These ariel pictures were taken by the RAF about 1948. The aircraft was flying south so the Hallamshire Golf Course is at the bottom of the picture. The road to the right of the picture is Crimicar Lane with the Isolation Hospital in the centre. The unfinished road is Barncliffe Road with Barncliffe Crescent curving away behind the hospital.
On the left edge of the photo in the midlle is the curve of the top of Hallam Grange Road with the Crescent just visible towards the top. The conduit is across the upper part of the photo
This second photo has Hallam Grange Road just left of centre and appproximately on a north-west to south east axis. At the junction with slayleigh Lane (therew is no Hallamshire Road at thgis point) is the original site of the Hallam Grange Tenis & Bowls club. The Hallam Grange EstATE WAS BEGUN IN THE Late 1920s but interupted by WW2. The order of building suggests that different builders were involved.
Some of the footpaths visible in these photos still exist
The article appeared in the Sheffield Spectator. It was found by a member of the Group and it’s been re-formatted from its original 4 column format.
A Kind of Hush – Clare Jenkins explores the distant past of a tranquil Sheffield Suburb
A friend recently found herself in Stumperlowe one Saturday, looking for the Soroptomists’ jumble sale. It was an unsettling experience. `”What a weird place.” she whispered nervously next time we met. “Very Stepford Wives…”
Wander round Stumperlowe even on a weekday, with the sun shining, and you can see what she means. Large houses – the semis are substantial, while the detacheds are HUGE – set back from thickly moss-covered pavements, hidden behind laurels and variegated conifers. standing unblinking and remote at the top of neat lawns.
The first thing you notice is that it’s very quiet in this, one of the city’s most ancient districts. There’s muted bird song, the rustling of leaves, the whoosh of the odd squirrel leapfrogging over wrought iron gateposts, plus the purr of the occasional car. But there are very few people. Not on foot. anyway- Why should there be? There are no shops here, no community centre, no bus stops. no church – it’s halfway between St John’s. Ranmoor and Christ Church, Fulwood. Nothing. that is. to walk to. So the inhabitants either stay indoors behind the Austrian blinds, or glide out of their driveway in their indispensable cars.
In a morning of zig-zagging up and down steep Stumperlowe Streets, the only human beings I saw were three workmen renovating a perfectly decent looking house. a postman, an elderly man raking up leaves in his garden and an elderly woman returning from the postbox. The latter two both said “Good morning” in posh Stumperlowe voices. Presumably their neighbours were inside cloning.
If Stumperlowe is weird, it’s quite possibly as much to do with its distant past as with its isolated present. The name is old English for ‘Stump’s burial ground’. The Stump in question was one of Lord of the Manor Waltheof’s chieftains back in Saxon times. A sort of Stump of the Dig. And historians reckon he’s buried somewhere in the grounds of what is now – and has been since the 16th Century – Stumperlowe Hall.
Waltheof had his own hall here, in the old village of Hallam. It’s certainly an impressive site for a Saxon village, halfway up a hillside looking one way out to Ringinglow and Hallam Moors, another across the valley which now houses the city to Rotherham, a third over to Stannington and Loxley.
Up until the last century, it must have been predominantly rural, boasting just the odd mansion and farmhouse, like Stumperlowe Grange Farm, a slate-roofed low stone building now reduced to a small-holding complete with crowing cockerel. Around it is quite a collection of 1930s angles, 1950s eaves, 1960s boxed flats and the odd oak-beamed rustic refugee from Hamelin.
The Grange itself is very impressive. In 1883, it belonged to W E Layeock, Esq. JP, ex- Mayor of Sheffield. (Stumperlowe has always had more than its fair share of JPs and OBEs. Majors and Colonels. PhDs and, for some reason, haematologists.) Originally owned by General Murray ‘of the lordly Scottish house of Athol’, Colonel of the Black Watch, the Grange passed into the hands of the merchant Wilsons. By Laycock’s time, it was being described in gushing terms: “quite in the country and yet conveniently near to the town. it would be hard to imagine a more desirable place in which to spend the evening of an active and honourable life.” As you wandered around its 50 acres. you could see “the graceful spire of Laughton en le Morthen when the western heavens are aglow with the glories of autumn sunsets.” Neighbouring the Grange is a cluster of old stone houses, one of which, Stumperlowe House, boasts two splendid windows. One is engraved with the Latin Fide Non Minis and Dum Vivo Canebo. Which may or may not translate as ‘I trust not weapons’ and ‘While I live I shall sing’. The other window bears a beautiful red, gold and green stained glass design.
Just across the road, up a long sweeping drive and surrounded on three sides by thick laurel bushes, is Stumperlowe Hall itself, one of the oldest inhabited residences in the city. Although there are references to such a hall in the time of Richard II, this particular house dates back to 1657, and could serve as a model for Manderlay, Daphne Du Maurier’s haunting home of Rebecca.
In Queen Elizabeth I’s time. Robert Mitchell and his two daughters lived in Stumperlowe. The elder, Margaret, married Henry Hall of Edale, and their son Robert built the hall proper. He also became Lord of the Manor of Midhope. Unfortunately, one of his sons, Henry II, dissipated his wealth in the dissolute company of ‘Fox of Fulwood and Bright of Whirlow’. As a result, his widow and children lost the hall in 1716 to an apothecary and lead merchant. Stumperlowe Hall was rebuilt in the 1850s and, in 1947, became the home of the chairman of the Kennings business. It incorporated not only the usual library, drawing room and study but also a ‘sitting room for servants’ and a service cottage and barn, believed to be the oldest buildings in Fulwood.
In the pre-war years, the grand houses were joined by Stumperlowe Mansions, 35 service flats whose brochure talks of them being finished in a ‘quiet, dignified way. Residents had access to a lift and restaurant, while ‘dinner parties are catered for on request’ The flats themselves were furnished with sturdy 1930s chairs, drinks tables and round-edged fridges. Although, while some of the garages had central heating. this I didn’t extend to the flats. There was also a tradesman’s entrance ‘in order to mitigate the noise and number of individual daily deliveries.
Other features of Stumperlowe include white wrought iron garden furniture and fox weather vanes, caravans and double garages, rhododendrons and pampas grass. holly- and ivy-covered walls. house names like The Gables, Birch Lodge, The Croft, Hawthorns- plus one or two Eldorado monstrosities. If you find yourself up there, look out for Manx gates, the wall with a quarry wheel embedded in it, the tree house and rope ladder. Oh, and the Stumperlowe Wives.
Life is full of surprises! Yesterday, this message popped into my Scout Group eMail from Rob Bishop who grew up in Fulwood. I wonder who else remembers the Jumble Sales, apart from Rob and me?
Hello 142nd Fulwood Scouts,
I recently stumbled across your website by reading your URL: from the front door of the Scout Hut on Google Earth. I was a member of the 142nd from 1962 to 1968 until I went off to university. I could write a book about the influence and benefits that my scouting experience had on my life.
My father, Arthur Bishop, was an architect and it was he who designed the new Scout Hut that you mention moving into in 1968 in your “History.” When he passed away in 2006, I remember finding a set of the plans he had prepared amongst his effects.
This new hut was the result of a very long fund-raising campaign. Every year at Easter or “half-term,” we held a Jumble Sale in the Guild Hall. For the week ahead, we scouts would go out every day canvassing for donations from households in roughly your current “catchment area.” It was organized with military precision to make sure we covered every street. Some donations we brought back immediately on a hand cart. Larger items were collected by parents in the evening. On the Friday evening, the items were sorted and laid out on tables or hung on racks in the Hall. They filled the main floor, the stage and the basement and usually overflowed into the old Nissan Hut that stood on the site of the eventual new Scout Hut. It was a well-known annual event in Sheffield at the time and on the day of the sale (Saturday), people started lining up at 7am to wait for the doors to open. Many of them were second hand dealers and when the doors opened, they would run to the tables containing their specialty items to get first pick. Scouts and parents would oversee the tables and haggle with the customers from 9am to mid-afternoon and then a scrap merchant would come in and buy everything remaining. If memory serves, by 1966/7 we had reached a certain target and were able to get some type of grant to top up the funds to the amount needed to build the hut.
Ironically, I headed to university in 1968 and only visited the new hut a few times before I emigrated to Canada in 1971. It’s good to see it still exists although in a modified format. I was also very surprised to read that the Guild Hall had been turned into a private residence. Lots of fond memories of that place including almost getting annihilated playing British Bulldogs at my first Scout meeting! All the best, Rob Bishop.
Recently, there were two posts on FaceBook that included newspaper photographs of skaters on the ice at Forge Dam. The pictures show people ‘of mature years’ demonstrating considerable skill on the ice and this attracted a large number of onlookers.
Pictures printed in the Daily Telegraph in January 1909
The original post elicited a few responses including one which pointed readers to film on the Yorkshire Film Archive. Lasting nearly 30 minutes, this silent film is in fact three films put together from 1936, 1945 and 1953. Like the photographs in the newspaper at the start of the century, the participants are mainly adults though a few children are on the ice. From 5 minutes in, the footage is in colour.
The skating was clearly organised and managed. At one point there is a gentleman in a dark suit and wearing a bowler hat. He is stationary in the middle of the ice and appears to be ensuring safety an suitabble behaviour. There are also men clearing away the loose ice created by the blades as the skaters twist and turn
Later the film shows skiers – possibly at Jacob’s Ladder – and also skating on Wire Mill Dam.
The photographer was Kenneth Tofield (1906-1983) who was educated at Pannal Ash College in Harrogate. As a child, he lived on Chorley Road. He married Joan Stringfellow in 1947 and they had one child, John. A keen gardener, in the 1930s Kenneth won the Brighter Sheffield competition five times for the garden at his parent’s house (the category of the competition that he entered was ‘with help’ suggestion he did not do all the ‘spadework’!). Kenneth continued his passion for gardening at the house on Brooklands Crescent (No. 47?) Joan and he moved into after their marriage, creating colourful borders that can be seen on another of his movies “In My Garden”. This film also depicts John waiting for his father on his return from work at the Midland Bank.
At our second meeting last Thursday, members shared something about their research that intrigued, frustrated or surprised them.
Where does Griffin Sick flow?
Jane is studying old maps and the landscape to find out which stream flowing down to the Porter from the hillside rising to Hallam Head is the one called the Griffin Sick or Syke. There’s a reference to Griffin Sick Lane on the maps that Schofield recreated from Harrison’s C17th surveys.
Family mementos
David shared some funeral documents that have been in his family starting in the 1880s through to the 1960s. The star amongst the sexton’s and undertakers’ bills was a beautiful ‘in memoriam’ card with decorated edges.
The First Burial
Judith told us about the first burial in Fulwood churchyard. This was of Henry Dawes who died in January 1839 aged 16 months. Judith then told us about Henry’s family.
A Soldier’s Medals
Ray talked about his efforts to find out about his house that had been built in the 1920s. Frustratingly the 1939 register only recorded the house-keeper so he had not discovered anything of the occupants at the outbreak of war. He showed us a commercially produced house history. He has access to the plans of the house next door.
Ray also showed a set of WW2 medals that had been awarded to a soldier [name required] and then given to a local Royal British Legion branch. The medals traced the history of the war from el Alamein through the Italian campaign to the D-Day landings. Ray now hopes to discover something of the soldier’s life.
A Fatal Accident
Alan brought a story he’d found in the Telegraph published in 1853. The story was an account of the inquest. and told of an accident that befell Mrs and Mrs Marsh of Lydgate Hall. They had gone for a drive one evening in a Phaeton carriage. Going down Harrison Lane, something spooked the horse which started to go faster resulting in the carriage overturning. Mrs Marsh was thrown from the carriage incurring fatal injuries.
A Political Woman
Keith shared a story about Ada Moore, a Fulwood inhabitant in the period of WW1. He described how an article in the Telegraph contained some facts that seemed to be implausible. Using census data and Wikipedia he found an explanation for the inaccuracy and a link to John Maynard Keynes.
All these stories elicited many questions and comments and showed a wide range of interests.
Our next meetingThis is on 15th December when we will look at some online resources including Find My Past and
Ancestry along with probate records, We will look at records of births and deaths and associated religious ceremonies. We will also look at Military records such as the CWGC site and personnel records.
Last Thursday (20th Oct) a dozen people met at the Rising Sun. All were keen to develop the Fulwood History Group and there were many ideas and interests.
We will be meeting again on 17th November when each of us will share something from our research. We will explain why we chose the item, where we found the information and what questions we still have. Each presentation will be short with plenty of time for questions.
Just as the COVID pandemic was developing, I had this idea that there were a number of people who had an interest in the history of Fulwood and maybe interested in joining a group focused on this history . But it is only now that I think it sensible to see whether my idea is correct!
I am inviting you to share your thoughts on how the Group might become established. To prompt you I’ve developed an on-line questionnaire which I would like you to complete.
If you have thoughts and ideas that don’t fit into this questionnaire, please share them with me via eMail (admin@fulwoodhistory.uk)
Please also consider sharing this questionnaire with people you know who may be interested.
This is an excerpt from my History of Fulwood – a book in the making!
Forge Dam Café
An alternative source of amusement and refreshment was the café established by the Maxfield family at the Old Forge which offered boating on a large lake, swings, boats and in December 1890 readers of the Telegraph learnt that there was splendid skating to be enjoyed at Forge House which was 10 minutes from the Ranmoor Bus! One would have had to sprint from the bus but fortunately there was accommodation for tea. A further advertisement in January 1891 informed readers that Illumination of the ice by torchlight was in place.
Herbert Maxfield had been a file cutter for much of his adult life but around 1886 he and his family had moved from Brightside to Forge House. In 1891 he was described as a farmer, so it is likely that Mary was running the café. Maxfield’s farming activities were located at Redmires rather than near the old Forge. In 1888 he was advertising ‘Good Pasturing’ there. In 1890 he was able to offer Grouse Shooting at Fair Thorne Farm and indeed on the census night a year later, three of the Maxfield children were at the farm.
The café was proving popular, Mrs Maxfield advertised in 1886 that ‘School parties and visitors [would be] supplied with hot water for tea’ and in yje same year Maxfield applied for a licence to sell beer. In September when the application was considered by the magistrates, amongst whom was Alderman Gainsford of Whiteley Wood Hall, he said that he estimated the value of the property was £20. This proved fatal to his application as the opposing solicitors pointed out that the minimum requirement was property valued at £30. A few days later a letter from James Wing, the solicitor acting for Maxfield, appeared in the Telegraph that stated the rateable value of the property to be £22 and so the value for licencing was £50. A year passed before the application was made again and the question of value was the main contention. The overseers had set the rateable value at just under £35 for the property but this included the dam which covered half the land. The magistrates again refused the licence. Maxfield was certainly tenacious. In 1906 and 1907 he applied for a billiard licence which was refused on both occasions.
An article in the Independent in 1933 about the Sharrow Wesleyan Church noted that the original ‘Tin Cathedral’ was sold in 1900and became the tea room at Forge Dam.
In 1915 Maxfield was accused of poisoning a hen in a field on Brookhouse Hill. The case was that two men who were working on 181 Brookhouse Hill which is at the junction with Whiteley Lane saw Maxfield drop a parcel over a wall into the field. When examined by the public analyst, the parcel was found to have a sufficient quantity of arsenic to kill 50 people. Some of the parcel’s contents were eaten by the hen belonging to Mrs Fox. Maxfield denied the charge and Mrs Fox said she had been on friendly terms with Maxfield for many years and could not offer any reason as to why he should wish act in this way. The defence solicitor pointed out that there was no motive and suggested that the parcel had been on the wall and Maxfield had flicked the parcel with his walking stick. The magistrates said it was serious case and fined him £10. This must have been felt grievously by Maxfield who had an ‘unblemished character.’
Maxfield had tried to sell the business in 1913 without success but was successful in 1917. The advertisement for the sale described a successful venture covering six acres. There was extensive catering facilities and the dam had 13 boats including a motor launch along with fishing. There were also gardens with 1500 rose trees. This sale, caused by Maxfield’s ill health was successful and he and his wife moved to Eastwood Road. His retirement was short-lived as he died a year later ‘in his 80th year’. He was buried in Fulwood graveyard
William Knight was the proprietor in 1919. The café has continued to prosper down to the present time.
George Eric TAYLOR was born in 1919 into a family that was living at Netherthorpe. His father, Frederick, was a successful Pork Butcher. With branches at Upperthorpe, Hillsborough, Firth Park and London Road, the family business which included pig breeding was, by 1939, jointly owned between Frederick and Edith and their two elder sons. Frederick, Jnr worked in the business, the second son, Jack Andrew was a doctor based at the Royal Hospital and whilst George, the third and youngest child, would have been too young to be a company director.
George was a pupil at King Edward VII school between 1929 and 1936. He had been in the reserves as a volunteer with the 123rd Field Regiment of the Royal Artillery for a few years and by 1940 had been promoted to Lance Bombardier.
George died at home, so his death in April 1940 was more likely to have been illness than injury. George is buried in Fulwood Graveyard in the family plot which has a Commonwealth War Grave headstone.
Why Hopes Are Crushed and Castles Fall
This is a quote from a late 19th century hymn that expresses the hope that ‘in the coming years … we’ll read the meaning of our tears.” Chosen by his parents these words expressed for them their anguish at the death of their youngest son.
