Ely - The darkest place in England
In January 1915, following an air raid on King’s Lynn, the council debated lighting in the City of Ely, as they feared that if the city was ablaze with lights it would stand out amidst the darkness of the surrounding Fen and be a prime target for German raiders. It was agreed that all public lighting would be extinguished between 5.00 p.m. and 7.30 a.m, traders would be asked to switch off their outside lights, and residents reduce their house lighting. As can be imagined, this caused considerable difficulties to the population, but there was still too much light, and the council issued further orders that blackouts would be put in place, and also determined to paint corner kerbs white in the hope this would make them more visible in the dark. In November of 1915 they began prosecuting inhabitants who were not observing the blackout effectively – the first person to be charged was a van dweller.
It was agreed that the signal for an imminent air raid would be the sounding of the Jam Factory's hooter (the factory was on Bray's Lane).
Although Ely was never attacked from the air, the fear of an air raid was a very real one, as Zeppelins which crossed the coast at King's Lynn could follow the railway line south through the region to bomb London. One came as close as Isleham Fen where Luther Brooks described its path: "It got nearer with a rum rum noise; then a sound like a huge rocket, a hissing kind of noise, then a terrible big bang and flash - it was more light than daylight; everything was shaking - just like a severe thunderstorm and knocked the tin bath off the nail in the outhouse.”
A letter from a London visitor to Ely, Mr W Heath, printed in the Ely Standard of 10th December 1915, helps to illustrate how the inhabitants and visitors struggled during the War with the lighting restrictions:
“Sir – I visit in the course of my travels a good many towns, but I think Ely is about the most light-saving one I have discovered. I shall not readily forget my weekend experience. The first trouble I experienced was groping my way from Back Hill to Cathedral House. I thought I knew every foot of the way. However, on arriving at Palace Green, I got sadly mixed up with the railings, and was climbing and reclimbing them for a considerable time in my endeavour to locate my whereabouts, and should probably have gone on doing it all night, had not someone come along with an electric lamp. Needless to say I “followed the gleam”.
“On arriving at High Street I had no difficulty in locating Cathedral House, owing to the proprietor, with characteristic enterprise, having used the window blinds for advertising purposes. Later in the evening I spent a considerable amount of time in trying to locate Mr A. J. Cross’ residence in Station Road, but should have completely failed, had it not been for the kindness of an unknown lady, who guided me to my destination. The climax came at 11 p.m. when I endeavoured to walk from Cathedral House to “mine host’s”, Mr McFall’s residence on Fore Hill. I mastered Fore Hill fairly well till I – at least my nasal organ told me so – arrived in close contact with a fish shop. I hope I did not damage it – the shop I mean. I then groped my way to Fore Hill, but had to retract my steps to Mr Haylock’s boot shop, and feel the windows all the way till I struck the right door. Such darkness I never before experienced.
“On Sunday evening my experiences were almost tragic. I was escorting a lady from “Greenwood” Back Hill to the Primitive Chapel in Victoria Street, via Broad Street. I felt sure I could locate the mammoth Co-op building at the corner of the street, but not a bit of it. On and on we walked.
“In vain I appealed to persons I could only hear passing, to tell me where Victoria Street was. Fortunately, when nearing the Fore Hill end of Broad Street, we met Mr Samuel Cross, who, with praiseworthy devotion to his church, had walked all the way from Fly Higher Hall, and recognising my voice pleading with passers-by, helped us out of our dilemma.
“Had it not been for his timely arrival, I should certainly have turned down Waterside to Crown Point. The Prims would have been minus their soloist, and “horror of horrors” the staid and proper citizens of Ely would have been shocked to hear that there had been “mixed bathing” in the River Ouse, on Sunday night of all nights of the week!
“Our friend, Mr D.W. Phillips, also managed to come into contact with some railings somewhere, and has brought back to London a memento of his visit in the shape of a scar on his hand.
“Whether it is or is not necessary to keep Ely in such total darkness is a matter of opinion, and the authorities no doubt know their own business, but it does appear to me that there is a remunerative opening for a number of people to act as guides to those who happen to visit Ely after Sunset.”
Throughout the War prosecutions for lighting irregularities continued. These even included fining cyclists whose lamps were not appropriately shrouded, men such as short-sighted George Fuller riding his bicycle at 9.10 p.m .on 13th January 1917 who stated he could not see where he was going without a full light.
In May of 1916 residents were informed of the “British Summer Time Act” and the process of putting the clocks forward an hour which was to begin on 21st May. This was particularly to allow farmers to make better use of the daylight hours. Naturally there was some grumbling at this innovation.
In February 1917 the council attempted to alleviate the lighting problem by purchasing luminous paint to paint bands around the lampposts. The Ely Standard reported: "The wide bands of luminous paint which now adorn the lamp posts in the city have proved a distinct success.... Unless persons are not blessed with good eyesight, it is impossible now to collide with these permanent fixtures; and to many at first it was really astonishing how far off the paint could be discerned. The Council's servant entrusted with the decoration of the standards did his work well." So this system apparently worked quite well initially.....but by the end of the year the paint was so worn that citizens were demanding they be repainted.
The lighting problems had some rather strange effects, but probably the most amusing occurred in early September 1917. A late night traveller “borrowed” a lamp from the railway station to light his way into the city, and then left it where it could be found. This started a wild rumour that three German prisoners on the run from an internment camp had alighted at Ely and stolen the lamp. They had apparently then been pursued across the Fens by soldiers who had leapt off the train with fixed bayonets and recaptured them after a fierce struggle. There was no truth in the rumour – just a lot of imagination and a misplaced lamp!
In February 1918 a frustrated Ely resident wrote to the Ely Standard to inform people that the Chief Constable had allowed about a dozen street lamps to be lighted in the town of March, provided that they were shaded and could be extinguished swiftly if the air raid warning was sounded. He asked that the Ely Urban Council should make a similar request to the Chief Constable as “it has long been felt in the district that a restricted amount of lighting might be permitted”. The plea fell on deaf ears.
Naturally the blackout affected the normal social, and religious, life of Ely. Owing to the lighting restrictions during the winter Ely Cathedral’s Sunday Evensong was moved from 6.00 p.m. to 4.30 p.m. and Evensong at St Mary’s Church was even earlier at 3.00 p.m. However, the Ely Standard informed the population, “Holy Trinity Church Evensong will be said on Sunday evenings in the Parish Room, and, as usual in St Peter’s and St Etheldreda’s which can be rendered light proof.”
The most serious effect of the total blackout was that it led to fatalities when, on two separate occasions, a man and a woman attempting to reach the railway station missed the turning at the bottom of Fore Hill into Broad Street and continued to the river where they walked unknowingly off the Quay. This happened again in September of 1919 when Willie Dunham of Wardy Hill also fell into the river, but this time survived because he was a swimmer. Only after this was the single lamp at the end of the Quay again lit, and a second lamp put up nearby - an event so thrilling that Ely residents came especially to see the phenomenon! There was general commenting that if the Gas Company is now able to light these new lights they should be able to bring the lamp standards in the city back into action!
On Christmas Eve 1918 “Ely emerged from darkness into light” as 20 street lamps were lighted for the first time since 1915. The Ely Standard reported: “The city has been frequently described as the darkest place in England…the illumination was welcomed by the whole of the residents…” However, not all lights were brought back into action and for almost a year there were still a significant number of lights not working (e.g. in October 1919 it was complained that one lamp on the corner of Minster Place was also supposed to light the High Street and Lynn Road). It was not until 7th November 1919 that the Ely Standard could report that all the street lights were finally operational. In the meantime the poor lighting claimed yet another victim, when 67 years old widow Sarah White of Back Hill died after having fractured the base of her skull when she fell just after Christmas 1918. She had walked into a wall in the dark, fallen backwards and injured herself, and had effectively been dying slowly ever since as a result.
It was agreed that the signal for an imminent air raid would be the sounding of the Jam Factory's hooter (the factory was on Bray's Lane).
Although Ely was never attacked from the air, the fear of an air raid was a very real one, as Zeppelins which crossed the coast at King's Lynn could follow the railway line south through the region to bomb London. One came as close as Isleham Fen where Luther Brooks described its path: "It got nearer with a rum rum noise; then a sound like a huge rocket, a hissing kind of noise, then a terrible big bang and flash - it was more light than daylight; everything was shaking - just like a severe thunderstorm and knocked the tin bath off the nail in the outhouse.”
A letter from a London visitor to Ely, Mr W Heath, printed in the Ely Standard of 10th December 1915, helps to illustrate how the inhabitants and visitors struggled during the War with the lighting restrictions:
“Sir – I visit in the course of my travels a good many towns, but I think Ely is about the most light-saving one I have discovered. I shall not readily forget my weekend experience. The first trouble I experienced was groping my way from Back Hill to Cathedral House. I thought I knew every foot of the way. However, on arriving at Palace Green, I got sadly mixed up with the railings, and was climbing and reclimbing them for a considerable time in my endeavour to locate my whereabouts, and should probably have gone on doing it all night, had not someone come along with an electric lamp. Needless to say I “followed the gleam”.
“On arriving at High Street I had no difficulty in locating Cathedral House, owing to the proprietor, with characteristic enterprise, having used the window blinds for advertising purposes. Later in the evening I spent a considerable amount of time in trying to locate Mr A. J. Cross’ residence in Station Road, but should have completely failed, had it not been for the kindness of an unknown lady, who guided me to my destination. The climax came at 11 p.m. when I endeavoured to walk from Cathedral House to “mine host’s”, Mr McFall’s residence on Fore Hill. I mastered Fore Hill fairly well till I – at least my nasal organ told me so – arrived in close contact with a fish shop. I hope I did not damage it – the shop I mean. I then groped my way to Fore Hill, but had to retract my steps to Mr Haylock’s boot shop, and feel the windows all the way till I struck the right door. Such darkness I never before experienced.
“On Sunday evening my experiences were almost tragic. I was escorting a lady from “Greenwood” Back Hill to the Primitive Chapel in Victoria Street, via Broad Street. I felt sure I could locate the mammoth Co-op building at the corner of the street, but not a bit of it. On and on we walked.
“In vain I appealed to persons I could only hear passing, to tell me where Victoria Street was. Fortunately, when nearing the Fore Hill end of Broad Street, we met Mr Samuel Cross, who, with praiseworthy devotion to his church, had walked all the way from Fly Higher Hall, and recognising my voice pleading with passers-by, helped us out of our dilemma.
“Had it not been for his timely arrival, I should certainly have turned down Waterside to Crown Point. The Prims would have been minus their soloist, and “horror of horrors” the staid and proper citizens of Ely would have been shocked to hear that there had been “mixed bathing” in the River Ouse, on Sunday night of all nights of the week!
“Our friend, Mr D.W. Phillips, also managed to come into contact with some railings somewhere, and has brought back to London a memento of his visit in the shape of a scar on his hand.
“Whether it is or is not necessary to keep Ely in such total darkness is a matter of opinion, and the authorities no doubt know their own business, but it does appear to me that there is a remunerative opening for a number of people to act as guides to those who happen to visit Ely after Sunset.”
Throughout the War prosecutions for lighting irregularities continued. These even included fining cyclists whose lamps were not appropriately shrouded, men such as short-sighted George Fuller riding his bicycle at 9.10 p.m .on 13th January 1917 who stated he could not see where he was going without a full light.
In May of 1916 residents were informed of the “British Summer Time Act” and the process of putting the clocks forward an hour which was to begin on 21st May. This was particularly to allow farmers to make better use of the daylight hours. Naturally there was some grumbling at this innovation.
In February 1917 the council attempted to alleviate the lighting problem by purchasing luminous paint to paint bands around the lampposts. The Ely Standard reported: "The wide bands of luminous paint which now adorn the lamp posts in the city have proved a distinct success.... Unless persons are not blessed with good eyesight, it is impossible now to collide with these permanent fixtures; and to many at first it was really astonishing how far off the paint could be discerned. The Council's servant entrusted with the decoration of the standards did his work well." So this system apparently worked quite well initially.....but by the end of the year the paint was so worn that citizens were demanding they be repainted.
The lighting problems had some rather strange effects, but probably the most amusing occurred in early September 1917. A late night traveller “borrowed” a lamp from the railway station to light his way into the city, and then left it where it could be found. This started a wild rumour that three German prisoners on the run from an internment camp had alighted at Ely and stolen the lamp. They had apparently then been pursued across the Fens by soldiers who had leapt off the train with fixed bayonets and recaptured them after a fierce struggle. There was no truth in the rumour – just a lot of imagination and a misplaced lamp!
In February 1918 a frustrated Ely resident wrote to the Ely Standard to inform people that the Chief Constable had allowed about a dozen street lamps to be lighted in the town of March, provided that they were shaded and could be extinguished swiftly if the air raid warning was sounded. He asked that the Ely Urban Council should make a similar request to the Chief Constable as “it has long been felt in the district that a restricted amount of lighting might be permitted”. The plea fell on deaf ears.
Naturally the blackout affected the normal social, and religious, life of Ely. Owing to the lighting restrictions during the winter Ely Cathedral’s Sunday Evensong was moved from 6.00 p.m. to 4.30 p.m. and Evensong at St Mary’s Church was even earlier at 3.00 p.m. However, the Ely Standard informed the population, “Holy Trinity Church Evensong will be said on Sunday evenings in the Parish Room, and, as usual in St Peter’s and St Etheldreda’s which can be rendered light proof.”
The most serious effect of the total blackout was that it led to fatalities when, on two separate occasions, a man and a woman attempting to reach the railway station missed the turning at the bottom of Fore Hill into Broad Street and continued to the river where they walked unknowingly off the Quay. This happened again in September of 1919 when Willie Dunham of Wardy Hill also fell into the river, but this time survived because he was a swimmer. Only after this was the single lamp at the end of the Quay again lit, and a second lamp put up nearby - an event so thrilling that Ely residents came especially to see the phenomenon! There was general commenting that if the Gas Company is now able to light these new lights they should be able to bring the lamp standards in the city back into action!
On Christmas Eve 1918 “Ely emerged from darkness into light” as 20 street lamps were lighted for the first time since 1915. The Ely Standard reported: “The city has been frequently described as the darkest place in England…the illumination was welcomed by the whole of the residents…” However, not all lights were brought back into action and for almost a year there were still a significant number of lights not working (e.g. in October 1919 it was complained that one lamp on the corner of Minster Place was also supposed to light the High Street and Lynn Road). It was not until 7th November 1919 that the Ely Standard could report that all the street lights were finally operational. In the meantime the poor lighting claimed yet another victim, when 67 years old widow Sarah White of Back Hill died after having fractured the base of her skull when she fell just after Christmas 1918. She had walked into a wall in the dark, fallen backwards and injured herself, and had effectively been dying slowly ever since as a result.
