Very many moons ago I knew I had to get to Bollington. But which one? I
decided it was the one just outside Macclesfield, a settlement of cotton
spinners and weavers.
Back in 1992, I must have written to my
great aunt (born 1903), and her (subsequent) executor sent me a
handwritten transcription of a Will, still in the family, dated at the
testator's death bed, December 1856.
This Will of my 4x
great-grandfather never made it to probate (oopsy!) but informed me that
my distant aunt Esther Carline (b 1816) had recently died at nearly 40,
leaving a family. From the wording it looked like she had married James
Fox.
Still a school kid I hot-footed it down to the reference
library in town and located the Derbyshire microfiche. <pre
internet><pre internet> There was the marriage of Esther and
James, 1839 at Matlock parish church. And baptismal records for nine
children, ceasing at her death.
Next, still without leaving town,
I combed the probate registry for the Foxes. I could not find James but
surprisingly I did find Esther:
I'm not sure how
long this all took, but within six months of receiving that letter from
my great aunt, I'd tracked my new aunt Esther to Bollington, Cheshire.
Well
actually I hadn't as she'd died back in Matlock, but it looked like her
husband had left town, presumably with the nine kids in tow, to begin a
new life among the cotton mills of Cheshire.
That's it! Nothing
more to know. Until eventually eventually, probably late 1995, I get to
visit the Census Rooms in the basement of the Public Record Office in
Chancery Lane, London.
{{{ time has passed, tick tock }}}
Finding
the Fox family in the 1861 census of Bollington, near Macclesfield, was
a big moment. There were NO surname indexes. I did have information
from a researcher, Joan Measham, in Matlock, that the Fox family had
definitely left by 1861. (Derbyshire had an excellent census surname
index.)
The resulting census entry had me completely confused.
James Fox was shown as married (to wife Mary), and among their nine
children were names I'd hoped to see, others I'd never heard of and more
that were missing.
My first census entry and it was a blended family! I didn't know what all to make of it.
~~~~
In
the words of Dr Dre, that was 95. It's now 2021 and I'm back in
Cheshire again, not in pretty (stunning!) Bollington, but finally doing
battle with Macclesfield itself. Who will win, me or it.
In the
1980s I recall a tv show Beat the Teacher hosted by Bruno Brookes, in
which pupil "Jonathan from Macclesfield" wiped out his competition,
without mercy.
I recalled that cousin Sandra in Macclesfield,
Esther's descendant (duly sleuthed) had been beyond wonderful in
resolving the second-most complex of Esther's clan.
But this paled into the background now as I was up against....
Joe Turnock.Joe
Turnock was a rogue. A charmer, a ladies' man, no stranger to ducking,
diving, wheeling, although not dealing. And my 3x great-grandfather.
After
siring my forebear out of wedlock (thank you DNA), a spell in clink and
then widowhood, he had chosen Macclesfield on which to inflict his next
promise. Vows of marriage were exchanged there with hard-working widow
Ellen, Mrs Stafford.
He would absolutely have recognised the surname, as it was Stafford Gaol that had control of his liberty just five years prior.
He's
at home in Macclesfield in 1861 in a textbook nuclear family and then
pouff! no further trace. I did spot the signs that Ellen his wife was
doing just fine, however.
Did Joe die in 1862 as many artless
family trees suggest. Of course not. Did he have more children around
the countryside: undoubtedly.
But this week from Cheshire itself
came part of the answer. "Ellen kicked him out!" Macclesfield, quite
literally, said "no". Thanks to Ellen's descendant (duly sleuthed) for
this nugget.
I certainly didn't think that I'd be back in this
area, genealogically, and now that Joe Turnock has departed stage left,
we can return our thoughts to the nine children of Esther Fox
(affectionately remembered) who assuaged or augmented the grief at the
loss of their mother by swallowing sobs over the relentless noise of the
cotton mill machinery in the charming and peaceful town of Bollington,
near Macclesfield, 1861.
(not Bollington near Chester!)