York to Frizinghall Great British Railway Journeys

For Edwardian Britons, a Bradshaw's was an indispensable guide

to a railway network at its peak.

I'm using an early-20th-century edition

to navigate a vibrant and optimistic Britain

at the height of its power and influence in the world...

..but a nation wrestling with political,

social and industrial unrest at home.

My journey across northern England continues in Yorkshire.

In the years before the First World War,

migration was spurred by the persecution of minorities in Europe,

by hunger, and by the yearning for a better life.

At the beginning of the 20th century,

those moving from one country to another

reached three million a year.

Many were headed for the New World, and of those,

large numbers travelled between Hull and Liverpool,

where they boarded transatlantic steamers.

Others, by choice or by chance, remained in England.

My journey began in East Yorkshire,

and I'll soon be within the ancient walls of York.

I'll traverse the industrial heartlands

of West and South Yorkshire, and Merseyside.

After exploring the cathedral city of Liverpool,

I'll wend my way to North Wales to skirt the coast,

before finishing at Caernarfon.

This leg of my journey starts in York.

From there, I'll head to the spa town of Harrogate,

before ending close to Bradford, in Frizinghall.

On this trip, I do important research in an historic tearoom...

-What shall we have?

-We should order some tea and some dainty cakes.

-And some scones?

-Absolutely.

-And cream and jam.

..I get a dressing-down in Leeds...

-How am I looking, sir?

-Erm,

I would suggest you're wearing that slightly a bit tight,

especially round here. Erm...

-It's the size of my wallet, Garry.

-Yeah.

THEY LAUGH

..and attend a private Edwardian concert.

# La lune blanche

# Luit dans les bois... #

My next stop will be York.

My Bradshaw's reveals what a railway hub the city had become,

lying at the centre of a cat's cradle of lines.

I remember that, when I first made a journey to York,

I was shocked to find that the early railway builders

had punched a hole in the old Roman wall.

But by the time of my Bradshaw's, the complexity of the network

required that today's station be built outside the old Roman centre.

In Edwardian times, York's station welcomed over 350 trains per day,

catering for a prosperous city,

whose primary employer was the railway,

and the next most important - confectionery.

The Terry's and Rowntree's sweet factories

earned York the moniker Chocolate City.

Nowadays, York thrives on its beautiful setting and rich past.

York has a pretty river, a very complete city wall,

in the minster, one of the finest cathedrals in the country,

a medieval street plan, a very fine railway station.

Unfortunately, it's not exactly undiscovered.

Be prepared for crowds.

Like modern visitors,

early-20th-century travellers came to York to step back in time.

York retains many of its medieval thoroughfares

with ancient names like Minster Gates, Stonegate, Petergate,

but at the turn of the 19th, into the 20th century,

the city had its meaner streets, as well -

crowded and filthy housing where people lived on low wages

with little entertainment other than the boozer on the corner

that might induce them to part with their scarce resources.

The city's poverty was about to take centre stage

in the history of the country.

One man from the Rowntree chocolate dynasty made sure of it.

To find out more, I'm at the University of York

to meet the assistant archivist at the Borthwick Institute,

Alexandra Medcalf.

Alexandra, the city of York is well known for Rowntree's chocolate,

made by a Quaker family who are also rather famous,

but one of them was interested in poverty, I believe?

That's true, yes. Seebohm Rowntree was one of the early

social investigators. One of the first, in fact, nationally.

He conducted a very important survey

in the early 1900s about poverty in York.

Now, there was a man called Charles Booth,

who surveyed poverty in London.

-Was that before this?

-It was. Ten to 15 years earlier.

He certainly inspired Seebohm's work.

They'd corresponded about this survey.

Seebohm Rowntree's Quakerism led him to believe

that all people are inherently equal,

and he was determined to understand the nature and extent of poverty.

Booth had shed light on London's state of affairs.

Rowntree wanted to report on cities away from the capital,

and thought York representative.

So, he sent out investigators to interview people,

and they interviewed 45,000 people in the city.

-45,000?

-45,000 in a year, yeah.

-That's quite a sample.

-It is.

In a city of 75,000 people, Rowntree's rigorous methodology

required a huge number of interviews.

The case studies offer a bleak insight

into lives of misery.

"Railway confectioner. Nine young children.

"Had parish relief stopped for illegitimate child.

"Query - how do they live?"

"Spinster. Blind.

"Shares one water tap with seven other houses,

"and one closet with one other."

There were several key discoveries of this survey.

The first one is that he finds that 30% of the population in York

are living in poverty, which is a revelation at the time.

People assume that there's poverty in London, as a result of Booth's survey,

but they don't think it's happening elsewhere.

What does he do with his very interesting result?

Seebohm goes into government,

and he has decades of time working in policy advising.

And he was hoping to achieve all kinds of social reform,

things like an old age pension, sick pay, minimum wage.

He really foreshadows the welfare state to a great extent.

While working with government,

Rowntree befriended and advised David Lloyd George,

who became Chancellor of the Exchequer.

And in 1908, Lloyd George brought in the Old Age Pensions Act,

followed, in 1911, by the National Insurance Act.

The new legislation provided for pensions from the age of 70,

and a scheme to ensure employees

against time off work due to sickness or disability.

So, all those momentous acts, the beginning of the welfare state -

they bear the fingerprints of Seebohm Rowntree?

Oh, absolutely. I think he's been forgotten,

but I think you can see him certainly as one of

the grandfathers of the modern welfare state.

It had been widely argued

that the poor had only themselves to blame.

Rowntree's work fuelled a debate on the causes of poverty,

which continues to this day.

I shall continue west.

My next stop will be Harrogate,

which Bradshaw's tells me is situated,

"On a moorland plateau with a large, open common -

"a most important factor in the general health of the town -

"making Harrogate air decidedly invigorating.

"It is perhaps more closely allied to the great spas of the Continent

"than any in the British Isles."

And I think that's true. Harrogate has a je-ne-sais-quoi,

an exotic feel, although it is, in fact, as English as a cup of tea.

At the time of my Bradshaw's,

visitors to Harrogate would have found a successful spa town,

with the newly-built Royal Hall

to accommodate the influx of high society.

Then, as now, the area most in vogue was the Montpellier Quarter,

so-called after the fashion, in Victorian times,

for French spa names.

There's one teahouse that cannot be missed - Bettys.

I've arranged to meet archivist Mardi Jacobs.

So, Mardi, were you founded by a lady called Betty?

No. Our founder was Frederick Belmont.

He was a Swiss immigrant who came to England to find his fortune.

In 1907, he landed on the shores of England.

That is extraordinary - that this most British of institutions

was founded by someone from abroad. Tell me about this character.

So, Frederick, as a Swiss child, lost his parents by the age of five,

and he was auctioned off to the local farmers

to be used as child labour.

Good Lord! What a very difficult childhood.

So, how does he make a change in his life?

By the age of 14, as soon as he was able to,

he left the farmhouse, and he trained to be a baker.

So, how does he come to England?

He decided to come to the shores of England to find his fortune.

When he arrived in England,

he had actually lost the address of where he intended to travel to,

but he did remember that it sounded something like bratwurst.

So, he eventually found the right station

and the right train, and travelled to Bradford.

HE CHUCKLES

Frederick found work there, married a Yorkshire girl,

and saved enough money to open his tearoom in Harrogate in 1919.

It was an instant success.

Frederick kept a book of progress of his business.

So, there is newspaper articles and adverts there

that document the opening of his other branches.

Leeds was opened in 1924.

I find it charming that he keeps a scrapbook,

particularly that he calls it a progress book.

That's absolutely wonderful.

And what do we know about what they were serving in those days?

So, this is a menu from the 1920s.

We know that they were serving

some of the delights that we actually serve today.

So, afternoon tea featured heavily.

And here, by the look of it,

an illustration of the decor of the time.

Again, not so very different.

Did he bring anything distinctively Swiss to the business?

He did indeed.

Small and dainty cakes, the Swiss precision,

the Swiss finesse are all elements that he brought to Bettys.

And it's quite a good story, isn't it? I mean,

it's a life that begins with

a great deal of hardship and pain and sadness, and ends in triumph.

It's really heart-warming for us

that such a tragedy led to such success.

-The icing on the cake.

-Definitely.

Frederick Belmont brought a Continental touch

to the very British afternoon tea.

He included, in his menu, breads and pastries such as croissant,

and treated his customers to peppermint creams,

macaroons and truffles that can still be found today.

Well, at last, time for some tea. What shall we have?

I think we should order some tea and some dainty cakes.

-And some scones?

-Absolutely.

-And cream and jam.

-There we are. Enjoy.

-Thank you very much.

-Thank you.

-Where's yours? HE LAUGHS

There's enough for two. I was just joking.

-Hello.

-Hi. How are you doing?

-Hi.

-Do you mind if I squeeze in for a second?

-Not at all.

What's brought you to this delightful emporium

for your tea today?

We're actually celebrating a year together, so...

That's fantastic!

-We're in Yorkshire.

-Congratulations.

-My first-ever afternoon tea.

-Your first-ever afternoon tea!

-Yeah.

I was going to ask you if it was the first time here,

-but your first-ever afternoon tea!

-Yeah.

-Do you think this could catch on?

-Most definitely, I think it could.

Really? THEY LAUGH

The Majestic Hotel was advertised in my Bradshaw's 110 years ago,

and, apparently, Majestic Expresses left King's Cross in London at 11.25

and 1.40pm, and arrived in Harrogate in four hours.

Having established that Harrogate has a Continental feel,

I'd asked for a Swiss beer. They didn't have one,

so I've settled for one brewed in Harrogate.

Very satisfactory!

It's a new day, and I'm resuming my journey through Yorkshire.

I'm on my way to Leeds,

a place that owed its early success to a single commodity.

Wool made the town rich in the 17th century,

the canals enabled the trade to boom in the 18th,

and the railways extended the product's range

and the city's wealth in the 19th.

It's time for me to measure up what's happened since.

At the beginning of the 20th century,

Leeds was a growing city, thirsty for education and culture.

In the first few years of King Edward VII's reign,

statues were erected, Leeds University founded,

and the city's first cinema opened.

That elan is still here today.

The standard image of Leeds is made up

of those heavy, neoclassical civic buildings

that were put up in the Victorian period.

But I find, when I get off the train here, every time,

something new has erupted - new glass buildings.

And here, with this sculpture gallery, for example,

the Henry Moore Institute, it seems that Leeds is determined

to have a distinctive artistic personality.

For centuries, Leeds has expressed itself through its textiles.

At the beginning of the 20th century,

the industry relied on a group of skilled Jewish men

to take it forward.

Hello, Michael. How nice to see you.

Thank you, Malcolm. It's a great honour. After you, sir.

Third-generation tailor Malcolm Berwin

was born in this community in 1927.

He's walking me through his company's distribution centre.

Originally, it was our factory,

where we produced 1,000 suits a week.

Would have been a noisy old place then.

-It was lovely. I loved it.

-HE CHUCKLES

To see something being produced is, to me, wonderful. It's magic.

Malcolm, am I right in thinking that persecution of Jews in Europe

was the reason why many Jewish people

-came to Leeds and other cities?

-Yes, particularly in Russia.

They were brought over from Poland and Eastern Europe.

Did your grandfather, Barnet Berwin, come because of the pogroms?

No, he wasn't, actually.

He was seeking an improvement in the economic situation for his family.

He had a skill, as a tailor,

and he was told that there was a position in clothing manufacture -

working for John Barron,

who was an established clothing manufacturer in Leeds.

In those days, a garment was made singularly to measure.

John Barron went to a sawmill,

and he saw a knife cutting through wood.

He said, "If they can cut through wood,

"they can cut through cloth."

So, he developed this idea of cutting cloth in many layers,

and then he was able to mass-produce suits.

John Barron's pioneering work in ready-made clothing

transformed the industry and called for an ever-growing workforce.

Word got out amongst the Eastern European Jewish community.

Skilled men and anyone willing to learn the craft

made their way to Leeds,

and contributed to the city's prosperity.

They came here with nothing. They couldn't speak the language.

There was no social services. Nothing.

They arrived, they worked...

..they slaved and they developed their businesses.

It was sheer hard work.

That hard work paid off for some more than others.

Barnet Berwin saved enough to build his own business,

and Michael Marks, from Marks & Spencer,

and Montague Burton, founder of Burton of London,

both built empires here.

Nowadays, Berwin & Berwin supplies high-street chains

and works for some high-profile customers.

Today, the Leeds United footballing legend Eddie Gray is here,

and logistics manager Garry Wilson is looking after him.

-Gentlemen, I'm Michael.

-Michael, nice to meet you.

Eddie, a great honour. A great honour indeed.

-Garry.

-Michael, how are you?

-Lovely to see you. So,

looks like Eddie has a new suit. Tell me what's going on here.

Basically, we're giving Eddie his final fit for his club suit.

-For the Leeds United suit?

-Absolutely. 100% wool.

Italian fabric. Made specifically for Leeds United.

And you can see, he looks absolutely superb.

I think you could benefit yourself, Michael.

Well, I'm looking at it, and, Eddie, if I may say so,

you've kept your figure and the suit shows your figure very nicely.

-Do you mind if I just...

-Have a walk round.

-..inspect you?

Yes, that looks very nice.

Now, the only thing, Garry, for my money - for my money -

I would say this sleeve was a tiny bit long. What do you think?

I'd probably say no. A lot of it is personal preference.

-I do know that you like your cuffs showing.

-I like my cuffs showing. There we are.

But the way we test it is, when Eddie moves his hand out,

his sleeve goes up and shows his watch,

whereas, when it goes down, that's the way we tend to...

Yes, yes. How am I looking, sir?

-Erm...

-Now, Garry, be truthful. This is a comparison.

I would suggest you're wearing that slightly a bit tight,

especially around here.

-Erm...

-It's the size of my wallet, Garry.

-Yeah.

And if you don't mind me saying,

I'd also say that the sleeves are slightly short.

BOTH LAUGH

It's all a matter of personal preference.

I'm now heading due west.

I have here a press cutting from February 1910.

"Mr Frederick Delius's Opera, A Village Romeo And Juliet,

"which has acquired great popularity in Germany,

"was performed for the first time in England last night at Covent Garden,

"sung in English by British artists."

And it was conducted by that colossus of the Edwardian age,

Thomas Beecham.

Now, interestingly, this report is from the Yorkshire Post,

for, after all, Frederick Delius was a Bradford Grammar School boy.

I'm keen to find out about this prominent Edwardian composer

by visiting Bradford Grammar School.

Having been founded in 1548, at the time of Frederick Delius,

the school was in the heart of Bradford,

but it moved to this location in 1949.

Head of music technology Ross McOwen is a Delius enthusiast.

Ross, Frederick Delius was one of your pupils.

He was. He was known as Fritz Delius.

Delius was born in Bradford to German parents of Jewish extraction,

and he came to Bradford Grammar School from

1874-1878.

What had brought his father to England?

Well, Delius's father was a wool merchant,

and, as was the case in the north of England at the time,

he came to seek his fortune in that trade.

How did his career develop after school?

After school, Delius's father wanted him to move into the wool trade,

but Delius wasn't really very keen,

and he'd much rather seek out the nearest concert hall

than the nearest wool trade arrangement.

So, where did he go to?

He actually went to manage an orange grove in Florida.

Did that develop his musical interest?

Well, it did, but perhaps not through the channels you might expect.

The orange grove was on the banks of the river,

and Delius would listen to African-American spirituals,

sung by the deckhands on the boats

that travelled up and down the river.

Delius headed back to Europe.

He studied in Leipzig and became a celebrated composer in Germany,

before moving to France where he lived for the rest of his life.

How did Delius's work become popular in Britain?

Well, really, it was all down to Thomas Beecham, the English conductor,

who heard Delius's Appalachia variations

in a concert in London in 1907.

Beecham was very taken by Delius's music,

and he championed his music for the rest of Beecham's life.

So, he spends much of his creative life away from Britain?

Is he an English composer, then?

Delius's mature work is very British.

The melodies are very pastoral.

On Hearing The First Cuckoo In Spring, In A Summer Garden -

those works are very quintessentially British.

Very much so.

Delius remains one of the most distinctive figures

in the revival of British music at the opening of the 20th century.

Pupils at Bradford Grammar School today study Delius

as part of their music A level.

-Hello.

-This is John, one of our outstanding music pupils.

Hi. I'm Michael. Great pleasure to meet you.

I think you're going to sing some Delius.

How have you found, singing Delius?

Very interesting because it's an impressionistic style

where the music is very unpredictable and jumps everywhere.

-Difficult to sing?

-Sometimes, yes. The melody is all over the place,

so some strange intervals, kind of difficult to sing.

And there's some people that'll think,

"Hmm, that sounds odd," and comparing that

to normal classical music, they won't like it.

-What are you going to sing?

-La Lune Blanche.

-Which, I suppose, means the white moon.

-The white moon, yes.

# La lune blanche

# Luit dans les bois

# De chaque branche

# Part une voix

# Sous la ramee

# Oh, bien-aimee

# L'etang reflete

# Profond miroir

# La silhouette

# Du saule noir... #

In the years before the First World War,

some immigrants to Britain were highly successful.

Frederick Belmont, the cake-maker, Barnet Berwin, the tailor,

and Frederick Delius, the son of an immigrant.

But by then, poverty was top of the political agenda,

and the Welsh firebrand Chancellor of the Exchequer,

David Lloyd George, devised landmark social reform,

ably assisted by another radical Liberal, Winston Churchill.

But even they weren't pushing fast enough,

and at the end of the Great War,

the Liberals were elbowed aside by Labour -

the party of the trade unions and of the working class.

Next time, things are hotting up...

-The heat was intense, glowing red.

-When the next one comes out,

that'll be at 1,250 degrees centigrade.

..I freewheel to new heights...

So... Whoa!

Yeah, power is kicking in, zooming up the hill!

..and experience a life of brine.

I can smell the salt in the water.

I'm not particularly tempted to taste it.