Whilst I was researching Leonard Norman and his photography/picture framing business at 28-30 Montague Road in the 1890s and possibly later at 51 Montague Road, I came across another small story about a former occupant of number 51. It comes again from the Leicester Chronicle, this time the 5th May 1894 (so as Leonard was just settling in to 28 Montague Road).
Harriet Wills was fined ten shillings for being drunk and disorderly in Montague Road the previous Saturday night. And she a married woman in her fifties too! That can’t have been much fun to live down with the neighbours, most of whom were no doubt very respectable. Clarendon Park did have a reputation as a drunken place. There is a fantastic cartoon displayed at the Abbey Pumping Station museum called ‘Last Tram Back to Clarendon Park’ or something very similar, depicting a tram overflowing with drunken, dazed or fighting people. I wonder if the last 44a has the same reputation today? Regards, Elizabeth.
51 Montague Road
Sometimes I come across something on Ebay that really excites me. Just a couple of weeks ago I spent the best part of thirty quid on a collection of 66 cartes de visite and cabinet cards barely held together by a falling apart album of very questionable taste – just to get hold of a single image that definitely isn’t worth £30. But I didn’t care, firstly because the collection belonged to a Leicester family whose tree I have been growing from the tiny acorn of a single named and dated photograph, and secondly because the cabinet card I wanted is perfect. Here is all about it.
The photographer is L. Norman of Clarendon Studio, Montague Road, Clarendon Park. The card stock (dark green), the gold bevelled edge, the studio name in gold all point to a picture taken during the early 1890s. The image is of a little girl in an outfit that almost certainly isn’t hers, and it’s not a very good image either – too much light in the top right hand corner and the little girl’s black- stockinged legs disappear in the gloom behind her. However that really awful vase and feather are beautifully clear.
A trip to Leicestershire Records Office told me quite a bit about Leonard. Leonard was born in Knighton village in 1870 and after school began work, as so many did, as a shoe clicker. He moved to 28 Montague Road in 1893 (shortly after his marriage to Elizabeth Carter) and 30 Montague Road – the most likely premises for “Clarendon Studio” in 1897. I suspect he occupied both 28 and 30 Montague Road between 1893 and 1907, when he moved to 51 Montague Road. None of the street directories of the period described Leonard Norman as a photographer, in fact his first entry is in Wright’s Directory of Leicestershire in 1906, at 30 Montague Road, as a “picture framer.”
- 30 Montague Road. It is still fairly apparent that this was once a shop premises
The 1901 census described him as “shopkeeper and picture framer.” Picture framing and photography often went together at this time, for obvious reasons. Leonard’s last directory entry was in 1912, but by this time he had already returned to his previous work as a shoe clicker so either the entry was out of date or Leonard was only working as a framer in his spare time. I wonder how seriously Leonard took the photography side of his business, and how successful it was. Clearly not all that successful – I feel quite sorry for him.
51 Montague Road
I am fairly confident that I will be able to find out the name of the little girl in the picture, as long as she was related to the Hughes family of Thornton Lane, Leicester, whence my album originated – and I think she must have been. So you can see why I was so excited to get hold of that tatty album. Regards, Elizabeth.
Posted in Old postcards and photos
Tagged Clarendon Park, Edwardians, Family history, Genealogy, History, House history, Knighton, Leicester, Local history, Photographs, Victorians
I recently read a sad article from the Leicester Chronicle which demonstrates how life has changed over the past 100 years . George Scott Grainger aged 51 was admitted, unconscious, to the Leicester Royal Infirmary around 6.15pm on Monday 30 September 1890. He later having never regained consciousness. George, who was a gardener working at Victoria Park and then living at 17 Oxford Road, Clarendon Park, had obtained some Corporation Diarrhoea Mixture from the Town Hall (people provided their own bottles) earlier that day. However the mixture contained in the bottle George was holding when his wife found him contained tincture of opium, not Victorian Immodium.
17 Oxford Road (Oxford Road sits between Howard Road and Montague Road)
At the inquest Jane Grainger, said that on the morning of his death she left before George to go to work and he was not then complaining of diarrhoea. At 2.30pm she was in Victoria Park and could not see her husband so she asked his colleague James Norwell where he was. Norwell told her he had obtained medicine, so she “knew he must be very ill as he strongly disliked medicine.” Jane went to look for George and found him lying in a field on Evington Lane, with the bottle in his hand. He complained of diarrhoea. He said he had consumed the entire contents of the bottle and felt quite well, and wanted to stay where he was as he was comfortable, but was moved in Dr Greasley’s carriage to the Highfields Hotel and afterwards to the LRI where he died.
A couple of things struck me about Jane’s story. Firstly, it was very odd indeed that George’s own bottle should have contained opium, as the Town Hall folk must have dispensed quite a lot of diarrhoea mixture and it would soon have been obvious if their stock had replaced or contaminated with tincture of opium. So perhaps George found that diarrhoea mixture was not efficacious and bought his own cure – opium – instead (opium was used in some diarrhoea preparations). Secondly, when Jane found that her husband was not at work as expected, she naturally went to look for him. But in a field in Evington Lane? Perhaps all is not exactly as Jane described. Perhaps she was used to finding him lying intoxicated in a field and knew where to look for him. It’s a good job the powers that be started to tighten the regulation of opium, making it harder for people to accidentally poison themselves, even if it sounds like George had quite a peaceful ending.
Jane had moved from 17 Oxford Rd by the time of the census in April 1891. So many people seemed to have passed in and out of Clarendon Park without leaving much trace. Poor George – in both senses – was buried in a common grave without a headstone at Welford Road cemetery and his wife never joined him.