ALAN WHALLEY'S WORLD

UNLEASH the bloodhounds and dig out the magnifying glasses!

For the trusty amateur sleuths who tune into this ancient page have been set a clue-finding challenge. And we have to turn back the pages of local history two centuries to come up with a solution.

The plea for help comes from Bernard Miller of Honeys Green Lane, Liverpool, who is trying to discover something of the life of the rather splendidly-named George Sorocold Travers, who graced the St Helens scene some time between 1761 and 1833.

It appears that Travers and his relatives gave their names to a number of familiar Parr streets.

My old chum Kevin Heneghan, retired teacher of North Road, St Helens, puts forward the appeal for family research details on behalf of Bernard, explaining: "As far as he knows, Travers lived in Parr all his life, being brought up and educated as a Catholic by his grandmother, Catherine Langtree.

"He married Ann Orrell, who, though not a member of the prominent Blackbrook family, was probably related."

Travers's family seems to have owned property in the Fingerpost area, as commemorated by such street names as Langtree, Orrell, Traverse (a final e being added on) and Sorogold.

"The last mentioned seems to have been a mis-spelling of Sorocold," adds Kevin, a keen delver into the past. "There is probably a connection with George Sorocold, chief engineer in the construction of Rotherhithe Dock in 1700 and adviser to Liverpool Corporation when they built their first dock."

Sorocold's assistant, Thomas Steers, trained Henry Berry, builder of St Helens' historic Sankey Canal. (I understand that Berry's headstone, removed during town redevelopment some years ago, is now used as a piece of paving close to the United Reformed Church. If so, it's a crying shame, it ought to be preserved in the local museum.) IF any of our dependable fact-finders can throw some light on the life and times of George Sorocold Travers, please drop me a line at: Whalley's World, St Helens Star, YMCA Buildings, Duke Street, St Helens WA10 2HZ.

Meantime, an earlier yedscratter, set by a Billinge reader who likes to be known as Owd Casey, has drawn quick response from Kevin Heneghan - plus four other correspondents!

Owd Casey had asked (this page, November 21) if anyone knew what a diddle-um was. He'd found this term pencilled above a column of cash figures, listed in an old exercise book unearthed among an octogenarian relative's effects.

Kevin ventures: "Could this be a form of tontine? this is a scheme by which several subscribers invest into a common fund, out of which they receive an annuity that increases as subscribers die."

Then the last survivor pockets the lot!

"I believe that the name tontine originated from a Neopolitan banker, Lorenzo Tonti, who began the annuity schemes in France in the 1650s. It makes me wonder," muses Kevin, "about the origin of our own Tontine Street in St Helens, now replaced by Chalon Way."

That mention of diddle-ums brings back an amusing, though at the time rather painful memory for Arthur Williams (63) of Newton-le-Willows, who explains one version of this workingclass savings scheme.

He was a lad of about 15 at the time, living in Station Road, Haydock, when one of the neighbours, Ma Gettins, ran a diddle-um. This was keenly subscribed to by housewives in that close-knit community, at the rate of a bob or two a week.

This is how it worked: The womenfolk pulled out a membership number from a hat - from one to 52, representing each week of the year. And then individual members scooped the pool in turn, according to which week of the year they had drawn.

Arthur was a motorbike-mad teenager then, but lacked the twenty quid required to buy a second-hand one that he'd tracked down. He recalls: "I'd secretly overheard Mrs Gettins telling someone that my mother's diddle-um was due that week. So I went down to her home and told her my mother had sent me to collect the cash." This was immediately converted into that much-desired motorbike. "And when my parents found out, I really copped it," says Arthur, "I couldn't sit down for a week!"

An elderly lady, who wishes to remain anonymous, says that the particular diddle-ums of her day were holiday savings clubs, sometimes referred to as a tontine.

In bygone times they were started up with a farthing or halfpenny contribution per member. This would be progressively doubled up each week, until it reached a target amount. Then came the big pay-out with every member refunded.

An identical holiday diddle-um was operated when a Rainhill reader, who also begs me to conceal her identity, worked in a printing business during the 1920s and early 30s. "I think we eventually drew £2 each - a jolly sight more than we got for a week's wages!"

Fred Archer of Rectory Road, North Ashton, recalls that his brother-in-law Bill Molyneux operated a diddle-um for donkey's years - running from January to Christmas.

Anyone experiencing a temporarily cash-strapped spell was able to borrow a small sum from the fund, on payment of a little in interest when his finances looked up.

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.