​Haematite and Hardship: Mapping the Social Fabric of Moor Row

The industrial development of West Cumbria during the nineteenth century was characterised by a demographic and geological phenomenon that contemporaries frequently likened to the California Gold Rush. At the epicentre of this transformation was the village of Moor Row, a settlement that evolved with staggering speed from a quiet common to a dense, technologically sophisticated hub for the extraction and transport of high-grade haematite iron ore.

The men who fuelled this machine – the miners colloquially known as the "Redmen" were more than mere cogs in the industrial process; they were a distinct social class defined by the pervasive physical presence of the mineral they sought. This report analyses the social history of the Redmen, examining the intersection of housing density, physical labour, the hierarchy of industrial employment, and the socio-cultural fabric of a community forged in red dust.

The Physicality of the Redman: Haematite and the Human Form

The term "Redman" was not a figurative label but a visceral description of the miners as they emerged from the subterranean world of the Montreal and Bigrigg pits. The haematite of West Cumbria was of the highest grade in the British Isles, often possessing a metallic iron content of 56 – 57%. This high purity made it essential for the Bessemer converter, but it also made it an incredibly invasive substance in the lives of those who extracted it. The fine, shimmering dust of the ore, when mixed with the sweat and humidity of the deep shafts, adhered to the miners’ skin and clothing with a stubborn persistence.

The miners returning home appeared to be wearing "glittering fine silk," their rough work clothes transformed by the ore into a shimmering, metallic red that caught the light. This visual saturation extended beyond the body; the very air and ground of Moor Row were coloured by the "vast hidden body of iron ore under the town". Footpaths were paved with crushed red gravel, and the doorsteps of the miners' cottages were famously "reddened" by daily scrubbing or the natural accumulation of dust.

The physical reality of being a Redman involved a constant, intimate engagement with this mineral. It was inhaled into the lungs, ground into the pores, and brought home into the domestic space, creating a world where the distinction between the industrial site and the private home was almost non-existent. This environmental immersion fostered a unique psychological state – a stoic acceptance of a life lived within a landscape where the ground itself was red and the primary objective of existence was to pull that colour from the earth.

Architectural Density and the 1871 Iron Register

The construction of Moor Row was a reactive process. As the demand for high-grade ore surged, landowners like the Dalzell family facilitated the rapid building of residential infrastructure to house an exploding population of incomers from Cornwall, Ireland, Scotland, and the Isle of Man. The Dalzell Street terraces, constructed in 1859, represent the architectural primary source for this period, offering a stark insight into the housing density of the Victorian mining class.

The 1859 Dalzell Street Terraces: 2-Up-2-Down Realities

The "two up, two down" cottage was the standard unit of the Moor Row miners' life. These structures were often "hurriedly built" to keep pace with the influx of labour. While the outward appearance was one of orderly red-brick terraces, the internal reality was one of extreme overcrowding and compromised sanitation. The 1871 "Iron Register" – the census data focusing on the mining population – reveals that these houses were rarely the sole domain of a nuclear family. Instead, they functioned as hybrid spaces where domesticity and industrial lodging coincided.

Case Study: The Nicholls Family and the Lodger System

The 1871 census records for Dalzell Street provide a granular view of this density. The Nicholls (or Nicholas) family, who migrated from Gulval and Penzance in Cornwall, occupied one such terrace. The household of Sarah Nicholas illustrates the migratory nature of the population: despite being born in St Buryan, Cornwall, her family members were born in diverse locations including Canonstown and Moor Row itself, highlighting the multi-generational journey of the mining diaspora.

In these households, the presence of "lodgers" was almost universal. A typical Dalzell Street cottage might house a family of six alongside two or three unrelated male miners. This density had profound implications for sanitation and social order. With no early internal plumbing, the residents relied on shared outdoor privies and the local beck for water, which was often contaminated by the proximity of the mines and the "Spaghetti Junction" of the railway network. The "reddened doorsteps" mentioned in historical accounts were not just aesthetic markers but the result of a daily struggle to keep the invasive haematite dust out of these crowded living quarters.

The Hierarchy of Labour: Montreal Mines vs. The Railway

The social structure of Moor Row was defined by a clear hierarchy of employment, which was physically manifest in the geography of the village. The miners, the "Redmen," represented the base of the industrial pyramid, while the railway workers, who managed the Whitehaven, Cleator and Egremont Railway (WC&ER), occupied a higher social and physical stratum.

The Walk to the Montreal Mines

For a miner living on Dalzell Street, the workday began with a commute across a landscape of industrial waste. The Montreal Mines, operated by the Stirling Company, were located northeast of the village. The path to the pits took the miners past massive "tips" – spoil heaps that loomed over the landscape and the railway tracks.

The walk was a journey into a world of risk. Unlike the railway workers, the miners faced the constant threat of subterranean roof collapses. Haematite is notoriously brittle and unpredictable; historical records from the nearby Sir John Walsh Mine indicate that between 1859 and 1904, 13 men were killed underground due to such collapses. The miners of Montreal Pits No. 8 and No. 10 worked in an environment where the "Coal fault" limited the extent of the ore, and the work was characterised by hard, manual extraction of "massive hard blue" ore.

The "Cleaner" Railway Jobs and Victoria Villa

In contrast to the Redmen, the railway staff lived in a world of relative cleanliness and stability. Moor Row Station, which opened on July 1, 1857, was the hub of a relentless mineral traffic system. The railway's "upper echelon" lived in high-quality housing that reflected the strict Victorian social hierarchy. Victoria Villa, a Grade II listed building, was commissioned to house senior staff like John Russell, the Scottish-born manager, and Edwin Rose, the Locomotive Superintendent.

This physical and social distance created a stratified community. While the railwaymen oversaw the "intricate logistics" of the junction, the Redmen provided the raw material that made the logistics necessary. The railway was the "clean" face of the village, a site of mechanical precision, whereas the mines were the "red" heart, a site of biological and geological struggle.

The Drinking Culture: Pubs, Flash Houses, and the Beer Act

In the high-pressure environment of a Victorian mining village, the public house served as a critical, albeit controversial, social pillar. The drinking culture of Moor Row was shaped by the 1830 Beer Act, which sought to steer the working classes away from the perceived "moral contagion" of gin by making beer easier to sell and consume.

The Social Function of the Pub

For the Redman, the pub was more than a place to drink; it was a space of "good fellowship" where the physical toll of the mines could be temporarily forgotten. These establishments provided a "positive socio-cultural activity" that countered the gruelling reality of underground work. However, the proliferation of beer houses also stoked middle-class anxieties about the "spectre of the drunkard" – a figure believed to be a "social pest" and a threat to public order.

In Moor Row and the surrounding districts, "flash houses" were rumoured to exist – shadowy spaces where criminal activity was plotted and stolen goods exchanged. While these were often more a product of the Victorian imagination than reality, they highlighted the intense connection between space and morality in the 19th-century mind. The number and distribution of public houses in poor neighbourhoods were mapped by reformers as if they were sites of disease, a "moral contagion" that needed to be contained.

The Moral Counter-Offensive: Temperance and the Brass Band

The prevalence of alcohol in mining life was met by a vigorous response from religious and social reformers. In Moor Row, this moral struggle was manifest in the growth of the Methodist chapels and the formation of the Moor Row Old Brass Band in 1871.

Temperance as Social Discipline

The Temperance movement, particularly strong among the non-conformist traditions of the northern working class, sought to replace the pub with "rational recreation". The Methodist chapels in Moor Row provided meeting spaces and Sunday schools, offering migrant workers a sense of community support that did not revolve around alcohol.

A key weapon in the Temperance arsenal was the brass band. Band practice was promoted as a way to keep men out of the pubs, and processions offered a form of non-alcoholic entertainment. The Moor Row Old Brass Band, founded in 1871, became a vital part of the village's identity, playing sacred music through the streets and participating in picnics at St. Bees. This musical tradition provided a sense of dignity and discipline for the Redmen, suggesting that even those covered in haematite dust could participate in "respectable" Victorian culture.

The Tonic Sol-fa and Education

Education was another critical pillar of social stability. The village school was established early to provide the children of miners and railwaymen with the literacy and numeracy skills necessary for the "emerging industrial economy". The Tonic Sol-fa movement, which simplified musical notation, grew "symbiotically" with Temperance, allowing workers to participate in choral singing and band music without formal musical training. This democratisation of culture was essential in a community like Moor Row, where the sheer density of population required new forms of social management.

Social Cohesion and the Friendly Society Movement

Despite the physical and social fractures within Moor Row, a strong sense of social cohesion emerged through mutual aid and collective organisation. Friendly societies and miners' associations acted as "early form[s] of social security," providing a prototype for later trade unions.

Mutual Aid in a Risk-Prone Economy

In an industry where a "sudden collapse of the mine roof" was a constant threat, the friendly society was a vital survival mechanism. These societies were some of the first places to organise collectively in the West Cumbrian district. They provided small stipends for injured miners and burial funds for those killed in the pits, ensuring that the "Redmen" and their families were not immediately destitute upon a workplace catastrophe.

The social life of these societies often blended with industrial labour. In some instances, when a fatal accident occurred, the entire workforce would "knock off and go home" as a mark of respect, and a levy would be deducted from the next payday to support the victim’s family. This collective grief and financial support formed a powerful bond among the miners, creating a "red" solidarity that existed independently of the railway hierarchy.

Sports and Participation

Social cohesion was further bolstered by high levels of participation in sports like quoits. They, provided an outlet for the physical energy and competitive spirit of the young miners and were crucial for fostering a sense of place and belonging among a population of immigrants.

Crime, Policing, and the Magistrates' Courts

The rapid urbanisation of Moor Row brought with it the inevitable challenges of maintaining public order. The Quarter Sessions records from the period indicate that drunkenness was a primary factor in local crime, frequently leading to violence and public nuisance.

The "Slippery Slope" of Criminality

Victorian reformers often spoke of a "slippery slope" of criminality, where the indulgence in alcohol at a "flash house" or beer shop led gradually to more serious offences. In Moor Row, the dense living conditions of Dalzell Street meant that any public disorder was highly visible and threatened the "moral condition" of the entire community.

The policing of these spaces was complex. Officers were sometimes accused of using "flash houses" to gather information on the criminal underworld, leading to a blurred line between the authorities and the communities they patrolled. For the Redmen, the police and the magistrates represented an external force of discipline that sought to impose a "civilised" order on the raw, industrial energy of the mining settlement.

The Gendered Reality of the Mining Village

While the industrial narrative of Moor Row is dominated by the "Redmen," the social reality was equally defined by the women who managed the domestic sphere. In a village with "hardly any jobs for women," the role of the miner’s wife was one of gruelling domestic labour.

The Domestic Labour of Haematite

The wife of a Redman was responsible for the "reddened doorsteps" and the shimmering work clothes. Washing the haematite-stained clothes of a household – often containing multiple miners and lodgers – was a full-time occupation that required hauling water and maintaining a "copper" boiler. The presence of lodgers meant that women were often running small-scale boarding houses within the "two up, two down" structure, providing meals and laundry for the "incomers" who fuelled the mines.

Women’s drinking, while frowned upon by moralisers, was also a reality. Some brewed alcohol at home as part of everyday domestic life, and others drank publicly to socialise or "drown away sorrows" in defiance of social expectations. For the women of Moor Row, the physical reality was one of constant struggle against the red dust, the dampness of the terraces, and the financial precariousness of a single-income household.

The Industrial Transition and the End of the "Red" Era

The peak of the haematite boom in the late 19th century eventually gave way to the economic pressures of the 20th century. The high-grade ore, while plentiful, became more difficult and expensive to extract as the shallow deposits were exhausted and the deep mines faced increasing geological challenges.

The Decline of the Mines

By the interwar period, the marginal economics of the West Cumbrian pits became untenable. The first era of public passenger rail through Moor Row ended on January 7, 1935, a signal of the broader industrial decline. Pits like Montreal and Dalzell began to close, and the "Redmen" who had once arrived in a gold-rush-style surge began to leave for other mining districts or transition into new industries.

The Legacy of the Spaghetti Junction

The infrastructure of the "Spaghetti Junction" remained, however, providing the foundation for the region's next industrial act: the nuclear industry. The dense railway network and the established labour communities of Moor Row were repurposed for the requirements of total war and, later, the strategic pivot to nuclear energy at Windscale (Sellafield).

The Enduring Shadow of the Redman

The social history of the Redmen of Moor Row is a testament to the transformative power of a single mineral. The high-grade haematite of the Montreal Mines did not just build a village; it created a specific physical and social identity for its inhabitants. The 1871 census data reveals a community characterised by extreme housing density, where the "two up, two down" lifestyle was a shared experience of labour and domesticity.

The physical reality of the Redman was one of shimmering dust and constant risk, a life lived in the shadow of the railway's social hierarchy. While the pubs and flash houses offered a necessary escape, the brass bands and Methodist chapels provided the moral and social cohesion required to maintain a functional community. Today, the names of the streets – Dalzell, Penzance, and the Grade II listed Victoria Villa – remain as architectural echoes of this era, reminders of a time when the ground was red and the miners of Moor Row were the shimmering, glittering lifeblood of the British steel revolution.

19th Century Flash House Illustration