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Brewing beer by the Crowfoot family started in the early 1800's or even
before, in local inns, one probable being the Artichoke Inn at Broome,
Norfolk.
Prior to this the family had been landowners but money was lost on horse
racing and, it is said, ladies and gambling, which enforced entry into the
business world.
The brewery was mainly of wooden construction, started in
1847, the original cellars and exterior structure remained throughout and
until its final sale in January 1951. So also were the original fermenting
vats and other equipment retained, any modernisation incorporated
filtering units and pasteurisation plants. The well from which all water
used was pumped. formerly by hand, then by one of the first steam engines.
This remained in use with its leather strap drives powering other
machinery.
The water from the well was effervescent as though carbonated, visitors
would ask if they could go to the header tank to drink some. A jug and
glasses were kept here for that purpose.
The cellars, 3/4 underground, had a curved roof which tapered to the
vertical - retained most of the original spiders, the cobwebs were never
removed, by tradition. They insulated the cellars wherein the temperature
did not vary by more than 1 degree throughout the year. The writer recalls
throwing an old 1d into one dusty old cobweb which held the penny quite
easily. One visitor maintained that two cobwebs behind a door acted as a
closing spring.
Another section of the brewery were the Maltings. Malt was made at the
brewery from locally grown barley, the kiln clad with tiles with minute
holes, heating under kiln by hot air from the furnace. The barley was
turned by the maltster who judged the timing and temperature and also fed
the furnace. The writer has assisted in both these tasks and can verify
that it is only possible to spend 15 minutes stripped to the waist in the
kiln without a break. During the 15 minutes the barley was turned by
wooden `flats' or spatula's. Outside some beer would be taken to replace
the lost sweat. The furnace would be fueled and back in to the kiln again.
Beer was allowed to be consumed by any employee at any time.
It would seem to make sense to put down knowledge of the brewery ,
associations and incidents as I, the writer, find myself the only person
who remains alive that knows of it from the family side. A necessary
digression here to clarify the Pullen / Crowfoot link.
My aunt - `Flossie' married Lee Crowfoot, Flossie met Lee through my
mother, Lucy May. When Flossie was dying she asked my mother to look after
`Old Funny' which she called Lee, at this stage the two couples were
living in Heath House. After Flossie died Lee's father went on a world
cruise and by chance met Eliza Brown, to whom he proposed, was accepted
and married. Eliza Brown was my father's aunt. This created the second
link between the families. Lee never re-married, the writer was therefore
brought up by virtually two fathers, Harold and Lee, and introduced by
both into all facets of brewing and business.
Relationships between employer and staff at the brewery were simple to the
extreme.
Any employee could have a word at any time. There was a waiting list who
wanted to work at the brewery.
Profits, if any, were split 50/50, half going back into the brewery and
half split between the staff as a bonus on December 1st each year. There
was always a payment on December 1st anyway, but a good profit swelled
this as everybody knew. There was no question of overtime, just getting
the job done; if a day off was required `have a word' and there was generally
more opposition from other employees, albeit they were all friendly with
each other. Employees were allowed to take beer home, no limit was ever
laid down and the facility was never abused. Monitoring was by other
employees who would `chip in' with beer by not taking any themselves if
there was something like an engagement or 21st birthday to celebrate.
Joe Burcham was the longest serving employee the brewery ever had. He
started working washing bottles, the old sort, screw top and rubber rings
- these latter changed every wash - there were cases of them - taken off
by one tool and put on by a `stretcher'. Put the stopper into the
`stretcher' and it popped a new ring on. From time to time, during the
depression and during World War II, rings were not easily obtainable and
only the really bad ones were replaced. Bottles were hand washed by
shoving them individually on to a rotating brush ( Driven by a strap from
the steam engine ) which was immersed in water, which slowly circulated
from an `in' feed to a regulated outlet, then onto a sort of wooden paddle
wheel which took about 4 dozen bottles on each paddle, was turned by hand,
bottles filled with water, then as the paddle wheel was turned, came out
the other side and drained, so this was a two way operation - brush, fill
paddles, after 3 or 4, round to the other side and take out the clean
bottles - back again to dirty bottles......et seq.
Joe Burcham started work when he was 12 years old, for Lee Crowfoot's
grandfather William, this would be about 1878. He had a grudging respect
for the writer in that I washed barrels ( Firkins - only 9 gallons ) at 9
years old, after school sometimes, on holidays and at weekends.
In 1946 when Joe was about 82, Lee asked me to go with Harold and tell him
it was about time he left!
The conversation went something like this:
Joe ( Walrus, tobacco stained moustache - pink hands - in water for
some 68 years during working hours ! ), who did not stop working as he was
talking :- `Ah master Lee I've been expecting you to come in and see'in
you've got master Harold and young master Neil with you.........you're
goin' to tell me I cant do my job anymore'
Lee who did not mince words when the occasion was right:
`No you silly old b***** its time you let another chap have a chance of a
job.....the cottage you live in is yours ( It belonged to the brewery )
..... and you will have the same wages without having to work.'
Joe : `I'd reckoned on the cottage but I dont want any
blazing wages, my boys are all right, I've a bit put away, only thing
bother me is who you're got washin. '
Harold : ` Bills son and he's a hard worker, young Arthur.'
Joe : ` I'll see'
Lee : `Why'
Joe : `He'll have to work with me for a couple of weeks.'
Lee : `OK, be in on Monday'
Joe gave Arthur stick for two weeks, then came in and
stood behind him for at least another week, blowing through his walrus moustache
every time Arthur made a mistake. Arthur got a bit upset and we told him
to ride with it, which he did. Joe came back from time to time and said it
did not seem right for him to sit and stare at his wife Sarah, all
day. Couldn't he do some sweeping or something ? ... and he didn't want
any money. The consensus was no and spend your time in the garden.
We could have been wrong, Joe only lasted a couple of more years, he had
never had a day off sick or ill in 68 years, would he have washed bottles
and continued his established life pattern until 90?.... and lived longer?
In 1938 I recall Jim who drove one of the lorries, came
into the office ( I was all of 10 years old ) but I recall this so clearly
- and said that his daughter had to have an operation which was going to
cost £25. Lee opened the till, it was a good year, and gave Jim
£25....no signature......no agreement for repayment......Jim said `Thank
you master Lee' ...... knowing that it would be recovered gently at maybe
five bob a week, and that not until he could afford it.
At the end of 1946 a young village lad, a good lorry driver, asked for a
job, his father had worked at the brewery for years. The young man had
worked in various areas on a part time basis, then served in the war and
returned and knowing the family, hoped he could be employed. He was taken
on and was the first ever employee to be a member of a Trade Union. The
brewery had always been non-union, there was no need.
© Pamela Pullen 2006 |
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