In the course of researching our previous blog post, looking at disabled railway workers in our most recent Railway Work, Life & Death project data release, it sparked a question. For some time it’s been apparent – anecdotally at least – that male railway workers were more likely to incur disabilities than female railway workers. Largely that reflected the social standards of the time, which put men in roles that were exposed to greater risk. But might we find railwaywomen who were disabled by their work? Given it’s Disability History Month, we thought it was an appropriate time to have a look …
What can the records actually tell us about disability?
The historic records found in our database of accidents to British and Irish railway workers are brilliant sources, and tell us masses about the past. Sometimes that’s directly, in terms of what’s recorded. But sometimes it’s indirect – assumptions that can be seen underlying statements or details recorded (or details left out – as was the case with ethnicity, discussed here).
In relation to disability, the records are very informative about visible, physical disabilities. Largely these are disabilities caused by railway work, though sometimes they include mention of pre-existing disability. Where the records aren’t so strong is about less visible disabilities, including the potentially disabling psychological aspects of accidents. This very much reflected understandings of the time in which the records were produced, and the interests and focus of the record producers.
The records were for the most part functional items, supporting company, union or state operations. To that end the focused on things that were seen as immediately relevant to the organisation concerned – a disabling physical accident easily fell into that criteria, whereas more complex, longer-term issues might not manifest or be seen in straightforward ways. We’re more likely to find life-changing injuries, like limb loss, or eyesight loss, than forms of trauma or mental ill-health caused by work.
So, we’re always going to be facing a challenge with the records, in that they won’t capture everything, or everyone. Regardless of sex, the records are almost always going to focus on physical disabilities relevant to or caused by railway work.
Confirming a hunch
Given there is this focus in the records on the embodied nature of disability on the railways, the chances were always that incidences were going to be concentrated on grades and roles which were exposed to most physical danger. In the period we’re looking at, up to 1939, these were, typically, roles that were undertaken by men – particularly track-side or operational activities which put workers in amongst moving trains. This might be jobs like shunters, track workers, guards and footplate crews.
Unsurprisingly, the Railway Work, Life & Death project database backs this up. Life-changing injuries that made the records largely happened to men. In addition to this reflecting where men and women were employed and the dangers they were exposed to, there were, of course, far more men employed on the railways than women. It became a matter of numbers, therefore – there were more men exposed to risks, and that produced greater numbers of the types of disabling accidents that were likely to be recorded.
However, this doesn’t mean that women weren’t exposed to dangers. They absolutely were. For the most part, they tended to be dangers that didn’t produce long-term, disabling outcomes. And some women were exposed to serious harm. We see fatalities to railwaywomen (for example, crossing keeper Ada Davies; or carriage cleaner Williamina Gardiner).
Crossing keeper Margaret Hamer
From the new dataset, of records produced by railway companies, one incident stood out: the accident involved Margaret Hamer. It took place in December 1923, at Cerist, in Montgomeryshire, Wales. This was hilly and remote territory, until the start of 1923 served by the Cambrian Railways Company, but since absorbed into the Great Western Railway (GWR). The line, which left the main line at Caersws, was lightly used – amounting to only two freight trains per week.
Courtesy National Library of Scotland Maps.
Margaret Richards married Pryce Hamer in 1904, in the Newtown area – down the valley from Cerist. Pryce had earlier been employed in farm work, but by 1911 they were living at Cerist station, and he was a platelayer. They had three children. Margaret didn’t have any occupation recorded against her name on the Census – though as we’ve seen before, this just meant the census enumerator might not have captured what she was being paid to do. This remained the case in 1921, too.
Yet when the accident happened, in 1923, the GWR recorded Margaret as a level crossing keeper. We have seen this before, where platelayer’s wives were employed as level crossing keepers – indeed, in the case of Ada Davies. In more rural locations this seems to have been a well-established arrangement. It therefore seems probable that Margaret was employed as Cerist’s crossing keeper for longer than the period since 1921 – and that her paid work was ignored on the census.
Margaret and Pryce’s wider family
It’s always useful to understand the wider family (and ideally community) context for railway workers. In this case, it’s essential. On 25 April 1919, Margaret and Pryce became an aunt and uncle when Pryce’s brother, Thomas, and sister-in-law, Mary, had a son – George. Sadly, Mary died in childbirth, aged 27. It looks as though Thomas found it hard to cope, as by 1921 George was living with Margaret and Pryce; one newspaper account from 1923 notes that they adopted George.
On 20 December 1923, George – aged four years and nine months – found his was onto the tracks at Cerist as a timber train was passing the crossing. No-one was sure how. His aunt, Margaret, saw George tumble under the train. She dived, trying to save him by pulling him out of the way. Tragically she failed. George died; Mary’s arms were run over by train. Both were taken to the nearest cottage hospital at Llanidloes, where Margaret had her right arm amputated at the shoulder and her left arm amputated at the forearm.
Margaret remained in hospital for some time. The inquest found that none of the footplate crew were responsible for the accident. George was buried early in 1924, with the inscription on the grave: ‘A light is from our household gone, / The voice we loved is stilled, / A vacant place is in our home, / Which never can be filled.’
After the accident – only questions
Sadly, we know next to nothing about Margaret and Pryce’s lives after the accident. Margaret was given an award for heroism from the Carnegie Hero Fund in March 1924, but beyond that there is little documented evidence about her life.
Margaret lived until 1938, but other than her death, she seems to have left no trace in the formal record. How did she adapt to life after the accident? How did she cope with a physically and no doubt mentally traumatic event? How set up was rural Wales for people with disabilities? What did Pryce and the wider family do to support Margaret?
We can only pose these questions – though that still has a value, in focusing our attention on the experiences of people with disabilities in the past. There’s no doubt that Margaret’s accident and the life-changing injuries were unusual, for a railwaywoman, in their severity. That doesn’t make it any the less important to look at her case – and it serves as a reminder that railway work was dangerous whatever your sex.