NUFC - 100 Years Ago

One hundred football seasons ago, 1926-27, Newcastle United were crowned English Football League Champions for the fourth and final time. We were all hoping that the lads would rally round during the current season to celebrate the centenary with a repeat performance during 2026-27; but even at this early juncture in the campaign this does not seem even remotely likely.

So, having lowered my expectations for the season, I thought I'd look back at that Hughie Gallagher-inspired campaign, and dream a little dream that we may be able to secure championship No.5 before the 200th anniversary in 2127!

I didn't have to look very far on the Internet to find an excellent account of the club's title-winning effort - check out the relevant page on the Toon Times website for an easily digestible summary. And you really must click on the 'Matches' tab for little match-by-match summaries of the entire campaign - they make fascinating reading about a sport which seems a million miles away from the present-day affair. I had no idea, for example, that match referees were in the habit of issuing 'general' or 'all round' cautions to BOTH teams when things got a bit heated! How strange. There were no substitutes in those days, too, of course, so teams often finished games with ten, nine, or even less, men!

Interesting Links and Suggestions

Over the past couple of weeks or so I have picked up a few useful bits of information which you local historians may be interested in. Firstly, let's begin with some Newcastle stuff.

Those of you who remember the Newcastle900 celebrations in 1980 will want to check out a Facebook page dedicated to the occasion. It really is a splendid effort, and will soon get you hooked!

Maps are the great love of us historians, and in case you haven't already come across them, do check out these two efforts:

Newcastle Libraries 'Historical Maps' section;

National Library of Scotland's Ordnance Survey Collection.

The latter is the go-to online resource for old OS maps, and there are various other maps to be found on the site, too, if you look hard enough.

If anyone knows of any other useful online resources for old maps then do get in touch.

And on one of my little saunters around Morpeth the other day, I fell upon a new bookshop - a rarity in itself! It's called House of Stories, and can be found at 38 Newgate Street:

It had a few local history books in, but it's early days so they may improve their holdings in time! Anyway, it's very important to support such concerns, so do call in when you're next in the vicinity.

Coincidentally, just two doors away at No.34 Newgate Street can be found the fascinating emporium that is the Morpeth Antiques Centre. And if you go all the way to the rear of the shop you'll find a decent collection of local history books. I even procured for myself a copy of Jackie Milburn's autobiography!

Again, well worth a visit.

The Snug, Crown Posada ... At Last!

(click on image to enlarge)

Those of you who have read my most recent tome, namely, Novocastrian: A Newcastle Memoir, may remember me extolling the virtues of that quaintest (and cutest) of Newcastle pubs, the Crown Posada. I have darkened its doors many times over the past four decades or so, and did so once again on Friday gone with my old pal, Andy.

As we entered (and as always), Andy proffered the optimistic possibility of finding a place in the famous snug. I scoffed in hopeless derision, as I have yet to park my backside in this inviting little corner, despite several decades of trying. It's invariably packed out, and we always have to content ourselves with a spot in the rear bar after having forced our way through the unfeasibly narrow confines of the serving area.

However, to our absolute astonishment, this time we found it almost empty. I instantly instructed my drinking partner to secure a table whilst I went to the bar to snaffle two pints of Warsteiner. On gaining my seat a couple of minutes later I was beside myself with excitement, and even took a few snaps to commemorate the occasion. Above can be seen the view from our seats, looking out over those splendid portraits of Richard Grainger, George Stephenson and William Armstrong. 

Those of you who are familiar with the Crown Posada (and quite possibly even been in the snug yourself) will be aware that overlooking the little spot are two fine Pre-Raphaelite stained glass windows. Now as it was dark outside, my photo didn't come out very well - but here it is anyway:

The scene was marvellously quiet ... until minutes later the peace was broken by a gang of men who seemed to be having a long-awaited (and very boisterous) reunion of some sort. They seemed even more excited than I was to find themselves in the restricted confines of the Crown Posada's beautiful little snug. Perhaps it was a first for them, too.

It's been quite a last couple of years for me. a dream holiday Down Under, the birth of my first grandchild, moving house, and even (shock of shocks) the first major trophy for my footie team for more than 50 years. I think this might have topped them all, though! 😉

Dark Age Newcastle: Back in the Running

Historians have for decades wondered about what became of Newcastle-upon-Tyne between the abandonment of Roman Newcastle (Pons Aelius) and the birth of Newcastle proper with the actual construction of the New Castle on the site of the present-day Keep in 1080. In Volume 3 of Newcastle-upon-Tyne: Fragments of the Past I myself tried to draw together and summarise what little evidence we have for the continued occupation of the site. But there really isn't much to go on.

Proper historians have, traditionally, been reluctant to speculate on matters such as this, preferring to rely on hard evidence, and, to put it bluntly, taking the stance that 'absence of evidence = evidence of absence'. But as I do not consider myself to be a proper historian, I like to delve into the realms of speculation! I try to be careful, though, and always make it clear to my readers when I'm 'just guessing'. I don't think there's any harm in it.

As chance would have it, I am currently reading two history books - written by what I would certainly consider to be proper historians - that happily wander into the realms of conjecture. One such tome is the recently-released Northumbria AD367-867: Earth-Hall, Ring-Gift and Heaven's Field by north-east historical heavyweights Max Adams and Colm O'Brien. Both men have many years of archaeological experience behind them - Mr O'Brien was even a tutor of mine twenty-odd years ago during a part-time archaeology course at Newcastle University. Adams I know through his part-speculative works on Dark Age Northumbria, most notably King in The North, concerning the life and times of the great King Oswald. I kinda like the O'Brien-Adams combo: the former being the based, evidence-driven archaeologist, and the latter given over to a little more in the imagination department (I do hope I'm not being too unkind, it's just the way I picture them both!).

Now I haven't yet read all of Adams & O'Brien's Northumbria, but what I have digested so far is right up my street. Especially as it seems to lean towards a generally positive outlook on the likelihood of the existence of a Dark Age Newcastle. They back a previous scholar's opinion (Brian Roberts) that the 'Bernician core' was likely in the lower-mid Tyne basin, putting the old Pons Aelius site at the heart of proceedings. We know that King Oswiu (king of Northumbria during 642-670) conducted much of his business from a royal villa called Ad Murum - but no-one knows precisely where this palace was situated. Various sites from Walbottle in the west to Pons Aelius in the east (Benwell included) have been mooted; but Adams/O'Brien lean toward the site of the future Newcastle - being essentially within the ruins of the old Roman fort. They then go on to mention the 679 Anglo-Saxon burials found within the walls of the fort dated to 700-1080, and various other faint traces activity dating to 410-700. And over the river in Gateshead, Oswiu's leading cleric, Abbot Utta, is known to have been in charge of a monastery during the seventh century. Something, they say, was certainly happening on and around the site of the future Newcastle during the Dark Ages; it's just that we haven't yet worked out exactly what!

Concurrently, I am also reading Bridget Gubbins' excellent The Curious Yards and Alleyways of Morpeth. I fell across this book whilst searching for a decent overview history of my new home patch. The title is a little misleading, as the work really does give a very good account of the history of the town as a whole. And, once more, the author is not frightened to 'fill the gaps' left by the primary sources. Yes, she speculates where necessary, but does so based on strong circumstantial evidence using, as far as I can tell, perfectly sound methodology. She is very well-versed in the history of Morpeth, and I think she is entitled to her approach to her subject matter. Gubbins never fails to inform her readers when she is wandering into speculative thought, and it all helps the layman build up a picture of times past, in a way in which dry old evidence-based reporting does not. I like authors to offer opinions, conjecture and 'educated guesses', provided they are experts in their field.

There you are: I've said it.

Northumbria AD367-867: Earth-Hall, Ring-Gift and Heaven's Field, by Max Adams & Colm O'Brien (John Donald/Birlinn Ltd, 2025);

The Curious Yards and Alleyways of Morpeth, by Bridget Gubbins (Greater Morpeth Development Trust, 2011).

The New(-ish) 'Newcastle History' Website...

... And a bit of a mystery it is, too.

Just before the Bank Holiday is out, I thought I'd flag up a fairly new website that I fell upon recently devoted to the history of my hometown. 'Newcastle History' is the name of this interesting little corner of the internet, and I urge you all to have a browse.

If the truth be told, I'm not sure what to make of it. The few articles I've read seem to be pretty good, but it is difficult to pin down who has written them. The name 'E.Hartley' pops up a lot, and a certain 'Craig Cottrell' seems to be involved, too. I've not heard of either of them (which is unusual for such a limited field of expertise), but the website is rather good.

I will not overly opine on the, frankly, surprising find, as I haven't explored it in full. Perhaps I shall leave that to my readers. The dates attached to the articles range from late 2025 to July 2026, then promptly stop. Strange, but I think it worthy of a mention, as there ain't a great deal out there when it comes to dedicated websites and blogs on Newcastle's history!

Anyway, see what you make of it.

Out of the Blue: Cockle Park Tower

© Neville Young and licensed for reuse

under this Creative Commons Licence.

Just when you begin to think of yourself as a bit of an 'expert' as regards the history of your particular patch of the country, up pops another little unknown nugget to knock you down a peg or two. Whilst casually exploring the back roads of our new home near Morpeth the other day, my wife and I drove past this beauty a couple of miles or so north of the town. I didn't have time to stop and get a photo, so nicked the above image from Wikipedia.

I'm sorry to say that I didn't even know Cockle Park Tower existed! And it must be, I reckon, the best-looking (and best-preserved) pele tower in the whole of the North-East. I mean, just look at it. Magnificent! It was one of those famous defensive creations of the sixteenth century, when the threat from the Scots to the north still dominated the thoughts and minds of well-to-do families with plenty to lose.

Those who lived in the border lands at this troubled time were always looking for ways to protect themselves and their possessions from bad-tempered Scotsmen, feuding border reivers and marauding mosstroopers. Fairly well-off families built bastles, and the ranks above them built pele towers. The Cockle Park affair was built by Sir William Ogle, the 4th lord of his line, and dates originally, we think, to around 1520 - ostensibly as a 'hunting lodge', but clearly also built for defence. As you can see, it has three stories (plus an attic), and is topped by what are described as "corbelled-out bartizans, with machicolation between" - a clear indication of the builders' defensive intentions.

It has been altered plenty over the centuries, of course; and after the Unification of the Crowns in 1603, it gradually softened its look and feel as the threat from the dark corners of the region began to subside. The female Ogle line married into the Cavendish family, who themselves became the Dukes of Portland. When the old Ogle property of Bothal Castle was being renovated in the 1800s many of the fitting of the tower were transferred there.

It survived for many years as a simple farmhouse, though it had its periods of decline and neglect. Interestingly, the farm as a whole (tower included) was utilised by the Duke of Portland as long ago as the 1820s as a ground-breaking experimental farm, which, coincidentally, it still operates as today, under the guidance of Newcastle University.

Anyway, that's the gist of it. More can be found at the Fabulous North website, and there is much interesting detail to be found in Issue 21 (2014) of Archaeology in Northumberland (in an article compiled during its recent renovation).

Newcastle's 'New' Cemeteries

(click on image to enlarge)

The Burial Act of 1853 finally brought an official end to the near blanket use of urban parish churchyards for regular burials. London had grasped the nettle a little earlier, but the Act of 1853 cast the net for the new way of life (or rather death) across the whole of England. An Order of Newcastle’s Council issued in 1854 took advantage of the governmental guidance, effectively forbidding the use of the town centre churchyards of St.Nicholas’, All Saints’, St.John’s and St.Andrew’s. They were rather full anyway, especially after the cholera epidemic of 1853.

The four ‘official’ churchyards weren’t the only burial spots in and around the town. A ‘commercial’ cemetery had been opened near the Big Lamp (Westgate Hill Cemetery) in 1829, and a similar affair popped up in Jesmond in 1836 (known initially as ‘Newcastle General Cemetery’, and latterly as ‘Jesmond Old Cemetery’). A few small Quaker and Jewish affairs had long been in existence, too. And, of course, there was the huge expanse of the Ballast Hills Cemetery on the east bank of the Ouseburn catering, in the main, for nonconformist burials.

And so four new cemeteries were “tastefully laid out and ornamentally planted” in the suburbs. To the north-west there popped up St.Nicholas’ Cemetery, on the southern edge of Nuns’ and Hunter’s Moors; St.Andrew’s Cemetery was laid out on the western edge of Jesmond, near the Great North Road; All Saints’ Cemetery was created off Jesmond Road; and St.John’s Cemetery was formed in the then empty expanses of rural Elswick. These were all speedily laid out during 1855-58, and proved to be a roaring success. Dead popular, you could say.

The massive change in direction for the disposal of the dead was supervised by the new ‘Burial Boards’, whose members were elected ratepayers - a democratic process which itself was overseen by the ancient parishes’ vestry committees.

The first of the four new ‘municipal’ burial grounds, that of the mother church of Newcastle, St.Nicholas’, amounted to a modest five acre site opened in 1857. Though it is now accessed from Studley Terrace to the north, when built entry was gained from the Newcastle-Carlisle turnpike down a minor road (now the back lane of Wingrove Avenue, known as Cemetery Lane). It was handily-placed (perhaps deliberately so) for the adjacent and recently constructed Newcastle Workhouse, latterly known as Newcastle General Hospital.

To the north, in 1854 the Burial Board of Jesmond merged with that of Newcastle St.Andrew’s to form a joint board. The following year land was purchased from the ancient Hospital of St.Mary Magdalene in order to facilitate the creation of the brand new St.Andrew’s Cemetery.

Also in Jesmond there already existed the private Newcastle General Cemetery, laid out in the 1830s between Jesmond Road and Sandyford Road. This creation came, in time, to be termed ‘Jesmond Old Cemetery’ following the formation of the even newer All Saints’ Cemetery across the road (Jesmond Road) in the mid-1850s.

St.John’s Cemetery, also known simply as Elswick Cemetery, was at the same time laid out in the open fields to the west of the town centre. Here many thousands of the working class fodder of the Armstrong Works and neighbouring industries and manufactories would find their final resting places over the coming decades. St.John’s is Newcastle's largest cemetery at some 28 acres, following its extension in the early twentieth century. Over 100,000 folk are buried there.

[All OS maps reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland. Surveyed 1858, published 1864]

[For further reading on the subject matter the reader can do little better than Alan Morgan’s Beyond the Grave: Exploring Newcastle’s Burial Grounds, published by Tyne Bridge Publishing (2004)]