Now is the winter of our discontent, Made glorious summer by this sun of York - A Day Out With Richard III

In 2012 the greatest archeological find was made arguably since the discovery of Tutankhamen tomb by Howard Carter in 1922. In recent years a certain degree of scandal had befallen the current royal dynasty in the UK, and as despicable certain of the allegations are, they pale when compared to the degree of scandal, skullduggery and intrigue that the predecessors of the Windsor clan!

Personally, I am not a Royalist, but neither am I a Republican. If anything I am indifferent to the Royal Family. Our families have very little in common and whilst they continue in a figurehead capacity with no political role to play they can get on with what they do.

I do not feel the same way about Royal Houses from a time in history when the will and actions of the monarch, and those within reach of the throne shaped the fortunes, or misfortunes of the British Isles. There is no better example of this than the Wars of the Roses (1455-1487), a particularly turbulent period in Britain’s generally turbulent past. The Wars were fought between supporters of the House of Lancaster (the Red Rose) and the House of York (the White Rose). Both Royal Houses were branches of the House of Plantagenet a dynasty that held onto the English crown for over 330 years (1154 (accession of Henry II) to 1485 (death of Richard III)).

During the Wars of the Roses, the crown changed hands, or should that be heads, no less than five times. The male line of the Lancastrian claim ended with the death of Henry VI in the Tower of London. Upon Henry's death Edward IV, of the Yorkist line, was restored to the throne and did much to restore stability until his unexpected death in April 1483.

The 12 years of relative stability during the reign of Edward IV ended and a genuine ‘Battle Royal’ ensued for the coveted crown. Since Edward’s young heir was just 12 years old when the King died, his paternal uncle, Richard the Duke of Gloucester, was appointed Lord Protector of the Realm. In the build up to his coronation, the influential cleric, the Bishop of Bath and Wells, claimed that Edward IV had a pre-existing marriage to a noblewoman named Lady Eleanor Talbot. When the Three Estates validated the claim of the Bishop, the consequences for the English crown and stability within the land were far reaching. The King’s marriage to Lady Talbot rendered his later marriage to Elizabeth Woodville (his Queen) bigamous, meaning that their now ‘bastard’ children, Edward V and Richard Duke of York had no legitimate claim to the throne. Edward V reigned for just 78 days when his uncle and Protector, Richard, was offered the crown by Parliament.

Edward V was moved to the Tower of London in May 1483, as was tradition prior to a coronation of a new king. Here he was joined by his younger brother Richard. Their uncle, the Duke of Gloucester, was crowned Richard III on 6^th July 1483. An Act of Parliament of 1484, known as the Titulus Regius formally stated the illegitimacy of ‘the princes in the Tower’ and thus the validity of Richard’s claim to the throne.

Trouble and strife were never far away in these times and whilst the crown sat on Richard’s head to the satisfaction of Parliament, would be challengers to the throne were always on hand to try to displace it. As mentioned earlier, the Lancastrian claim fizzled out with the death of Henry VI in 1471 with which the House of Tudor saw an opportunity to muscle in on the throne related action. The claimant, Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond, made attempted to seize the crown right at the commencement of Richard’s reign when he tried to lead an invasion force across the English Channel. This attempt was defeated by bad weather, but a second attempt saw his forces arrive in Wales.

The rivals were keen to meet on the field of battle. Richard moved his forces out of Leicester on 21st August 1485 and the battle was fought at Bosworth Field the following day on 22nd.

The battle was long, hard and bloody. At one point in the fighting Richard spied Henry in a group away from his main force and in an attempt to bring the battle to a swift conclusion led a charge of knights to engage with Henry. Richard was in the thick of the fighting, unlike Henry who was shielded by the soldiers of his bodyguard. At this stage the Stanleys (a powerful military family waded in). The Stanley’s had complex relations with both the Yorkists and the Tudors such that their allegiance on the day was unknown, right up until they through their lot in with the Tudors. The Stanley knights forced Richard and his remaining men back towards marshy land where the account would have it that Richard was unhorsed as his mount stumbled in the boggy earth. Richard suffered many injuries at the hands of William Stanley’s men, but the coup de grace was said to have been delivered by a Welsh soldier who struck Richard on the back of the head with such force with a halberd that part of Richard’s skull was removed. In the word’s of Guto’r Glyn, a contemporary Welsh poet, that soldier “Killed the boar, shaved his head”. The white boar was the personal device of Richard.

After the conclusion of the battle, Richard was unceremoniously conveyed back to Leicester, naked, strapped to the back of a horse.  His mutilated body was put on display so that the local population would know that the Richard III was dead.

It is believed that the body was taken into the possession of the Franciscan monks of Leicester and hastily buried within their friary (Greyfriars).

Coming back up to date in 2012 news broke across the globe that the remains of Richard III, England’s last Plantagenet King of England had been discovered in a Social Services car park in the centre of Leicester. The location of the find was a gift to headline writers and Richard became for a time ‘The King in the car park’.

The story leading up to the discovery is almost as thrilling as the find itself, but you can look into that at another time. There are numerous accounts, including that of Philippa Langley who through the ‘Looking for Richard’ project that she established was pivotal to the discovery some years latter.

On 24^th August 2012 bones were uncovered at the site of Greyfriars. Another headline grabbing fact was that the bones were located in the car park under a reserved parking space denoted by an ‘R’ painted on the tarmac!

Working back from the legs that were the first part of the skeleton to be unearthed, the team exposed the spine which clearly indicated that the owner of the bones suffered from scoliosis (an abnormal curvature of the spine) proving Shakespeare to be correct in at least one aspect of his depiction of Richard in his ‘history’ play. More convincing still was the damage to the skeleton indicating wounds received in battle that were consistent with someone who had been unhorsed and bludgeoned on the ground. In particular, the damage to the base of the back of the skull appeared to be consistent with the contemporary description of the death blow in Glyn’s poem.

Photo: University of Leicester

But a bent spine and a battered skull do not a king make and it was hard science that put the identification of the remains as those of Richard III beyond all reasonable doubt. Some years prior to the Leicester discovery a writer and historian, John Ashdown-Hill, was requested to trace Richard’s female line of descent through mitochondrial DNA sequences. In this way, the line was established from Richard’s eldest sister, Anne, to a living relative in Canada. From these data, along with subsequent data generated by Turi King and her team at the University of Leicester, it was possible to obtain a match between the mitochondrial DNA extracted from the excavated bones and the sequence determined earlier for Richard’s female line.

What had seemed to be an impossible task by many had been achieved. The lost remains of one of England’s best known (second only to Henry VIII) and most notorious (second to none) kings had been found and positively identified thanks to a heady mix of tenacious determination, inspiration and good science.

In the years following the discovery, Leicester has reaped the rewards. In the area surrounding the cathedral and the former site of the Franciscan friary, Richard seems to be ubiquitous with his image gracing everything from contemporary mediaeval buildings to modern bars and restaurants!

So this was the stuff that brought Gunta and I to Leicester on a gloomy autumnal Saturday in November.

The Kind Richard III Visitor Center is located in the mediaeval quarter of central Leicester, a stone’s throw from the Cathedral. The museum is brilliantly designed, a fact to which a stack of awards located nextto the toilets (!) testify. The building is split across two time periods. The ground floor is given over to the England of Richard’s day. Here the visitor learns about life in 15^th Century England and the intrigues and feuds that threatened stability within the realm at this time, especially the protracted ‘Wars of the Roses’. The lower floor galleries end with accounts of the Battle of Bosworth Field, the brutal slaying of Richard and the return of his body to Leicester.

The upstairs galleries are concerned with the popular perception of Richard down through the intervening years and the discovery and analysis of the remains. The visitor is lead past audiovisual portrayals of Richard from Shakespeare’s literary hatchet job on the character of Richard. From our beloved thespians to former Sex Pistol, John Lydon, who drew inspiration for his Johnny Rotten persona from Olivier’s hunchbacked monarch, the message is clear, according to the established history King Richard was a proper wrong’un.

'Oi 'Enry Tudor... You want some!'

Next comes the science, starting with the dig and discovery of the remains… there is even exhibit space for Philippa Langley’s Union flag wellington boots! There is a wealth of information on the background genetic research and analysis that changed a high probability into proof positive that ‘Richard was ‘ere!’. And finally detailed explanations of the multiple deformations and injuries inflicted upon the skeleton, not least to his feet, lost in time, presumed to be the result of the digging in the vicinity of a Victorian drainage system.

Photo: University of Leicester

A reconstruction of Richard's spine

The tour culminates with the opportunity to view the location of the grave itself, Richard’s resting place for no less than 527 years. It was enough to set a tachophile’s extremities a-tingling. The visitors centre extends into what was the Social Services car park, the former interior of Greyfriers such that the burial plot is visible. Illuminated and underglass the visitor can look down upon the grave and see exactly how the remains were found (the position of the skeleton is marked). I have to say that standing there looking upon the site was quite powerful and rather moving, especially given the fact that recent research appears to be on the verge of turning this period's established and accepted history on its head.

 

Before departing from the Visitor’s Centre for the cathedral there is one more thing of note to see. A famed mediaeval king must have a top notch funeral pall to cover his coffin and a lady by the name of Jacquie Binns, an ecclesiastical textile artist got the commission. What followed was 12 months work (and no doubt eye strain and sore hands) to produce a work of extreme beauty, artistry and poignancy.

 

Effectively the pall tells the two sides of this remarkable journey of King Richard, past and present. On both sides are presented characterized figures both political and pastoral. The ‘past’ side features several groups of people, on the left,an anonymous mourner (a common feature of mediaeval funerals) an aristocratic lady and a knight and on the right, Bishop, a Greyfriar (holding a model of the friary) and a Priest. These groups are on either side of a central group that depicts Anne (Richard’s Queen), his son Edward and St Martin, patron saint of Leicester Cathedral. Bringing things more up to date, the ‘present’ side depicts persons involved in the discovery. To the left, Professor Sir Robert Burgess, Vice Chancellor of the University of Leicester, Dr Richard Buckley, Co-Director of the University of Leicester Archeological Services and Dr Jo Appleby, project osteo-archaeologist (holding Richard’s skull). To the right, we see Philippa Langley (with Richard’s portrait), Dr John Ashdown-Hill, the historial who set off of the trail of Richard’s maternal DNA and Dr Phil Stone Chairman of the Richard III Society (here holding Richard’s device of the boar). The group in the middle depicts the aforementioned modern day political and pastoral folk in the form of Sir Peter Soulsby, elected Mayor, the Very Reverend David Monteith, the Dean of Leicester (with Bible) and finally, the Right Reverend Tim Stevens, Bishop of Leicester. Keeping all in check are a number of Seraphs. 

The centre of the pall that sits on top of the coffin features the King’s Arms. The pall covered the coffin for a period of three days when the coffin lay in state within the cathedral prior to burial.

 

Leaving the visitors centre it was just a short walk to the Leicester Cathedral to see the tomb. Our visit coincided with bell-ringing practise which I usually appreciate, but such was the cacophony of atonal noise that it was good to enter the building where the sounds was impressively muted!

Leicester Cathedral must be one of the smallest cathedrals that I have visited in the UK (and I have seen a lot of them!) but the reburial of King Richard’s bones on 26th March 2015 certainly put the catherdral on the map, whatever it’s size. The funeral service and reburial occurred in the presence of Justin Welby, until very recently, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Sophie, the Countess of Wessex and Prince Richard, the current Duke of Gloucester, a title held by Richard III under the reign og his brother Edward IV.

The tomb itself is hugely impressive. The tope stone of fashioned from Swaledale fossil stone whist the base is formed from Kilkenny marble. Some three feet below the base of the monument is a brick lined vault. Here Richard’s remains lie in a lead ossuary, itself within a coffin of English oak. Another great twist to the story is the fact that the furniture maker responsible for making the coffin was one Michael Ibsen, nephew to Richard, 16 times removed. His DNA was included in John Ashdown-Hill’s study to establish Richard’s maternal lineage.

Apparently Gunta broke the rules when she took the photo below. 'No posing with the tomb' we were told after the event. It wasn't as if I were gurning or doing my best Olivier as Richard the Hunchback impression!

The coat of arms present on the plinth is composed of 350 indivvidual pieces of stone. The symbol itself courted controvery at the time, since the established and accepted history has Richard as a usurper to the English crown and therefore one who has no right to bear the Royal Coat of Arms. However, the argument was won and its addition onto the marble plinth went ahead.

 

History is changing. Even the official website of the Royal Family presents Richard in a positive light. Of his coming to power and the controversy of the Princes in the Tower, the following is stated:

'Richard III deposed his nephew, the young Edward V, on receiving evidenced that Edward IV had a marriage contract with Lady Eleanor Butler before his marriage to Elizabeth Woodville, thus making all of Edward and Elizabeth's children illegitimate. Edward V and his younger brother Richard were housed in the tower: their date of death is not known, but Tudor historians claimed Richard III was responsible.’

The above is an acknowledgement at a pretty high level (!) that the accusation of regicide on the part of Richard was a claim made by the new Tudor dynasty rather than solid, evidence based historical fact. That establishment attitudes towards Richard III were changing was further indicated when Elizabeth II bestowed the MBE upon Philippa Langley (along with John Ashdown-Hill) for "services to the exhumation and identification of Richard III". Not bad for digging up a ‘wrong ‘un’ you could say.

'I, I will be King,

And you, you will be Queen'

(Words: King David (Bowie I))

Afterword:

I have not here gone into he whole 'Princess in the Tower' controversy. However, there is a growing body of evidence that strongly suggests that the accepted history of the fate of Edward V and Richard, Duke of York has a case to answer. The 'Titulus Regius' formally ascerted Richard's claim to the throne, a fact that was widely known. Thus, the illegitimate children of Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville posed no threat to Richard. After Bosworth, the new king, Henry VII, in an attempt to smooth the waters between the Houses of Tutor and York, married Elizabeth of York. He also repealled the 'Titulus Regius', the Act of Paliament that declared the princes to be illegitimate. In doing so, he legitimised the princes's claim to the throne. As such, logic would dictate that the fates of Edward and Richard were of greater concern to Henry than was ever the case for Richard.

The persistence of the foul murder of the princes owes much to the discovery of two juvenille skeletons during renovation of the White Tower (in the Tower of London) in the reign of Charles II. These bones were moved to Westmisdter Abbey and have only been scientifically analysed once back in 1933. Uncertainty also surrounds the identity of the occupants of two coffins found close to the vault in St Georges Chapel, Windsor, containing the remains of Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville. As I understand it, examination of the remains of royals requires that consent be obtained from the Royal family and in her lifetime, Elizabeth II was reluctant to grant it. It seems to me though, on the momentum that has been generated by the discovery of Richard, that the time is right for just such a re-examination of these remains. This is especially so since we now not only have DNA technology (obviously unavailable in 1933), but we have Richard's DNA to boot. A respectful re-examination of the potential prince's remains in the least invasive way possible seems to be a small price to pay in order to bring a greater understanding to one of the greatest mysteries in British history. What do you say Charles?

Bunhill Fields - A Patch Of Calm Amidst City Commotion

With the last throes of summer in motion I wanted to pay one more visit to a notable cemetery. I have been very conscious that my big plans to visit each of the 'Magnificent 7' cemeteries last summer did not amount to much, having only managed Highgate and Brompton. Any notion of reviving the plan this summer was truely shipwrecked when I landed myself in the Princess Alexadra Hospital for three weeks. It was a lousy summer weatherwise and unfortunately the best of it occured when I was confined to my ICU bed. The best of 2024's summer rays were viewed through a maze of aluminium ventilation ductwork that formed the outside view from the vantage point of my bed.

In recovery now and gaining strength I have been keen to push myself at weekends in terms of getting mobile. I was very surprised how quickly I lost weight, two stone in that three week period of hospital incarceration. As a result some muscle loss has rendered my already chicken-like legs even more spindly and, excuse the detail, but my buttocks seem to have withered leaving behind a rather bony bum. On the plus side I have noticed that a hint of cheekbones have started to emerge after many years of lying hidden in the depths of my face. We are not talking Pete Murphy of Bauhaus cheekbones here... but its a start!

Anyway, enough of the anatomical update and back to the talk of cemetery visits. Earlier in the week, an outing was proposed for the coming Saturday whereby we would take in Abney Park cemetery and at the same time pay a visit to the William Morris Museum in Walthamstow and also drop into the German Deli in Blackhorse Road, a regular haunt of Gunta's. This time, the visit was upended by technology, the BBC weather app to be precise, that suggested that Saturday's weather in the London area was likely to be very wet for most of the day. Hardly ideal conditions for a slow amble through a large garden cemetery. 

Keen not to lose the opportunity for some much needed exercise, I consulted one of several books I have on unusual places to visit in London to see whether a more weather appropriate option could be found. The answer that we agreed upon was Bunhill Fields. This location still ticks all the boxes for me but the site is much smaller and as such a safer bet if the heavens were to open. 

The location of Bunhill Fields will come to many as a surprise, for this ancient burial ground abutts directly onto City Road in London's EC1. When within the grounds, raising your eyes a little over the iron railings that enclose the site, you will see just how completely Bunhill Fields is hemmed in by the steel and glass superstructures that form part of the modern city, the UKs financal hub. This situation is a far cry from the site's origins in the 16th Century.

London has long had a problem with its dead. Don't take that in the wrong way! Not on a personal level but on a purely practical level. The expansion of the City occured with great rapidity as large numbers of people left the countryside for the perceived improved prospects to be had within urban areas, especially London. Here we must remember that for the longest period this 'London' would have extended not much further than the area within the Roman city walls and the immediate areas beyond i.e. a very confined geographical space. Limitations of space certainly were applicable to the many Churches within the city. In the more God-fearing atmosphere of the time, parishoners naturally desired upon their demise to be laid to rest in close proximity to other family members and the Church where they had worshipped in life. The problem was that the tiny Churchyards in the locality were not up to the job. Even the greatest Church in the area, St Pauls Cathedral, was not immune from the issues of how to manage a multitude of dead bodies.

In 1549 a decision was taken to demolish the charnel house of St Paul's and a plan had to be devised as to where to relocate the skeletal remains within the building. By the mid-sixteenth century theologians had estabilished that the dead only remain in pugatory (an intermediate state between physical death and entry of the purified soul into heaven) whilst flesh remained on the bones. Such 'Papish' concepts fell out of favour somewhat after the Reformation. As a result, 'dry bones' could be disinterred without risk of eternal damnation to the bones owners! But what to do with them? Bunhill was the answer. Little over a mile away from Wren's cathedral, but critically, beyond the City, was the area of Bunhill, at that time moorland. Incidently, the origin of the name Bunhill is thought to derive from 'Bone Hill' by virtue of burials that occured there in the Saxon era. 

The removal operation was immense with over a 1000 cartloads of dry bones transported north to their new place of burial at Bunhill. The huge volume of bones were distributed over the moor and covered with a thin layer of soil. The introduction of such a mass of solid material resulted in an elevation of the moorland above the marshy surrounding fenland such that three windmills were erected in the area. Thus was Bunhill first established as a burial ground.

In 1665, the bubonic plague visited London and once again the authorities were faced with the dilema of the dead. The situation was more pressing than it had been a century before when Bunhill was first established. It was a priority to remove plague victimes from the environs of the living or obvious reasons. For this purpose Bunhill was authorised by the City of London Corporation as a potential plague pit to accomodate the victims of the City. However, it is uncertain whether Bunhill was ever put to this use. 

By virtue of the Act of Uniformity 1662, the Church of England and its practises became national and whilst the Bunhill burial ground was subsequently enclosed, the Church neglected to consecrate the land and the site fell into private ownership.

It was a Mr. Tindal, who, as leaseholder put the burial ground to a new use. Interment for those that could afford the fee. The site became popular as an extramural cemetery for Nonconformists, Protestant Christians who elected to practise their faith outside of the rules of the Church of England. This fact caused one poet to describe the burial ground as the 'Campo Santo (cemetery) of the Dissenters'.

Detail of John Rocque's 1746 map of London showing the location of Tindal's Buring Ground (Bunhill Fields) relative to Old Street and Bunhill Row. (Image from https://www.locatinglondon.org/).

The Order for closure of Bunhill Fields was made in December 1853, an enactment of the Parlimentary legislation that decreed that cemeteries and burial grounds could be closed once deemed to be full. The last burial was that of Elizabeth Howell Oliver on 5th January 1854, although some burials in existing plots continued after that date. At the point of closure, it is estimated that 123,000 interments has taken place in the burial ground. Today, in excess of 2,000 monuments remain in the grounds, all apart from some of its most celebrated occupants are behind iron railling enclosures (although 'beyond the railing' publically accessible tours do take place at certain times).

So, what do you do with a closed plot of land that was once moorland beyond the city walls, but is now well within what we know as the City, that just happens to contain the remains of more than 100,000 old Londoners? A 99 year lease on the land granted to the London Corporation was due to expire at the end of 1867, so the Corporation established the Special Bunhill Fields Burial Ground Committee in 1865 (later to to be renamed the Bunhill Fields Preservation Committee). This body was able to prevent commercial companies from redeveloping the site. A further Act of Parliament, the Bunhill Fields Burial Ground Act 1867 decreed that the site be maintained as an 'open space'.

The above is an abrieviated summary of the lifetime of this most remarkable, now inner city space. I find it extraordinary that right in the heart of one of the biggest financial centres in the world there exists, unchanged and preseved, such a wonderful fragment of London's rich social and religious history. Busy cities need places like this. Enclosed spaces with benches from where one can take in the magnificent yet crumbling headstones and momuments of centuries past. To spend just fifteen minutes in such a place is sufficient to make the tumult of the metropolis, in full swing just yards away, almost non-existant. Not an easy feat.

As a designated and protected community garden it is also wonderful to see bird baths and feeders positioned amongst the headstones and the wonderful mature trees within Bunhill Fields. At the base of John Bunyan's monument I had an encounter with a particularly bold squirrel, who no doubt used to the footfall of several hundred humans through his manner daily, was not going to be phased by the likes of me. Likewise, gangs of pigeons (wrong collective noun I know, but far more fitting) congregate around certain monuments, creating a scene imaginable if 'The Birds' met 'The Omen'. 

This being early morning on a weekend in the City, it was quiet and yet several tourists had the same idea and Gunta and I. How brilliant it is that these tourists chose to spent a precious hour of their time in London in the company of some of our most esteemed poets, painters and preachers, not to mention the odd brazen squirrel and plotting pigeons, rather than the Hard Rock Cafe London, or the London Dungeons.

An example of a London EC1 Dissident squirrel.

I won't dwell too much on the notables in residence in Bunhill Fields. As mentioned there are Nonconformist preachers aplenty, a few English Civil War Parlimentarians and John Bunyan, famed for his 'Pilgrim's Progress'. 

The author of once chidren's favourite 'Robinson Crusoe' lies here, commenorated by an 1870 obelisk after his headstone was destroyed by a lightening stike.

Perhaps the most celebrated ocupant is 'painter, poet and mystic' William Blake whose headstone was moved as part of a relandscaping of the site, but in August 2018, a ledger stone on the site of his original grave was unveiled by author Philip Pullman, the President of the Blake Society.

A final word should go to Dame Mary Page who perhaps has one of the most bizzare epitaphs on her monument that I have ever seen.

The poor woman suffered from dropsy or water retention, and if the inscription is to believed in 67 months of treatment she endured the removal of 240 gallons of water from her body!

So, in short, should you find yourself with an hour of free time in the City of London you could do far worse than to spend it in Bunhill Fields. I can promise you that you will leave with feeling of calm that only the best cemeteries can offer!

Dead Souls – On the Trail of Joy Division (Southern Cemetery Manchester)

Thoughts of Joy Division invariably conjure up iconic images of a serious, raincoat-wrapped post-punk troupe pictured against a back-drop of the urban decay of 1970’s Manchester or Stockport. But in 2024, three key figures in the Joy Division drama can be located amongst the sun dappled headstones of the Southern Cemetery.

They are there and their plot details are available online. However, I was unable to see any plot markers indicating where exactly you are in the cemetery at any given point. The sections are arranged both alphabetically and by religious denomination (i.e. C of E, Roman Catholic, Non-Conformist, Jewish, Islamic etc). The best I could do is try to navigate with reference to one or more of the chapels standing at the cardinal compass points in the grounds. The only remaining problem then was my total lack of any semblance of a sense of direction. Nevertheless, cemeteries rarely get the upper hand on me and so Mo and I were up to the challenge of finding our cemetery residents, plot markers be damned.

The first headstone found on our shopping list of three, or rather stumbled across, was that of Tony, latterly Anthony Wilson. ‘Mr Manchester’ himself. Tony Wilson entered the world of journalism and broadcasting after graduating in English from Jesus College in Cambridge. As a presenter on ‘So It Goes’, a Granada TV, entertainments and arts magazine show, he did much to promote the new music that was breaking through in the mid 1970’s. Despite all outward appearances, over the collar hair, wide collared shirts and flared jeans, Wilson was tired of the musical status quo, and probably Status Quo too for that matter.

In the Summer of 1976 he bore witness to Sex Pistols at Manchester’s Lesser Free Trade Hall, an event that he described as "nothing short of an epiphany". Whilst several fellow gig goers were subsequently compelled to form their own punk bands, Wilson went one step further and put the Pistols on television (the band appeared on the last episode of series one of ‘So It Goes’). It was the band’s first appearance on UK TV and for many teenagers in the North West, the 3 minutes 33 seconds of ‘Anarchhy In The UK’ studio footage was every bit as explosive as the Bill Grundy interview was to their counterparts in London. It is I have to say an electrifying performance even today; I can only try to imagine how it must have been perceived in 1976 against a backdrop of so much turgid AOR!

Tony Wilson had found his calling. As co-founder of Factory Records, he managed label acts, A Certain Ratio and Durutti Column. However, he is best known for his association with Joy Division and New Order. Famously, or perhaps that should be infamously, he founded the Haçienda, A project largely bank rolled by the record sales of Joy Division and later New Order. Whilst the contribution of the Haçienda to the cultural life and legacy of Manchester and the North West of England was off the scale, its contribution to the coffers of the owners and shareholders was less than impressive, (see Peter Hook’s book: The Haçienda – How Not To Run A Club for the inside story). Tony Wilson was also on the scene when Manchester enjoyed a second wave of UK musical domination with the rise of ‘Madchester’ and the Happy Mondays.

Wilson’s own words, ‘some people make money and some make history’ are very true indeed.

Anthony H Wilson, died of a heart attack whilst undergoing cancer treatment in Manchester on 10th August 2007. When the news broke the Union Flag flying from Manchester Town Hall was lowered to half mast, a clear indication of the affection the City of Manchester held for this often rather arrogant, but always entertaining impresario. He was Manchester through and through.

His headstone, designed by in-house Factory artist, Peter Saville, bears the inscription:

‘Anthony H Wilson 

Broadcaster

Cultural Catalyst 

1950-2007’ 

Next on the list of headstone to track down was that belonging to Rob Gretton, the long-serving manager of both Joy Division and New Order. Gretton’s obituary in The Independent stated that he was to the two Manchester bands what Brian Epstein was to The Beatles.

Rob Gretton was an early supporter of the flourishing Manchester punk scene which saw him managing fellow Wythenshawe punks, Slaughter & The Dogs. As resident DJ at Rafters he witnessed Joy Division, then under the name of Warsaw for the first time. By April 1978 they had adopted the name Joy Division and returned to Rafters to participate in the label sponsored Stiff Test/Chiswick Challenge, a battle of the bands competition. The Judges weren’t swayed, but Tony Wilson, the man off the telly, was impressed.

Gretton took on the management of Joy Division and badgered his new acquaintance to get Joy Division some exposure on Granada TV, which Wilson duly did.

As a co-founder of Factory Records, Rob Gretton was keen to see Joy Division release their debut album on the label, rather than on a major. 1979’s ‘Unknown Pleasures’ was released on Factory and secured the label’s cultural legacy that remains solid to this day.

Upon the suicide of Ian Curtis on the eve of Joy Division’s first American tour, Gretton as manager did much to steady the ship, such that after a period of reflection, the three surviving members formed New Order, who went on to become one of the country’s most enduring and successful bands of the ‘80’s and ‘90s.

Rob Gretton died of a heart attack on 15^th May 1999 at the age of 46.

The last grave that Gunta, Mo and I tasked ourselves to find belonged to the man responsible for making Joy Division sound unique amongst a multitude of sombre, post-punk bands, one Martin Hannett.

A musician himself, Hannett first turned his hand to record production in late 1976 when as Martin Zero he sat behind the console desk to produce the independent Spiral Scratch EP (New Hormones), the first salvo from Manchester’s Buzzcocks. After Buzzcocks he continued to produce for other Manchester/Salford acts such as Jilted John and John Cooper Clarke as well as many of the bands on the Factory Records label in which he was a partner. But it is the work with Joy Division for which he is best remembered.

His understanding and mastery of studio gadgetry and techniques, such as mixing live drum sounds with synthesizers, resulted in a uniquely distinctive sound that still make Joy Division stand head and shoulders above many of their contemporaries. By all accounts, he wasn’t an easy man to work with. He knew what sounds he wanted to achieve, whether the band understood or agreed. In fact he was not one for canvassing the opinion of the band either. He once stated of Joy Division, ‘They were a gift to a producer, because they didn't have a clue. They didn't argue.’ In fact, according to drummer Stephen Morris, Hannett employed several rouses by which to discourage opposing opinions from the band, including maintaining the control booth at an ice cold temperature to keep band members and their gripes away.

In later years Hannett went on to work on the commercial success that was ‘Bummed’ by Happy Mondays as a freelance producer, having left the Factory fold.

Increasing drug and alcohol abuse ultimately led to heart failure and Martin died on 18th April 1991 at the age of 42.

His headstone is very unassuming but carries a very big inscription, it reads:

‘Record Producer And Creator Of The Manchester Sound’

Not that these three titans of the Manchester music scene would have conferred prior to their untimely demise, but it was reassuring to see that each of the headstones were in black!

Thus ended our Joy Division themed gravestone expedition…. or so I thought.

At the end of our stay in Didsbury, having said our goodbyes to Mo and John we headed south. The night before, just as we were turning in for the night, I casually mentioned the fact that Macclesfield was just fourteen miles away… and since it was in the right, southbound, direction, could we perhaps call in to just one more cemetery. You see, I had my eye on the big guy, Ian Curtis. Gunta obliged and very soon we were motoring through some very verdant Cheshire countryside en route to Macclesfield Cemetery, located about a mile outside of the town. Entering the grounds before 9am on an Autumnal Sunday morning was beautiful. Ground mist was still visible in patches in the shallows of the cemetery. Getting our bearings we found the location where Ian’s ashes were interred with relative ease, which was surprising given the scale of the memorial. I said that Martin Hannett’s headstone was unassuming… however, it looks like the tomb of Lenin in comparison with the marker for Ian Curtis. The plot is tended and the only indication of a musical past was a handful of weathered plectrums.

I will not expand on Ian’s history as it is so well known. I will just say how poignant it was to see the resting places of these four men, all pivotal to success and legacy of Joy Division and the wider music scene of Manchester. It is all remarkable that they all died way too soon.

A Morning In Manchester’s Southern Cemetery

 

Located three miles to the south of Manchester City Centre, the magnificent Southern Cemetery is the largest municipal cemetery in the United Kingdom and the second largest in all of Europe. Over the last four years in which time our daughter was a student at the Manchester School of Art we have driven past the cemetery en route to the centre. On those occasions I could only wonder at the place as the mass of aged headstones seemed keep pace with the car for an eternity. It was, from the first time I saw it, high on my list of desirable cemetery visits.

Mo  completed her Fine Arts degree this summer (with an MA commencing this September). Time had come to leave the hustle, bustle and buzz of central Manchester and move out to more affordable accommodation in Burnage (Gallagher territory). Thus on the occasion of our most recent visit to the city Gunta and I opted to stay in nearby Didsbury rather than in Princess Street in the centre which has been our usual area to stay.

Friday morning saw weather that would be perfect in any corner of the country, let alone Manchester, the sun shining in a cloudless sky in that unique late summer/early autumn way. The kind of weather that sets a cemetery off like no other. Now, our daughter’s boyfriend, John, has a personal connection with the cemetery (as do half the residents of Manchester to be honest given its scale). His Mother and paternal Grandparents lie in the grounds and so we purchased a plant in one of the several florists whose trade is supported by Southern Cemetery. 

It sounds like a very strange thing to say about a cemetery, but I felt that there was something about this place that celebrated life. Unlike many large cemeteries in towns and cities where the development of the area can understood by looking at the age of the graves in a given area, in Southern Cemetery there is much more of a feeling that modern headstones are in close proximity with the older ones. As such there are not large swathes of the site that are untended and unvisited. As mentioned, it was a Friday morning and I would describe the place as busy, very peaceful but well, yes, busy. As we passed the North Chapel, a funeral service was in progress. Elsewhere, would be mourners were frantically trying to establish the whereabouts of other funerals taking place that morning, having in all likelihood underestimated the enormity of the site. We saw families in good spirits carrying balloons en route to the grave of a young relative. Really, in this place of death and remembrance there was evidence of life abundant. In this spirit, recognising that bereavement affects both young and old, within the grounds are post boxes  for letters to heaven and letters to the angels for children to post. There are also children’s trails through the cemetery and even traces of humour if you know where to look!

All of these things to my mind are perfectly designed to make the cemetery, if not a joyful place, far less of a place of doom, gloom and unconquerable sadness.

Another thing that struck me about Southern Cemetery was its modesty. Manchester’s first millionaire, business man and philanthropist, John Rylands has the biggest memorial in the cemetery. Indeed it is quite large, but in comparison with some of the memorials that grace the garden cemeteries of London it is not so showy at all. Legendary Manchester United manager, Sir Matt Busby, lies a bounce of a football away from John’s family’s plot. As can be seen from the photo, his headstone includes his family only and makes no reference to football at all. Contrast this with memorials in Germany, where the grave’s occupant’s worldly achievements are commonly spelled out like a curriculum vitae in stone for any passer to see!

Another notable resident is the painter L.S. Lowery. Such an understated memorial. He is commemorated on a side panel of his parents' grave with just mention of his name and dates. The only clue to his illustrious past and fame is a small collection of worn and weathered paint brushes left by admirers of the man and his work.

It doesn't take much for me to recommend a visit to most cemeteries, but this one is truely exceptional. Walk its paths and who knows you may even see Morrissey. The Smiths' track, 'Cemetery Gates' is widely believed to be based upon times he spent within the grounds.

Vesuvius - The Volcano What Done It in AD79!

 

Above is Mount Vesuvius viewed from the excavated ruins of Pompeii. Any trip to the Bay of Naples area involves Vesuvius, even if only as a view. On Day 2 of our time recently in Sorrento, as a base for visits to Pompeii and Herculaneum, the party had a day with nothing scheduled. So this became the opportunity to pay a visit to the volcano's crater.

Mount Vesuvius viewed from Sorrento

Picking up a minibus from Pompeii Scavi-Villa dei Misteri, the train station that serves the ruins I admired and was horrified in equal measure by the driver's skills as he maneuvered the packed vehicle ever upwards on the slopes of Vesuvius. It helped in no way that, with my well developed fear of heights, I was on the side of the bus with the most dramatic view of the perilous drop down the side of the mountain that my window seat offered!

Nevertheless, we made it to the point where the buses disgorged their tourists and left them to make their way to the rim of the crater on foot. The literature states that the climb is only 1.8 metres but whilst manageable it wasn't exactly a walk in the park.

The upward journey offered marvelous views across the Bay of Naples. 

I was surprised to find that the air was free from the smell of sulphur. In my albeit limited experience of climbing volcanoes (Mount Teide in Tenerife in 1982!) even dormant volcanoes show off a lot of sulphur and associated odours! No such problems on the crater's edge on Vesuvius.

Panoramic view of the crater

In terms of thermal activity there were no more than a few wisps of steam just visible around some of the rocks. But to peer into the void is like looking at a vision of Tolkien's creation of Mordor! It is definitely a place in which to feel wholly insignificant in the face of the full force of nature. Just think that Prior to the eruption in AD59 Vesuvius was no less than 600 meters higher than it is today and consider the statistic that I mentioned in the earlier Pompeii post, that at the height of the eruption, the volcano was ejecting an estimated 1.5 million tonnes of material per second! I find those facts very intimidating. 

We spent about an hour walking around the area of the rim that is accessible to the public   (approximately half of the perimeter by my reckoning) before making the descent back to the car park area and our daredevil bus driver. The way down was a little more perilous as the pumice on the path had a tendency to take your feet from under you. 

This chap though had it all sussed!

Vesuvius is safe for now. Monitoring stations are clearly visible around the crater. We were told as long as Sicily's Mount Etna continued to perform, Vesuvius will remain quiet. However, if the Etna's seismic activity tailed off the folk in and around the Bay of Naples would need to take heed!