On this day in Yorkshire

January 13, 1908

New Year has not gone far on its course without bringing an exceedingly pathetic experience to the inhabitants of Barnsley. On Saturday afternoon a cinematograph matinee and variety entertainment at the Public Hall brought together a large crowd of children of the working class population. It was timed to commence at three o’clock, and the little ones clambered gleefully up the stairway to the gallery, carrying in their hands a penny-piece - no despised coin to them - which would admit them to this part of the building to gaze upon the transient glories of the picture show.

In a few moments a message reached their ears to the effect that the gallery was already quite full, but that if they would go to the front part of the hall they would be allowed to enter the pit at the same nominal charge.

Harmless though the message was intended to be, it led to a rush that has resulted in the loss of sixteen lives, and injuries, more or less serious, to many others.

The stone stairway was well-nigh packed with little boys and girls moving steadily upwards, and the order to reverse the movement was disastrous.

Naturally the children who had already reached the top of the stairs at the Barnsley Public Hall were the first to realise that they must return promptly so as to get seats elsewhere, and it would seem that they began to press back whilst the little ones below were still trudging up the steps.

To those halfway down the meaning of the sudden change was not understood for a few moments, and between 30 and 40 of them were wedged tightly into a corner, and others thrown down.

Except for the attendant at the immediate entrance to the gallery, and another at the outside door, there was no adult person in charge of the stairway; nor does it appear that any policemen were in attendance. Some of the children had been accompanied to the hall by their parents, who had barely left when the downward rush began. No strong arms intervened to regulate their wild descent. All the children were were of tender years, ranging from four to ten or twelve.

When the stampede commenced there was no idea of danger. It was merely youthful anxiety not to miss the show; but before very long, when the youngsters realised that some were being trod underfoot, they became the victims of panic, and lost all self control. The little ones struggled bravely to keep their heads up, some clung on to the handrails, but the great mass were thrown off their feet and tumbled helter-skelter to the bottom landing, just above the spiral steps.

There is an awkward corner at this point, and the scene for ten minutes was pitiful and heart-rending. The children were piled upon each other until they formed a human barrier three or four feet high. From this fragile mass no fewer than 16 dead bodies were afterwards extricated. Little ones collapsed in all directions, and sent up mournful cries for deliverance. Even those who suffered no actual injury were panic-stricken through the terrified screams of the sufferers, wedged as they were at this fatal angle of the stairway.

Of the sixteen dead only one or two were in the least disfigured by cuts and abrasions; most, if not all of them, died from suffocation, and their faces wore a peaceful expression.

The oldest of the victims was not more than nine years, and the youngest only four.

A large crowd quickly gathered around the gates of the institution, among them scores of anxious parents who only an hour or so previously had dressed up their little ones in their best clothes, and sent them in the highest glee to the Public Hall.

Their sorrow on learning that the lives of their loved ones had been taken away in such a tragic and sudden manner was pathetic in the extreme; while almost as touching was the sight of parents weeping for joy when it became known that their children had escaped injury.

The bodies were laid upon the mortuary tables, and covered with a dark crimson pall, having a large white cross interwoven. On each table it was found possible to place four children in the space ordinarily allowed for a single adult.

Several of them seemed, indeed, little more than babes. The features in every case were placid as if in natural sleep.

The following is a list of the killed:

Harry William (6), 14 Victor Terrace

Alice Marshall (5), 30 Albion Terrace

John Charles Hibbert (6), 47 Tower Street

Florence May Smith (9), 37 Tower Street

Mary Lee (6), 9 Castlereagh Street

William Parkin Goodall (6), 15 Beech Street

Annie Johnson (5), 49 Commercial Street

Harry Stott (4), 81 Heelis Street

Mary Elizabeth Stott (8), 81, Heelis Street

Ellen Swift (6), 2 Beech Street

Edward Pickles (9), 4 Wortley Street

Beatrice Cartwright (7), 21 King Street

Albert Ward (5), Manor Cattle Yard

John Charles Graham (8), 31 Mill Street

Winnie Cousins (7), 6 Sovereign Yard

Charlotte Whitworth (6), 17 Cope Street.