This post looks at the little-recorded life of Professor Anderton, a travelling conjurer who built a fair with his son which is still running today. The magician's name might appear to be simply inspired by the famous Professor John Henry Anderson, the Wizard of the North, but Anderton's connections to Anderson run deeper than mere imitation. These links are not widely known and some have gone unnoticed, until now. This post will start with a zig-zag walk across what is now the city centre of Sheffield, beginning at the medieval heart.
Above is the oldest surviving building in the centre of the city, Sheffield Cathedral. In 1844 this grand church wasn’t yet a cathedral, it was simply the parish church of Sheffield. It was this year when John Haslam, a hairdresser, married Elizabeth Hartley in the church. A few years later the couple were living in the nearby town of Chesterfield when their third child, Albert, was born on the 8th of February 1851.
Albert Haslam didn’t grow up in Chesterfield though, by the late 1850s the family had moved back to Sheffield. It’s apt that Albert's parents married in a medieval building as Albert’s childhood would have been surrounded by domestic buildings of this period. Before the streets were widened to make way for trams in the 1870s, Sheffield had many medieval streets, the like of which only survive today in a few cities such as York and Lincoln.
The family lived South of this oldest part of town though, in what was then known as the Ecclesall Bierlow district in southern Sheffield. This area was one of six townships that made up Sheffield. Today this is part of the city centre and the picture below was taken behind the new fire station just off the Moor and to the back of Decathlon, for those who know Sheffield.
In the early 1800s this area was filled with high-density housing known as court-houses. These were cheaply and quickly built to keep pace with the rapidly increasing population drawn in by the new jobs created in the cutlery works. These court-houses consisted of many small houses facing inwards on a small court. They usually had many families in each court all sharing a single water source and toilet. This overcrowding and sharing of facilities led these courts to become infamous for harbouring disease. As a result, they were phased out in the early twentieth century with cleaner, more spacious, terraced housing built around the city to replace them.
The spot behind the fire station is roughly where the Haslam family's court housing was. Today, the area has been swallowed by the expanding city centre. A series of preserved Victorian industrial buildings on Eyre Lane are the only remnants the Haslam family would have recognised from their time here. It was while living in this house that Albert probably witnessed the performance that shaped his life, so we travel deeper into the city centre to where this happened.
Sheffield’s Central Library is one of the finest public libraries in the country. This large stone-clad art deco building incorporates Graves Art Gallery and a lovely theatre. As an aside, it has extensive underground stores from which books can be requested and has a more than respectable magic section hidden deep below the well-lit floors of the beautiful public rooms. This 1934 building isn’t the original library on this spot though. The first library here was opened in 1910. This was an awkward alteration of a once-grand building called simply the Music Hall.
Despite the name, this wasn’t a music hall in the variety sense, it was a concert hall, built in 1824 to cater for the middle classes with orchestral and choral performances. Occasionally, non-musical acts would perform if they were considered refined enough for the wealthier folk of Sheffield.1 One of these acts, who performed for a whole month in 1864, was John Henry Anderson.2
Anderson was born near Aberdeen in Scotland and billed himself as “The Wizard of the North”. He was hugely successful and is seen as being pivotal to moving magic from predominantly a street performance to one seen in theatres. There are many accounts of Anderson's act, but I am fortunate enough to have an unusual collection of poster fragments from one of Anderson's first few tours of Britain in the early 1840s, which show him during performance. These papers have a fascinating story which will be told soon elsewhere. They arrived in a terrible state and were expertly conserved by Antony Oliver at Sheffield City Archives. Below are the two most complete posters in the collection.
They show Anderson performing a wide range of effects, with The Gun Delusion, his version of catching the bullet, taking centre stage. These posters, along with other fragments from the same collection, show a variety of tricks with hats and metal apparatus along with one of Anderson's specialities: Second Sight. After this early UK chapter of the wizard's career, he toured Europe, Australia and America but he was dogged by misfortune, repeatedly investing his earnings in his own theatres for them to burn down. In 1863 he returned to Britain after a financially disastrous tour of America cut short by their civil war.2 It’s here that Albert Haslam and the Wizard of the North’s paths probably first crossed.
From the 8th of February to the 5th of March 1864 Professor Anderson and his family entertained the middle classes of Sheffield from the Music Hall.2 The square on which the library stands is now the heart of Sheffield’s theatrical scene with the Lyceum and the Crucible adjacent. It was here that the young Albert Haslam almost certainly began working for Anderson as a programme seller. The residency began on Albert’s 13th birthday and it is likely this was his first job having just left school. Though there’s no hard evidence, this was the story recounted by Haslam and passed down through his family and the known dates line up so neatly it seems very likely to be true.3
In the 23 years that had passed since the above posters were printed, Anderson had added many effects to his repertoire, such as the Indian Basket Trick, a Davenport Cabinet and Sleeping in the Air. Second Sight was still there and still very prominent in the act and advertising. It seems that watching Anderson perform inspired the young Albert to take up magic himself and, as we will see, a connection appears to have been maintained between Anderson and Albert over the coming years. While he could not become a professional magician at 13, he entered employment as an stationary steam engine attendant in one of Sheffield’s many steel works. Familiarity with steam engines would prove a useful skill.
The above picture depicts Bishop Street today, a five-minute walk from the court housing of Albert’s childhood. This is where he started his own family, marrying Mary Turner in November 1869. We can assume the marriage was a fairly rushed affair as she gave birth to their first son, also called Albert, just a month after the wedding. There’s nothing left of the terraced houses which lined this street as slum clearances and Nazi bombs have wiped the area clean. Now we have a closed Wickes DIY shop on one side of the street and the iconic Moorfoot building on the other. This would be their marital home for a little over a year and, while he kept his day job working on steam engines, 1870 would see Albert Haslam finally work as a magician.
Jumping back to the centre of the city, this picture shows two of Sheffield's current theatres, the Crucible on the left and the Lyceum on the right. This is just a stone’s throw from where Haslam saw the Wizard of the North at the Music Hall, with the Lyceum being adjacent to the Central Library. In 1870 neither of the theatres pictured above had been built, but a grand new theatre named the Royal Pavilion Music Hall occupied some of the plot on which the Crucible now stands. It was here that the first record of Haslam performing as a magician exists. A short write-up of Haslam’s appearance appeared in The Era on the 17th of April 1870. It read: “Professor Anderton exhibits much agility with his feet and hands, being a capital step dancer and a very dexterous exponent of legerdemain.” Haslam has adopted the name Professor Anderton, just one letter different from Professor Anderson.
The connections between Anderson and Anderton are hard to untangle, and only become more so in the coming years. Writing many years later in a 1968 edition of The World’s Fair, the magician Allan Jamieson stated that he has many items in his collection related to Anderton and that Anderton had started as a programme seller and assistant to the Wizard of the North, a story likely passed to Jamieson from Anderton's family.4 Returning to 1870, Anderton performed at the Public Hall in Warrington in November where his act was described in The Era as “Professor Anderton pleases by giving some old but cleverly executed tricks of magic.”5 The light criticism of his tricks being old, when Anderton was only 19, might hint that he was basing his act on the much older Professor Anderson.
1870 closes with Anderton taking a week-long engagement back home in Sheffield. This was in the West Bar district at the northern edge of the city centre. The picture above shows what is now the Emergency Services Museum, contained in a huge building built in 1900 to house the police and fire services of the city. Before it was built, the grandly named Old London Apprentice Music Hall was on the site. It was here that Anderton took part in a week-long bill in December 1870.6 This area would have been well known to Anderton as it was the heart of Sheffield’s music hall district. With these music halls came pubs with small concert rooms, typically in rooms over the bars. The family legend stated Anderton began his own magic act busking in the pubs of Sheffield’s theatre district, likely doing shows in these rooms.3 Little exists of this economy now, but there is a grand old pub, still with its original concert room, just a minutes’ walk from the site of the Old London Apprentice Music Hall.
Built in 1821 it was named The Shakespeare, reflecting the theatrical bent of the area. If the family story of Anderton cutting his teeth in the pubs of Sheffield is to be believed he would probably have performed in The Shakespeare's concert room at the beginning of his career. It's remarkable that today musicians, comedians and even the occasional magician are filling this little concert room over two hundred years after it was established. The room was almost fifty years old when Albert likely tread its boards. Attending a gig there is still a true Georgian experience: thrilling entertainment, lovely beer and the less said about the toilets, the better.
In 1871 Albert and Mary had a second son. Fascinatingly, they named the boy John Anderson Haslam. That middle name was not Anderton, but Anderson. This suggests either some hero worshiping of the Wizard of North on Albert’s part, or a closer connection with the wizard than had previously been assumed. This birth occurred while Albert’s family were briefly living in Huddersfield and raises the question of whether the family were touring with Anderson at the time. Anderson performed at the Music Hall in Sheffield from the 20th of March 1871 for a month before taking engagements in nearby towns, including Huddersfield.2 This could all be coincidence, but it does raise the possibility that Albert and Mary were working with the Andersons and this could explain their newborn's middle name. Given the Haslam's impoverished background, the name was perhaps a small thank you to the elder magician for supporting them through employing Albert, Anderson being no stranger to hardship himself. I struggle to think of another reason why a magician with a stage name would give their son a middle name of another, though it is possible it is a mistake on the birth certificate.
By 1872 the family were back in Sheffield, living just off Milton Street. This is only a few streets over from Albert and Mary’s first home together. This area has more buildings of the time still standing, including the famous Beehive Works, but sadly the site of the Andertons' home sits under Hanover Way, part of the modern ring road around the city. You can still get a feel for what the family's home would likely have looked like from the surviving homes of this era by the road.
These large terraced houses have big courtyards behind them, originally used as workshops and storage for the people living on the street. This would be Albert’s Sheffield home for the rest of his life, though one he’d rarely stay in as his lifestyle was about to change dramatically.
Over the next few years Anderton’s career seems to take a leap, and the timing of this leap makes it hard to believe that he wasn’t connected to the great John Henry Anderson’s family. On the 3rd of February 1874 Anderson died during a run of performances in the North Eastern town of Darlington.2 Shortly before this, in the 1st of January 1874 edition of The Sheffield Independent, Anderton’s act was written up again in modest terms, implying essentially a modest sleight of hand act with little in the way of specialist apparatus. Then, in October 1874, one of John Henry Anderson’s daughters posted the following advert in a newspaper:
“Partner Wanted, with £200, to join Helen Anderson, eldest daughter of Professor Anderson, the Great Wizard of the North, in an Original Travelling Entertainment from which a small fortune will be realised. – Business parties only need to write to H. A., 28, Telegraph Office.”
The Telegraph mentioned was The Sheffield Daily Telegraph, and, through searching of the British Newspaper Archive, it appears the advert was only placed in this one publication. Though it doesn’t seem that Anderton joined a full partnership with Helen, it seems very likely that he purchased an act from her. Kevin Scrivens and Stephen Smith remarked in their book that soon after Anderson’s death Anderton “progressed from busking in public houses to performing in a small ground booth, which he travelled around the fairs as Anderton’s Wonders”. While Scrivens’ and Smith’s book is a great read, it is frustratingly devoid of any references, but, if this timing is correct, this would all line up perfectly with Anderton expanding his act through a deal with Anderson’s daughter Helen. Scrivens and Smith proposed that Anderton may have bought props from the auction that followed Anderson's death, which is also possible, whether or not he cut a deal with Helen after her advert.
Another factor that supports the idea Anderton purchased a travelling show from Helen Anderson is the change in Anderton's act. His write-ups changed dramatically after Anderson’s death and Helen’s Sheffield advert. Initially there is a large gap in write-ups of the magician, which can be explained by him moving from conventional theatre and music hall stages, regularly written up in the local press, to a travelling show, touring smaller towns and villages with little press coverage. When he performs at a larger event, we get our first detailed description of Anderton’s new show in a write-up of the Wakes Week fair in Hyde in August 1880, published in The North Cheshire Herald:
"Adjoining this was another gilded structure, in which was exhibited strange, scientific, and new illustrations of modern magi, under the title of two hours in wonder world, under the personal supervision of Professor Anderton, who endeavoured to show that the best and most comfortable way of keeping children, geese, pigeons, canaries, birds, rabbits, dressing cases, and travelling portmanteaus, was to compress them into a portfolio, 2 feet 6 inches wide, 3 feet long and 6 inches thick. Then there was King Theodore's frying pan, the enchanted hat, which appeared to be adapted for a tinsmith's shop, a kitchen, or a storehouse for feather beds, mephistopheles' bottle, dissolving while held in the hand of the performer; the mysterious treasury of the air; the rings of Hercules, and the enchanted card blossoms, or the bouquets of cards; together with the experiment of making two live rabbits into one."
There are two things of particular note here. Firstly, there are clear examples of chunks of Anderson’s act being performed by Anderton. The portfolio and magic bottle being particularly associated with the Wizard of the North. It is possible that Anderton was just a tribute act with no connection to the original, but I am convinced he worked in some capacity with him and purchased an act in some form from the family. Anderton’s resistance to use the name "Wizard of the North" also shows a level of respect not offered by most of Anderson’s imitators, perhaps indicating Anderton’s act was in some way approved by Anderson or his family. The second significant thing the above passage demonstrates is that Anderton now had his own travelling stage show, a grand portable theatre to tour the great fairs. Helen Anderson’s advert had specifically stated she was selling a travelling entertainment and it seems very likely this was the one purchased by Anderton.
Six months prior to this write-up, Anderton had advertised a large fairground organ for sale stating it was stored behind his property, just off Milton Road.3 As mentioned though, despite maintaining a home here in Sheffield, he now adopted the life of a showman and the tents and caravans of the show fields of Britain became his new true home.
From the humble roots of this single travelling theatre, Anderton grew the business to a large travelling menagerie, partnering with his son Arthur under the stage name “Captain Rowland”. This was the birth of Anderton and Rowland’s, the name still used by the family today for their fair. While Albert's wife and eldest daughter spent time in Sheffield, the traveling show moved predominantly around the south west of England, occasionally moving into Wales. More details of the travelling routines and other exhibits of the family can be found in Scrivens and Smith’s book. Anderton's experience as a steam engine attendant would have given him a head start in the running of a steam-powered fun fair and the many rides that accompanied the performances. Over time the family embraced moving pictures, introducing a bioscope show and phasing out the menagerie. Anderton’s magic show was still an integral part of the show though.
Anderton's show followed a familiar pattern of many travelling shows, with an eye-catching performance given for free outside the theatre on a a platform before promising more to those who wish to buy a ticket and enter. By 1887 Anderton had introduced a startling and up-to-date illusion to tempt in the crowds, De Kolta's Vanishing Lady.7 This had first been performed only a year previous by Charles Bertram at the Egyptian Hall and Anderton's use of the effect was very likely without the permission of the inventor.8 In the effect a person sat on a chair is covered with a cloth, then vanishes in an instant.
Though novel at the time, this was an incredibly quick effect, even with some build up, and this might explain why within a few years Anderton had switched to a longer form illusion to allow a crowd to build. This excerpt from the 12th of June 1890 edition of The Cornishman describes the new effect and gives a snapshot of Anderton’s touring life:
"On the other side was Professor Anderton, the mesmerist and conjurer, whose astounding feats invariably caused his show to be thronged. The Cornish public were again treated to an exhibition of his mesmerist power when he suspended his little girl horizontally in the air with only a pole resting under the right arm; and if they entered the tent they could see the wonderful card-tricks, hat-tricks, egg-tricks and the mystery of the vanishing bird trick. The two front gilded carriages, painting and organ cost £1000 so the professor informed me. He gratified a wish of mine to see the inside of the caravans in which they live, and I was surprised to see cleanliness, comfort, and convenience of the arrangements. The caravans were filled with folding beds, similar to those in American sleeping cars, neat little cooking-stoves; wardrobes; compartments for cooking utensils; and cupboards for food, which is kept fresh by the air percolating through gauze wire netting underneath the caravan; drawers, benches, &c. - made the interior snug, cosy, and convenient.
'It may seem strange,' said Mr Anderton, 'but I can sleep sounder in my van than in the finest house in the land. I have had a house in Sheffield for the last 20 years, and I have scarcely slept in it two years during the whole of that time. I never have sickness; for the outdoor life, the free play of air through the caravan, and the constant change of scene tend to invigorate the body and render it impervious to cold. It is a free-and-easy sort of life; and, when there is little competition - as in my line of business - it pays well. I have done well in Cornwall, and many of the prominent men have professed themselves astounded at my mesmeric power and feats of legerdemain' "
The effect Anderton was now using out the front of his booth was already a long-established classic of magic, Jean-Eugène Robert-Houdin's Ethereal Suspension. This illusion is in gradual stages and could be demonstrated at a more gentle rate than De Kolta's.
Not all newspapers were as positive as the above though. Despite Anderton's reputation, skill and the quality and cleanness of his act, he was not viewed by all in the same light as his contemporaries on the more formal stages of permanent theatres. A column in the 2nd of November 1889 issue of The Derbyshire Times opened " 'Hush hark now the dogs do bark, For the beggars are coming in town.' must surely be written of Belper Fair for such a formidable array of mendicants is never to be seen at any other time than at Belper Fair." Turning to Anderton specifically, the columnist snobbishly stated "One of the attractions was provided by 'Professor' Anderton 'the Wizard of the South' - a name suspiciously like 'Anderson.' But the resemblance was, unfortunately, only in name." This type of prejudice against people within Showmen communities, and other Traveller communities and ethnicities, was as common then as it is today and the author of this piece, almost certainly without witnessing Anderton's act, likely without even attending the fair, decided it was a shoddy imitation of Professor Anderson's. Ironically, Anderton did resemble Anderson, almost certainly because he had a close connection with the great wizard and was also a skilled conjurer.
Physical items related to Anderton from his lifetime are very scarce, but there are a few copies of his posters surviving. There are three identical ones that I know of, I’m lucky to own two and the other is in Sheffield University’s Fair and Circus Archive.
These show the animated pictures prominently advertised, with an illustration of Blue Beard, a film by the magician-turned film pioneer Georges Méliès (as an aside, that is available to view here with the image on the poster inspired by the scene at the 8 minute mark). Below this, Anderton is shown producing a bowl of goldfish and other acts are described including the comedian Charles Bruno. There is a space for the location and date of the show to be printed but neither my copies, nor Sheffield University’s have this filled in. Posters of this type were a precious and expensive commodity, so why would such an item go unused? The films mentioned on the poster range in date from 1901 to 1908, so it was likely printed in 1908 or 1909. Sadly, it seems these posters survived unused due to them becoming obsolete. The following story was printed in Lake’s Falmouth Packet and Cornwall Advertiser on the 6th of August 1909:
Mr Anderton, of the firm of Anderton and Rowland, steam circus proprietors, and a well-known showman, was found dead yesterday in the river Sid.
The circus arrived at Sidmouth on Wednesday from Seaton, and made a pitch at Ham Field, near the town. The Urban Council had given permission for the circus to be located there for ten days provided the ground was fenced off from the river.
Early yesterday morning one of the men employed at the show went to fetch some water when he saw a body in the river. With the help of a man named Bray he landed the body, which was discovered to be that of Mr. Anderton. The body was removed to the Cottage Hospital.
The deceased was seen on Wednesday night, and had not been missed, as he occupied a van to himself.
It is thought that Mr. Anderton accidentally fell into the river. He left his daughter's van at ten o'clock on Wednesday night, stating that he would just look round the place. His sons were on the field until after twelve o'clock, all the while quite ignorant of the fate that has befallen their father.
There was no family or financial trouble, the deceased being, as usual, quite cheery a few minutes before the accident probably occurred. He was a native of Sheffield, and well-known in the West-country as Professor Anderton, the conjurer. An inquest will be held today."
With Anderton tragically no longer part of the show, and with no one able to fill his boots, these posters were not used. Presumably some were kept as mementos and that's why a few have survived to today. Anderton and Rowland's was a well-established and successful fair by this time though, with many mouths to feed, so there was no option other than the show going on. Anderton's funeral was held is Sidmouth the Saturday after his death and the showpeople of the fair continued the rest of the year's season as planned.2
Despite operating outside of magic societies, Anderton's impact on magicians did not go entirely unrecorded. Selbit wrote a fairly detailed obituary in his magazine The Wizard the month after Anderton’s death. It's of particular interest being one of only a few examples of Anderton's act being described for a magic readership, something normal for Anderton's theatre-based contemporaries, but rare for travelling showmen. Here are three extracts:
"Twenty years ago Prof. Anderton had one of the largest and best booths travelling. His performance was one of the cleanest to be seen anywhere. His programme opened with bowls of water and gold fish. Freezing some of the water in one bowl - neatly introducing a glass ball, and offering it to someone - after making the pass. To see this move alone, as he could do it, was worth the price of admission to anyone interested in magic. He also worked the mental selection of playing cards to perfection (Card tricks and how to do them by A. Roterburg [sic], page 43) following with the Mechanical Rising Card Pack. His aerial treasury was always worked by catching two or more coins at a time, which greatly improved the trick from that shown by Durez and Du Cann, who gave contemporaneous shows in the West of England, and who always worked with one coin."
"His inexhaustible hat was not elaborate, but worked with great finish, commencing with tin cones, wig, boxes, cannon balls, and pigeons.
His final trick formerly, was the 'Flying Bird Cage,' and his brilliant showmanship with this created sufficient surprise to ensure a full house next time, through the recommendation of those who had just witnessed, what to many seemed, the greatest marvel of all. Numerous suggestions were offered as to the disappearance of Anderton's Vanishing Bird and Cage, all sorts of impossible places being suggested as the spot for concealment."
"The last time we witnessed the performance, 'The Vanishing Lady,' (De Kolta) was added as a last item. As an outside attraction 'The Suspended Lady' as described in Modern Magic, page 495, formed the special draw. His addition to heighten the effect consisted in some mechanical arrangement whereby the lady rose from a vertical to a horizontal position. Another outside feature was the Linking Rings, and Anderton's final effect of vanishing the last ring by (apparently) throwing it into the air was perfectly executed. Since taking over the management of such a large concern, the Professor had abandoned long since the 'Home of Mystery,' but 'Wizardites' will extend their heartfelt sympathy to the bereaved family for one who kept magic on a high plane."
This gives us a detailed look at Anderton's act, confirming that he kept the De Kolta illusion but moved it to higher billing inside the theatre. It's heartening to see the inexhaustible hat being performed as this was part of Professor Anderson's act. A highlight was clearly the appearing fishbowl and this was the effect depicted on Anderton's final poster. The article also notes that, with the introduction of the Bioscope, Anderton pivoted away from having a full magic show and became instead an accompaniment to this new and exciting technology. He never stopped performing though, and would have been a firm favourite for fair attendees in the South-west.
Anderton had a great career cut tragically short. Like many magicians who operated outside of the music-hall or theatre circuits, his achievements are not as well recorded as some of his peers. While Anderton's connections to Anderson are still impossible to pin down with certainty, it feels like there are enough indicators here that the wizards did know each other and Anderson likely employed Anderton on occasion. To conclude, beyond simply the family story, the following suggest the men were connected professionally, through friendship or, most likely, both:
The timing of Anderson's visit to Sheffield coinciding with Anderton's being an appropriate age to be employed as a programme seller.
The Andertons giving their second son the middle name Anderson.
This birth occurring in Huddersfield during Anderson's tour of the area.
Helen Anderson advertising the travelling show opportunity only in Sheffield.
Anderton's act becoming a travelling show and incorporating Anderson's larger effects shortly after this advert was published.
To build on this, it's my personal belief that the family story is true, with Anderton becoming a programme seller for the wizard at the age of thirteen. I think he then built a magic act inspired by his time with Anderson which he performed semi-professionally while working in the cutlery works. This gradually grew to become his primary source of income. Throughout his life I believe Anderson employed Anderton in some practical capacity whenever he was touring the area, perhaps teaching him effects and giving advice along the way, hence the naming of the Anderton's second son after this mentor during a tour together. Upon Anderson's death I believe Helen Anderson wanted Anderton to purchase a version of the show and possibly wrote to him to point out the advert she had placed in The Sheffield Telegraph. Anderton purchased this, along with some of Anderson's larger effects and that moved his career from the stages of Sheffield onto the road, where he found great success.
Alternatively, all these things could be coincidences and Anderton may simply have been inspired by the great wizard, that feels unlikely though. Either way, it can't be disputed that Anderton was an adept and popular magician in his own right and a great showman, building one of the UK's most famous travelling fairs. The names of Anderton and Rowland today are still familiar to the people of the South-west and continue to be synonymous with having a good time. All this because a thirteen year old boy from the industrial smog of Sheffield encountered the Great Wizard of the North.
References:
Victorian Sheffield Entertainment, Smith et al.
John Henry Anderson, The Great Wizard of the North and His Magical Family, Edwin A. Dawes and Michael E. Dawes.
Anderton and Rowland's Illusion and Reality, Kevin Scrivens and Stephen Smith.
World's Fair, 31st of August 1968.
The Era, 13th November 1870.
The Era, 4th December 1870.
Hull Daily Mail, 15th April 1887.
Dawes, E. (2005) ‘The Sunderland Disaster’ in The Complete Rich Cabinet of Magical Curiosities. Thornton Heath: Peter Scarlett Magic, pp. 334.
The Strand, June 1897.
All birth, death and marriage dates, locations of housing and professions of people mentioned are taken directly from public records and census filings unless noted above.
Further reading not included in references:
The Great Wizard of the North, Constance Pole Bayer.
