River Ouse Bargeman Page 3

  Coal supplies from the West Riding came via the Selby Canal and thence upriver behind Corporation tugs until 1947. Rowntree’s chocolate factory at York was another customer, with several vessels a week travelling up the Ouse and Foss. Messrs Leetham’s, whose mill was in a fine riverside building off Walmgate in York was also a customer for large loads of grain and seeds for milling. In the Selby area, on the bend of the river above the toll bridge, Swan’s ideal flour mill of 1935 received grain. Around Scott’s Bight, what was first known as ‘OCO’ (Olympia Cake and Oil) and latterly as BOCM (British Oil and Cake Mills) opened at Barlby, circa 1910. The name derives from the two staple parts of the business. The mill crushed seed to extract oil, and the compressed material remaining turned into ‘cake’ for cattle. OCO/BOCM were the Dews’ family’s main employers. In the years between the two world wars, Selby’s waterfront was teeming with industry as the diagram shows.

  A busy scene at York Corporation Wharf, Selby in the latter part of the nineteenth century. (Richard Moody)

  Locations of waterfront industries in Selby in 1937. (Alice Prince)

  In the years after the Second World War, there was another boom in trade on the Ouse in Selby. Towing dumb barges still had a part to play. According to Laurie:

  ‘River traffic was very busy … OCO had to engage as many tugs as they could to haul barges to and from Selby. Each barge could hold 225 tons loaded to the scuppers.’

  These tugs were not only company owned, but also hired in from municipal operators such as York Corporation and Goole Towing Company and individuals such as Peter Foster and Wilf Akester. Trade improved further when BOCM had a series of motorised barges built at Dunston’s of Thorne during the 1950s that would hold 250 tons or so. Larger ‘coasters’ came up river to Selby. These were ships that carried loads in the region of 500-1,000 tons around the coast of the UK or on cross-channel routes. The loads were of a similar order to those that could be carried on a group of four dumb barges, but using coasters meant that there was no need for transfer between boat and barge in Hull, thus saving time and money. By 1966, around 200 coasters per year were berthing at Selby. The ready availability of docking space along Ousegate and wide transport links allowed goods to be transferred swiftly in Selby for onward distribution. There were both private haulage contractors and rail sidings linked to the national network. Around 600,000 tonnes of bulk traffic was being moved through Selby in the 1960s, with much of it linked to Rotterdam.

  Even the replacement of the old road toll bridge took into account the blossoming river trade. The Selby Times reported in 1969:

  ‘Longer spans mean greater openings for more coasters, the journeys of which are increasing monthly.’

  One example of a bulk load was molasses for Sturge Chemicals in Denison Road. Jim Wildash, a chemist in the labs at Sturge in the 1970s, recalled how the product used to arrive:

  ‘We used to ship molasses in from Europe and bring in 1,000 tonnes by ship up the Ouse and used the jetty at Cochrane’s shipyard. We put a pipe in from the factory to the shipyard and of course these things arrived at very awkward times ‘cause you had to rely on the tide and a 1,000 tonne ship was one of the largest that you could get up the Ouse.

  ‘It used to take nearly all night to offload the cargo, and by the next morning we were down to the last amounts in the bottom of each tank and I had to actually go and look in each tank to make sure that all the molasses was out.

  ‘And then of course when they went you had to let go of the ropes before they went. I can remember on one occasion to get back down to Hull and out into the North Sea they had to turn the boat. If they turned it too early the bow would stick into the other side of the bank and on one occasion he actually got stuck across the river. His bow was in one bank and his stern was breached in our side of the bank and he had to wait until the tide came up before it could get away. It was a couple of hours there.’

  Other bulk loads included coal tar from York gasworks, creosote, coal for domestic and industrial use, newsprint for the Evening Press, and seeds and rice for the mills. Some return cargoes were available, mainly animal cake. Unloading operations in Selby were mostly carried out by locally-owned firms using mainly non-unionised labour. This led to problems in the disputes and transport strikes in the 1970s and 1980s. In the early 1970s there was unrest in the docks, as registered dockers fought to maintain their long-standing methods of unloading goods by hoist and crane as opposed to new ways of handling goods as the metal storage containers that are so common today began to be introduced. Whilst the power of the unions was such that an official strike could close a port like Hull, there were several ‘unregistered’ or so-called ‘pirate’ ports such as Selby where owners could request their ships unload.

  Oughtred and Harrison, owners of the major wharf in Selby, said in June 1972, with a degree of trepidation, ‘As far as we know, the pickets are coming any day now … we have no plans for what to do when they arrive.’

  Graeme Pickering, manager at Viking Shipping in Ousegate, whose company was one of the last to use the Ouse-side wharves, described how he saw the industrial unrest:

  ‘… in the 70s and certainly before the docks in Goole and Hull, Immingham got their act together, when the dockers used to rule that it was an official strike … [Hull was closed but] … Selby was now private owned so they never went on strike.’

  With union solidarity, it wasn’t just dock strikes that could cause disruption; sympathetic action from other unions could cause unrest too. An example was the miners’ strikes of 1974. Graeme explained:

  ‘... in the coal strike from the 70s, obviously all the flying pickets would come down here so you’d have a complete road full of tipper lorries … and you’d have all the flying pickets as well. It was good natured but it never stopped us working ‘cause our men sometimes weren’t in a union, rightly or wrongly. If they weren’t in a union obviously we came and worked so vessels that were supposed to go to Goole or Immingham or Hull, if they were small enough they’d come up here to get discharged.’

  Yet some people remained confident. Dennis Wheatley, then General Manager of Selby Wharf was in upbeat mood in November 1983 when the biggest ever single cargo unloaded in Selby, 1,555 tons of sheanuts from the Ivory Coast for use in bakery and confectionery, was delivered:

  ‘Trade is booming. Inland ports are coming into their own because water transport is so much cheaper than road’.

  But containerisation swept away not only long established methods of unloading cargoes, but also how such cargoes were dealt with. As soon as the ubiquitous 32-ton container lorry began to ply its trade on roll-on, roll-off ferries, everything changed. Huge cargo ships with thousands of containers meant that goods could move in a single container from supplier direct to port then directly to customer. There was no longer a need for expensive and time-consuming transhipment. The final type of trading vessels that have serviced Westmill Foods were the so-called ‘LASH’ barges. Originally beginning on the Humber for a couple of years from 1974, and returning to the Ouse in 1997, these huge boxes (60x30ft) were an attempt to adapt the containerisation idea to an entirely aquatic mode. Each water– borne container can carry ten times the load of a lorry, 380 tons. Huge ‘mother ships’ carry around 100 of these monster boxes across the oceans, and berth in modern mega-ports like Immingham, giving the economies of scale. Tugs then pilot the containers upriver in pairs.

  Despite such a method of delivery bringing over 600 tons of rice at a time to the mill without the use of a coaster, the operation was not profitable and ended in the early years of the current century. With this failure, there is effectively no regular commercial trade on the Ouse, bringing to an end almost 800 years of recorded goods conveyance by river. The Ousegate wharves below the Road Bridge still stand, but are clearly incapable of receiving any shipping as they are redeveloped for housing. The fine Victorian frontages of the warehouses and properties along the length of the street that still survive reflect the centuri
es of prosperity but also exhibit the sad grandeur of emptiness and decay. This is all a far cry from the days only a generation or so ago when coasters cruised up to Selby on the flood tide, and the pubs of Ousegate resounded to Dutch, German and other European tongues. In the public bars, merchant seamen whiled away the time whilst their ships were unloaded, playing cards and waiting for the tide to turn to allow their return to the open sea.

  These sailors impatiently awaited the ebb tide. Sadly, Selby’s maritime trade has not received its ebb with such eagerness; there is no prospect of a flood of new business to revive the commerce.

  Chapter 2

  SOAPY JOE COMES TO SELBY

  Laurie's father and grandfather, Sam and Bill Dews, were watermen through and through. The transformation of Sam and Bill from being jobbing bargemen to being part of a dedicated team working the Ouse between Hull and Selby is down to the economic expansion of Joseph Watson and Sons – known to all as ‘Soapy Joe’ – from Leeds to Selby. One of Bill and Sam’s regular jobs was to run to Joe Watson’s soap mill on the River Aire at Leeds. Watson’s enterprise had grown from modest beginnings in his grandfather’s tannery business in 1816 near the family’s farm in Horsforth, to the north-west of Leeds into a major manufacturing business. Soapy Joe’s was based at the Whitehall Road, Leeds, by the River Aire. Vegetable oils such as palm oil from crushing palm kernels in works in Hull were delivered by barge along the River Aire to be processed into products such as Matchless Cleanser, Venus Soap and Nubolic Detergent Soap. Watson’s works was one of the largest soap factories in the country, employing over 700 people in the late nineteenth century, making over 600 tons of soap a week.

  He was hugely enterprising and encouraged sales of his products by national competitions such as the one illustrated below from the Illustrated London News of 31 December 1898, where by saving and then sending off soap wrappers, customers could enter a draw for highly valuable prizes. In 1900, an average annual wage for a labourer was around £60, so the thought of winning £100 just for sending in some soap wrappers was quite a draw. The fact that Watson could give away almost £1,750 per month – worth perhaps £100,000 today – also gives an idea of how much profit there was in the cleaning trade.

  Although production of these brands ceased many years ago, the names remain relatively well-known from their appearance on heritage-styled enamel advertising signs.

  Enamelled advert for Watson’s ‘Matchless Cleaner’, one of his most popular products.

  Advert for Watson’s Prize Draw from the Illustrated London News, 31 December 1898. (Author’s collection)

  Watson was not merely interested in soap. His company also imported resin and tallow, made glycerine for dynamite manufacture, and dealt in hides and skins. The oils extracted in Leeds to make soap could also be used in the margarine and paint businesses. The by-product of the oil’s extraction could be used as animal feed, firing Watson’s interests in modernizing agricultural practices. During the first decade of the twentieth century, Watson was in competition in the soap and cleansing business with William Lever of Lever Brothers and Port Sunlight fame. After an unsuccessful attempt to merge the businesses to create a monopoly in 1906, over the course of the next decade Lever Brothers effectively took control of Watson’s company. However, the founding and development of Watson’s factory in Selby preceded that final loss of influence.

  Watson’s factory was on the River Aire in Leeds. The difficulties of navigation into Leeds via the River Aire convinced Watson that he needed a new factory, with easier access for the delivery of raw materials, and independent of the seed-crushing mills in Hull, to maximize his profits. A greenfield site near to a navigable river was needed. Constructing a factory at Barlby, just north of Selby on the River Ouse, with good rail connections, and on the major road network as well was the ideal place. The fact that Selby had an available work force, was at the heart of an agricultural area with a ready market for animal feed products, and had land to allow him to indulge his plans in the agricultural sphere were bonuses.

  Watson founded the Olympia Agricultural Co. Ltd in 1909. To feed the mills, all that was needed now was to engage a reliable company of bargemen to bring the seed up the Ouse from Hull to the new mills. This was the link between the Dews’ family fortunes and those of Soapy Joe’s.

  Laurie describes the approach that Watson made to his granddad Bill:

  ‘He said, “Why don’t you come and work for me and I’ll build you a boat that will carry 200 tons. I will provide you with all the tackle and we will work by thirds. One third for me and two thirds for you and you won’t have to keep pumping her bilges and giving her a bucket of sawdust and ashes to stop her leaking.”‘

  As described in chapter 5, Bill Dews had been skipper of the keel Ada Dews, named after his wife, since the 1890s. The Ada Dews was a handsome vessel, but by 1909, she (the ship, not his wife!) was showing her age. The prospect of a new craft and guaranteed work was very tempting, and Bill agreed to the deal. The seed-crushing machines of Olympia Oil and Cake Company, or OCO, began the next year.

  ‘So Granddad Bill sold the Ada Dews and went to work for Soapy Joe and Dad went mate with him. The first ship, the Leeds Comet, was built by Henry Scarr at Howden Dyke in 1910. Many old keelmen followed suit, selling their keels and going to work for Joe Watson. All his barges were named after heavenly objects like Comet, Venus and Orbit [there is a full list in Appendix 1]. Ships were built to last in those days. The Comet was still working 70 years later under the ownership of Wilf Akester, and was not finally broken up until 1994 at Viking in Goole.’

  Watson’s OCO factory on Barlby Road Selby in the second decade of the twentieth century. (Susan Butler /Howdenshire History)

  This philanthropic act on Watson’s behalf engendered tremendous loyalty in his barge crews, which produced dividends in later years.

  ‘When times were hard in the Depression in the late 1920s and early 1930s, the firm continued to employ the captains who were paid by thirds, just like in Joe Watson’s day.’

  But, out of his money, the captain had to employ a mate. However, the company only paid the captain if there was a cargo to move, so no cargo, no pay! If there was no cargo to move, the firm tied the barges up in the Queen’s Dock in Hull.

  ‘Even though they didn’t get any pay, they felt they were still responsible for the barges that Joe Watson had given them, so the old barge skippers kept going down to the docks to check up on their craft.’

  Initially, the mills dealt with linseed, cottonseed and soya beans. By 1913 the plant could deal with palm kernels, copra and groundnuts. Around 3,000 tons of seed were dealt with weekly as the factory worked continually from 6a.m. Monday to noon on Saturday. Whilst seed to be crushed was the main cargo that the OCO barges carried, other, liquid cargoes were also sometimes transported. These liquids included molasses and palm oil. Carrying bulk liquid cargoes was potentially more hazardous than carrying solid ones, as the rocking action of a tide on the river could set up a similar motion in the cargo. If there was no bulkhead running the length of the hold, such a swaying liquid could eventually cause a barge to ‘lay over’ and eventually capsize. Such capsizings could be both dangerous and comical.

  ‘In the 1930s, the rolling of a cargo of 150 tons of palm oil on the Selby Castor caused the barge to become stuck across Selby Toll Bridge. The current in the river set the oil oscillating and the crew knew she was going to sink. The mate, Josh Ward, clambered up the wooden buttress of the bridge, but skipper Andy Wray went overboard, fortunately to be rescued from the river near to the railway bridge.’

  There’s no comedy in that, but what was amusing was the Selby townsfolk’s reaction to the sinking. The weather was quite cold, so as the palm oil rose from the sunken barge, it solidified and floated on the surface of the Ouse. Selebians, being canny Yorkshire types scooped up the oil in bags and took it to market to sell! The cargoes of seed and nuts came from freighters that docked in Hull, so at the very least, fifteen full
barges needed to discharge at Barlby every week to keep the factory running at full capacity. Watson’s fleet eventually numbered thirty-four barges, meaning that each barge had to make a delivery at least once a fortnight.

  Watson’s OCO produced oil that could be used in the manufacture of margarine and paint, and from the remaining compressed husks, animal feeds for dairy cows, calves, lambs and pigs could be made. By 1915, this seed-crushing and oilextracting business had become the largest of its kind in Europe. Once the seed has been crushed to extract the oil, the solid material left is a valuable animal feed. This product was not only sold locally but could also be a useful load for the barges to take back down to Hull. This was the ‘Cake’ part of the OCO.

  Later in the decade, Watson over-reached himself financially and had to sell OCO to the Dutch firm Jurgens.

  Whilst the ultimate successors to Watson’s firm, in the shape of ‘ForFarmers’, still have a presence at Barlby, little of Watson’s factory remains. For the remainder of the text, ‘OCO’ and ‘BOCM’ refer to the seed crushing mills at Barlby, between 1910 and 1990. A further name linked to OCO is Ardol. This part of the factory was involved in chemically hardening whale or fish oil into fats without the unpleasant odour that would taint soap. The name presumably is a shortening of hard or hardening oil. This only lasted until 1920, although the name did resurface as one of OCO’s tugs.

  Congratulatory telegram to Watson from then Prime Minister Lloyd George.

  Watson built a ‘model village’ of around 350 houses for his workers at Barlby, in an echo of Cadbury at Bournville and Rowntree at New Earswick, but Watson also included a licensed premises, the Olympia Hotel, as part of the provision, along with ten acres of recreation fields and nine acres of allotments. The entire operation employed up to 1,000 workers. The factory area was around 50 acres, with a further 100 acres or so given over to the firm’s farming subsidiary, and a further 900 acres let out to farmers on a third-party basis.