All posts by Malcolm Linfield

Signing Off

I am hoping to produce an article in the next issue of Longshot about the Coolhurst branch of the Linfields. This family is particularly interesting, especially as we presently have no idea where they came from – so they form an isolated branch of their own.

The earliest known member of this branch is John Linfield, attorney who married Anne Coe at Horsham in 1690. John became involved in illegal vote rigging at Horsham in one of the general elections, for which he was severely reprimanded by the Sergeant-in-Arms at the House of Commons. It was he who purchased the Coolhurst estate, to the east of Horsham, which remained in the family till 1807 when his grandson Charles sold it to the Earl of Chichester. Unfortunately, there are possible indications that some of the members of this family suffered from a mental illness, and I will expand on this in the forthcoming article. Since the Coolhurst Linfields were among the minor Horsham gentry, there are plenty of references to them in various records (including John Baker’s Horsham diary) and my intention will be to reveal the full extent of our current knowledge about them.

At AGM in June, Eric asked whether anyone was acquainted with a member of the Littlehampton branch of the Linfields. I believe the long established building firm of James Linfield & Sons was founded in Littlehampton in the 1880s, and we have a reference to the company building houses in Gloucester Road in 1893. Is there is anyone out there who has access to information about this business, as we would really like to know more about it? It would make a very interesting article.

I am also hoping to start a regular series about some of the houses where the Lin(d)fields lived, hopefully accompanied by photographs if the properties still survive. There is a picture in the current issue of Palmer’s Cottage in West Chiltington, home of Peter Linfield and his family before they moved to Storrington in 1779. This property will be the first to feature in the series. Interestingly enough, the premises where they moved to – including the shop – also survive. I have seen a photograph of this building around 1890, showing a wonderful display of animal carcases hanging along the front. This was taken just a few years after the death of Thomas Linfield in 1884, and it must have looked exactly the same during the time of the Linfields.

Finally, you will have read Alan’s piece about the Reunion next year. Please let me remind you that we will be wanting a lot of volunteers on the day. If you can help, then please contact Alan as soon as possible since we need find people willing to carry out the various tasks long before the event! People are particularly wanted for manning the door, collecting data and hosting the displays connected with their branches. Duties can also be rotated to enable everyone to fully participate in the day’s activities. We hope to make the day a great success, but we will only be able to achieve this with a certain amount of help.

Malcolm Linfield

Photographs – Precious Records of the Past

Over the years, I have been very fortunate to acquire a fairly large collection of old photographs, not only of the Linfields but also of my grandmother’s family, the Ballards. Many of these photographs go as far back as the 1860s and are obviously very precious heirlooms. It is remarkable that so many have survived, and I am immensely grateful to those relatives in previous generations who had the foresight to ensure their preservation.

A few of these photographs are interesting to a much wider audience since they relate to events of local historical significance. For instance, there is a formal group of various people including nurses and patients outside the front of a building (see Figure 1, centre pages). Two of the patients are children, and they are sitting on the laps of nurses seated along the front row. I could also recognise my great-grandfather,Arthur George Linfield (1859-1938) and his younger brother, Frederick Caesar Linfield (1861-1939), one time Mayor of Worthing and Liberal Member of Parliament.

Worthing typhoid epidemic 1893Figure 1: the temporary hospital set up by the Worthing Methodists at the ‘Hollies’ in 1893. Arthur George Linfield, Fruit Grower is standing (holding chair) second from the right. His brother, Alderman Frederick C. Linfield, Corn Merchant, is standing in the middle row, 5th from the left, with his right hand resting on a chair.

But why were they there? The picture was apparently framed at some point, so it was obviously a picture of some importance to its original owner, Arthur Linfield. I have concluded from the evidence that it probably shows one of the temporary hospitals set up at the time of the Worthing typhoid epidemic (see article: ‘The Worthing Typhoid Epidemic of 1893’, Longshot Vol. 4 No. 2, December 1995). Some of the patients are wearing caps, presumably to cover their bare heads, loss of hair being one of the effects of the fever or the drugs being used. The Methodists set up a number of hospitals in response to the crisis in the town, and the presence of my great-grandfather and his brother would indicate that this was one of them. Interestingly enough, the building is still there: called the “Hollies”, it stands at the very top end of Worthing High Street and was built about 1810 using the local yellow brick. It also features in the backgound of what is arguably the best known photograph of the Worthing typhoid epidemic, which shows people collecting water from a large portable tank – all the mains water was contaminated (see Figure 2, centre pages). I am currently trying to identify the other people in the photograph.

scan0001Figure 2: one of the 200 gallon portable water tanks set up to provide Worthing’s inhabitants with fresh drinking water. The ‘Hollies’ can be seen in the background; Peggy Champ always thought that the figure standing on the opposite side of the road, looking towards the tank, was her grandfather, Arthur Linfield.

However, I digress. I would like to say something about an interesting album of photographs, which were taken in the early 1950s. It is, in effect, a photographic survey of the main business activities of the Sussex firm of A.G. Linfield Ltd., growers of Thakeham in West Sussex. This record is dedicated to A.G. Linfield, eldest son of the founder and the pictures were taken by his grandson, David Rucklidge. Although the date ‘1948’ has been entered in pen towards the end of the book (on a note thanking David for his efforts in compiling the album), I believe that many of the photos were actually taken in 1951 – perhaps all of them – since speaking to a former employee.

These photographs focus on the mushroom growing activities of the business during a period of rapid growth. However, what is particularly interesting is that they were taken at a point in time just beforemajor technological and cultural innovations completely revolutionised the whole system of mushroom production in the UK. All the photographs were taken at Thakeham, at Chesswood and Willmer’s nurseries, and at the Abingworth nursery which was a former dairy purchased in 1944. Although they show tractors and trailers being used to carry mushroom compost to the various growing houses, virtually everything else was done by hand. And from looking at the pictures, it must have been extremely hard work! Extensive mechanisation during the 1950s was the key to significant increases in productivity which transformed the fortunes of the family firm and made mushroom growing its most important commercial activity.

Mushrooms had always been grown by the business, in the early days as a catch crop and to keep the workers occupied during the winter months. At Thakeham a number of purpose built houses were erected as soon as the farm was purchased in 1913, and throughout the inter-war years some three acres of outdoor ridge beds were also cultivated during the Summer and Autumn. Mushroom growing was given a tremendous boost during the 1930s by the development in the USA of “pure culture spawn” which removed part of the risk and uncertainty of crop failure due to poor spawn. Previously growers had to look out for mushroom mycelium growing in old piles of manure or in stables. They would bring it home and plant it immediately in the prepared compost or into a protected bed to grow on and serve as a source for the future. This, then, was by definition a risky business: the grower would have no idea how productive his spawn would be or even what his mushrooms would look like when they appeared! If he had found a particularly productive strain, he would try and perpetuate it for as long as possible by replanting some in his special bed. Sooner or later, his strain would weaken and need replacing by a new one.

There was therefore a great diversity of strains. Colours would have varied from light tan to very dark brown. Whatever their colour, there would have been few problems selling them since the demand was always much greater than the supply, making mushrooms a luxury crop commanding a high price. Interestingly enough, the white strains, which are by far the most common varieties available in the shops today, would have been unheard of before the advent of “pure culture” spawn. Apparently it was from a pure white mutation which occurred in 1926 or 1927 on a mushroom farm in Pennsylvania that all the current white strains owe their origin.

The war years saw a virtual cessation of mushroom growing in this country. Linfields’ still managed to grow the odd crop, no doubt to take advantage of the very good prices they could fetch. But most of the firm’s activities were geared up to the production of vegetables to support the war effort, and I have a number of detailed cropping plans showing how the glasshouses and fields were being used to achieve this. During August 1943, the Minister of Agriculture, R.S. Hudson visited the business to see what was being done and a number of photographs were taken by George Garland to record this event (these can be seen at the West Sussex Record Office).

After the Second World War, Linfields’ made a concerted effort to expand its production of mushrooms and the photographic collection shows in vivid detail how this was being achieved during the late ‘40s and early ‘50s. Improvisation and the ingenious conversion of existing facilities seem to have been the order of the day. Therefore glasshouses were covered with insulated panels or sheets containing glass-fibre, and there is a sequence of photos showing this. Wire netting was used to hold down the material across the top of the glasshouses, whilst wooden lathes were used on the sides and ends. The metal frames of old army beds were used to create a three-tier system of shelving to carry the mushroom beds in the houses (there would have been an enormous surplus of these immediately after the war) whilst the supports came from Worthing’s sea defences! But there were also growing houses where the mushroom beds were made up along the floor. Many photos show some very respectable crops of good quality white mushrooms (see Figure 3 below). Even some of the vehicles were ex-army – for instance the lorry which carried the boxes of harvested mushrooms to the packing shed.

Chesswood Album, Thakeham c.1950 (30)Figure 3: Inside one of the greenhouses – now a mushroom shed!

Many of the converted glasshouses had previously been used for growing tomatoes, an important wartime crop. Not all the adaptations were quite as successful: there is a photograph inside a glasshouse showing how black polythene was suspended over the tomato support wires in order to exclude the light. However, the material is riddled with holes (perhaps this was deliberate – to provide some light and ventilation!)

Not all the mushrooms were grown in these adapted structures. There are a number of pictures showing some of the purpose built houses, typically half-round in shape with curved asbestos panels forming the roof. The oldest buildings were situated at Jack Willmer’s nursery; built during the early years of the First World War, these originally had a thatched roof (excellent for insulation) and were too low to support any form of shelving – so the mushroom beds were laid out along the floor. I have some early photographs taken in March 1917 of a crop of mushrooms being harvested in one of these structures. Since mushrooms do not produce chlorophyll, they do not require light; and as they grow best in cool temperatures with a reasonable humidity, glasshouses are not ideally suited for their cultivation. However, this did not prevent growers’ using them during the colder months to obtain the odd crop of mushrooms – especially with the prices they could command.

During the late Forties and throughout the Fifties, Linfields’ were very much the leaders in their field. By obtaining the best advice then available from international experts and adopting the latest technology, Linfields’ were able to expand their production to levels previously unheard of. By 1957, they were producing 7.5 million lbs per annum, having purchased Lyons Farm nurseries in Worthing from H.A. Pullen-Berry the previous year. Some 4 acres of glass were converted to mushroom production in a matter of months.

There were two major developments during the early Fifties that enabled Linfields’ to make such rapid progress: (1)the adoption of new cultural methods, and (2) a sophisticated system of mechanisation. Both were inspired by a formidable duo who revolutionised mushroom growing after the war, Dr. Jim Sinden of Penn State University and Mrs Erica Hauser of Gossau in Switzerland. Dr Sinden first came to England in 1947 when he addressed a meeting of growers in West Sussex. However, before considering these developments and their impact in more detail, we need to take a closer look at the old growing system so admirably illustrated in the album.

Some 136 photographs have survived in total; unfortunately, a small number have disappeared and probably fell out when the original adhesive started to break down. The opening sequence was taken at Willmer’s nursery, showing a panoramic view of the site and some close-ups. The buildings are all shapes and sizes, but the very low ones must have been the originals built about 1914. One picture shows what initially looks like an old steam locomotive – in fact it a portable steam boiler, used to sterilise the mushroom houses between crops. It may also have been used to inject some steam into the houses immediately after filling to boost the compost temperature – this would speed up the “sweating-out” process to eliminate or reduce any lingering insect pests or moulds. The high compost temperatures in the middle of the beds (ideally around 140 degrees F) would drive out any pests, which could then be eliminated in the room by another injection of steam or a fumigant. The pictures are not in any particular order, but the whole production process – from compost preparation to the packing shed – is fully shown.

Introducing some form of order to the processes depicted in these photographs takes us initially to the compost shed. The whole business of growing mushrooms starts here where the various “ingredients” – traditionally stable manure and wheat straw, from a time when there were plenty of horses – are formed into a heap which is liberally soaked with water. This encourages vigorous bacterial activity, causing the heap to warm up which begins to soften the straw. A few days later, the stack is broken apart and the compost re-formed into windrows, originally quite wide (I believe up to 12 feet across) but reduced by Sinden to dimensions of 6 feet in height and 6 feet in width. In 1951, the composting at Thakeham was carried out under cover in a large shed at Town House Farm. A couple of barns were also used for this purpose. The photograph below (Figure 4) was taken inside the main compost shed. The whole process then took about 28 days, during which time the stack would be “turned” a number of times to ensure a relatively homogenous end product in which all parts reached the desired temperatures.

Indoor compost yard, Town House Farm c. 1950 Jack KentFigure 4: inside the main composting shed at Town House Farm

When the compost was ready, it was conveyed to the growing houses by tractor and trailer – loaded, of course, by hand. A “gang” of seven men – working on piece-rate – carried out all the filling and emptying of the mushroom houses.

David photographed them loading the trailers and taking them to the various blocks of growing houses at Willmer’s and the other Thakeham nurseries. Being of a somewhat suspicious inclination, one employee was quite upset at being photographed, convinced that it was a new way of spying on the workforce! Once there, the compost was unloaded into wheelbarrows, which were pushed into the houses; either to be tipped out along the floor or forked onto the 3-tier shelves (which were initially covered with a thin layer of straw to protect the compost from drying out). The beds were made up to a thickness of around 8 inches, using wooden boards to compress the bulky material. Once the filling had been completed, the houses were shut up to allow a gradual build up of temperature – i.e. the “sweating-out” process described above. This part of composting has since become known as “pasteurisation”, “peak-heat” or “phase 2”.

Chesswood Album, Thakeham c.1950 (18)Figure 5: Filling the shelves with newly made mushroom compost

Once the compost had cooled sufficiently (to around 70-80 degrees F), the beds were ready for spawning. The pure culture spawn came in the form of “bricks” (a mixture of mushroom mycelium growing in blocks of compost) which were broken up into small pieces, and pushed into the surface of the compost at regular intervals. Gradually the mushroom mycelium would colonise the beds, but in order for it to produce any fruitbodies it was necessary to cover the surface of the beds with a “casing” soil. The main functions of the casing soil are to protect the surface of the compost, to hold moisture for the growing mushrooms and supply the essential bacteria to initiate fruit body formation. It needs to be an inert material, free of contaminants and with an excellent moisture holding capacity. Peat has proved ideal, but before its universal adoption during the 1950s soil was used, preferably a clay or clay-loam subsoil which was free from pathogens.

Chesswood Album, Thakeham c.1950 (24)Figure 6: applying the casing soil to the surface of the mushroom beds.

The soil for casing was extracted locally and stored in one of the barns, and there is a photograph showing a man loading it into a trailer by shovelling it through a large sieve to remove any lumps. Ground chalk was also added to the material to obtain the desirable pH. The maintenance of strictly hygienic conditions is essential in the production of mushrooms, and the trailer used to convey the casing soil had a fixed grid of piping along its base so that the material could be steam pasteurised prior to application. There are also photographs of the casing soil being unloaded into wheelbarrows and taken into the houses; once inside, it was carefully shovelled onto the beds and then smoothed out to a depth of about 1.5 inches. It was then watered.

Some 3 to 4 weeks after casing, the first mushrooms would appear. When ready for harvesting, they were carefully twisted from the soil and placed in wooden boxes. They were then collected by truck and taken to the packing shed, where they were trimmed, put in baskets, weighed and lidded. They were then removed to a refrigerated room where they were stored prior to despatch to the main markets. This was very much a luxury food, and the high price they obtained is reflected in the labour-intensive nature of their production and harvesting. But with the advent of mechanisation, substantial increases in productivity were to make mushrooms a food for everyone – although the conservative tastes of the British consumer meant that it would be a very long time before they were universally accepted. Whereas in 1950 the annual UK production was 12,000 tons, in 1980 it was estimated at 52,000.

The harvesting procedures were also radically changed to speed up the picking process – no longer were the mushrooms individually removed and carefully placed in the boxes, but “gangs” of women were employed on piece-rate to pick at speed, trimming the mushrooms as they went.

Chesswood Album, Thakeham c.1950 (34)Figure 7: carefully removing the mushrooms and placing them in a tray.

The major innovations at Linfields during the 1950s were gradually adopted on the advice of the Sinden-Hauser team. They required a major investment in new machinery and practices, but the rewards were substantial. These changes can broadly be divided into a number of separate areas, but taken together they heralded a revolution in the whole process of growing mushrooms:

(1). Composting

As a response to dwindling supplies of horse manure, Sinden and Hauser developed the “short composting” process in 1950. Not only did it make more efficient use of limited supplies, but it also saved time, space and labour.The 28 day cycle was replaced by a much shorter outdoor cycle of only 7-14 days; the process was then completed under controlled conditions indoors, which became known as “Phase 2”. However, in order to adopt the short composting method Linfields’ also had to scrap its labour-intensive shelving and switch to a tray system. Trays had first been used in America in 1934; they were introduced to the UK in 1948 and formed a crucial part of Sinden’s strategy for mechanising the whole production process. Whereas shelves were permanent and inflexible, trays could be handled mechanically on the flow principle.

Later on, further changes would be made to the composting regime when Linfields’ adapted Sinden’s ideas on “synthetic” composting, which no longer relied upon supplies of horse manure – increasingly difficult to obtain in the large amounts needed. Instead, other ingredients were used as substitutes, including pig and poultry manure, both available from other parts of the business.

Linfields’ were also the first large growers in the UK to build their own self-propelled mechanical compost turner, which was capable of doing the work of 15 men. The advantages of such a machine are obvious: a significant reduction in labour costs, whilst at the same time allowing for a substantial increase in the output of mushroom compost. By the late Fifties, there were 6 of these machines.

(2). Spawning.

Another major advance was the production of mushroom spawns based on cereal grains (Sinden had taken out patents on this process in 1932 and 1937). Previously, inoculated “bricks” of manure had to be broken into small pieces and planted into the surface of the compost (see Figure 8 below). However, grain spawn permitted the development of “through-spawning” by the use of machinery for the first time. This allowed another significant improvement in time, efficiency and labour.

Chesswood Album, Thakeham c.1950 (15)Figure 8: planting small pieces of spawn into the surface of the compost (1951).

 

 

 

(3). The Tray System.

The major advantage of trays over shelves was that certain tasks, which could only be done by hand, could now be performed by machinery. The timber boxes were fairly small to start with – presumably so they could be lifted by hand – but as time went on they became much larger (6×4 feet), so they could be carried in bulk by forklift truck.

A number of “lines” were introduced where the various tasks involved in growing mushrooms in trays could be successfully mechanised – at filling, spawning, casing and emptying. These lines all worked on the same principle: trays would be lifted on in bulk by a forklift truck at one end, where they would be de-stacked and moved along rollers. In the case of filling, these would be empty trays, which would pass beneath a swinging arm distributing the compost – carried directly from the yard by conveyor belt. Once filled and pressed, the machine would re-stack the trays at the other end, where they would be removed by forklift to the pasteurisation rooms.

On the completion of pasteurisation, the compost is ready for spawning. The trays would be loaded onto the spawning line, where a hopper containing the grain spawn would trickle it evenly onto the surface. A revolving drum would mix the spawn thoroughly through the substrate, before returning it to the trays; these were re-stacked and removed by forklift to the spawn-running rooms. In about a week, the mushroom mycelium would fully colonise the compost; the trays would then be taken to the casing line. Another hopper would distribute a layer of casing soil – a mixture of wet peat and lime – on the surface of the spawned trays before final removal to the growing houses.

Although the tray system means a lot of moving around, it enabled factory style processes to be adopted in the mushroom industry. Another important development was the introduction of purpose-built pasteurising and spawn-running rooms, where the environment could be controlled more accurately. This also had an important impact on productivity by freeing up the growing houses so a greater number of crops could be grown during the year. The 11 weeks picking cycle was abandoned in favour of a much shorter cropping period, enabling the turn-around in the growing houses to be reduced to less than 8 weeks.

And finally, when it comes to emptying the houses the tray system again has major advantages. Whereas it took several hours to empty a shelf house, a tray house can be emptied by forklift in less than an hour. Compost disposal is easy too: another line was installed where the trays could be raised and tipped onto a conveyor belt. The spent compost was then transferred to waiting vehicles where it was taken well away from the growing houses.

 

Publicity photo (Walter Gardiner), Thakeham early 1960sFigure 9: the tray system in operation c. 1960.

My intention in this article has been to show the historical value of an album of photographs which shows the mushroom growing activities at AG Linfield’s nurseries at Thakeham. Taken over 50 years ago, they are particularly interesting for two main reasons: (1) they show how the business was ingeniously adapting existing facilities to rapidly expand its output of cultivated mushrooms, but the methods being used were little different from 50 years earlier. A number of recent developments had helped to reduce the risks of crop failure – the availability of pure culture spawn was probably the most important – but essentially it was the same old growing system; and, (2) they were taken at a point in time just before major innovations completely revolutionised mushroom growing in the UK – and Linfields’, advised by Sinden and Hauser, were at the cutting edge of these developments. I have described the main changes which took place to allow a full appreciation of how the growing system was improved, making Linfields’ into a very successful business and the largest mushroom growers in the country. Various mergers in the early seventies created larger producers, but even so, Linfields’ were still producing up to 15 million lbs of mushrooms per annum.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

  1. Bewley W.F. and Harnett J. (1938 2nd ed.) The Cultivation of Mushrooms. Anglo-Scottish Press Ltd.
  2. Sinden J.W. (1981) Strain AdaptabilityMushroom Journal101, p. 153-165.
  3. Atkins F.C. (1958) This Mushroom Business. Faber and Faber, London.
  4. Atkins F.C. (1974) Guide to Mushroom Growing. Faber and Faber, London.
  5. Alderton W.A. (1974) Eric Rucklidge completes fifty years in mushroom growing. Mushroom Journal17, p. 207-212.
  6. F.C. (1983). Mushroom growing in Great BritainMushroom Journal125, p. 168-171.
  7. Gaze R.H. (1985). Cultural Systems and their Evolution. The Biology and Technology of the Cultivated Mushroom (eds. Flegg, Spencer and Wood).
  8. Fermor, Randle and Smith (1985). Compost as a Substrate and its PreparationThe Biology and Technology of the Cultivated Mushroom.
  9. Peaker, J. (1989). Forty Years OnMushroom Journal, 196, p. 131-133.

Out of an Evil may come Good

This daunting title appeared at the top of an article which featured in a growers’ journal (title unknown) in 1933. It was, in fact, an allusion to a rather unpleasant problem which still continues to plague the seaside town of Worthing to this day: the piles of rotting and evil smelling seaweed! But it offered the hope of a possible solution: "SEAWEED, always regarded in Worthing as an unmitigated nuisance, may yet to be found to be a blessing". The subject of the article (which also received coverage in the local ‘Worthing Herald’ of December 2nd) was the report of a talk by my grandfather, Arthur Linfield (1885-1974) to fellow members of the Worthing Rotary Club.

As a prominent local grower in the town – his father had started a nursery business in the early 1880s – Arthur had an ingenious solution to the "intolerable nuisance caused by the weed being left lying on the foreshore". In response to a discussion on the seaweed problem which was opened by the local Medical Officer of Health, Dr. R.H. Wilshaw, Arthur made a suggestion that the valuable "manurial properties" of the seaweed "could be utilised for the establishment of an important new branch of the market gardening industry of Worthing". There were two crops which particularly liked seaweed – asparagus and seakale – and since there was a greater demand for these delicacies than was presently being met, he urged a co-operative alliance of local growers, scientists and the town council to carry out a series of experiments. Seaweed also improved the flavour of these crops, and once these experiments had proved the value of seaweed – which he was sure they would – he envisaged that local growers would start to use it for certain crops.

Arthur also made some practical suggestions as to how the seaweed could be collected. A series of south-west gales might cast 30-40,000 tons of seaweed on Worthing’s five miles of foreshore – which gives an idea of the scale of the problem. He suggested that hay sweeps could be used to gather the seaweed. It would be stacked in large mounds along the foreshore, then pressed and baled to reduce its weight and bulk. Finally it could be taken to the roadside by conveyor belt or some other method and taken away by lorries. In days past, thousands of loads had been taken away by farmers but the sheer bulk of the material no longer made it an economical proposition. However, pressing and baling should overcome such a financial disincentive.

It is particularly interesting to reflect that nowadays "seaweed extract" is considered a particularly valuable fertiliser – especially among organic growers – because of the essential nutrients, trace elements and growth hormones it contains. Arthur’s remark that there was a greater need for more organic manure is fairly prophetic: chemical fertilisers had "definite limits of usefulness" since they did not supply any humus to the soil such as stable and farmyard manure. The tremendous upheaval of agriculture during the Second World War has dictated the pattern of farming for the last 50 years; successive governments have actively encouraged farmers to adopt destructive farming practices that have relied upon chemical fertilisers and pesticides to produce larger and larger quantities of cheap and inferior food. The costs have been enormous in terms of environmental damage and pollution, and not surprisingly the organic movement has gradually developed into a formidable alternative as consumers have started to question the prevailing systems of intensive food production.

Although Arthur’s ideas received a lot of favorable comments at the time, I don’t believe any serious attempt was made to put such a scheme into practice. The Borough Engineer Mr. PE Harvey, OBE – also a guest of the club at the luncheon – welcomed his proposals but saw problems in the fact that the seaweed was not deposited in regular quantities. In other words, would there actually be enough of this "unmitigated nuisance" to enable Mr. Linfield’s plan to succeed! He also thought it undesirable to have a baling, pressing and drying plant on the foreshore because of its environmental impact – although he did have in mind another spot where such a scheme might be more acceptable.

I have no idea whether there may have been any further local debate on this subject. Nothing actually happened, but there were a number of possible reasons for this – apart from the environmental objections. The 1930s saw a large exodus of Worthing growers to other parts of the county as the building value of their nurseries soared. The rapid expansion of the town to the east gradually absorbed dozens of nurseries that had sprung up from the 1880s when Worthing became the centre of the glasshouse industry. Certainly by the end of the decade, the Linfield nurseries had been completely re-located at Thakeham where a derelict farm had been purchased in 1913. Many other nurseries moved further west along the coastal plain where they retained the advantages of the more favourable climate and the fertile brick earth.

Not surprisingly, the idea of using seaweed to build up a new centre for growing asparagus and seakale was somewhat eclipsed by events – many growers were more preoccupied with setting up their new nurseries. Following the government’s imposition of a tariff on imported tomatoes, it was hardly surprising that a large number of growers decided to put all their resources into tomato production. In fact the 1930s were the heyday of the Worthing tomato. The outbreak of war in September 1939 probably extinguished the idea of a seaweed processing plant once and for all.

The Wonders of Seakale

As something of a diversion from the main topic of this article, I would like to say a few words about seakale. This particular vegetable is quite wonderful and I feel sure that anyone who has actually eaten it would agree with me. Although it was grown extensively in Victorian times – mainly in the gardens of the great houses – and continued to be produced by market gardeners until the Second World War, nowadays it is virtually unknown. The labour-intensive nature of its cultivation and the requirement to exclude light are good reasons for its neglect by modern growers. But it is not particularly difficult to grow, and well worth the trouble to raise a few plants in your garden.

According to my 1895 edition of Sutton’s Culture of Vegetables and Flowers, "Seakale is by many considered superior to asparagus, but it is so different in flavour and general character that we think there is no more room for a comparison than there is between a broccoli and a cabbage. Only one comparison, in our opinion, can be made with advantage, and it is that of the two sea kale is the more easy to cultivate, and the more decidedly profitable if regarded solely as an article of food". In its natural habitat, sea kale is a plant, which grows along the coasts of Northern Europe. It is a hardy perennial, which for centuries was harvested in the wild by people living on the south coast of England, much of it taken to market. From the early 18th century, it was cultivated in gardens to produce the delicious young spring shoots, which are so prized. These were traditionally blanched by covering them with earthenware pots. Nurserymen adapted these techniques to produce crops on a much larger scale – certainly at the Linfield nurseries before the last war, trenches were dug out in which the sea kale was planted along the bottom. To blanch the young shoots in early spring, the trenches were filled with spent mushroom compost, which successfully excluded the light without restricting plant growth.

Whatever method is used, it is best to completely cover the plants in January. Harvesting can commence in March or April – the pale yellow shoots are best cooked like asparagus, coated with melted butter (and I like to sprinkle them with plenty of grated Parmesan and black pepper!) Seakale is easy to grow: sow the seed in Spring, prick out into pots and then plant out into a deep sandy soil which is well drained. If your soil is heavy and drains badly, then it is best to plant them in a raised bed – and add plenty of organic matter and small stones or sand to aid drainage. It is best to wait until the second year before harvesting since this will help to establish strong plants, which should produce well for many years to come. During the Summer months, the plants should be fed with a regular application of liquid seaweed.

Two to three cuts can usually be taken from each plant. The plants are then allowed to grow in full light. They will last for about 5 years before replanting is necessary, and a good way to do this is to take root cuttings. Various methods can be used to blanch the shoots: apart from the traditional (and very expensive) forcing pots, a frame covered in black polythene can be used or the plants may be covered in a foot (30cm) of peat, leafmould or sand. I have also found that using large black plastic pots is quite adequate, as long as the holes are properly blocked up.

I have never come across seakale seeds in a garden centre, but they may be obtained from ‘Chase Organics’, whose full address is:

The Organic Gardening Catalogue,
Riverdene, Hersham, Surrey KT12 4RG.

The current price, from their 2001 catalogue is £1.32 (code: SEAK), for a packet containing 10 seeds. Since seakale is a brassica and belongs to the plant family Cruciferae, it is susceptible to clubroot – so remember to lime the soil during bed preparation.

Editorial

I don’t always intend to write an editorial, but on this occasion I will – firstly, to fill up an extra page; and secondly to introduce myself properly – for better or for worse – as the new editor of Longshot. Alan deserves a well-earned rest after nine years of doing a magnificent job.

I must make a bit of an apology for the overwhelmingly horticultural flavour of this issue. But I do hope you will find the rather technical diversions into the qualities of seaweed and growing mushrooms to be of interest! There are also articles from Mary Offer and Eric Linfield, whilst Alan Lindfield reports on the ideas recently discussed at the AGM on June 30th for a grand reunion and exhibition next year to celebrate the 10th anniversary of the founding of the Lin(d)field One Name Group. This promises to be an exciting occasion for everyone and we hope to see all of you there (although we do excuse our overseas members – nevertheless we would be delighted to see any of you who can make it!)

Ten years is perhaps a good time to reflect on our achievements and the future. Alan’s database now contains some 30,000 names (not all Lin(d)fields but including names related by marriage) and we have identified several different branches; but there is still much to do if we are ever going to find the links between these branches. I can confidently predict there is enough work to do for at least another ten years, and probably many more years after that! Family history, however, is not just about connecting lists of people together in some enormous jigsaw. It is much more than that; the real fascination is finding information about the people concerned, where they lived and worked, what motivated them and how they were affected by events which impacted on their lives. In other words, the interaction of social and local history is just as important to the overall picture as the pure genealogy.

In many ways, Longshot is a manifestation of this process. Many of the articles, which appear, are often the culmination of a piece of research, telling us about an individual or a family. Hopefully the articles are interesting and enjoyable to read as well.

Unfortunately, we are not being sent enough material to enable this journal to appear more regularly so I am making a plea to all our members to please put pen to paper. It would be nice to have a letters page with any comments or queries you may have.

I await your articles and letters with eager anticipation!

Longshot Vol 8, No. 2

Editorial
Out of an Evil may come Good, by Malcolm Linfield
Mary Offer Discovers – but too late! by Mary Offer
Some ideas for future researches, by Eric Linfield
Photographs – Precious Records of the Past, by Malcolm Linfield
Jack Linfield, Storrington Cricketer, by Malcolm Linfield
10th Anniversary Reunion and Exhibition, by Alan Lindfield
A Matter of Convenience?
Some Lin(d)field Miscellanies: 3, by Malcolm Linfield
Signing off …
LONGSHOT

Front Cover: Family portrait c.1895 showing Arthur Linfield (1859-1938), Fruit Grower of Worthing and his wife Edith (1862-1953) with their children.
L to R: Mary (1884-1978), Arthur jun. (1885-1974), William (1891-1959) seated at front, Gordon (1889-1975), Harold (1893-1915) and Alice (1887-1962). Their final child would follow in 1897: Wilfred (1897-1979).

It’s all in the Genes!

The role of genetics in genealogy is a very topical subject at the moment, and the implications are far reaching. I make no apology, therefore, for reproducing here an article which appeared in The Times on 4 April which reports the work of Professor Bryan Sykes on his surname and its relation to the Y chromosome. The paper behind The Times report is ‘Surnames and the Y chromosome’ by B Sykes and C Irven, American Journal of Human Genetics, vol. 66 pp 1417-1419 (Apr 2000).

"Your surname may well be written in your genes, a study has shown. This surprising discovery suggests that forensic evidence left at the scene of a crime could be read in a DNA laboratory and reveal the criminal’s name. Professor Bryan Sykes, at the University of Oxford, started the research as "a bit of fun", but it is likely to have an impact in both forensic science and genealogy.

Professor Sykes used samples from 61 volunteers who shared his surname to establish a link between the name and the distinctive DNA. He has found similar results for three other names, but thinks the link may not hold for the most common surnames like Jones and Smith.

Fathering a dynasty

The research makes the first direct link between genes and genealogy, showing that successive generations of a family can inherit unique sections of DNA. This strongly implies that people sharing a surname share a single male ancestor. Genealogists had long assumed that there would be several founders for every family name. "It puts every family on a par with the aristocracy, in being able to trace ourselves back to an original founder," said Professor Sykes.

The name Sykes means a boundary stream and is a common landscape feature in Yorkshire, suggesting a number of people could have adopted it in the 13th and 14th centuries, when inherited surnames became common.

History of infidelity

It has been traditional in England for children to take their father’s name and so Professor Sykes and colleague Catherine Irven looked at the Y chromosome, which fathers pass to sons but not daughters. They randomly chose 250 men with the name Sykes and asked for DNA samples: 61 replied with a swab from the inside of their cheek.

Half of the group shared four unique sections of DNA which were not found in control subjects either in Yorkshire or anywhere in the UK. The other half did not have the Sykes DNA, suggesting some infidelity in the Sykes dynasty. However, the estimated rate of infidelity over the 700 years the name has existed for is very low.

If just 1.3% of the Sykes children in each generation were fathered by someone other than a Sykes, then the accumulation of "foreign" genes would mean that about half of today’s Sykes would not have the unique DNA. This uncertainty means the DNA evidence of a name could not be used to convict criminals, but it could help to narrow down searches. It is also likely that families with the most common names, like Smith and Jones, do have multiple founders.

The research is published in the American Journal of Human Genetics.”

So, if you receive a request in the near future for a sample of hair or a mouth swab, please don’t worry – you will know what it’s all about!

Storrington and District Museum

The idea of a museum for Storrington has been discussed at various times since 1946, but it has only been in the last year that something has actually materialised. Thanks to the supreme efforts of local historian Joan Ham and her husband Ron, and the enthusiastic support of David Garrett who conducted a feasibility study for the parish council – and until recently Chairman of the Museum Committee – premises have been found in less than a year from the date of the first public meeting.

The original intention of Storrington Parish Council was to purchase the freehold of 13 Church Street, which would have provided a location close to the village centre, but due to legal complications this was eventually rejected. Instead a room was offered at the Old School, which has certain advantages as far as car parking, toilets, kitchen facilities and disabled access are concerned. Although the premises are not ideal in terms of size and the lack of storage space, they are a very useful start until something more permanent can be found – hopefully at some time within the next five year. And so, on Easter Monday, the new Museum room at the Old School Building in School Lane, opened for its very first visitors.

Now it is up to all those involved with the project to make it a success because only by attracting the support and enthusiasm of the general public will the parish council respond favourably when the time comes to consider a new location. Certainly there is a very active ‘Friends’ organisation who have run a well-supported winter lecture programme; for the Summer months a series of local walks have been arranged to reveal some of the fascinating history of the parishes involved. Why am I telling you all this, you may ask? Firstly, as Secretary of the ‘Friends of Storrington and District Museum’ I do have a vested interest in the new project. But as a family historian, it is significant to our group that all of the parishes covered by the Museum have important Lin(d)field connections. Take Storrington, for instance: Edmund Linfield was making brass dial clocks in the village from the 1750s (see article " Edmund Linfield of Storrington, Clockmaker" in ‘Longshot’ Vol. 6 No. 1, December 1997), and there is a superb example of his craftsmanship now on display in Horsham Museum. He lived in the village from at least 1753 until his death in 1799, when he was sadly an inmate of the local workhouse. His kinsman, Peter Linfield was the local butcher, moving to the village from West Chiltington in 1779 when he set up his butchers’ business in Church Street (see article "Peter Linfield of Storrington 1734-1791"in ‘Longshot’ Vol. 2 No. 1, May 1993). He still retained ownership of his farm and farmhouse in West Chiltington – called ‘Palmers’ -which remained in the family for many years. Although Edmund and Peter both ran businesses in the village, their fortunes ran in opposite directions: whilst Peter thrived and his business grew from strength to strength, Edmund’s eventually failed, possibly because there was nobody to carry on when advancing age forced him to give up.

The other parishes involved in the project presently include Sullington, Parham, Thakeham, Warminghurst, Washington and West Chiltington. Thakeham, of course, is still home to the mushroom business known as ‘Chesswood Produce Ltd.’ In 1913 AG Linfield and Sons of Worthing first acquired the land at Town House Farm where they set up a number of farming activities, including mushrooms, which in those early days were a risky but worthwhile crop because of the high prices they could command (see article "A Family Business" by Peggy Champ in ‘Longshot’ Vol. 3 No.1, May 1994). They became a large market gardening business, but after the Second World War mushroom growing expanded dramatically as cultural improvements and extensive mechanisation heralded a new era of prosperity. By 1960 they had become the largest mushroom growers in Europe. The firm ceased to be a family business in 1980 when control initially passed to Ranks Hovis McDougall (RHM). I intend to set up a museum archive which should help to reveal more of the history of a business which has played a prominent part in the local area. It will hopefully pull in more material as people gradually become aware of its existence and make their own contributions.

The former parish of Warminghurst (now part of Thakeham) was for many years the home of the famous Quaker William Penn and his family (see article "William Penn and the Quaker Linfields of Sussex", in ‘Longshot’ Vol. 3 No. 2, December 1994). Penn bought Warminghurst Place in 1676 and we know of at least one Linfield Quaker marriage taking place at his house, when John Linfield, Blackskmith of Ifield married Mary Wolvin in 1693. At the ceremony, the parents of the groom, William and Mary Linfield of Horsham, and his brother and sister attended. Warminghurst Place was situated between the two churches of Thakeham and Warminghurst, and was sold to James Butler in 1707. Butler disliked Penn so intensely that he promptly demolished the old house, even going so far as to dig up the very foundations so as "not to leave a trace of the Old Quaker."

In previous articles, our former President Eric Linfield has related his family history connections with Sullington and Washington (see articles "The Storrington Linfields & their Poor Relations of Sullington and Washington", Part 1 in ‘Longshot’ Vol. 2 No.2, November 1993 and Part 2 in ‘Longshot’ Vol. 3 No. 2, December 1994). Eric relates how his great great great grandfather Edward (1774-1861), who was a younger son of Peter Linfield of Storrington, left the village in his youth and moved to the neighbouring parish of Sullington. Coming from a large family, it was understandable that younger children often had to move away from the parish of their birth and find work elsewhere. Initially, he carried on his father’s trade as butcher, but by 1841 he is running a 3 acre market garden at the crossroads junction where Water Lane crosses the Storrington to Thakeham road. His son Peter (1810-68) joined him at the market garden, whilst his other sons Harry and William worked locally as agricultural labourers. Harry (1807-78) was Eric’s great great grandfather and completed 50 years service working for the Carew-Gibsons on the Sandgate Estate. We are extremely fortunate to have a surviving photograph of Harry, wearing the traditional smock of the Sussex labourer (reproduced in ‘Longshot’ Vol. 3 No.1, May 1994).

At the last count, there were over 1600 catalogued items and photographs in the museum collections. Now it is open, many people are bringing things along and it is an exciting time as the collection expands. I think it is important to establish a Lin(d)field archive at the museum because we are a family with particularly strong and long standing connections with the parishes involved. If anyone would like to join the ‘Friends of Storrington and District Museum’, then please get in touch with me and I can send you a membership form – the cost is £5 per annum for individual members or £7 for family membership (two adults and any dependent children living at the same address).

It is probably worth finishing this article with the words of Joan Ham, taken from the January newsletter: "Storrington and District Museum will not be a dull collection of things in glass cases. We intend to make it a living part of local life. Displays will be changed regularly. Neighbouring villages which make up the "and District", will be invited to contribute. The proximity of public rooms means that we can welcome school and other parties with an introductory talk, or stage temporary exhibitions . . . The new year and the new millennium will see the beginning of an exciting new project that has been discussed and wanted for the past half-century. Now we can make it happen."

In Memory of Henry Lindfield – First Victim of the Motor Car

Last year saw the centenary of what is probably one of the more unusual Lin(d)field anniversaries, when Henry Lindfield of Brighton became the very first motorist to die from the injuries he received in Britain’s first fatal car crash. Accompanied by his 18 year old son, Henry’s car smashed into a tree at Russell Hill Road in Purley, Surrey. He was rushed to Croydon General Hospital, but died the following day.

All the main details of the accident, which happened on February 12 1898, were reported in the ‘Evening Argus’ of Brighton, where Henry had his home. As usual for this period, the article was particularly thorough:

"A sad fatal accident occurred on Saturday to Mr. Lindfield, a gentleman, of 42, Montpelier-street, Brighton. Mr. Lindfield, accompanied by his son, Mr. Bernard Lindfield, a young man of 18 or 19 years of age, was driving a motor car from London to Brighton. They had passed through Croydon, and at about two o’clock were descending a long hill, the machine running of its own impetus.

About half way down the hill the car began to sway, probably owing to the action of the brake, and at that time the son happened to remark, "I believe the bag has fallen out." Directly afterwards the vehicle became unmanageable, and swerving round on to the path ran through a light fence of barbed wire and struck against a tree with great force. Unfortunately one of Mr. Lindfield’s legs came between the motor car and the tree, the result being that it was completely smashed just below the knee. The son was thrown from the vehicle. He escaped practically unhurt, and finding his father jammed against the tree at once obtained assistance.

Mr. Lindfield was removed to the Croydon Hospital, where his injuries were found to be so serious (the main artery was shattered) that the three surgeons who were in attendance came to the conclusion that the only possibility of saving his life was by amputation of the injured limb. This was done, but after the operation Mr. Lindfield remained unconscious, and yesterday morning at about nine o’clock he died. Mr. Lindfield was able, just after his admittance to the hospital, to converse with his son, and to give him some directions in case he should not survive. The deceased gentleman, who was only 42 years of age, leaves two sons and a daughter to mourn his loss, for whom the greatest sympathy is felt. Mr. Lindfield was well-known and highly esteemed in Brighton, and the news of his untimely death will be received with very great regret by his many friends.The motor car which Mr. Lindfield was driving was a two-seated one, which he had just purchased. He took considerable interest in motor cars, and had on the previous Saturday brought another one, which he had also just purchased for private use, from London to Brighton, but on that occasion, it may be remarked, he was accompanied by an engineer."

The accident was also reported in the ‘Croydon Times’. Henry was apparently a ‘retired builder and contractor’ who lived at Lynton House, 42 Montpelier Street, Brighton. We now know from his birth certificate that he was born in Hampstead, Middlesex on November 21 1855, son of Thomas Lindfield, retired builder and his wife Elizabeth. During the 1870s, Henry married Laura Louisa Isom, and their son Bernard was born on July 3 1879 when they were living at 24 Albert Street. Henry’s occupation on the birth certificate is given as "gentleman". Following in his father’s profession, Henry was obviously doing well for himself; to own a motor car in those early pioneering days of motoring was a sign of wealth.

According to the article above, Henry and Laura had other children, another son and a daughter – certainly there were further births registered in the district of St. Pancras (notably Frances Jane Lindfield, registered in the 2nd quarter of 1881; Mira Edith Lindfield and Stanley Lindfield, registered in the 3rd quarter of 1883; and Sarah Lindfield, registered in the 1st quarter of 1884.)

On the anniversary of the tragic accident, a certain Mr. Porter of the safety group Roadwatch organised a prayer vigil at the spot in Russell Hill Road, at the junction with Purley Way, to "remember the half a million people who have died on Britain’s roads over the last century." A report in the Evening Argus also stated that he was trying to trace any descendants of Henry Lindfield. I have no idea whether he succeeded, but it would be intriguing to know. Assuming there are, do they actually know of their unfortunate ancestor’s untimely end, which has made him such an unenviable statistic? Certainly there are many who would argue that the motor car has, in many ways, been the scourge of the 20th century. Incidentally, although Henry was the first motorist to die in a car accident, he wasn’t the first person to die in a car crash. That dubious honour belongs to Bridget Driscoll, of Croydon, south London, who was knocked down by a car on August 17, 1896. According to a report in ‘The Times’ of August 12 1996, the coroner at the inquest into Mrs. Driscoll’s death "expressed the hope that such a thing would never happen again." (!!)

Although only 42 years of age at the time of his tragic death, Henry was already a widower, having lost his wife in 1893 at the age of 45. The administration of his estate, with a ‘limited’ will, was granted to Percy Benjamin Edward Isom, retired bootmaker, presumably his brother-in-law. The probate value of his estate came to £4230 16s 10d, a fairly substantial sum for the time.

Of course, driving at the turn of the century would have been unimaginably different to anything we take for granted nowadays. Not only were the roads badly made up, but there would have been an incredible amount of mud about, largely produced by the vast numbers of horses conveying the predominantly horse-drawn vehicles of the time. Another consequence was the large number of hobnails from horse shoes causing frequent punctures. And then there were also the practical difficulties involved in driving the cumbersome, heavy machines in these adverse conditions.

The Daily Mail was the only national newspaper to report the story in an article on February 11 1998 entitled "In memory of the man who found the car can be a killer." An interesting fact they managed to discover was that Henry was "agent for one of the newly formed motor companies of the day, International Cars." They also assert that "he was probably worried about whether the vehicle’s batteries would last all the way. Maximum range before recharging tended to be only 25 miles . . . " But going back to a Brighton Herald report of the Inquest (dated February 19 1898), the car "was worked by petroleum ignited by electricity." An engineer had driven them to Hammersmith before Henry took over, no doubt confident there would be few problems, especially as he "had driven the car two or three times" previously. The verdict of "Accidental Death" was returned at the inquest held at Croydon Hospital on February 14.

We may know little about Henry’s descendants, but we do know something about his predecessors. As mentioned before, his parents were Thomas and Elizabeth Lindfield. Thomas married his mother, Elizabeth Chorley on 28 April 1855 at the parish church in Bethnal Green. When Henry was born, they were living at 19, Stanhope Street, Hampstead, St. Pancras. This was his father’s second marriage as he is shown on the marriage certificate as a widower. In 1839, according to the Times of 2 October, "Thomas Lindfield, junior, Stanhope Street, Hampstead Road, builder . . . " was to appear before the Bankrupt’s Court. This suggests that his father was also called Thomas.

From our index of wills and administrations (Linfield and Lindfield Wills and Administrations 1858-1920 from the Calendar of Wills at Somerset House by Alan Lindfield, 1995) we know that Thomas Lindfield died on 27 May 1867, at the age of 75 – presumably Thomas’s (and Henry’s) father. According to the marriage certificate, Thomas’s father was William Lindfield, gentleman; Elizabeth’s father was John Chorley, engineer. A possible match for his parents would be William Lindfield of Patcham, Brighton (born 1764) who married Mary Miles at the parish church of St. Nicholas, Brighton on 23 September 1788.

Incidentally, we have in the Group archives part of an indenture dated 11 February 1825 between William Raddon (of the first part) of Sidmouth Street, Thomas Lindfield (of the second part) of Beaumont Place and Thomas Griffiths of George Place (of the third part).

This indenture is concerned with land in "the parish of St. Pancras in the County of Middlesex fronting west on York Market" and in "the east by an intended Mews." The lease, to William Raddon, was for a period of 98 years land was situated in the the Regent’s Park area. Unfortunately, the missing portion of this document means we only have some of the details.

As something of a footnote to the tragedy surrounding Henry’s untimely end, our former President, Eric Linfield, contacted ‘The Guinness Book of Records’. Unfortunately, their reply was most unhelpful and rather imperious: "this proposal is not currently suitable for publication". I would have thought it more interesting than the record for eating the most baked beans with a cocktail stick, or the person with the longest finger nails in the world! It would seem that the ‘Guinness Book of Records’ is more interested in the bizarre and sensational these days, which is a great pity.