Derives it's name from Mare-Hold, mare's were sold here.
The name changed to Mayorhold when the old Town Hall stood in Scarletwell
Street.
Bob Stanton was born at No.4 The Mayorhold in 1921. He remembers, "This used to
be a private house
before it was made into a butcher's shop. There were some steps up to the front
door. Men from Jackson's
Lodging House on the opposite of the Mayorhold used to sit on the steps and make
a mess. So my grandfather
fixed a hose pipe to the tap and let it trickle under the door, and so kept the
steps constantly wet. This
proved to be a very successful way of keeping them off the steps."
"Christmas 1925, my father became unemployed like a lot more people. He went to
collect his holiday money
from work and because the foreman realised he had had a drink, he got the sack.
It didn't need much of an
excuse in those days, so like a good many more, he was on the dole, and finding
another job was very hard.
So he had to go chopping firewood at the workhouse for a five shillings grocery
voucher. It was a bit of a vicious circle.
If you failed to chop sticks, you lost your voucher. At the same time you were
accused by the Unemployment Exchange
of not going and looking for work.In 1927 my father was taken ill with a stroke
and so was not able to work.
Those days, when anyone was ill, whatever it may be (except broken bones), you
had to be indoors by 9 pm in summer
and 7 pm by winter. If not you lost any benefits you were receiving.When my
father died in 1930, my mother
drew the princely sum of 15 shillings. My mother had to go and meet the Board of
Guardians, where a
certain Mr Hafford reigned supreme. A few days before the meeting, there was
knock at the door and
before anyone could answer it, the front door opened, a man half entered, his
finger pointed to the far wall
and he said "Sell that." That, being the clock hanging on the wall, which was a
wedding present from
my father to my mother. This happened before we even knew he was from the
Guardians. So he got short shrift.
Needless to say, we received no extra finance either."
Reg Tero remembers, "Saturday night on the Mayorhold when the pubs turned out
was highlighted by small groups
of drunken men settling their differences with a fist fight."Frank Masters,
"Even in those days it was a slightly
dangerous place to be, particularly the Mayorhold on a Saturday night. It was a
regular sight, the Mayorhold on a
Saturday night. There was the police there with handcarts and as the drunks came
out the public houses, they were literally
piled on the handcart and wheeled to the Police Station. They slept in the cells
until they were kicked out the next morning."
Josephine Kent remembers musicians on the Mayorhold, "On Sunday mornings there
used to be a man come
with a dancing bear and a violin. It wasn't every Sunday. He used to play his
violin and the bear used to dance."
Bob Stanton remembers Mr. Perrin the lamplighter who lived on the Mayorhold, in
the sweet shop.
"Mr. Perrin was the lamplighter and when he came out with his long pole, that
was the signal to out and close
the shutters and then start getting ready for bed. A lot of houses had shutters
which were like two small doors that closed
across the windows. They made the room very cosy in the winter - as good as
double glazing."
Len Riley, "We used to play him up! There was only one lamp in Herbert Street
and one at the top - and as soon
as he'd lit the lamp we'd shin up the lamp-post and blow it out. He used to have
a long pole what he kept for light but it
was shielded so that it didn't go out. He used to push up the glass trap door
like, and turn the gas on with a hook and light
the gas. He used to spend his daytimes going round these lamp-posts, climbing up
and cleaning them, washing them all down.
It was a full time job for him."
Jim Allard, "We used to follow him about. And I said, "Hooray!" every time he
lit a lamp."
