Every good story begins with once upon a time and our stories are no different. Our stories are fiction but there are many truths for those who listen carefully. I am the signalman, I work here in Saltburn and live only a stones throw away from here. I was born in
It’s a lonely job, sitting in the signal
house waiting for the next engine. The bell rings to tell me she is on her way,
I pull hard on the levers to set the points, drop the signal and send the
return signal bell. Every passing engine has to be logged into my book and I
check it is showing all its lights. The signals operated by my levers are in
semaphore and tell the drivers when the lines are clear. When all that is done
I go back to my chair, waiting for the next signal bell. There is time to
think, to read and allow the imagination to wander where it pleases. The
signalman’s job is very small but so much depends on it.
We are going on a journey this evening, a
walk around my town. I ask that you bring your imagination, for the story I
have for you is about ordinary people and extraordinary events; taking in some
of the popular landmarks and some of the less known places. I will lead the way
and we will stop form time to time to continue the story.
I begin my story here at the railway
station because it was here that our main character first arrived late one
evening with the wind driving rain in off the sea, a cold November evening
1911. No one was waiting, no one expected him – Matthew was returning home
after being away for several years. Matthew Smithson was a magician and
illusionist; he entertained lords and ladies on the south coast and astounded
his audience with illusions, producing items from seemingly thin air. His
slight of hand was quicker than the keenest eye. No one knew Matthew by name or
anything about him; his stage name was ‘The Great Illumine’ Matthew had found a
way to create light without flicker or flame.
People would claim to know his secrets that
it was achieved with many small mirrors and a lamp hidden offstage but the
truth was they had no idea at all. It had something to do with the way he held
the light that enabled it to be visible.
Matthew was always a quiet boy when growing
up here in Saltburn choosing to draw and to write than play in the streets with
the other boys; in later years he transformed with brightness when performing
his illusions on the stage. The house he had called home was left to him by his
mother who had passed away that summer; his father had died when he was just a
small boy and he had no other siblings. The neighbours Mr and Mrs Watkins who
still had no idea of this late arrival had kept the house in order. Matthew
carried but two suitcases, the rest of his belongings were being sent on - this
was to be Matthew’s homecoming, leaving behind the glamour and status that
followed his aura of mystery.
Matthew
pulled up his coat collar and walked quickly toward the house. Over the next
few weeks he became re-accustomed to the town and took time to appreciate the
belongings of the family home; the only people he spoke to were the Watkins. Warrior terrace was built in 1865 and named
after the recently launched HMS Warrior, a totally new design of warship; this
new town wanted to be associated with everything new.
Matthew
and his mother had moved from Newcastle
Matthew was only 9 years old when he moved
to Saltburn in 1871, Britannia place was a mere four years old and the cliff
lift was a wooden tower structure with water counter balance weights. The pier
also built by John Anderson stretched far out to sea.
The creativity and newness of this town
fascinated Matthew; he was living in an inventive time and he took all things
in, picking up the creative drive of the fathers of this town.
Matthew’s gift of light was something he
felt he needed to keep hidden, people wouldn’t understand, so this was to be a game
of hide and seek.
Matthew would decide on something he wanted
to achieve, not knowing if it was even possible; he would keep going until he
came up with a solution, then he would build a disguise around, it so creating
an illusion.
The gift was safely hidden behind Matthew’s
illusions and he went on to create many more through his ingenuity and
swiftness of hand. At the age of 23, Matthew left for the big cities and the
south coast as “The great Illumine”.
We stand here at the top of Amber Street,
looking down Milton Street and again we can see Huntcliff in the distance. A
boy from Emerald Street
As the young boys scream went out Matthew
was also walking close by; he ran to the edge, lay flat on the grass and peered
over. There was no thinking, just instinct as Matthew began to scramble down to
the boy.
Soon
they were side by side and it was only then that Matthew realised, that there
was no way back to the top without help and a rope. Matthew applied the
strength of his mind to the problem but there was nothing he could conjure up
on his own. He would need to attract attention but to be heard or seen from
that distance was very unlikely. Somehow, a signal had to be sent.
It
was becoming cold and the young boy was trembling, Matthew reassured him and
decided what had to be done. All these years Matthew’s gift of light had been
hidden behind his illusions, carefully concealed to entertain and dazzle the
audience. Matthew spoke to the boy “do not be afraid lad, hold on to me; I’m
going to do something magical”. He held his hands high in the air and light
proceeded from between his fingers, brighter than ever before; there was no
hiding this light as it shone out far and wide. Matthew began to move his arms
in semaphore signal, spelling out SOS ROPE – SOS ROPE, he kept going till he
could hardly hold his arms, but the light kept shining brightly.
Just
at that moment, shouts came from above and a rope was lowered down. Matthew and
the boy were brought safely back to the town and a celebration in the streets,
for the signal had been seen by many homes that night.
