Arthur Heayns' account, by Andy Griffin

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Our thanks to Andy Griffin, who was writer-in-residence in Blyth Valley in June 1995. In addition to writing an excellent book about the heroic 1977/78 Blyth Spartans FA cup run called Two Wins From Wembley, Andy authored a book called A Slice of Life, for which he interviewed people in the surrounding towns and villages with interesting stories.

 

One of these tremendous stories was a first-hand account of the aftermath of the Cramlington derailment by Arthur Heayns

 

Arthur, born in 1916, was ten years old at the time of the derailment and yet his memories, 79 years later, were vivid.

 

At the time of giving his account to Andy, Arthur was living in Klondyke, East Cramlington, approximately a mile from the site of the crash.

 

The train, carrying 281 passengers, including touring theatricals travelling south from Edinburgh after the weekend, was derailed at Cramlington on Monday, May 10, 1926, just after lunchtime.

 

Here is Arthur’s account.

 

I was at Annitsford waiting for the bus to take me home from school when the news broke, so we had to see if it was true.

 

Me, Jimmy Wrightson and Jimmy Durman ran over there [approximately a mile and a half away] and sure enough, the Flying Scotsman was still on its side with steam pouring out. I remember the name of the engine; it was called the Merry Hampton.

 

I tried to get a closer look and squeezed between the train and the buffers, but one of the officials gave me a clip! [a slap on the head].”

 

[Note: Of the 281 passengers on board the train, only one person sustained a slight injury - when a case fell on his foot].

 

“We stayed at the scene for hours. We didn’t notice the time. In those days, nobody had watches; we got our time from the clocks in the street. Out there, though, we lost track of time. I didn’t get home until half-past eight.

 

I’ll not forget the tenth of May 1926 because there were two injured victims on that night. I was the second!

 

I got such a belting from my grandad. The family had been worried about where I was: there was always danger in the colliery villages, from the ponds to the railways. My grandad, by now was 88 [born 1838], but he gave me such a lathering, the one and only time he took his thick leather belt to me.

 

The tears were running down my cheeks - and they were running down his as well. I’d never seen that before either.”

 

According to Arthur, “the train lay abandoned for weeks” and “another line was put down alongside to skirt around the engine because the drivers were still on strike and they refused to shift it”. However, the strike was sold out by the TUC leaders two days later (on May 12), which meant a return to work.

 

Arthur’s account doesn’t accord with official statements, which said the train was lifted by the next morning and the rail repaired so that the little traffic there was on the railways during the strike could continue their journey.

 

Arthur continued:

 

“The nation was horrified by the incident, but the [eight jailed] miners were unrepentant, and they said they would have done it all over again; such was the strength of feeling during the general strike.

 

A rumour was put about that the miners were expecting coal wagons coming down the line from Pegswood and that they never meant to attack the Flying Scotsman, but that was nonsense. There was a [general] strike on, wasn’t there? No coal was being moved … anywhere! They knew what they were doing, all right.  

 

These men were folk heroes at the time, and I tell you, there was quite a celebration at the Box of Eggs pub when they were released from jail.”