Skulferatu #111 - Crampton Tower, Broadstairs, Kent

Crampton Tower in Broadstairs sits just across from the railway station.  Looking like the remains of a tower castle, this flint building was originally built in 1859 as part of Broadstairs public water supply. Water was pumped to the Tower from a well at its base, and this was supplemented from a small reservoir housed in a small dome shaped building close by. 

 

Crampton Tower, Broadstairs

 

Crampton Tower, Broadstairs

 

The Tower was designed by Thomas Crampton, a Victorian engineer who mainly designed railways and locomotives, but was also responsible for the laying of the first effective telegraph cable under the English Channel.

 

In 1901 the District Council took over the supply of water to Broadstairs.  Due to increased demand, water was pumped from elsewhere and the water supply from the Tower was used only in emergencies. 

 

The Tower was eventually closed and now houses a museum in which are exhibited the working drawings and models of Thomas Crampton’s train designs, as well as various model railways.

 

Crampton Tower, Broadstairs

The reservoir building and Crampton Tower

 

Unfortunately, having not paid attention to the visiting times, the Tower and museum were closed when I arrived.  So, rather than relay you with details of my wanderings there, I’ll tell the story of a rather explosive, unsolved murder than happened just down the street from the Tower.

 

Richard Richards was a ‘property owner and man of means’ who lived with his family in Broadstairs.  In 1893 he was having a coffee house built near to the railway station and would often pop up to chat with the builder to see how work was progressing.

 

Richard had a brother, William, who lived in Somerset, but also resided on occasions in London.  The two brothers had a fiery relationship and every so often they’d fall out over something, make up for a bit and then fall out again.  Their relationship with each other disintegrated into acrimony in 1893, when William sued Richard over a property deal that had gone sour.  William won the case and was awarded the princely sum of £1,200 (around £127,000 in today’s money).  Richard then sued William in a counter claim and was also proposing to sue him for libel.  William was not happy about this and wrote several angry letters to Richard telling him that he’d have him found guilty of fraud and get him sent to a penal colony for seven years.  Not having Richard’s address in Broadstairs, he sent his letters to Richard’s solicitor in London, so they could be forwarded on. They were, and Richard complained bitterly to his wife about them and about his brother.

 

Sometime in July 1893, Richard was up in London when he bumped into the clerk from his solicitor’s office, Frederick Colverd.  Frederick told him that a parcel had arrived that morning addressed to him and asked if he wanted to attend at the office to collect it.  Richard told him that he wouldn’t have time and asked him just to forward it on to his home in Broadstairs.  Frederick agreed to this and duly posted the parcel on, however not before noting that ‘it was addressed in a shaky hand, apparently the writing of a female…’ and that ‘the writing seemed to be disguised.’

 

On the morning of 22^nd July 1893, Richard Richards was having breakfast with his wife Katherine, when the postman delivered the parcel forwarded on from London.  Katherine immediately stated to Richard that she didn’t like the look of it and thought he should not open it.  Richard, on examining it, stated that he thought the writing looked like that of his brother William.  Not quite sure what to do with the parcel, Richard decided to seek out a second opinion, so off he marched, accompanied by Katherine and their children, to the property he was having built.  There he called on the builder, Charles Martin and handed him the parcel joking that it was a present for him.  Charles laughed at this, but then agreed with Katherine that it looked quite suspicious.  But what to do about it?  Both Richard and Charles then stood examining the parcel and chatting about it.  After a while they agreed that the only thing to do was to open it and see just what it was.  Katherine begged Richard not to open it, but he shooed her away and cut the string around it with his penknife.  Charles moved closer to see what the parcel contained just as Richard pulled the string away.  BOOM!  There was a huge explosion that knocked Katherine and the children to the ground and blew both Richard and Charles across the road.  Katherine rose to her feet screaming – ‘My God!  It’s an infernal machine.’  Distraught, she and her children were led away as passersby ran to help her husband and Charles.  Charles who was bleeding heavily from lacerations to his face and shaking with shock, was helped back to his home.  However, Richard was in a terrible state.  Half his face and his left hand had been blown away and his chest was torn open.  He was quickly taken to the Seamen’s Infirmary at Ramsgate, where it was realised there was little they could do for him.  There he made a deposition to a local magistrate telling him about the suspicious package and that he suspected that his brother William had sent it.  He then lapsed into unconsciousness and died the next day.

 

Outrage at Broadstairs – A terrible explosion took place

 

Scene of Outrage

 

A few weeks after Richard’s death an inquest was held.  During this, both Katherine and Richard’s solicitor gave evidence about the ill will between the brothers.  Katherine stated that the writing on the parcel looked like William’s and that her husband had no other enemies in life other than his brother. Richard’s solicitor told of receiving the parcel for Richard and noting the postmark on it.  When asked about the letters William had sent to his brother, the solicitor acknowledged that they bore the postmark of the district next to the one that the parcel had been posted from.  An explosives expert then gave evidence that on examining the remains of the device it appeared to have been gunpowder that had been used.  He commented that it was a simple device and would be easy to construct.  William, Richard’s brother was then called to give evidence.  He was cautioned by the coroner and asked if he had been responsible for sending the parcel to his brother.  To this he replied – ‘I have never made an infernal machine, or employed anyone to do so.’  He then went on to state that he would have gained no benefit if his brother was to die, as the judgement against his brother for the £1,200 had been made void by his death.

 

At the end of the inquest the coroner summed up the evidence and stated that though there had been much ill will between the brothers there was not enough evidence to show that William had in anyway been involved in Richard’s death.  He also ruled out suicide saying that there was ‘not a semblance of evidence to support it.’  The jury then returned a verdict of ‘wilful murder by the explosion of a parcel received by the deceased, but by whom sent there was no evidence to show.’

 

To this day the case is unsolved.  Was it an elaborate suicide by a man who had taken on too much debt?  Probably not.  Maybe a spurned lover, what with the feminine handwriting on the parcel?  Again, probably not.  So, most likely it was William.  So much for brotherly love.  Just as well I’m not writing this in 1893 though, as several newspapers named William as the main suspect for his brother’s murder, and he sued them all.  They all then hurriedly printed retractions.

 

Getting back to Crampton Tower, which must have witnessed the explosive events of 1893, I wandered round to the dome shaped building that once housed the reservoir and left a Skulferatu resting on a flint ledge there.

 

Skulferatu #111

 

Skulferatu #111 resting on the flint stone of the reservoir building

 

Skulferatu #111 resting on the flint stone of the reservoir building

 

Map showing the location of Skulferatu #111

 

The coordinates for the location of the Skulferatu are –

 

Latitude 51.359921

Longitude 1.433225

 

what3words: sling.pitch.lion

 

I used the following sources for information on Crampton Tower and on the murder of Richard Richards –

 

Crampton Tower Museum

Crampton Tower Museum

 

Annual Report of the Medical Officer of Health for the Year 1954 - Broadstairs and St Peter's

 

The Illustrated Police News – July 24^th, 1893

 

Lloyds Weekly London Newspaper – Aug 6^th, 1893

 

The People, Sunday Aug 6^th, 1893

 

The Paddington, Kensington and Bayswater Chronicle – Saturday 29 July 1893

 

Thanet Advertiser - Saturday 29 July 1893

 

 

Skulferatu #68 - Stobsmill Gunpowder Works, Gorebridge

 

It was one of those warm, winter days, when the sun is out, and you feel that spring might come early.  A good day for a walk.  Having recently come across some maps of walks around Gore Glen, by Gorebridge, I decided to follow one and have a nice woodland walk.  So, I took a train from Edinburgh to Gorebridge and set out.  However, my map reading skills and sense of direction are so bad that I ended up doing a bizarre route that took me to the back of some sewage works and then on to a path that looked like it had been made by deer rather than people, which led up a steep embankment and into some grounds I probably wasn’t meant to be in.  Finally I ended up back in Gorebridge and then back on the proper path again.  I followed this and ended up in the woods where I came across the ruins of the Stobsmill Gunpowder Works.

 

Ruins of one of the gunpowder works buildings

 

Ruins of one of the gunpowder works buildings

 

I wandered around the crumbling remains of the buildings that once housed a thriving and somewhat dangerous industry.  The stone walls were being subsumed back into nature and were moss covered with ferns growing from the gaps and cracks.  Birds sang in the trees above and water bubbled in the nearby stream.  It was all very different a couple of hundred years ago when there would have been dozens of men at work in and around the buildings, and water wheels would have been churning away to power the whole operation.

 

Ruined structure in one of the buildings

 

Stones moss covered with ferns growing from the gaps and cracks

 

Collapsed walls of one of the buildings

 

Remains of walls of one of the buildings

 

Abandoned bike by walls of one of the buildings

 

In 1794 the works at Stobsmill were constructed for the Hitchener and Hunter Company to start producing gunpowder.  You might think that this was a company well versed in the production of such an explosive material, but no, it was the venture of William Hitchener, a millwright, and John Hunter, a farmer.  They were both originally from Surrey and had applied there for a licence to produce gunpowder but had been turned down as they lacked the necessary skills or experience to run such a dangerous business. Somehow, they had found their way to Gorebridge where, along with a more experienced partner, John Merrick, they applied for and were successful in gaining a licence to manufacture gunpowder.

 

The works were constructed in an isolated area within the shelter of a valley near to Gorebridge.  The valley was used as a natural barrier in case an explosion occurred, and artificial mounds were created and planted with trees to lessen any explosion that might happen.  The works were built by the Gore Water, with the river being channelled and used to drive the ten waterwheels that powered them. 

 

The Gore Water running by the gunpowder works buildings

 

The gunpowder produced at the works was exported all around the world and was used by the British Army during the Napoleonic Wars.

 

Advert for gunpowder produced at Stobsmill from the Chester Chronicle, 17 July 1829

 

As you might expect in an era when health and safety concerns were minimal, there were quite a few accidents at the works and several large explosions.  In 1803 an explosion occurred that killed John Hunter, who was in his garden when a large stone from the blast tore off his arm.  Two of the men working at the mill were also killed in that explosion.

 

On the morning of 18 February 1825 an explosion occurred that was so big it could be heard in Fife, and it rattled the windows of those living in Edinburgh, eight miles away.  It was also reported that the shockwave from the explosion caused the church bells in Dalkeith, some five miles away, to start ringing and that a ploughman working in a field almost a mile away was thrown thirty yards by the force of the blast.  Luckily, he was unharmed.  While in the nearby village of Gorebridge the windows of all the houses were blown in.

Shortly before the explosion, two of the workmen at the mill, Richard Cornwall and Walter Thomson, had been busy loading casks of gunpowder from the ‘Drying Room’ on to a horse drawn waggon.  The casks were then to be taken to a store in another building a short distance away.  Cornwall, at some point went back into the ‘Drying Room’ to retrieve more casks, while Thomson was loading them on to the waggon.  Something then triggered a huge explosion in the ‘Drying Room’, which in turn also caused the store to explode.  These buildings were completely destroyed and both Cornwall and Thomson were blown to pieces.  A report at the time describes how the mangled fragments of the men’s bodies were found scattered around over the distance of a mile and that it was impossible to tell which of the fragments belonged to which man.  Other workers on the site were reported to have been blown to the ground, with some throwing themselves into the river in search of safety.  While the body of the horse that had been with the waggon was found thirty yards from the explosion and the trees all around were shattered and broken.  Some passers-by, who had been on the high road at the time of the explosion described a huge column of black smoke rising up from the valley and large stones being thrown up from it, like a volcano.

 

It was reckoned that about 60 barrels of gunpowder had exploded, each of these containing 112 lbs (51 kg) of powder. So in total over 3000kg of gunpowder.  You would think that given an explosion of that enormity the mills might close down, but no, given a business that lucrative and that vital to war, Empire, etc., they carried on.  Then in 1827 there was another explosion…

 

On Saturday 29 September 1827 at around seven thirty in the morning the residents of Gorebridge were woken by a loud blast when the ‘Corning House’ (the building in which the powder was separated into granules) at the gunpowder works exploded.  The horrific scene that met those who hurried to the ruined building to help was described graphically in a report of the incident by the Caledonian Mercury –

 

‘…the three men who were employed in the premises at the time…were killed by the explosion.  One of the unfortunate men had his legs torn from his body; another his belly torn open, and his entrails hanging out; and the third was blown into the water at a considerable distance from the Mill, where he was found dead about an hour after.  Search was immediately made for the members which were severed from the bodies: but when found, they were so dreadfully mutilated, that it was impossible to know to which the different members belonged.  When looking around the scene of this terrible visitation, it seemed as if some destroying angel had been there, doing his work of desolation and death.  The premises wherein the explosion took place…lay in one heap of ruins; the surrounding trees were stript of their foliage; and the grass was burnt black and bare…’

 

Now, you may be thinking that given the amount of accidents at Stobsmill, those working there were a bit careless, or that the owners were unduly lax over health and safety, and uncaring when it came to their workforce.  However, it seems that explosions at gunpowder factories were not that uncommon, that they were just one of the dangers of working in that trade.  A few days after the explosion at Stobsmill, there was an explosion at the premises of Messrs Pigou & co, a Powder Mill in Dartford, Kent.  Three workmen were also killed in that explosion.

 

Anyway, the buildings at Stobsmill were repaired and work carried on.  Then on Wednesday 21 March 1838, at around six thirty in the morning there was another explosion.  The working day had begun around half an hour earlier and the workforce was spread out throughout the site engaged in their various tasks.  In the ‘Corning House’ two men, Robertson, and West, were busy at work when there was a huge blast that destroyed the building.  Their colleagues ran to the smoking ruins and in the rubble they found Robertson.  He was still breathing but died shortly after from his wounds.  The body of West was then found ‘at some distance’ from the building.  A report of the incident in The Scotsman notes that the damage to the buildings and machinery was significant and that ‘the loss to the proprietor must be considerable – insurance on property of this nature being of course out of the question.’  No shit Sherlock!

 

Again the buildings were repaired, and work carried on until around 1861 when the mills finally closed.  Now all that is left of them are the ruins in the woodland of the Gore Glen.  A place so peaceful that it is hard to imagine that it was once a site of heavy industry and several tragic, fatal, and devastating accidents.

 

I left the Skulferatu that had accompanied me on my walk in a moss and lichen covered hollow in one of the walls.

 

Skulferatu #68

 

Skulferatu #68 in a moss and lichen covered hollow in one of the walls.

 

Skulferatu #68 in a moss and lichen covered hollow in one of the walls.

 

Map showing location of Skulferatu #68

 

The coordinates for the location of the Skulferatu are –

 

Latitude 55.83960

Longitude -3.051440

 

I used the following sources for information on Stobsmill Gunpowder Works -

 

The Statistical Accounts of Scotland 1791-1845, Vol 1

Temple, County of Edinburgh (Page 53)

 

Gorebridge Community Development Trust

https://gorebridge.org.uk/heritage/stobsmill-gunpowder-works-an-introduction/

 

The Scots Magazine

Tuesday, 1 March 1825

 

Caledonian Mercury

Saturday, 19 February 1825

 

Caledonian Mercury

Monday, 1 October 1827

 

The Scotsman

Wednesday, 28 March 1838

Article and photographs are copyright of © Kevin Nosferatu, unless otherwise specified.