Logo: The number men and boys who died in the disaster.
Welcome to my website.
344-A story of the Pretoria Pit Disaster (Inspired by a mother's tale) is my first book.
The Pretoria Pit Disaster in 1910 was the third largest mining disaster in British history, when 344 men and boys lost their lives. The story, as written by Andrea, with help from the diary of her great, great grandmother, tells of tragedy and loss to people already struggling with life. Further research took Andrea into the archives of 'Bolton News' and the reports of the incident form part of her book.
Geraldine Rose of Peakpublish said, "It is with great pleasure that we introduce '344 - The Story of the Pretoria Mining Disaster inspired by a mother's tale' after securing the rights from the author, Andrea Finney. It is a fascinating story of life in difficult times and a historical documentary of a tragic mining accident. 2010 will be the centenary of the disaster and this is a fitting tribute for the anniversary."
Author Andrea says, "I have been fascinated with history since I was a child. In the 1970's I was given access to a diary belonging to my great, great grandmother, Elizabeth Gore, and I never forgot reading about her hard life. She was born in the village of Welch Whittle and then moved to Shevington, Standish and leaving the moors behind her, she moved into the village of Westhoughton onto the cobbled street named Brancker Street. The newly opened pits being the magnet for the move. In 2003 when I started to research my Family History I thought again of my great, great grandmother's life and the tragic loss of her son in the Pretoria Pit Disaster at Westhoughton in 1910 and it was then that I decided to put it all together in a book".
The editor, peakpublish, Jeni Edwards, said "This is one of those books where truth is stronger than fiction. We are given an intimate glimpse into the lives, loves and tragedies of a close knit northern community. Andrea has captured the taste of the time, and we have the privielege of tasting it too, Jack bait and all."
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The book is now available to buy.
Image: Front cover of book - 344 A story of the Pretoria Pit Disaster
Image: Author - Andrea J FInney
Please find below a small section of the book from the first chapter.
I hope that you enjoy reading the book just as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
Part of Chapter 1 - Rags & Ribbons
Wednesday, 21st December 1910, began just like any other day. As usual at this time of year, it was a dark, damp, cold, miserable morning in Westhoughton. The smell of burning coal permeated the air, seeping through the walls of the houses in Brancker Street, Chequerbent, an area of Westhoughton near Bolton in Lancashire. Most of the families who lived in Branker Street then had a least one member of their family down the pit as a coal miner, and now they were stirring into another working day.
The 'knocker uppers' were venturing out early on their daily morning routine. These young men, generally employed by the colliery, went about their duty wielding a long bamboo pole, capped with steel wire. Holding it tightly, it was an easy reach to the upstairs of the houses, and sharp taps on windows would ensure that the workers inside were woken at the right moment. Little time was given for these families to get ready for work. The night before their clothes had been positioned neatly over a chair in the back room of the house, close to the fire. The unpleasant stale stench of body odour lingered on these clothes, days old from the sweating bodies. It was an unbearable smell, but they knew little of personal hygiene. Laden with coal dust, covered with patches and repaired holes, and sometimes blood stained from the many injuries encountered down the pit, these clothes were little more than rags, but ‘make do’ was the watchword.
Chequerbent always seemed bleak over the months from October to March, especially for the miners, as many men and boys never saw daylight until their day off on a Sunday. They would arrive and leave work in these cold, damp and murky conditions, knowing nothing else and accepting this as the norm. Their days were extremely long and they grafted hard: they had to provide to survive. What else could they do? They knew of no other line of work and this, just as their fathers before them, provided the pattern of daily life. They didn’t look for change, but went about their duties, asking no questions.
Although the outside conditions that morning were bleak, there was a cheerful atmosphere in the air and the villagers were in quite good spirits. The cotton mills and the pits in Westhoughton were on a wind down for the Christmas period, and the mill bosses seemed chirpy and not their usual miserable selves, even not deducting any pay from members of staff if they where a minute late for work. Handmade decorations could be seen in the windows of the houses, nearly all made by the children, and small Christmas presents that had been bought or handmade lay positioned neatly beneath the Christmas trees. A special time to spend with ones loved ones was eagerly awaited and good times lay ahead for the Christmas holidays. Men and boys, and women too, were ready for this short well-earned rest.
“Soon be the holiday shutdown,” one young boy shouted as he ran across the cobbles of Brancker Street. His clogs, a little too big for his feet, caused him to fall over on the kerb edging, He bumped into an elderly man whose hand clipped the top of his head for being clumsy, knocking his cap to the floor. The boy picked up his cap, laughed at the old man and skipped all the way up the street. He didn’t care. Christmas would soon be here and this was by far the most important thing on his mind.
Image: Andrea Finney personnal collection original photograph
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