Nottingham at Large

Radford railway station, Nottingham, unknown date; credit: Bernard Beilby

     

Former site of Radford railway station, Nottingham, 2023
(compare track layout in top half of photo with that on the Beilby image)

For my part, rightly or wrongly, I perceive Radford to be the area bounded by Alfreton Road, the railway to the west and Ilkeston/Wollaton Road to the south, together with the occasional extra bit. Other perceptions are available.

Regardless of how you care to define its boundary, Radford comes with a bit of a gritty reputation. You don't have to talk to too many older residents before you find someone who bemoans the current demographics of the place and would like it to return to how it was in the days when you only had one bath a week and would drink 24 pints after putting in a shift at Player's or Raleigh before heading home for tea.

The name Radford comes from 'red ford' - a reference to the position of the original settlement on the River Leen in an area known for instances of particularly red sandstone. The parish became part of the Borough of Nottingham in 1877.

One of the most interesting parts of Radford's history is that it was once home to an attraction called Radford Grove (or Radford Folly). This was a pleasure garden that, in its nineteenth century heyday, offered its punters dancing, boating, refreshments, entertainers, firework displays and more.  It was located in the area between New Road and Maun Avenue, but there seems to be nothing left of it today.

Combined results from Nottingham Citizen's Surveys conducted between 2014 and 2016 tell us that 34.5% of Radford Ward residents over that period were 'binge drinkers', against a city average of 15.9%. Old habits die hard (unless we blame the students).

So there you have it. Radford, Nottingham. Full of character and with a fascinating history to boot. I love it to bits.

Let's find out (because we can, that's why) if there are any other Radfords in the world, and, if so, what they are like and if they are connected in any way to ours.

A quick Google search reveals four other Radfords - three in the US and one in Australia.

Top of the pile by some distance in terms of its population is Radford, Virginia - an 'independent city' with 16,070 residents as of 2020 (by comparison, the population of Radford Ward in 2018 was 17,448). Its nickname is The New River City, after the watercourse that it grew up next to.

If Radford in Nottingham has a (polite) nickname, I am not aware of it.

The New River City is home to a university, and five miles to the north is Radford Army Ammunition Plant - 'The U.S. Military's Primary Propellant Manufacturer'. Disappointingly, there does not appear to be any historical connection to 'our' Radford. This Virginia variant was named after a prominent nineteenth century citizen - Dr John B Radford - having had several other names previously.

Knocking the faded memory of Radford Grove into a cocked hat, Radford, Virginia has at its heart a 50-acre wooded ravine - Wildwood Park - which has hiking trails and contains animals such as deer, racoons, skunks and groundhogs.

So far, so impressive. America's other two Radfords, however, let the side down somewhat, both being tiny places (again named after local citizens) that barely register on the map.

All of which leaves us with our last Radford, in Queensland, Australia.

Don't let us down, Aussies.

A little bit of digging (no pun intended) reveals that the Australian Radford is a 'rural locality' with a population of (in 2016) 41 people. Bless.

But wait, what's this? From 1877 until 1964, the area was served by, and, in fact, named after, Radford railway station, which, according to information on the Queensland Government website, was, in its turn, 'named after a town in Nottinghamshire, England.' Eureka!

Radford railway station in Nottingham opened in 1848 and closed in 1964 - coincidentally, the same year that the line serving the Queensland version (which was situated on Radford Road, no less) was closed. The line that Radford station in Queensland was on ran from near a town called Ipswich (the answer is yes), whose station was approximately 22 miles north of Radford.

So how did the Nottingham connection arise?

The first hint is in the Nottinghamshire Guardian of 31 December 1861, in a piece entitled, 'Emigration and the Cotton Supply'. The article concerns two lectures on '...the newly formed colony of Queensland, Australia'  that were to be given on the following two evenings in the Exchange Hall by Mr H Jordan, Queensland emigration commissioner. The writer comments, 'When times are bad and trade dull, as we fear they are at present in Nottingham, we naturally look towards emigration and new fields of labour with deep interest. Queensland, appropriately so named by her present Majesty, is called "England's youngest and fairest colony," and since its separation from New South Wales has progressed wonderfully in all the material elements of wealth. All it wants is population - population of the right sort - in order to develop its resources.'

Advertisements for assisted passages to Queensland were in evidence for a number of years from around this time onwards.  One placed in the Nottingham Journal of 6 August 1864 reads, 'Assisted passages are now granted to persons of the following occupations, at £4 and £8 per adult. Ploughmen, road-makers, quarrymen, professed gardeners, miners, carpenters, masons, bricklayers, blacksmiths, wheelwrights, shipwrights, &c.; also female domestic servants of good character.'

Though we can't be sure exactly who was directly responsible for the naming of Radford station (and hence the place) in Queensland,  the name of the Saunders family from Nottingham crops up more than once in relation to the locality. In a notice in the Nottinghamshire Guardian of 22 June 1866, for example, we learn that the railway station wasn't the first place in Queensland to be named (one assumes) by homesick Radfordians: 'MARRIAGES:... On the 9th April at Radford Villa, Ipswich, Queensland, Mr Edwin Saunders, joiner, late of New Radford, Notts, to Miss Sophia Morris, late of Carrington.'

In the early days at least, times for emigrants to Queensland - which, remember, was said to have 'progressed wonderfully in all the material elements of wealth' - seem to have been tough. In a harrowing letter received by 'Mr. W. Saunders of Radford from his father [James Saunders], who carried on business there as a chemist for more than 24 years, but who is now at Queensland, in Australia', written on 14 June 1866 and published in the Nottinghamshire Guardian of 19 October of that year, we learn first about the appalling conditions on board ship during the 131-day voyage to Australia (the ship already having had to have repairs following a collision with two vessels on its way out of London):

'...the weather has been extremely cold , and being just at the bottom of the hatchway, and constantly exposed to wet and cold, I thought we should be starved to death, our feet and clothing being constantly wet for weeks, and we could not get near to a  fire... March 13th, we had another terrible squall, the sea rolling mountains high, water streaming into our cabin, and our boxes swimming about the ship. We were hours baling out the water... April 2nd being Easter Monday, oh, the sight of all sights, we were called up at half-past five to see the icebergs. There were four large ones in sight and the Captain told me one of them was about 300 feet high and about six miles square...The Captain told me if we had come up with them four hours sooner no one would ever have heard anything more about us, a remark which made us think of you all at home, and how different the scenes around you with your Sunday school tea parties.'

Things don't seem to have improved much upon James Saunders' arrival at Ipswich: 'You will wish to know how we like the place. I must confess I do not like it at all; it is a poor place. Things are very bad... I found none of my family doing any better than they might have done at home, and if I had known as much before I came as I do now, nobody should ever have persuaded me to have come... The tales that some of the agents in England tell about the demand for labour are not true...'

A 'Letter from Queensland' in the Nottingham and Midland Counties Daily Express of 22 November 1866, also from James Saunders (though signed 'James and Elizabeth Saunders (late of Radford, near Nottingham)' and written on 18 September 1866, gives us some idea of the difficulties: 'I am sorry to say we have no good news to send home this month, everything being in a dreadful state here...'

A sorry tale of government bankruptcy and unemployment ensues and the writer concludes, 'It was the worst day's work I ever did in my life when I disposed of a good home and business to come to a place like this. We have wished ourselves at home again hundreds of times.'

James Saunders does seem to have found his way back to England, although not to Radford by the looks of it. In the 1881 census, we find an entry for someone in Leicester of that name whose occupation is given as 'Retired chemist' and birthplace as Radford. If this is our man, he seems to have remarried, as his wife's name is given as Susannah. But there we must leave this interesting tale, lest its rabbit holes consume us entirely...

Lost and Found

Notice on door in Radford

This is a special way of being afraid

No trick dispels. Religion used to try,

That vast moth-eaten musical brocade

Created to pretend we never die

From Aubade by Philip Larkin (first published in 1977)

Afflicted as I am with thanatophobia, I would dearly love to believe in an afterlife. Sadly, I remain an agnostic, but there are, of course, many around me who do subscribe to some sort of belief system whereby death is not the end (the idea of not having any such beliefs and yet still not being afraid of the grim reaper is another conversation entirely).

Local adherents of the Celestial Church of Christ meet in a building at the corner of Kyme Street and Denman Street East in Radford. The church has its origins in Benin, West Africa, and was founded by Samuel Oshoffa in 1947 after he had a divine revelation while lost in a forest (somewhat conveniently, he was wandering around for forty days and forty nights).

How the Celestial Church of Christ differs from all of the other religious groups in Nottingham and elsewhere, I am not qualified to say.

Samuel Oshoffa is said to have gained his first converts following the not-unimpressive act of resurrecting his nephew. Also of note is a report that he had acquired 34 wives and accumulated 150 children by the time he died in 1985. Interestingly, the church's website states that it 'does not encourage polygamy,' though the wording does seem to leave a little wiggle room for those of a polygamous disposition.

On the evidence of a video showing one of their services, the members of the Nottingham chapter of the Celestial Church of Christ seem like a very jolly bunch indeed. Good luck to them.

Dead Men Tell Tales

Nottingham's burial grounds past and present are endlessly fascinating.

Today, I happened to walk past Christ Church Gardens, which is on Ilkeston Road, several hundred metres to the west of Canning Circus. I decided, on a whim, to go in and have a look around.

The church that was once here dated back to the 1840s. It closed during the Second World War, never reopened and was demolished in 1951. The gardens that remain are not unpleasant and the lowered south wall of the church has been left in situ. 

The churchyard was used for burials, and the remains probably still lie beneath the cleared ground.

Along the western perimeter wall are a number of memorial stones, including the one above, which immediately grabbed my attention. Its inscription begins:

IN LOVING MEMORY OF

GEORGE FLOYD

WHO WAS KILLED IN THE AMERICAN WAR

IN THE YEAR 1863

Several other individuals are then mentioned, including George's wife, Eliza, who died on 29 January 1882.

The American war referred to is the American Civil War, which lasted from 12 April 1861 to 26 May 1865. I know very little about the American Civil War.

A brief search on Ancestry later on led me to a US Civil War pension card for a George Floyd who served in the 39th New York Infantry. The card gives the widow's name as Eliza Floyd and also states that George had an alias - Alfred Perry.

With that knowledge in hand, it didn't take me long to discover that George Floyd of the 39th New York Infantry was buried under his alias Alfred Perry at Andersonville National Cemetery. The website that contained this information gave the date of George's death as 9 October 1864, which doesn't quite tally with the date on the headstone in England, but, crucially, it also mentioned that his wife Eliza received her pension in Nottingham.

Andersonville National Cemetery was originally associated with an adjacent Confederate prisoner-of-war camp that was established in 1864. 12,920 men died in the camp, and they were all buried in its cemetery, with the first burial taking place in February 1864.

George's tale surely deserves to be told. As indeed do those of all of the individuals whose names appear on the neglected memorial stones of Christ Church Gardens.