Surplus Women - the legacy of WW1

Clarrie, Winifred & Hilda Griffiths

Most of us have them on our tree — Maiden Aunts. My great-aunt, Hilda Victoria Griffiths, depicted right with her sisters, my grandmother Winifred (the youngest) and Clarrie, the eldest of the three, is probably the one I knew best, out of all my maiden aunts.

Often overlooked by family historians for obvious reasons (that the line stops there, as with single men) single women can end up being labelled and dismissed as what's almost become a term of condescension — "spinster".

While the dictionary definition of a spinster is simply "an unmarried woman", the term conjures up society's stereotype — an elderly lady, sitting in a corner knitting, assumed to know little of the "real world", even seen as a bit batty, to be viewed with pity. Or worse, considered a "dried up", embittered old maid who'd been "left on the shelf", to be treated with scorn, mockery and even contempt.

Surplus Women

The unfairness of this attitude was made particularly clear to me this week while reading Singled Out, by Virginia Nicholson which examines the trauma of what the press of the time termed Surplus Women, following the First World War.

The loss of so many young men who'd died in the trenches completely distorted the natural balance of the sexes, confirmed by the 1921 census which revealed that for every 1,000 men of marriageable age, there were around 1,200 women. In consequence, there would be a considerable number of women who would never find a mate, an outcome considered a crisis situation in an era when society saw marriage as every woman's goal.

Hilda (left) with younger sister, Winifred

You would think that, given the status quo was brought about by such traumatic circumstances as a world war, allowances would be made for the women affected. But while there was sympathy and understanding by some, it seems there were others who looked down disdainfully on those women who didn't prove "good enough" in the inevitable competition to find a partner.

Mystery fiancé

Any woman born at the turn of the 20th century, as Hilda was, became a surplus statistic, as did Hilda's sisters — my grandmother, Winifred, who would have been 17 at the end of the war, and Clarrie, who would have been 23.

But Clarrie would be married by 1921 and by 1929 so would Winifred (albeit to a much older man, not of her own generation, though that's another story). But Hilda, born in 1897, would be 32 by the time of Win's marriage, an age considered far too old to have any reasonable hope of attracting a husband.

There was the sniff of a story that Hilda was engaged before the war and that her fiance was killed. Sadly, I have no name and no more information than that to establish the truth of the tale. Perhaps, as I've speculated before, my "unknown soldier" from the tank corps (see Mystery Unravelling... slowly) is the man in question and is the reason why I've been unable to link him to the family tree.

Nieces and nephews

Like many surplus ladies of her generation, however, Hilda was determined to make the most of her life, even if it didn't include a husband and children of her own.

My Rupert, one of many
versions Hilda made

She had several great-nieces and great-nephews who benefited from her love of sewing. Amongst the many things she sewed, she made Rupert Bears for each of us, using patterns she drew herself by hand, so each bear had its own distinctive character. My sister and I considered our own bears to be very precious and were horrified at the way our male cousins played with them, throwing them around through the air in games of derring-do!

Hilda worked for British Rail, having first joined the railways as clerk with the Great Western Railway in 1916. When she retired, she enjoyed travelling around the country visiting friends and family, thanks to the 'perk' of discounted fares as a former employee. 

Hilda's GWR employee entry in 1916

When she wasn't travelling, she lived in a caravan on a residential site in Wolverhampton which my sister and I thought was the most exciting thing in the world. When we visited, we would sit up at the bedroom end of the van at her "dining table" playing with a set of kitchen scales and weights, measuring out rice into different containers.

Hilda's caravan after it was moved to Wales
for family holiday use

Hilda was a great cook, too. In her minute kitchen, she would conjure up the most amazing cakes and biscuits for tea.

When she moved into a long-awaited council flat in the late 1960s (when she would have been around 70 years old) we couldn't understand the appeal over the "romance" of living in a caravan. The fact that she would no longer have to make do with a condensation-inducing gas fire for heating, a chemical loo in a cupboard in the kitchen or trek across the site for a bath, was completely lost on us!

Lost opportunity

Hilda died in 1975 in Codsall, Wolverhampton, aged 77. In life, she was always cheerful, kind, enthusiastic and always busy. I wonder how she felt about being one of the Surplus Women.  Did she, like many who are mentioned in Virginia Nicholson's book, feel that she'd missed out, that she'd been robbed unfairly of a life she might have expected if the war had never happened? If she did, I never saw any sign of it.

And what was the truth about the story of a lost love? That, I fear, may be one of those mysteries which is destined to remain ever secret.

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Do you have maiden aunts on your tree? What were they like? If you've any memories to share, I'd be delighted to hear about them.

Panto time!

As I have mentioned before in a previous post (see Strictly Music Hall) my grandmother, Winifred Griffiths was a professional singer. Her talent as a soprano was spotted at a young age and she toured with the Carl Rosa Opera Company.

But after a few years, she left opera behind to follow a different career path, performing in variety acts at repertory theatres all over the country, including pantomimes.

Here she is as the Fairy Queen, both panto and date unknown.










She appears in the photograph below in a production of Babes in the Wood, performed at the Hippodrome in Birkenhead in 1927. (I have another newspaper cutting of an almost identical curtain-call scene from the same year, but this time in Belfast.)

Babes in the Wood, Birkenhead Hippodrome, 1927

But I could do with your help here. The column accompanying the photograph reads, "Another gifted singer is Miss Winifred Griffiths, who makes a demure Maid Marion."  Maid Marion? Call me a traditionalist, but there looks to be way too many flashy head-dresses and posh frocks amongst the outfits for her to be dressed in a modest shift and wimple, as one might expect, so I have no idea which one is her! Any suggestions as to a likely Maid Marion?

Having recently subscribed to The British Newspaper Archive I've been on the search for mentions of Wyn (as she was generally known) in the press so I was delighted to find a review of her performance playing the squire's daughter in Little Red Riding Hood at The Hippodrome, Preston in 1931., "a decided asset to the musical side".

In a report in the entertainment industry's The Era, during the same panto season, she's described as "lovable and sweet".

I also found mention of my grandfather, Herbert Henry Coules Colley, in his guise as "theatrical artiste" under his stage name, Ken Barton. (I wonder whether she called him Bert or Ken?)

Ken's speciality was comedy and regularly played the part of the pantomime dame.

In a clipping my gran had cut out of the Dorset Echo, in 1931, his appearance in Little Red Riding Hood in Weymouth earned the comment, "...no one in the company could have been better chosen to impersonate Granny Matilda than Ken Barton, whose clever make-up deceived a good many."

But, as usual, I'm left with a mystery. According to The Sunderland Echo and Shipping Gazette, Wyn is quoted as saying that she had once been the principle soprano with another opera company in additional to Carl Rosa, alleging that she played in The Bohemian Girl with the O'Mara Company, which I understand was a well-known Irish Opera Company. (Ironically they were running an advertisement in the very paper in which I read Wyn's interview.)

Courtesy of British Newspaper Archives

Her stay at Carl Rosa was legendary in the family but I don't remember her or anyone ever mentioning the O'Mara company before. Why would that be?

Either I've just discovered something new about my grandmother's career or... it's a case of not believing everything you read in the papers!

So, as ever, there's more research to do to establish the true facts...





Finally, a big thanks to all of you who have dropped in on my blog during the year and added your comments. I look forward to welcoming you again in 2016. Until then...

Have a very  

Merry Christmas 

and

 Happy New Year. 

Anniversary favourites

This month is the second anniversary of my Family History Secrets blog so I thought I'd celebrate by choosing three of my favourite posts from the last two years.



The first of my choices concerns my husband's grandfather, Alfred Joseph Saunders. Alfred died before my husband was born, at the relatively young age of 45. Compiling the post was like putting together a jigsaw without the box lid and I can recall the shock I felt when all the pieces were in place and the emotional story hit home.

Many of jigsaw pieces were in the form of postcards Alfred had written to his daughter during  and just after World War I and reading them brought a lump to my throat.

Read Alfred's poignant story HERE.







My second choice is the post entitled The Mystery of 138 photographs.

I love old photographs and this bundle was intriguing. I found them in a bulging leatherette pouch and at first glance I didn't think I knew anything about any of them.

When I wrote the post, for instance, I had no idea of the identity of the lady who appeared in several of the pictures but with a little detective work and while on the search for another elusive ancestor, I discovered who she was.

You can read the original post by clicking on the title above and find out who Nellie was by clicking HERE.

And finally, after watching BBC's Countryfile programme the other week about the Welsh sea-side town of Llandudno, I was reminded of another post I'd written about my grandmother, Winifred Griffiths.

Wyn was a professional singer and often performed in Llandudno's famous Happy Valley on the Great Orme during the 1930s.



Read more about her singing career from being discovered as a teenager, touring with a well known opera company and her time in Llandudno, on my post Strictly Music Hall.


I look forward to many more years of sharing the secrets I uncover about my family history and hope that you enjoy reading about them too.