunnel on the Leeds & Thirsk Railway. It was two thirds the length of Woodhead, but the memorial is for the twenty-three men who died in its construction.

  While work continued on the tunnel, the rest of the line was being built. There were two major structures, the viaducts at Etherow and Dinting Vale. Both were designed by Locke using timber, soaked in copper sulphate solution as a preservative, and mounted on masonry piers. They were imposing structures: Etherow was 506ft long and 136ft high and carried on three arches: Dinting Vale, 1,455ft long and 121ft high on five arches. In 1859, the timber superstructure was replaced by wrought-iron box girders.

  Once the inspectorate had approved Woodhead tunnel, the whole line could be opened and the official ceremony took place on 22 December 1845, no doubt to the great relief of the shareholders who had never expected that more than seven years would have passed since the first sod had been cut. A special train loaded with dignitaries left Sheffield in the morning and, as the passengers emerged from the gloom of woodhead, they gave three cheers, either as acknowledgement of the achievement or in relief at having got safely through. On arrival at Manchester they were greeted by a band playing what was the obligatory tune on such occasions, Handel’s See the Conquering Hero Comes. There followed the equally usual banquet and speeches. The line was finally completed and open for business.

  Very little is known about the three locomotives ordered at the start, other than the fact they were built by Kirtley & Co. The carriages were of the usual variety – comfortable, first class; rather less comfortable second class, and third class that was little better than open trucks, in which passengers were expected to stand. Travelling through the more or less unventilated Woodhead tunnel as third-class passengers must have been a decidedly uncomfortable experience, as the choking smoke from the engine drifted over them. But then, they were not much worse off than the driver and fireman on their open footplate.

  It was not long, however, before the need for a second tunnel at Woodhead became essential for the efficient running of the line. Work began in 1847 and was made far simpler than the original workings had been. Access was through the side arches, so no deep shafts had to be sunk, and the underlying geology was by now more clearly understood. There were far fewer accidents, but there was one disastrous period. In 1849, the men had been working day and night shifts and when in May they finally got paid, many went off on a prolonged drinking bout over the Whitsun holiday. When they returned to the workings, many were ill and the Manchester Guardian put the illness down to ‘the grossest imprudence and intemperance’. It was far more serious: it was cholera and twenty-five men died. They were not the only casualties: two of the nurses who had volunteered to help the doctors at the site also died from the outbreak. For a time, all work came to a halt as the navvies deserted their huts to avoid the sickness. Eventually, as the epidemic ended, work resumed, and the second tunnel was opened in February 1852.

  The Woodhead tunnels had an evil reputation, partly because of the great suffering involved in their construction, and partly because travel through those smoke-choked bores was always an unpleasant experience. Some indication of just how smoky they were came in the 1960s, when it was decided to run power cables through the second tunnel. Workers had to remove soot deposits two inches thick from the brick lining. By this date, the two original tunnels had closed, replaced by a wider tunnel with double tracks. Construction on that began in 1949. Using the most modern machinery, it took four years to complete, which makes the work on Locke’s original tunnel, where everything was done by hand, an even more remarkable achievement.

  Chapter Eight

  CREWE

  While work on the Sheffield, Manchester & Ashton-under-Lyne Railway was still making its slow and tortuous progress, Locke was called on once again to turn his attention to his first major project, the Grand Junction. Since the opening of that line, the network had been expanding. As railways became both more common and more popular, investors started looking at ways in which connections could be improved. The Grand Junction had taken advantage of the existing link to the Liverpool & Manchester, but it was not the ideal route to Manchester as it involved joining the latter line and then turning through almost 90 degrees, switching from running in a northerly to an easterly direction. A more obvious line from Birmingham was to head on a much more direct route through the Potteries. That line would be built in time, but not for many years. In the meantime, an alternative route was being promoted by the Manchester & Cheshire Junction Railway. The same awkward 90-degree turn was faced by passengers heading on the Grand Junction for Liverpool. Again, an alternative was available, one which Locke had considered a real possibility even before the Act was passed. He had even foreseen where the most convenient place to make a junction would be – near the hamlet of Monks Coppenhall. But the junction and its station took its name instead from nearby Crewe Hall. The Manchester & Cheshire Junction would also have a connecting branch to Crewe. Both lines were approved by the Manchester & Birmingham and Chester & Crewe Acts of June 1837. The Chester & Crewe Railway was completed in 1840 and two years later the line from Stockport to Crewe was opened. The little rural hamlet was suddenly gaining importance.

  The Grand Junction was having problems
with maintaining its locomotives and rolling stock. The locomotive repair works were at Edge Hill but there was little room there for expansion, and work on other rolling stock was spread around a number of different depots. The case for having a brand new works in which everything could be carried out at the same site was clear and obvious, as was the best location. It had to be Crewe, where the new works could serve not only the Grand Junction itself, but could cope with the other lines already arriving there – and more that were planned for the future. In 1840 the Board ordered the purchase of a large area of land at Crewe, and gave Locke succinct instructions. He was to prepare plans and estimates ‘which shall include the building and repair of carriages and wagons as well as engines.’ This was a new departure. Locke explained its significance, writing after the Grand Junction had been absorbed into the larger Company, the London & North Western Railway in 1846:

  At an early period the Grand Junction Company bought all their locomotives from manufacturers, and it was only justice to admit, that those of Messrs R. Stephenson & Co. were the best. But the engines were, necessarily in need of constant repair, and an establishment was formed for that purpose, at Crewe. Then arose the question, whether this establishment could not be advantageously used, not only for repair, but also for the construction of engines. The plan was tried, and all the engines for the Lancaster & Carlisle, for the northern section of the London & North Western, and for the Chester & Holyhead were built there; and the cost was found to be much less than the price that had been formerly paid.

  Locke appears to be suggesting that the plan for locomotive construction was something of an afterthought, but as his initial instructions quoted above show, the idea was there from the start.

  The site chosen occupied 2½ acres (1 hectare) between the lines to Liverpool and Chester. There was no available labour locally, so men had to be brought in for the job and more would be recruited to run the works when they were opened. The effect on the area was felt immediately. The 1841 Census showed the population of Monks Coppenhall as 203: by the end of the following year there were about a thousand living there. It was essential to provide appropriate facilities for those who would eventually man the new works. The Company would need to employ craftsmen. Navvies might be prepared to live in shanty towns and makeshift huts, but not skilled mechanics. So the Company had to provide decent houses for them to live in and proper facilities. In the original plans, spaces were left for the eventual establishment of a church and a school. An architect, John Cunningham was employed to supervise all the work at a salary of £300 a year, and some of the workers’ houses he designed survive in the town. These were terraced cottages, of the familiar kind but solidly built of brick on firm stone foundations with slate roofs. Cunningham would no doubt be astonished to discover that the asking price for one of these modest cottages is now in the region of £100,000.

  There were four classes of houses. The best were described as being in the ‘villa style’, built in the fashionable Gothic in blocks of four and intended for ‘superior officers’ of the Company. The cottages for the labourers were of the familiar two up two down variety. Water was supplied by the Company free of charge, though only the better class had it on tap in their houses; others had to fetch it from a communal tap. Gas was laid on, and charged at the rate of 2d a week per burner. The houses had privies and cesspits, cleared by the Company – who dumped the waste in a nearby stream. The water for the town was collected upstream of the dumping site – contemporary reports have no comments on the effect on anyone unfortunate enough to live downstream.

  Water supply was actually something of a problem from the start. Locke ordered a well to be drilled, but when the water began to flow it was found to be salty and the project had to be abandoned. Cheshire was famous for its salt works, so perhaps this is not too surprising. So the brook had to be used. The Company purchased an old grain mill and dam to create a reservoir and erected a steam pump near the locomotive works. This pumped the water through filter beds to a water tower, which supplied both the works and the town.

  The Company was paternalistic, providing a wide range of facilities, including a school for the workers’ children, supervised by a committee made up of directors’ wives. A Mechanics Institute was built and a health service provided. A bath house was soon added to the public buildings. The original plans called for a church to be built, and it was duly constructed. To all appearances it was a typical Victorian church, with attractive marble columns in the nave. But rap one of those columns and instead of a dull, stony thud you get a metallic ping. The Company found it cheaper to cast the columns in iron at the works and paint them to imitate stone. Little now remains of this building apart from the tower.

  The grandest buildings in Crewe in the early days were those of the works themselves. A newspaper account of 1846 gave a detailed description:

  On the right you turn into a large apartment fitted up for building new wagons; it opens into another still larger, and here wagons are repaired. Further on is the forge where the iron work of Mr Owens’ department (the wagon-shops) is executed. The fan is used instead of the bellows; but here, as in all the other smithies, bellows are erected in the event of the fan failing. Turning round from the wagon department you enter the coach-building room, in continuation of which are the repairing shop and smithy attached.

  The next great wing of the building is devoted to the locomotive departments. It presents the aspects of a Polytechnic Institution: all the vast implements of engineering science seem gathered together here. Planing machines of all forms and sizes fill up the centre, connected with endless straps to a power-transmitting drum; while on either side the lathes, punching, shearing and cutting machines. In the extreme wing is the brass foundry and brass works.

  Not the least marvellous thing about this extensive establishment was the fact that the power which moved all the machinery throughout the buildings, covering thirty acres, was transmitted from one steam-engine of twenty-horse power, worked on the Cornish or expansive principle. The arrangements secure the most perfect division of labour, and although six hundred men are employed, there was a total absence of bustle, hurry or confusion. Each man like the machinery, seemed to fall naturally into its own place.

  The works benefited greatly from the improvements in machine tools made in the previous half-century which, as the description suggests, were run by overhead line shafts and belts, powered by the steam engine. However, a lot of the work was still manual. Because wrought iron sheets were only available in quite small sizes, large units such as boilers could only be built by riveting several sheets together. The first step would be to bend the metal to the correct shape on a former, the idea being to produce a finished boiler as nearly circular in cross-section as possible. This avoided undue stresses from the heat generated in use. Riveting was a skilled job that required excellent team work. First the plates to be joined had to be drilled with matching holes. The rivets themselves were like round headed bolts but with no screw thread. They would be heated in braziers or small furnaces. The men had to act quickly – the red hot rivet would be pushed through the hole and the rounded end held firmly against the outside of the boiler by the worker’s hammer. On the far side, a second man would hammer the end over to create a tight fit. The work was incredibly noisy and many riveters became deaf in later life.

  There were other specific parts that required skilled labour. Before 1850 most wheel hubs were forged by hand. The first mention of a lathe specifically designed for turning locomotive wheels was advertised by Nasmyth, Gaskell & Co in 1839 and it was claimed it could be used for turning wheels up to 7 foot in diameter. Other improvements soon followed. The most difficult problem, however, came with the forging of axles. Again the description indicates that the work was little different from that of an ordinary blacksmith, except that the temperature of the hearth could be increased by blowing in air with a powered fan, providing a more powerful draught than would be available with ordinary bellows.<
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  A straight axle would be made by forging wrought-iron bars together to form the shaft. Many early engines, however, were built with the cylinders inside the frame, and the drive to the wheel was made by the connecting rods turning a cranked axle. This was far more difficult to make and was often to cause trouble due to cracks where the joints had to be made. It was one of the problems that Locke was keen to solve. Although he was primarily known as a Civil Engineer, he had begun his apprenticeship at the Stephenson locomotive works at Newcastle. He was very much involved in designing the first locomotives to be built at Crewe. One of his first tasks was to appoint a good man to overlook the locomotive works, and his choice went to William Buddicom.

  It is quite surprising to find Buddicom as an engineer, given his family background. His father was a clergyman, who educated his son at home, concentrating on the classics. The boy, however, was far more interested in things mechanical and took an engineering apprenticeship in 1831 with Mather, Dixon & Co. of Liverpool, who began manufacturing locomotives designed by Edward Bury. In 1836 he got a job as Resident Engineer on the Liverpool & Manchester, where his job involved looking after the stationary engines at Edge Hill. It was there that he firstmet Locke, who later persuaded him to move to a line in Scotland for which he was Chief Engineer, the Glasgow, Paisley, Kilmarnock and Ayr Railway. He took the job and clearly made a good impression on Locke, during his visits to Scotland. In 1839, Locke offered Buddicom the job of locomotive superintendent and was able to write to him on 3 January the following year:

  You are now appointed to the locomotive department at a salary of £500 which I hope will be satisfactory to you, and if you don’t turn out one of the cleverest fellows that ever ruled a company I have been talking and protesting too much in your favour. I have only one word to say more. I am deeply anxious for its successful administration. You were recently a stranger to me. I have taken a fancy to your zeal and active habit and thus it is that I depend on you for that aid, of which in this department we stand so much in need. We have done our utmost to make the way straight. Many things want doing. I have written a report on the subject, which has been approved, and is to be carried on; and on this I will talk to you personally, and will put you firstly into a fair way, and secondly (and I hope lastly) will aid you by my council.