Some recollections of bygone Ilkeston

To the Editor, Sir, -- When I read in your paper of the doings, and also of the improvements taking place in Ilkeston, my thoughts often travel back to the old days when Ilkeston had a population of three thousand or thereabouts. Amongst other things there is in my mind a picture of the old cricket ground. Seventy years’ ago it was an open space, with a walk around it. The side leading from the Market Place to Market Street had low wooden palings dividing the walk from the grass. A gate and costs were at the end against the Churchyard, also again at the entrance to Market Street. It was a favourite place for children as a playground, and many a pleasant and happy hour we youngsters spent in it. Now it is a busy centre with factories, schools, houses, etc., in it. When the cricket teams were having matches we could look through of over the palings, and everybody was free to walk about and see the play.* And the Ilkeston players, who were they? The Potter brothers (The Park). Attenborough brothers, Whitehouse brothers (West Hallam Furnaces), Fletcher brothers (The Havelock). Mr. Paxton, Fred Flint (Tailor), and Mr. Jas. Fletcher.** The public house in Market Street was at that time a private residence, but later on was converted into a public house by John Goddard. There was a small balcony on the side of the house overlooking the ground, and spectators would sit there with their refreshment watching the play. What a pity that the old ground could not be kept for an open space, but I suppose that the powers that were saw a great possibility of increasing their rent roll, and so the old cricket ground is merely a memory. The Old Chapel – now I believe a joiner’s workshop – was called in those days “The Cricket Ground Chapel”. I was a scholar there, and I remember going to a concert when blind Mr. England, a music teacher in the town, was the pianist. I was seated in the front pew over the entrance and thoroughly enjoyed in my childish way watching Mr. England’s fingers travelling over the piano keys, and wondering, he being blind, how he found them all. On Whit-Sunday morning we scholars from the chapel, after morning school, would go through the gate leading from Warner’s Yard on to the path and walk in procession round the cricket ground, then back to the chapel and down Warner’s Yard into South Street, on to South Street Chapel. In the afternoon most of the schools assembled in the various chapels, then processions were formed and all marched on to the old ground, when addresses were given by different preachers and laymen. The singing was a great feature, and needless to say it was not only for the children but for everyone concerned a great day. The meeting was in connection with the Band of Hope. In those days Mr. Samuel Carrier was superintendent one Sunday and Mr. Richard Daykin the other. The Old Chapel was also used for the Local Board’s meetings, and some lively times took place in it. One regrettable incident was when the members turned out and had a free fight in front of the chapel. Next morning we heard that the Chairman of the Board – Dr. Norman – had been taken seriously ill, caused by the excitement of the previous evening. He never regained the use of his limbs. The relieving officer also had the use of the Old Chapel on a Thursday morning for distributing the weekly sums and loaves of bread to the poor and aged people in the parish of Ilkeston. South Street Chapel was built by the Wesleyans, but when the split took place the U.M. took over the chapel, and the remaining Wesleyans moved to a small chapel on the right side of Market Street, below Gladstone Street. When they built the Bath Street Church, or Chapel, and moved there the Methodist New Connexion took the small chapel in Market Street. But the chapel has disappeared. Another improvement, I suppose. Until the U.M. took the South Street Chapel the preaching services as well as the School were held in the Cricket Ground Chapel. At that time my father lived at Mansfield, and very often came to Ilkeston as preacher for the day, staying in the nights, etc., at old Mr. Carrier’s house in East Street, nearly opposite Mrs. Bennett’s Wine Vaults; some time after he removed to Ilkeston, and did yeoman work for the U.M. cause. In those days also all funerals took place on foot, and I remember the long procession coming up South Street from the Park when Mr. Sam Potter, senr., the cricketer, was buried. All the bearers wore black silk scarves fastened at the sides under the arm, also the male mourners wore black silk hatbands fastened at the back and flowing down. All funeral processions walked in the middle of the road. I wonder what motor cars, trams, buses, and all the other quick traffic would do if a long funeral procession appeared in their midst. But a great many changes have taken place, even in funerals, since that time. I remember going to a baby’s funeral, the four bearers wore white hoods and gloves. We started from Wilton Place, called at Bath Street Wesleyan Church for a short service, and then proceeded to Stanton Road Cemetery, where we left our precious burden. Some time ago I went into the Stanton Road Cemetery and I could not help contrasting its present appearance with how it looked years ago. There were only two seats that could be sat upon. Theses were in view of Stanton Road; the others were rotten and falling to pieces. The grass had been neglected, and the graves in most places did not appear to have been tended by loving hands. In the centre, or thereabouts, there was a great heap of rubbish, broken trees, etc. I wonder who is responsible for that neglect? Surely those who lie in that little cemetery have some friends left to give a little care to the last resting place of those gone before. I was pleased to see Mrs. Wall’s grave was in good condition, thanks to someone who takes a little interest in it, despite the fact that she has lain there for many years. It is nice to talk of even to write sometimes of the past. Some of us are travelling on towards the goal and the future is not thought of  or about as it was when we were younger. We sit and think, and our thoughts go back with a swing to the days of our youth, yes, even to the days of our childhood, and some, if not all of them, have very precious memories for us. Indeed I think that a pleasant past to think or talk about is a glorious thing. So pleas, Mr. Editor, excuse my rambling letter. ADELINE WELLS. Eastbourne.