Another pottery

When we first rocked up at this old pottery, I didn't have high expectations. I thought it would be a fairly standard death trap, mostly empty, and with a generic history.

Well, it was a death trap. But the history sure took me down a rabbit hole! The majority of urbex posts tend to keep it very basic, copying and pasting from Wikipedia, doing little more than mindlessly regurgitating dates and numbers. If you've seen one, then there's no point looking at another. The text is identical. And to copy and paste history means it was of no interest to the urbexer, and leaves their audience with the question: "Is it really about these locations, or is it about getting your weird head on camera?"

Personally I find the history of this place incredibly fascinating.

This is the building that Goss pottery came from, or at least, the last one standing. And it's perfectly fine if you don't know what Goss pottery is. Neither did I. But pottery enthusiasts, particularly the older generations, will be familiar with it. In the early 20th Century, it's estimated that about 90% of British homes had at least one piece of Goss pottery. 

The original factory dated back to 1858, but now all that remains is the 1902 enamel and printing workshops above the warehouse, and a couple of bottle kilns. William Goss, the big cheese of the business, wasn't fond of these buildings, seeing little point in expansion at that chapter of his pottery empire. Had his health not been failing and his lifestyle not shifting to a more reclusive nature, these may not have been built at all. But his son Huntley had the reigns and this was all his idea. Ironically if these hadn't been built, I wouldn't be talking about Goss today, so he did come out on top. As the saying goes, we all die twice: Once when we pass away and again when someone mentions us for the last time.

On the side of the building is a bird. I could only get a shot from the ground, but Matt had his drone with him, so took a shot looking straight at it, and kindly let me use it here.

(Photo credit: Matt)

The bird is commonly mistaken for a falcon, and consequently the Goss factory is commonly confused for another one nearby, but this is actually a Goshawk, the heraldic animal of the Goss family. Originally their heraldic animal was a goose but at some point they fancied an upgrade from poultry to predator. It appears on the bottom of most Goss pottery, often with a little bit of text to explain what the object in question is a replica of. 

(All photos of pottery found on either Google or Ebay.)

 

This pottery empire all started with William Goss, who was born in 1833 to Richard Goss and Sophia Mann, the fourth of their brood of five. Their lineage can be traced back to 1164 where a Peter Goss was a sheriff of Liverpool. William was quite a proud bloke, and whenever he came across another person named Goss, he looked for what he considered to be the family traits, which were eccentricities, red hair and a fiery temper. Perhaps these were leaps in logic, but in the days before DNA testing, it was all they had to go on.

Williams father Richard had been orphaned and raised by his tyrant grandfather, eventually running away after an argument about eating potatoes or something. He joined the crew of the HMS Bellerophon, and was there when Napoleon surrendered after the Battle of Waterloo.

The event must have made an impression, or maybe there was some hereditary dwarfism, because Williams older brother Jacob has Napoleon for a middle name, and since then every generation of Jacobs lineage has had at least one male continue the tradition.

William had no such tall tale. His middle name was Henry. 

 

Williams other brother was also called Richard, but don't worry, neither of these Richards will be sticking around long enough for it to get confusing. Brother Richard married his mothers niece, and they named their own son Jacob Napoleon, purely because repetition was all the rage back then.

It's said that William didn't approve of inter-family romance. This isn't Telford, he would have said, had Telford existed in 1849. William cut off contact with this sibling, refusing to have anything to do with them.

 

Plenty of busts of William Goss exist, so we can see what he looked like. 

 

(Photo credit: Ebay)

 

It's often misinterpreted as a sign of arrogance that William had so many busts of himself made, but according to his daughter, Eva Adeline, he was actually horrified at the thought of it. But towards the end of his life, his pottery was pretty famous, and his son Victor had the crazy idea that a bust of Goss would appeal to collectors. One day he hired a modeller and burst into Williams study, clay and tools at the ready, catching the old man completely by surprise. The strategy worked and William relented. From that portrait of William, numerous busts were released after he died. But we are getting ahead of ourselves.

William was close to just one sibling, and that was his older sister, Sophia. She was eleven years older than him and had been a maternal figure during his upbringing, always encouraging his talents. He would tell his own crotchfruit that he owed her an incalculable debt. Unfortunately she'd never meet her neices or nephews, because she married and went to America in 1852. But their descendants would meet a century or so later. 

William later wrote a book called "Ralph and Priscilla, a Poem" which can still be purchased online at no great expense for anyone who is interested. Apparently this book is dedicated to a William Fowler Mountford Copeland, the grandson of his future employer, William Taylor Copeland. But given that this grandson wasn't born until 1872, it doesn't seem likely. The book is actually based on Williams affections for a young lady named Georgiana Goldswain, four years older than him, who he had been lodging with when he was sixteen. But not content to just sit there and write books about her, he went the whole way, married her, and shot his DNA into her.

 (Photo of Georgiana not mine, obviously)

 

The marriage was very soon after Williams sister had left, and it's commonly believed that she was merely filling the gap in his affections. He eventually grew to hate his wife, and they wouldn't speak to each other for the last decade or so of their lives, even living in separate houses. But he wouldn't divorce her, for fear of scandal, meaning she had no choice but to grow old alone, forever tied to a man who couldn't stand the sight of her.

Just across from the big derelict factory are some beautiful derelict bottle kilns. It's crazy to think that so many pieces of Goss pottery, many of which are still collectable today and fetching high prices on Ebay, may well have been made in these two kilns. And thanks to the wonderful internet, we can see how all this used to look.

(Photo not mine, obviously)

 

Here we can see the building I'm about to explore, complete with the goshawk, and the kilns looking a lot less sorry for themselves. 

 

But it's also important to point out, these are merely the two remaining buildings. The factory was a sprawling industrial nightmare. 

 

(Photo not mine, obviously)

 

The buildings we're looking at are at the top of the above image. They are the furthest bottle kilns to the right. The location sure was expansive. This was William Goss's empire. He loved it, and luckily for him, he didn't live long enough to see it come crashing down.
 

As a youngster, William was said to be a genius whose ideas bordered on eccentric. He was sent to the Government School of Design when he was sixteen, and it was here that he met the author and engraver, Llewellyn Jewitt. The two became firm, lifelong friends. 

In 1857 Goss used his contacts in London, and his friendship with whichever Copeland he allegedly dedicated the book to, to land himself a pottery job in the midlands working for William Taylor Copeland, one time mayor of London, and said to be a descendant of John de Coupland, who captured the King of Scotland at the battle of Nevilles Cross in 1346. In 1866 Copeland was appointed the head glass and china manufacturer to the Prince of Wales, so it's safe to say that Goss was mingling with some big names, even before his career got off the ground. 
 

Not content to stick to current practices, William constantly experimented with new ways to make pottery, carrying out wacky experiments in his stables. Being a trained chemist, he invented the enamels of the heraldic china that he'd eventually be famous for. He perfected the method of creating jeweled porcelain, by indenting the place for the jewel while it was still soft, and then inserting the jewel prior to firing, letting the contraction of the clay during firing hold the jewel in place. It seems common sense really, but what do I know? In 1851 he won an award for it, and that would be the first of many. He made headlines with a showroom displaying his work, and he quickly became Copelands chief artist. Allegedly he designed a jeweled dessert service which was purchased by the Shah of Persia and is apparently still being used in Tehran today. 

 

This building in 1916- Photo not mine, obviously

 

The Copeland-Goss partnership went tits up. The details are vague but in 1858 Goss and Copeland broke up, and went their separate ways. People say that this is due to clashes over managerial decisions but the truth is William just needed to be his own boss. He was doomed to forever butt heads with anyone else who had conflicting opinions or could undermine his authority. But due to his temper and stubborn nature, once he wrote someone out of his life, they stayed out. But this didn't stop him being vindictive. In the industrial hellscape where Goss could have his pick of any number of locations, he decided to open up his own business just across the road, within spitting distance of his rival. 

 

Goss worked there until 1870, producing busts and figurines, preferring ornaments over functional items. Numerous examples exist on the internet, many in the form of Ebay listings.

 

(Photo credit: Google or ebay. I forget.)

 

A Goss bust of Clytie. He was making these as early as 1859. Goss created things that interested him, and certainly seemed to love the stories that were attached to his models as much as he loved producing them. Clytie was a nymph who fell in love with the personification of the sun, and spent her time watching the sun cross the sky until she turned into a sunflower.

 

The 1861 census lists Goss as being 28 years old, the head of his family, employing fourteen men, twelve women and 34 boys. It must have been a bit of a creche at the factory back in the 1860s, but hey-ho. 

Also according to this census he had three children, Georgiana, who had been born in 1855, Godfrey, who had been born in 1857, and his firstborn Adolphus, who had been born in 1854. Adolphus is said to be named after the King of Sweden, Gustavus Adolphus. Some sources say he was born in 1868, but I'd be very interested to know how he managed to get onto the 1861 census if that was the case. Goss also had his younger brother named Abner living with him, and one servant. 

 

Abner worked for Goss as the foreman, but would eventually leave to get married and start a family. It's said that Goss didn't regard his younger brother very highly, and was hyper critical of everything he did.

Goss would go on to have other children too, starting with Eva Adeline in 1862, who became something of the family scribe.

(Image of Eva Adeline Goss, not mine, obviously)

One of his more well known employees is a William Wood Gallimore, who left in 1863 to go to Ireland. Allegedly at this time, ten other employers also jumped ship and followed him, indicating that all was not well at the Goss Factory. The Beleek factory in Ireland subsequently became famous for eggshell porcelain, and admitted that it obtained the method of manufacturing it from Goss employees. This eggshell porcelain, the thinnest and most delicate porcelain ever made, had actually won Goss an award a year earlier, so it must have been a bitter blow.

But for some reason he welcomed the traitors back in 1866. Or at least, what was left of them. Gallimore had lost his right arm in an accident, but had become equally skilled with his left. Eva Adeline would write that his methods often appeared careless, but somehow his hurried dabs actually produced works of beauty. He soon became Goss's chief modeler. Unfortunately for him, Goss went bankrupt.

A chap called William Adams Peake came along in 1868, likely promising to help Goss get back on his feet. They traded as Goss & Peake for a bit, manufacturing terracotta. But in 1869, Peake was jailed for having quite a lot of debt. It seems he was using Goss to pull himself back onto his feet too. But no matter. Goss was discharged of his own bankruptcy that September, and carried on alone. 

In 1870, he came here. 

 

(Photo taken 1962, not mine, obviously)

Right, after that, it's finally time to slip inside!

 

The building is falling to pieces. A good fart would bring the whole place crashing down, so access was pretty easy. What I wasn't expecting was so many old pottery moulds still here. I had to be very careful where I put my feet as I made my way around the place, because this stuff is antique. I'm no expert, but some of the most collectable Goss stuff could have their moulds right here in this room. That's crazy!

 

But it's even weirder to have intensely researched a man and his family from over a hundred years ago, knowing that they would have been familiar with this exact building.

 

Goss was an interesting character. He believed in hard work, and he respected honesty and effort. He believed that anyone who was not useful in some way would be punished for it in the afterlife. If one was willing to pull their weight, he was a good employer. In fact he was arguably nicer to his workers than he was to his family. He would mingle with the workers and befriend them, but if they were sent to him a second time they would be threatened with dismissal. Being sent to him a third time would certainly be the last. But he very much preferred to build good relations with his employees. This was before a lot of human rights regulations existed, so it was quite rare that someone wasn't simply exploiting their workers. Rather he saw them as aiding him in their personal project. Sometimes he'd employ a whole family just to befriend the entire lot. 

 

He was also fairly generous. If one of his workers was struggling financially, and he knew them to be a hard worker, he would slip them a little extra. If he knew that they were saving up for something, he would sometimes provide the additional wages to cover the cost. His only condition was that they never tell anyone. He wanted to be giving, but he knew that it would be feeding time at the zoo if he became known for it. He wanted to reward hard workers, but not have them only work hard in order to get rewards.

 

A quartet of happy, hard working Gosslings, who may have worked in this exact building. Photo not mine, obviously.

Williams charitable nature also extended to the local community, seeing as he was one of the few people in the area with an actual large, prosperous garden, while so many were living in poverty. He grew fruit and vegetables, and he would often give these to people who didn't have gardens. He conversed with tramps, and he deplored waste to the point that he would wear his clothes until they were unwearable, and only buy new ones when he absolutely had to. In contrast to this, he'd buy for his children whatever garments they desired, so long as their older clothes were handed down to the less fortunate.

 He also had a great sense of humour. One day during a period of heavy snow, he learned of a religious villager who was beating his son for working on the sabbath. His sons crime had been rounding up the chickens and putting them in a shed just in case they died in the snow, and let's be honest, that being a sin because it was a Sunday is fucking stupid. William was religious, and he disapproved of working on the sabbath too, but he also had common sense to see that the boy had done the right thing, and decided that the abusive father should be punished. The following Saturday there was more heavy snowfall, and William took his children to the villagers house in the dead of night, and completely blocked his doors with snow, meaning he'd either have to dig through the snow or miss Sunday service. Who's the sinner now?

 

Here's a close up of one of the Goss moulds still in the derelict factory. Liquid clay would be poured into these. The clay then formed a thin skin, and the remains of the liquid were poured out. The moulds were then split open, the pottery removed ready for firing.

The thing is, Goss's own enamel recipes made his work unrivaled, but he also sought to make is pottery affordable, and he wanted to revolutionise the manner in which it was made in order to achieve this goal. To this end he experimented with new techniques and in 1873 he even registered for a patent for improvements in the technique of manufacturing various ceramics and jewelry.

 

In regards to marriage, Williams standards for women would, quite simply, not stand today. It's no surprise really that he grew to loathe his wife. She had a personality, after all. As such he barely spent any time with her. He would spend the days working, the afternoons taking the children out, and the evenings in his study. His beloved study was filled with curiosities, ancient coins, antiques, writings, random experiments, and other bizarre things. His fascination with nature once led to him leaving raw meat in there just so that he could attract flies and observe the entire egg laying process, right down to watching the maggots hatch. The odour must have been fairly abysmal, but everyone was forbidden to enter without an invitation. It was his private space, arranged entirely to suit himself. He would lock himself in there and vanish from the world for hours. It was this protectiveness over his personal space that led to his ultimate separation from his wife in 1877. 

One day the gardener left a ladder propped up against the house, and with the study window open and Goss away at the factory, his wife got curious and decided to venture inside the mysterious study. But then came home and discovered her trespassing on his private domain, and hit the roof. After an incredibly brutal argument the two never spoke again.

 

They ended up living in separate houses, having nothing to do with each other. He even had all photos of her burned. It was only because his son, Godfrey, took some to America with him that any pictures of her exist at all.

His children were forced to manage the situation, mediate between the two, ensure they were never in the same place at the same time. They said that when the two of them were in the same room, it was just uncomfortable. 

It seems a bit silly to a normal person. His wife must have been completely baffled for such a small transgression having such an impact. But let's be honest, William Goss was totally neuro-diverse. It would have gone undiagnosed back then but I can spot the Neuro-Spicy from a mile away. Or in this case, from a century away. 

 

Now onto the best part of any abandoned building, the toilets.

 

The colour scheme and decay make these perhaps the most attractive abandoned toilets I've ever seen. A hundred or so years ago, this is where the Gosslings would have come to shit. Perhaps, while on the factory floor mingling with the workers, Goss himself has pissed in here.

 

 

 They're still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs.

 

Goss was actually rather progressive, and often campaigned for better working conditions and regular holidays, often voicing his controversial opinions in letters to newspapers under the pseudonym "Ceramicus." I bet absolutely NOBODY saw through that.

One of the things he wrote, quite shocking in the late 1800s, was that "Negros," if sufficiently educated and given the same benefits as white people, would actually be just as capable. He said it might take a generation or two, but it could be done. He actually befriended black people, and wrote "It is my belief that the negro will grow revengeful against the children of his old masters, and will ultimately claim part of the new world for an empire of his own, and may prove a formidable neighbour, and turn the tables on the race of his old masters."

 

It's not exactly the sort of thing one expects from a rich white man in the late 1800s, especially now when Facebook is full of man-babies acting like the world is ending because of The Little Mermaid. But I digress.

 

Goss also loved animals, and tried to raise awareness of their cruel treatment in slaughterhouses. He happily left spiderwebs alone in his study and office, believing them to have just as much right to inhabit the area as he did. He was convinced that his dog, Paddy, was clairvoyant, and would carry out numerous experiments to test this theory. Paddy once escaped from his home near this factory, and made his way across ten miles of countryside, showing up at Williams other house just over an hour later, despite having only made the journey on a train. 

 

The Goss brood loved their gardens too, and even when he wasn't living there William gave his family instructions on how to maintain it. He forbade the gardener to weed out the wildflowers because he didn't want regimental orderliness with his garden. He wanted nature to be nature, chaotic and wild. No daisy rake was permitted on his grass. He also told his children to leave a little joy in everyone he met, because it cost nothing, but meant so much. He didn't leave any joy in his wifes life, but evidently she didn't count.

But Goss also had a petty side, and this sometimes seeped through into his pottery. One of his creations was a spill vase resembling the disgraced lawyer, Edward Kenealy, who was disbarred for abusing witnesses in a case. The said case was quite high profile. Kenealy was supporting a man trying to get his mitts on a family estate by pretending to be Roger Tichborne, who was lost at sea some years earlier.

Goss thought a spill vase would suit him, because it depicted him with an empty head.

 

 (Photo not mine, obviously.)

It was in 1878 that Williams friend, Llewellyn Jewitt, wrote the Ceramic Art of Great Britain, and wrote at great length about how great William Goss was. Of all of Williams connections, this one proved to be one of the few that endured. His chief modeler, one-armed Gallimore, would go on to retire in America in 1886, only to be replaced by a man called Joseph Astley. Astley religiously carried out his bosses every instruction, and was described by Eva Adeline as an extra pair of hands for her father.

 

The 1881 census says that Goss was 47, employing 17 men, and living with his wife, his daughters Georgiana, Eva Adeline, Edith, and Florence, as well as his sons Godfrey, Victor, and Huntley, named after the founder of Huntley & Palmers biscuits. The long suffering brother of William, Abner, had departed to start a family a year earlier. Likewise, Williams son Adolphus had also moved out.

 

His absence, along with Abners, isn't surprising. While publicly Williams children adored him, within their own circles they voiced their outrage at his favouritism, particularly in that he seemed to like Jewitts children more than his own. It seems that while he was nice to everyone around him, even the maggots that feasted on the raw meat he'd left out on his desk, Goss could be pretty cruel to his own children. He often alternated between his favourites, and if he felt that someone was in the wrong, he would punish them with cold silence, or by making them sleep on the floor instead of the bed.  

 

He forbade his daughters to attend balls, unless they were invited by the Jewitts. Often people would invite the entire family to events and Goss would just go by himself without telling them.

But as his brood grew older they did become more vocal, and Edith wrote to Godfrey in 1885 describing a very fiery argument between her and her father over his favouritism towards Georgiana and Florence.  Godfrey was in America at this point, and Edith told him that their father was impossible to live with now, and while she missed her brother, leaving their family was the best thing he ever did for himself.

Edith would go on to marry an employee of the dentist, unfortunate-named Dr Crapper, who collaborated with Goss to produce porcelain false teeth, which were then sent to Africa to be jewelry after cannibalism was outlawed. Apparently that's a gap in the market just begging for Williams generous nature. Can't eat people and use their body parts as Jewelry? Don't worry, Goss has your back.

Edith's children would eventually move to New Zealand, and become weirdly isolated from the others, with Adolphus daughter Dolly later remarking "For some reason we just didn't stay in touch with them."

Pictured- Edith, Florence and Eva Adeline Goss. Photo not mine, obviously.

 

Not pictured above is Georgiana, Williams favourite, so I'll include her below. She seems to have seen a very different side to her father as she never said a bad word about him. She became something of a traveling companion for him, and as such she often socialised with the children of Williams friend, Jewitt. She even married his son, Edwin Jewitt in 1886, and went to care for his mother as she died. At that point, Eva Adeline took over as Williams traveling companion. It's worth noting that none of the Goss siblings particularly liked Edwin, but much of this could come down to jealousy, as the Jewitts got a lot more attention than them.

Georgiana was very happy though, confessing to Eva Adeline that she'd been happier in her few years with Edwin than she'd been in her entire life. But unfortunately, Georgianas life was cut short at the age of 34. She had one miscarriage and two children, Anie and Clara. But Clara died just four months after she was born. It seems that it was childbirth that killed Georgiana, as Eva Adeline writes "The little baby whose birth caused so much sorrow has followed its poor mother." 

Joseph Astley produced a bust of Georgiana but it wasn't commercially available. Instead it was given to their friends and family.

But in regards to this factory, it was in 1880 that Williams firstborn, Adolphus, joined the firm, followed shortly after by his brothers, Victor, Huntley and pre-America Godfrey. Poor Godfrey was a bit of a black sheep, having dropped out of school. His lack of education would forever alienate him from his family, and William would find it hard to reconcile with his sons blatant disregard for his high standards. Godfrey felt more at home among the factory workers than with his family in managerial roles. Ironically despite his lack of education, he was more like his father than the other siblings, with his stubbornness, intensity and inability to forgive. Eventually he fell in love with one of the factory paintresses, a young lady named Alice Buckley, and was determined to run away and make a life for her in America. 

Godfrey and Alice's families disapproved of their budding romance, which led to a vicious circle, as neither one was keen to introduce their lover to their family, which led to further suspicion from their families. William Goss must have known Alice. He employed her, after all. But the rest of Godfrey's family did not. 

Nevertheless, his brothers supported his decision, and Adolphus and Victor accompanied him to Liverpool to see him off on his trip across the ocean.

Having escaped his father, Godfrey rarely wrote to his family. William sent him £5 every time he did, but Godfrey was proud and didn't want to be bribed into writing. The truth is, the family disapproval of Alice made him bitter. Adolphus and Edith actually lied that Alice was seeing someone else, which only exacerbated Godfrey's desire to do without them.

 

But the correspondence from the Goss siblings to Godfrey actually provide an excellent source of information for the family dynamic. The unfortunate fact was that they were unable to voice their issues with their dad in person, so they used the pen to moan and groan. As a result, many letters that reached Godfrey would only focus on the negative.

 

Godfrey did write to his father once, facetiously signing it "Your obedient son," which William then bragged about, claiming that it was a sign that Godfrey was regretting his actions and was repenting. His siblings knew that this letter was sarcastic, and Victor wrote to Godfrey mocking their father for his inability to see it. Victor also reassured Godfrey that he had nothing to repent for, and provided him with an alternate address to write to, because their father was sure to read it if it came to the family house.

Godfrey struggled at first when he went to America. He apparently couldn't stand American girls. In America, the tradition of keeping Sundays as a holy day wasn't so strict, so he felt he was among a bunch of wretched sinners. He didn't like his local churches, so he resolved to try extra hard to be a good person in order to make up for not attending. 

He got himself a farm which he planned to run with his family once Alice arrived, and in the meantime he hired people to run it while he got a job in a pottery. He proved himself to be a hard worker at the potteries there, firing kilns and supervising staff. But he was working alongside a chap called Mr Rivers, another immigrant and the son of one of the Goss Factories rivals. As such in 1883 when Godfrey wrote to his father to ask for his unrivaled enamel recipes so that he could make the best pottery in the US, William refused because believed Rivers would pass the recipes on to his own father in the UK. 

Godfrey was a proud man and it had been a very difficult step for him to ask for help from his father. As such, to be rejected made him very bitter. He wrote to his siblings  "That was the one thing I have ever asked him to do for me, and it will be the last."

 

In 1884 he finally started his own pottery, and cut the Rivers bloke out. After that his father did send him the enamel recipes, and Adolphus followed it up with a smug letter about how their father wasn't so bad after all. It only really annoyed Godfrey more because he'd just splashed out on getting loads of cool pottery recipes from Paris, but hey-ho. Godfrey's struggles were not over. He found out that his farm workers were stealing half of the grain, eggs and fruit, and also that his house keeper was stealing from him too. So needless to say he was off to a bumpy start. Nevertheless, he was happy to announce that in the US pottery industry he was the first colour maker. All other products at that point were imports from England.

 

Godfrey conspired with Alice to bring her over to America too. Initially he planned on going over to the UK to collect her, but being a bit too trusting and naive, he was scammed out of all his money by a guy who said he would help him get a patent on a spinning ring he had invented. In the end, Godfrey could only sell all of his livestock to pay for Alice's solo journey. Victor took her to Liverpool and saw her off on the ship. They married in a registry office as soon as she arrived.

 

Florence Goss said it was the rule of their family to run away. Williams father had run away. His own son Godfrey had run away. Adolphus would also have a son run away. Even Godfrey's son Archie would run away. Everyone in the family needs to be their own boss.

 

(Photo of Adolphus and his wife and brood, not mine obviously)

 

In contrast to Godfrey, Adolphus was a natural businessman, and like his father he too needed to be his own boss, so he also found working in the family business to be rather difficult. Nevertheless, despite butting heads with his father, he rarely spoke badly of him.

 

Adolphus had his eyes on Nellie, pictured sat down in the darker dress. She seemed to have a calming effect on him, which was fortunate because he had inherited his fathers temper. Nellie had resisted marriage and when she finally accepted the proposition, she asked for a quiet wedding. Adolphus fooled her with a surprise honeymoon, telling her that they were on the train to Shrewsbury for a business trip when really they were heading for North Wales. 

William wasn't about to let this be purely about the newlyweds though, and insisted that Adolphus bring some pottery along for marketing purposes. 

 

Very much like his father, Adolphus was strict but had a great sense of humour. He also loved photography, and quickly learned how to put photographs onto glass so that he and his brother Huntley could do slide shows for the family.

 

 It's certainly possible that Adolphus regarded his own bloodline as being better than the common folk. In 1896, his sister Eva Adeline had a cycling accident. She severely injured her leg and took two months to recover. Adolphus said it was "only the purity of her blood that prevented her from needing amputation," which is a very odd thing to say. Was it some sort of master race thing? Was it a religious thing because she was sweet and innocent? We'll never know. The important thing is Adolphus never became a medic.

 

But Adolphus is relevant to the story of the factory more so than his other siblings purely because he introduced something completely new to the pottery world. This genius idea was heraldic porcelain, better known as crested china. Many would emulate it, but it was the Goss brood who created it. It's often a subject for debate whether it was specifically William or Adolphus who came up with this, but it seems to be a little bit of both.

William was very interested in heraldry, and coats of arms, and all that. He also acknowledged that nobody else was, and so while he was interested in making pottery that displayed a coat of arms, he kept it minimal. He'd make a china replica of a school or university displaying their personal crest. Either he or Adolphus also created the Goss families personal coat of arms, bearing the text "Se Inserit Astris," meaning "It is written in the stars."

Adolphus was a lot more ambitious than his father. Adolphus thought that heraldry could be something the public could get behind, if given a bit of a nudge. He also acknowledged that with the introduction of railways, the people of the UK now had a lot more travel prospects. Trains brought tourism. Seaside resorts were on the rise. Now people could make it to the beach, or to quiet country getaways, or anywhere else they wanted, for a lot less effort. Adolphus thought he could create a massive collecting frenzy if hundreds of towns across the UK had a place to buy a Goss souvenir trinket, each one bearing the coat of arms of the town where it was sold. Adolphus introduced the hard rule that a piece of china could only be sold in the town whose coat of arms it bore, and that the china would be restricted to one retailer in a particular area. If a town didn't have a coat of arms, Adolphus would make one. He made one for Hatfield, whose Goss coat of arms is vastly different to the official one, due to predating it. This whole thing was not a popular idea with his father. In fact William was pretty miffed. Adolphus really had to argue his case. 

Nevertheless, Goss crested China was a huge success. It encouraged collectors to travel, and to seek out the shops that sold the china while they were on holiday. So now, there were such location-specific trinkets, such as a tiny replica of Captain Cook, bearing the crest of Whitby, and only available there. That sort of thing. Thanks to Adolphus and his vision, 1888 was the best year the business ever saw, and more than 2,500 Goss trinkets of this theme were created.

Photo of heraldic china- credited to google

One of their earliest and most popular trinkets was Queen Victoria's Shoe. There's a bit of a story behind it. Victoria's father, the Duke of Kent, went to Sidmouth in 1819 and hired a shoemaker for the infant Victoria. The shoe maker enjoyed the job and made an identical pair for his own daughter. Years later, while Victoria had outgrown her baby shoes and lost them forever, the clone pair fell into the hands of the Goss agent in Sidmouth. She sent them to either William or Adolphus Goss, who copied it into China, knowing that this was essentially a china replicate of Queen Victoria's first shoe.

 

It was a massive hit, and demand continued long after Victoria's reign. Such later models can be identified by referring to her as "The Late Queen." Apparently she even purchased one herself.

 

(Victoria shoe trinket credit: Google.)

 

But Adolphus and his father would continue to butt heads. Both were leaders, not followers, and Adolphus referring to himself as "The Goss Boss" really infuriated William.

Eventually it seemed that the only way they could remain at peace within the same business was if they saw as little of each other as possible, and Adolphus opted to be the family traveler, going all over the country networking agents to sell from, and also sketching scenery so that they could make new designs in the factory. 

 

A lot of other potteries saw the success and jumped on the bandwagon. There were ten main potteries dominating the market, but another hundred or so smaller companies. William apparently saw this as flattering, but privately his family despaired that their brilliant idea was being ripped off.

 

But what blows my mind is that William Goss hated advertising. He said that if a product was any good, it would sell itself. So his success was entirely based on word of mouth, and given that its estimated that 90% of British homes had at least one piece by Goss in their house by 1900, that's pretty impressive. 

(Photo credit: Ebay)

One of the designs that really stood out to me was "The Peeping Tom of Coventry," which was created in 1893.

 

I absolutely had to look into the backstory of this. I'm sorry to anyone who came to look at a pottery, but this is one side quest I cannot resist. 

So the story goes that in the 1000s, Lady Godiva rode into Coventry naked. Peeping Tom didn't feature in the legend at first, but in 1681 someone painted the legend and included a man peeking out of his window to look at her. From that spawned a legend of Thomas the Tailor, who peeked on Lady Godiva naked and was struck blind by God. Back then, a lot of tailors had poor eyesight due to their long hours sewing by poor light, so it probably became something of a running joke. If a tailor had poor eyesight, his friends would be like "Peeking on the ladies again, yeah?" 

 

The term "Peeping Tom" originates from this legend, and there was actually a pub named the Peeping Tom which had a statue of Tom in the upstairs window.

 (Photo not mine, obviously)

 

This photo is from 1910. 

 

 (Photo not mine, obviously)

 

And this one''s from the 1960s, long after the pub had closed but still showing the Peeping Tom in the window upstairs. But that head has since been moved, and now sits on Hertford Street in Coventry.

 

The real Peeping Tom of Coventry. Photo credit: Google.

 

But there are other Peeping Toms. An entire statue of one, not just the bust, was in the Kings Head Hotel. It was blitzed during the war, but the statue was recovered.

Peeping Tom in the Kings Head Hotel before the war. Photo not mine, obviously.

Peeping Tom recovered from the blitz. Photo not mine, obviously

 

That's it for Peeping Tom. This blog sure takes me down some weird and wonderful tangents. Back to the damn factory...

 

 

There's a tiny little fireplace which I can't imagine heating up such a large area particularly well. According to the floor plan, this part of the building was a warehouse.

 

 It sure is weird to think that this building was familiar to people who I am writing about. I've read so much on these people who died long before I was born, and they probably looked at these exact same rooms once. 

The Goss empire chugged on through the 1880s and into the 1890s. But William now lived alone, with his daughters taking it in turns to live with him, unable to tolerate his temper for too long. But with his sons now working at his factory, he could relax a little, albeit pulling the strings from his home. With more time on his hands, he published the biography of his friend Llewellyn Jewitt. His house was becoming something of a museum of curiosities, including mummified cats, old swords, Egyptian artifacts, and other bizarre things. Adolphus wrote to Godfrey, telling him that it was worth him getting in touch with his father, because he had plenty of spare money now and it was only going on weird things. Godfrey might as well see if he can get a slice. Eva Adeline noted in her writings that her father was getting more antisocial as he got older, and that he was becoming harder and harder to live with. He had no favourite daughters now. None of them could do any good. He particularly infuriated her by taking the Jewitts on holiday, and leaving his own family at home. In 1890, William even spent Christmas with Edwin Jewitt, the widowed husband of his deceased daughter, and his grand daughter Anie, but that really seems fair enough. It can't have been easy for Edwin, raising his daughter alone.

 

Adolphus, meanwhile, was making loads of babies with his wife Nellie. Eva Adeline was not a fan of Nellie, referring to her as fat and lazy, and saying that their daughter Ethel was always dirty. In 1890, Nellie had her son Clarence Richard Goss, who preferred to go by Dick. Particularly cruel to Nellie after so many pregnancies, Eva Adeline described her as truly frightful to behold. Edith similarly described Nellie to Godfrey as the fattest woman in the country, saying that she has become something awful. She said that Nellie stayed in bed until dinner time, rests on the sofa until supper, does an hours sewing and then goes to bed until dinner time the next day.

 

Over in America, Godfrey started losing his eyesight due to all that exposure to chemicals without the proper protection. By 1990 he had to give up his business and work on his farm. Someone shot his cow, but he managed to nurse it back to health. But he was unsatisfied with life so he took off for Indiana. Initially he left his wife to manage the farm until he'd created a stable foundation for her at his new home. He got a new factory, hired his staff and trained them from scratch. When he was ready, Alice sold their livestock and joined him. Now able to use the Goss recipes given to him by his father, their relationship actually improved, and they wrote often. It later transpired that the reason he rarely responded to letters was because they were always addressed only to him, and that he only responded to letters addressed to "Godfrey and Alice," basically starving his family of communication as punishment for not accepting his wife. Eva Adeline actually flipped out and wrote him an angry letter about this, saying that he would not be at all welcoming if she were to run off with one her fathers employees. She got no response. 

But really, it was Victors time to shine.

 

Victor Goss was a freemason, joining in 1889, not content to be part of a pottery empire but seeking world domination and covering up alien abductions as well. In spite of having many freemason friends, William wasn't a freemason and mocked Victor for joining them. 

Victor was pretty rebellious against his strict father, and really wanted to go to sea, and even considered joining Godfrey in America. He wrote to Godfrey ranting about his father "He wont get fellows in a hurry who will stand as much rot as his own sons have done."

Even though Victor worked here at the factory, he didn't feel like he and his father were really hitting it off. As such he eventually ran away and hopped on a ship to New Zealand in 1884. He returned soon enough, expressing that he was content to have lived his dream, and now he was ready to settle down. He spoke so highly of his former crew that his father actually got them all gifts.

 

Much to Williams annoyance, Victor defended his mother when William spoke negatively of her. William was pretty cruel to him at times, but really it was health issues that bothered Victor the most.

 When he was 20 he developed an abscess in his leg that caused him to be out of work. He was pretty much an invalid for a while, cared for by his mother and sisters. Even when he got better, there was a hole in his thigh. He'd gain another abscess in his hip, and also Lumbago

Victor and his brother Huntley were a fairly formidable team when it came to running a business, and William seemed to feel threatened by this. It's rather laughable given that these are his children. He should ideally be training them to carry on after him rather than seeing them as his competition in his own firm. Adolphus had been driven off for similar reasons, but now William wanted to break up Huntley and Victor. Once Victor had recovered and was fit for work again, William gave him a years contract to work at the factory, and stay at his alternate address. William then had Huntley move in with him. Everyone, including Eva Adeline and their mother said this as to split the two brothers up. 

In 1885 Victor decided to follow Adolphus and become a traveling marketer. Huntley was made into the manager instead, and while he wasn't stupid, he was probably the least qualified candidate to take the reigns of the business.

Victor did come back briefly in 1889 and offered to help Huntley with the books, which were months behind. William wouldn't let him, and Victor flat out said that this was because the old man felt threatened by the idea of him working a managerial position. He said if it wasn't for his sisters and mother, he would just go to sea again and never come back. It seems that his paranoia and fear of being usurped was actually causing William to sabotage his own empire.

In 1890, when Godfrey had a child, Victor wrote to him saying that he hoped the child didn't take after their dad, because one was enough. He described William as a tyrant, saying that Edwin Jewitt was his favourite now. Victor hated Edwin, but tolerated him because he wanted to see his little niece, Anie. 

Victor sadly concluded that he'd never get married, purely because of his health issues and because he was traveling too much. 

 

Ceramic cottage images credited to Google or Ebay.

 
In 1893, the Goss factory began producing these ceramic cottages. They were places like Shakespeare's birthplace or Ann Hathaways cottage. Some of these are rarer than others due to changes. For example, they made Charles Dickens house in Rochester which was covered in ivy. When the ivy was later cut back from the house, two small windows were revealed, and the Goss factory modified their design to include the windows, making the earlier one even rarer. 

Such things probably came about due to Adolphus and Victor traveling all over the country. Sadly Adolphus soon left the company. A lazy Google search will reveal that he and his father had differences and this is why he left, but the truth is they always had differences. It didn't seem to bother Adolphus. He loved his job. In truth it was simply that he had loads of children now and wanted to be with his family instead of constantly traveling. Victor taking up his role meant that now he could focus on his home life. 

Adolphus and his family even took their niece Anie for a bit, because Edwin Jewitt remarried, and his new wife was a woman that the Goss family despised, who squandered Edwins assets, lost his estate, and was too idle to do anything productive. She treated Anie like shit, or so Anie said. She went to stay with her cousins, hoping to be treated better. But then at dinner, Anie noticed that Adolphus kept a cane over the kitchen door, which he used to beat his kids if they misbehaved. The most famous usage of the cane had been when Adolphus had returned home from a business trip and found that his children had tried to dig a hole to Australia in his garden. Anie smugly announced that she was never beaten, so after dinner Adolphus beat her with it. That whole plan of being treated nicer by her cousins sure did backfire. Of course, it was probably his way to show her that they were all equal under his roof, and he was having no child in his care believing that they were any better. 

Huntley was running the family business in the later 1890s and early 1900s, but in truth he was sick of his fathers shit, and even prior to being put in charge he was secretly learning pottery and all of his fathers recipes so that he could run away to America and join Godfrey there. That never came to fruition.

 

Huntley began dating a woman named Florence, and William Goss must have liked her because she was allowed into his study. Naturally, Huntley's mother disapproved of her. It's said that they had some disagreement on a trip to Buxton in 1896. In true petty Goss fashion, at Huntley's wedding in 1899 all of the gifts from his mother were addressed to him and him alone, with no mention of his wife. 

 

Seriously, nobody in this family can just be happy for each other, can they?

 

Huntley inherited his fathers temper and stubborn disposition, but perhaps not his unconditional love for nature. Godfrey had given him a dove as a pet, but the neighbours cat killed it. Huntley then killed the cat, and left it for the neighbours to find. The neighbours decided to get revenge by hanging the dead cat on a long pole, leaving it to dangle into Huntley's garden, forcing him to tolerate its stench as it rotted away. Huntley was not one to let others get the better of him. As far as he was concerned, the cat was a symbol of justice being done. He just ignored the cats rotting corpse.

Huntley collected stamps, but he had a great sense of humour about it. His daughter-in-law found a stamp collecting club that were holding regular meetings, and asked if Huntley wanted to go. Huntley laughed and said "What, go and hang out with a bunch of old fogies? No thank you."

Perhaps the most bitter blow to the company came in 1901 when the chief modeler Joseph Astley died. Williams interest in the factory died with him. Soon after, Victor, who had obtained a managerial role at this point, went to war in South Africa, and William couldn't bear to come to the factory and see his empty seat. 

Victor returned in 1902 to a massive party for returning soldiers. He was presented with a sword of honour that is now in a regimental museum in Lichfield. 

During this time, Huntley expanded the factory, and had this building made. Things were looking good. They had 120 staff between 1900 and 1914. William Goss, his health failing, wrote his will in 1904, but it seemed that his business was in good hands.

It's only fair to mention Florence Goss, Huntley's sister, not his wife. They are two different women. This isn't Telford.

Florence had a string of failed engagements. Her first potential husband was a lawyer who William discovered was into embezzlement. He quickly shut that one down. She was engaged again in but this potential husband was a little too religious for her, so she reluctantly called it off and ran away to Tewkesbury to become a nurse, eventually serving in South Africa as a medic while her brother fought in the conflict. 

Having been the last born before William and his wife decided they hated each other, Florence grew up finding their silence normal, and alternated between both homes and Adolphus. She's said to be a talented artist, and she loved parties, although she was rarely allowed to go to any. 

In 1905 she began seeing Albert Loring Murdock, creator of "Murdocks Liquid Food," who none of her family approved of, probably due to him being three years older than her dad, although she was 35 at this point so it wasn't legally dodgy, although it did transpire that they had been in contact through her teenage years so it is a little bit creepy. It seems to have become a bit of a joke. After the wedding she wrote to her mother saying "How long should a woman wait before giving in to her husbands desires?" to which her mother savagely responded "Do it quickly or he'll be dead."

Why didn't William love that woman? She sounds fantastic.  

In spite of their misgivings, the Goss family did make for him a china bullock advertising his liquid food on the side. 

 

Under the circumstances, namely Williams failing health, a big wedding was considered in bad taste. But while Florence was in the process of selling her house to pay for it, she was suddenly visited by Alice and her son Percy Goss, visiting from America. It seems that Eva Adeline had pleaded with Godfrey to see their father before he passed away, but being unable to make it, he'd sent Alice and Percy instead.

By the end of his life William was a recluse. He stopped inviting people over. He stopped his holidays. He stopped visiting the factory. He still asked after people, not caring any less than he had when he was outgoing, but he was content to be alone.

Sometimes he would often have Adolphus over, with his daughter Dolly being the new favourite. She knew instinctively when to chatter away relentlessly and when to give him his solitude. He wrote to Godfrey saying that he suffered from rheumatism, and Edith then wrote to Godfrey saying that it was actually gout.

William had a series of heart attacks, and his eyesight failed to the point that Eva Adeline had to read the newspapers to him. She would also read about the history of the town, so that William could reminisce. 

It was during this time that he asked her to collect all of his unpublished work and have it put to print, and also write a memoir on his life. She was horrified to be presented with such a task, and felt herself incapable. She asked if she could do it while he was alive, so that he could have some input, but William was adamant. He said that he trusted her more so than anyone else, and that she was the only one qualified to do such a thing, and he'd be happiest if she did it in her own way without interference. 

 

In a moment that is pretty comedic in hindsight, William Goss invited his family over, gave them a bit of a farewell speech, about how happy his life had been, and how everything he had ever wanted had happened, and then went to sleep. His pulse got so weak they were sure he had gone, but then he woke up perkier than ever and said "Thank God I got that speech out of the way before I fell asleep," and then started getting on like normal. Miraculously his farewell speech nap rejuvenated him, and he could use the stairs once again. Even in his last few days people said he looked radiant for someone about to die.

Rather than complain, he spent his last weeks praising everyone, from his family to his servants, and their families.

 

 

There's a few offices here in the warehouse, and a safe containing a smaller safe, just to keep things extra safe. 

 

There was a myth that William Goss hung himself in this factory, and that the children had taken over the firm, and simply pretended that he was home being a recluse. This tale was still in circulation by 1984, so it got some legwork. 

 

But the official story is that William Henry Goss died peacefully in 1906 at the age of 73. His family had been taking it in turns to watch him, and it was Eva Adeline who was present when he passed. He was buried his his regular clothes, not burial robes. The year before he died he wrote "Life, for all its drawbacks, is worth living, and that to have been born in a civilised country in the 19th Century is a boon for which a man can never be sufficiently thankful." 

 

He left his entire company to Victor and Huntley, although Adolphus got £4000 to compensate him for not getting the factory. According to the internet, that's the equivalent of almost £390,000 today. The will states that this "will fairly compensate him for having devised and bequeathed my said manufactory." The only condition for him having this money was that he didn't use it to set up a business in opposition to his brothers. In a way it was cruel. Adolphus was 53, and his career had been cut off, and he was too old to train for another. Perhaps the business could have survived if he had stayed. 

 

Surprising everyone, Williams will also requested that £50 be given to his wife every year. That's about £4,900 by today's standards. All she said was "Oh Good, now he's forgiven me." Given his wealth and that he was finally dead, and the fact that she had a dry sense of humour, this was probably said in sarcasm. In 1908 she also died of heart failure, and since their marriage dynamic wasn't publicly known, and because their children perhaps wanted to have the last laugh on their tyrant father, or perhaps because she did, she was buried right next to him.

 

 Mere months after their fathers passing, Florence got married. They moved to America, and Florence paid for her servant, April, to join them, to ensure that British standards were maintained. After paying for Aprils first class ticket, April got to America and ran away, getting better work elsewhere. 

Adolphus kept in touch with Florence's daughter, Valentine. Rather comically he hated Valentines handwriting. In response to her letters, he wrote the entire alphabet, mimicking her handwriting, and then repeated the letters next to them in the way he felt they should look.

 

Godfrey managed to come visit in 1906, fresh from 20th Century America, so probably suffering from Type 1 Diabetes. When his inheritance came through, he packed up his factory and bought land in Oklahoma where he set up a moderately successful farm. Eventually he'd go on to Texas. Although not a good businessman, he was intelligent and adventurous with chemistry. He designed batteries, and he improved the carbon transmitters in telephones, and even alleges to have developed a chemical cure for cancer, although many of his ideas either didn't see the light of day or he was scammed out of them by people who he trusted too easily. His sons Adolphus and Frank went into business founding Goss Motor Co. 

Eva Adeline did write Williams biography, but she left out much of the personal disputes, the family dynamic and the factory, because she felt Adolphus was better qualified. In the end it was the families letters to Godfrey that would give up these secrets. Her write-up was mainly about her fathers beliefs, values and eccentricities. It was published in 1908. 

 

There are a couple more of the Goss brood who perhaps deserves a mention, and that's the rogue son of Adolphus, Clarence Richard, better known as Dick, and his sister, Ethel.

 

Dick found his fathers strictness intolerable and being the most adventurous of the brood had perhaps suffered the cane a little too often. He was only sixteen when he ran away, and his siblings denied any knowledge, although it's said that his brother Vernon had helped him plan it. Dick stowed away on a boat. He was discovered but convinced the crew to let him stay and earn his keep. He ended up in Australia, where he wrote to his uncle Victor to say where he was. Adolphus promptly sent him money and asked that he return home.

Upon his return, he was scruffy and using all manner of slang, so Adolphus made him sleep in the stable. Dick tolerated it for two days before running away again. He did show up at his cousin Anie's house asking for a job, but she didn't recognise him and turned him away.

In 1909 Dick finally returned home again, and Adolphus sent him to this factory to work. But not being one to sit still, he soon took on his fathers job as a traveling marketer. 

 

Dick would marry, divorce and remarry in 1930, due to his wife being unfaithful. Adolphus didn't believe in remarriage, so he never accepted the new wife. In a rather ballsy or stupid move, Dick sailed with her to America on their own boat, lacking an engine and relying purely on sails. They ended up wrecked in Barbados, but they survived and made their way to Canada where he became a mountie.  

What a fucking crazy awesome life.

In contrast, Ethel was definitely the favourite of Adolphus brood, but nevertheless there was a sense of comradery with this lot. One amusing story tells of how Ethel fainted in church, and her brother Vernon carried her out. Dick hated church so he whispered to his sister Dolly, telling her to pretend to faint. She did so, and he then carried her out too. 

Ethel got into singing and stage production. She sang her first concert at age 23, and the newspapers roasted her for being nervous. That could have been the end of her creative spark, but she persevered and got better.

 

She was single for most of her life, having turned down a proposal from a chap called Harry. Harry then went on to marry someone else, but then ended up widowed. In 1935 Dick, now the manager of a hotel in Sidmouth, invited both Harry and Ethel down to visit, knowing that they would bump into each other. They were married a year later. I guess Dick was a bit of a brat, but he had a good heart.

 

Trouble came to the Goss factory in 1913 when Victor died on a riding accident. It seems that a wasp nest fell from a tree and his horse stepped on it. In the following attack, Victor was thrown from the horse and landed on his head. It's said that if he'd survived to steer the company through the war, it might have survived. Victor left loads of money to his employees, who were like friends. But he didn't intend on dying so soon, so even though he'd told Dick he'd include him in his will, he never got around to it. Luckily Huntley wasn't a nob, and made sure Dick got something. 

The company now belonged to Huntley. The common copied-and-pasted not-actually-read-by-the-poster urbex story says that Huntley wasn't interested in progress or the business, and this is why the business failed. I seem to have dug a little deeper, and found conflicting information. He was depressed about losing Victor, and he lost a vast number of workers to the first world war, all of which must have been pretty stressful for him. But to say that Huntley wasn't interested or progressive is contradicted by the simple fact that he came up with the most bizarre line of pottery that was ever to come out of the Goss factory, and that was war-themed crested china. Planes, zeppelins, tanks, submarines, bullets and grenades. If it was war related, Huntley made it and put a coat of arms on it.

 

War themed crested china range credited to Google.

 

One particular Goss piece that stands out is "Shrapnel Villa," which is described as "Tommies dugout somewhere in France," perhaps indicating a lighthearted tone to Huntley's approach.

Tommies were a slang term for the common British troop, actually short for Tommy Atkins, a term with dubious origins. The term caught on during World War One when the Germans would call out "Tommy" if they wanted to speak to a British soldier. The French soon caught hold of the trend too.

As well as Shrapnel Villa there were models of bombs. But not generic bombs. Huntley made specific bombs. For example one would say on the side "Model of the German bomb dropped on Bury St Edmunds on April 30, 1915."

 

Some of the tanks give a little insight into the war. There's no official record of a tank being called "Donnerblitzen," after Santas reindeers, and we'd never know that a bunch of soldiers did give it that nickname if not for the china. Similarly, some of the tanks are labeled as HMLS, a historic nugget that many wouldn't consider today. When tanks were new they were called His Majesty's Land Ships.

But this pottery range is all adorably jingoistic. The war moulds were destroyed a year after being made, to make them even more collectable, again throwing dirt on the rumour that Huntley wasn't interested in progress. 

While numerous Goss children fought in the war, two sons of Adolphus, Raymond and Hubert, were killed. Raymond had actually been in Ypres with Dick in 1915 when a shell dropped between them. Raymond died instantly but Dick was only injured. He spent some time recovering and was even offered his job back as a traveler for the Goss factory. He declined and gave his job to a woman, which was controversial at the time. But he wanted to go back to the front lines. Hubert went missing at the Somme in 1916. His body was never found. 

Vernon was also wounded and returned home. There was an influenza outbreak at the military hospital where he stayed and his friend was doing the swabbing, so Vernon commissioned the factory to create a plate showing a military man taking swabs in disguise as a doctor.

Goss plate photo not mine.

This is one piece of Goss you won't find on Ebay. It was designed by Huntley's daughter Margaret, who worked here as a paintress. Similarly her siblings, John, Noel and Geoffrey were all employed here too.

I saw one urbex post that said that since a series of fires, the upper floors are now impossible to explore. I want to clarify that they are half right. The stairs leading to the upper floors are long gone. But as we know, I don't need stairs to get upstairs. I can be pretty creative. However, it's fairly obvious how one would get to the upper floors in this place. There's a great big conveyance ramp.

The rollers made it a rather treacherous climb, as they turned under my hands and feet. The platform beneath the rollers was incredibly flimsy and wouldn't support my weight. Keep in mind that it's actually pitch black in here too. For someone with dyspraxia, it was quite comedic. Nevertheless I persevered.

 

Here we are at the top. What would Huntley say if he saw the disregard for health and safety in his own pottery?

 

According to the floor plan I found, this floor was the enamel workshop, and that is pretty humbling. The enamels used were unique creations of William Goss, and they were made up here. 

In 1918 the cessation of hostilities was commemorated by the production of special peace souvenirs, but the Goss factory was never the same. In the 1920s there was only eighty people working here, and sixty of them did the manufacturing and decorating while the others did accounting and office work.

The coal strike of 1921 ended many potteries, but Huntley was determined to power through the hard times. He had to use cheaper clay, but it was impossible to make the heraldic trinkets with it, meaning they had to end one of their most popular lines too. They had to experiment with the new, cheap clay because they hadn't worked with it before. 

It's easy to say that Adolphus or Victor could have done a better job than Huntley, but given that all this shittery with the war and the coal strike were external issues, it's impossible to know for sure.

 

But for the factory, it was time for the Goss family to leave. Huntley sold it 1929. The real reason isn't that he wasn't progressive or interested, but that he fell on hard times financially. The factory was operating at a loss, and he was dipping into his own pocket to pay the wages, a generous move but not financially viable if the hiccup turns out to be long term. As the ship sank, Huntley used his own wealth to make sure nobody suffered, even selling his own house to do it. Everyones wages were paid right up until the very end.

 

 

There's a lot less clutter up here, and minimal vandalism, but some glorious decay. I actually quite like it. 

 

The Goss factory was taken over by Harold T Robinson. He is described as a serial entrepreneur and at times controversial businessman who came to dominate the pottery trade. In 1903 Harold formed his own firm to manufacture the heraldic china that had been popularised by Goss, so he was initially one of their rivals. But rather obsessively he acquired other makers of heraldic china, and in 1910 formed the private company JA Robinson & Sons Ltd, as a holding company for his many other pottery businesses. 

 

In 1920 he purchased Cauldon Potteries, and I think they purchased the assets and company from Huntley Goss for £2000. That's just over £103,000 by todays standards. But the bank retained the premises as the main mortgagee, so Robinson then borrowed money to buy the factory, and then bought the assets from Cauldon for £2500, which seems odd given that he owned Cauldon. I'm not entirely sure how business ownership works, but this doesn't seem right.

 

Robinson knew better than to drop the name of a popular brand, and launched WH Goss Ltd in 1931, using original Goss moulds and others from his other companies. For collectors, the original Goss and Robinson Goss can be differentiated by "England" being printed on the bottom by Robinson.

 

In 1932 Robinson had about 30 companies, but the great depression hit, and the domestic and overseas pottery industries were decimated.  Cauldon Potteries went into receivership in 1932. Robinson himself filed for bankruptcy and the ensuing examination of his finances revealed a tangled web of purchases, sales, share issues, borrowing from close friends, loans, and so on. Eyebrows were raised over the many inter-company transactions by companies that Robinson owned. Shares in one company were sold to another. 

He had massive liabilities, that is, debts that are frozen when he's bankrupt but would need paying once he was no longer bankrupt. 

But then between February and April 1934 his financial liabilities, to the shock and confusion of the  judge, plummeted from £238,706 to essentially nothing. One claimant owed £11,607 was now only owed £346. One owed £58,865 was now owed only £1,677, and another owed £33,546 was now owed only £811.The judge was told that these debts had been either waived or paid on his behalf by associates and friends. But nobody really knows how Robinson did it. 

 

Nevertheless, Robinson never made pottery at the Goss Works again.

The factory ceased production in 1940. It was still used for storage by an electrical company, before closing in 1944. It was then purchased by The Crown Bedding Company in 1945 to pack parachutes during the final months of the war, after which they used the premises to make car seats and mattresses. 

 

A man called Mr Angel from London purchased the factory, and found loads of unsold pottery and moulds, along with loads of unopened post containing orders for Goss china. He had most of it destroyed.

 

On this floor we have an actual staircase, which means I won't have to repeat my antics on the conveyor ramp.

 

But there's much less floor up here. 

 

 

There's a sink over there, with no means of getting to it. Someday it will come crashing down, much like the one next to it has already done. 

According to my floor plan of this place, this upper floor was the Print Workshop, which in a pottery is where images would get placed on the pottery before it was fired. It's highly possible that Huntley's daughter, Margaret Goss, once washed her hands in that sink over there.

 

 

So in 1951, Angel sold the site to Washington Potteries, and then in 1956 a lot of the moulds were acquired by Ridgeway Potteries. The factory then ended up in the hands of Portmeiron Potteries Ltd, which were founded in 1960 by Susan Williams-Ellis, the daughter of Sir Clough Williams-Ellis, who created the Portmeiron Italian village in Wales, where The Prisoner was filmed.  

Susan's no longer with us, but she seems like she was a nice lady, always smiling and clearly passionate about what she was doing. She actually died at Portmeiron in 2007, but can best be remembered for going against the grain and creating individual motifs for every piece in her pottery collection. People in 1972 said nobody would ever stock it because there were too many designs, but Susan persevered and proved them all wrong. 

 

Unfortunately it was Portmeiron Potteries who demolished the majority of the Goss factory, leaving us with just this building left to explore.

 

 

There is a rather bizarre Falklands connection to the Goss family, which can be traced all the way back to Williams brother, Jacob Napoleon. Jacob was one of the first settlers in the Falklands when he was just seventeen, being transported by a Stanley Goss, of uncertain relation. The capital city of Stanley is actually named after him. Jacob built a life from scratch doing farm labour. This farm was apparently offering work to anyone who wanted to come and help colonise the Falklands, and would pay for someones travel in exchange for their labour. But the pay was so bad that the governor actually asked that future settlers be warned against this deal. Nevertheless Jacob carved out a life for himself, helped build many of the houses in Stanley, got married and had  nine children.

 

He later invited his and Williams father Richard Goss over. But in 1868 Richard would die in Jacobs hotel, of "debility." That is, physical weakness as a result of illness. Three days later, Jacob was dead too, due to a stroke. But he'd written a will, and left everything, including the hotel to his wife and children. However they were later said to be destitute. The money was all gone. 

 

It's said that they trusted their money with a priest, and that traces of poison were found on both Jacob and Richard. The disappearance of the money, and the proximity of the two deaths gave rise to a rumour that they had been murdered, and the money stolen by the priest, Rev Charles Bull

 

(Photo not mine, obviously)

 

You gotta admit, he does look shifty. 

Rev Charles Bull actually had a pretty shifty history. And not in the usual priestly ways. I don't think any kids were harmed. In fact he was often mocked because his wife was ten years older than him. She was also the ninth child of George Rex, the illegitimate son of King George III. 

No, Rev Bull's shifty ways were often financial in nature. He didn't pay rent or anything anything if he could find a way to slither out of it. He was actually jailed for such evasion in 1854, two years before he was ordained. 

He arrived at the Falklands in 1859 but was incredibly displeased by the religious indifference of the people there. The settlers at the Falklands didn't fear God enough, it seemed. He was appointed a position as the inspector of schools, but he soon quit when the governor forbade bible reading in school.

I'm not sure how true it is that he killed Jacob and Richard Goss. It's said that he fled the Falklands soon after, but he didn't actually leave for England until 1872. But even then he left some debts outstanding, and the courts decided that his pension be docked £50 a year until it was paid off.

Bull was later found rummaging through the registers in a chapel in Kew, seemingly intrigued by the marriage of George III to Hannah Lightfoot. For some reason his research was held with some suspicion and he was forced to abandon it before he could find what he wanted. Not long after a fire broke out in his study. He's a very intriguing bloke, and the true story of his entanglement with the Goss family may never be known.

 

William Goss lost contact with the Falklands cousins after 1872, but Dick picked up the trail of breadcrumbs in the 1930s, learning of one such cousin named Abner Marentius Napoleon Cosmopolite Lars Bernsten. Recalling the old family motto "It is written in the stars," Dick said "There must have been a hell of a lot of stars out the night they named that boy."

Dick got stuck into the war effort in the 1940s, as a head of air raid precautions in Devon. His own son would die in 1943.

 

 

I love that there are still loads of old shelving units here. I have to wonder, how much of the pottery I've pictured on this blog has actually sat in this room on these shelves. 

 

 

Before I wrap up, it is important to mention the long suffering Eva Adeline Goss. If it wasn't for her prolific writing of her family history, I'd probably not have fallen down quite the rabbit hole, and I've found it very amusing and fun. The Goss brood are real people to me now, and that's a feeling that cant be obtained from just mindlessly regurgitating dates from Wikipedia. She was said to be a highly intelligent woman, and many said that she should have become manager of the company, and would have done well had the world been a little more progressive towards women back then. 

Eva Adeline was actually violently raped in 1884, on the train from Alsager to Stoke on Trent, by the escaped lunatic Thomas Flynn. It's said that he beat her across the head and took her purse, and the media went nuts with headlines as she got off the train in ripped clothes and clearly battered. The man was caught, and the ordeal was hushed up. Eva Adeline felt that if the rape was public knowledge, it could ruin her marriage prospects. It's a pretty sad reason to keep it a secret, and quite reflective of the backwards treatment of women at the time. 

She didn't marry anyway, becoming quite introverted and a bit of a shut-away as she grew older. She went on outtings into the countryside with her family, but her life was really more of a companion for her father. 

She occasionally painted pottery, and she occasionally helped with the family garden. It's said that if she ever saw poor children eyeing up food at the bakery, she'd buy it for them. It's said that she was never the same after Victor died.

She died of kidney failure in 1916, at the age of 54, and left everything to her siblings and their children, excluding Dick who had run away from home.

In 1979 the kilns and these workshops were listed, but nothing else seems to have been done since. There doesn't seem to be much effort to halt the decline of the building, and it's wide open to the elements so it's only going to get worse.

 

In 2002 Portmeiron Potteries considered building a working factory here, converting the derelict workshops into a visitor centre, incorporating the kilns. That didn't happen, evidently. They allegedly decided to invest the money into the core business instead of the tourism sector. 

In 2011 the council said this was a beautiful site with potential for residential conversion but the market is unlikely to bring it forward. Portmeiron sold the factory to Connexa for about £80,000, but they immediately entered it into an auction with reserve for £250,000. This was because the council served notice that the owners had to restore the vandalised and fire damaged listed buildings at their own expense, otherwise the council would do so and charge the landowner. 

Well, nobody has done anything left. Let's be honest, it will probably go up in flames eventually.

From the top floor we do have a good view of the bottle kilns. These were solid and compact but due to their shape, they were difficult to repair. If one got damaged, it wasn't uncommon for people to knock them down and build a whole new one. It's strange to think that these were once the dominant feature of an industrial landscape. In the 1930s this town had around 2000 of them. Most bottles were fired once or twice a week, and each firing used at least ten tons of coal. Some of the larger ones used up to 30 tons per firing. Each firing could last up to 72 hours.

As electricity caught on, among other methods, coal kilns declined. The clean air act of 1956 forced them to close bottle kilns, although it would take a few years for various places to adopt new practices.

In 1960 there were less than 200 in the town, and they were all redundant by 1963. Those who worked them were redundant too. 

Less than 100 of these still exist in the UK today. 

I can't help but wonder how many of the trinkets were I've shown here today was fired in these exact kilns, and I also wonder what William Goss or any of his children would say if they could see this factory now.

Around the kilns are openings and fire mouths. The horizontal iron bands are set about twelve inches apart and serve to strengthen it as it expands and contracts during firing. 

Yes, sorry ladies, you've been lied to. This is what twelve inches really looks like. 

But in conclusion, I don't think William Goss was a bad person, although I strongly suspect he was neuro-divergent. He did give his children a life of privilege, and he did take them on regular trips to the countryside and the beach. In fact most of his time spent with his children was outdoors, so as to avoid his wife. Eva Adeline said that when her father was in the countryside, he displayed such an obvious appreciation of it, but he wouldn't go on his own, so he was always grateful that his children shared his interests. 

 

Eva Adeline spoke of her fathers optimism- "How can people think the world is getting worse? My father never thought so, and he was able to speak from actual experience, having met so many people."

 

So yeah, he's an interesting guy. His children said a lot of negative things about his temper in their letters, but one has to remember, they weren't allowed to say these things out loud. Therefore the pen was a means to vent any frustration, so really anything written has to be regarded in that context. They simply weren't going to write about the good aspects. 

But anyway, that's all I've got. I think I actually enjoyed researching this more than I enjoyed the actual location. The pottery is pretty dangerous, so I would recommend avoiding the top floors if you're not sure about it. Urbex isn't a dick measuring contest, and anyone who tries to make it that way probably has sibling parents. You aren't a bad urbexer for using common sense and staying safe. 

Next I'm blogging about some college building and then a police station. In the meantime, go follow me on Instagram, and Reddit too. And if you're like me and enjoy dying inside slowly by looking at an algorithmic hellscape that offers nothing of value, then I'm you can like me on Facebook too. And Twitter for some reason. 

Thanks for reading!