Thread by @cocteautriplets

On this day in #Edinburgh in 1861 a great disaster occurred, one immortalised in a single phrase literally set in stone. It had enormous repercussions at the time and yet it's also largely forgotten, its details vague. This is the thread about the "Fall of Heave Awa' Land" 🧵👇

It was a frosty Sunday morning, between 1-130AM. Two policemen on duty paced their beat between Baillie Fyfe's Close and Paisley Close on the High Street. Sergeant Rennie crossed the road to investigate a shout. As he did so, the entire building behind him suddenly collapsed.

Rennie had dodged death by seconds. He and his colleague quickly ran the short distance to the Police Office at Parliament Square to pass the news to Lieutenant Milligan who in turn altered Firemaster John Mitchell from the adjacent fire station🧑‍🚒👮

They were soon on the scene, to be met by a scene of complete devastation. Of the 7-storey tenement at 99-103 High Street (formally 4 Paisley Close), nothing now remained standing except its rear gable. The entire width of the street was a mountain of debris

Entombed within this awful wreckage were an unknown number of persons, dead or alive, perhaps 70 or 80. At once, under torchlight, a frantic but well coordinated rescue was launched - the Edinburgh Fire Brigade being a thoroughly competent and well organised organisation

Immense crowds soon gathered; to get news of friends and neighbours, to assist the efforts or simply to spectate at the terrible scene. The police threw up barriers to keep them back and later had to be reinforced by a detachment of Cameronians from the Castle

The first bodies pulled from the wreckage were all survivors; younger children, located by their cries for their mothers and for help. Remarkably, most seemed almost untouched. Most were almost naked, and were rushed to a heated cell in the police office wrapped in blankets

The rescuers dug on. They were joined at the scene by the authorities; the Lord Provost, the Magistrates, the Lord Dean of Guild, the Procurator Fiscal, the Superintendent of Streets and Buildings and the Police Surgeon, one Dr. Henry Littlejohn (more on him later)

The neighbouring tenements were evacuated and serious consideration was given to deliberately collapsing the standing 8-storey rear gable as it was feared it would give way on the rescuers. But the night was still and it was recognised this would jeopardise survival chances

From the household of William Mclusky, an Irish shoemaker, the 50 year old lodger Mrs Beveridge was rescued. She would die later from her injuries. Next came their servant, 21 year old Bridge Mcilkimnon, who was quite dead. There was no sign of Mr & Mrs Mclusky

Next came the occurrence which would immortalise the events. From the wreckage a child could be heard crying. They dug towards him for two hours. He was trapped beneath a beam. The boy summoned his strength and courage to urge his rescuers - "Heave awa' Lads, I'm no deid yet"

He was 12 year old Joseph Mcivor, nephew and boarder with the Mcluskies, and he was alive. His likeness and words would later be carved in stone above the entrance to the rebuilt tenement, where you can see them to this day.

Joseph was lucky. His aunt and uncle were not, and their lifeless bodies would not be recovered until the Monday. His 67-year old great aunt, Mary Mclusky, would be the last person to be pulled arrive from the rubble later on the Sunday.

Others were lucky too. The entire Baxter family of 11, with 9 children aged 19 to 1, got out just in time. As the father took off his trousers to get into bed they were alerted by a noise like "a rumbling of chuckie stones". Taking it as an ill omen, his wife rushed them out.

The Salton family - a mother, grandmother and four boys - at the rear of the building, were also alerted by noises and fled. There was enough time to throw on some clothes and even rescue a chest with some of their prized possessions.

The most miraculous escape was that of William Adams, 17. He was sitting in a chair by the fire, considering bed, when before he knew it he found himself catapulted through the night air and then standing, almost unscratched, on the opposite pavement, staring at the catastrophe

3 police constables lodged with PC James Mackenzie and his wife on the top floor. Mackenzie and 2 of them were on duty. The 4th, PC John Grey, was ascending the stairs to bed when Mrs Mackenzie urged him to flee. She turned back to fetch something and was never seen alive again

George Gunn lived on the 4th floor. He had mixed fortunes. His life was spared on account of being delayed in the street by a friend when walking home. He found his mother, father, 20y old sister and 18y old brother in the morgue. But his 9 year old sister Mary was alive.

The McDonald family also suffered a mix of miracles and tragedy. Alexander, his wife Catherine, daughters Ann and Isabella made it out the back as the front of the house collapsed, as did his brother-in-law William Hepburn. But their 2 young sons froze with fear and did not.

At 6AM, the wind got up and blew out the gaslamps in the street, their glass wind covers long since smashed. The rescuers dug on by flickering torches but hopes were slowly fading. They would eventually dig out thirty-five bodies. There were thirty-two survivors and escapees

As day broke, a terrible scene confronted the rescuers and crowd. The rear and side gables towered precariously over them. Fires still smouldered in grates. On a range, a kettle boiled dry. In alcove shelves were crockery and jars, exactly where they were left.

Two clocks, some 70 feet up, still kept time on the walls. Trousers and dresses hung in presses, fluttering in the breeze. And on a top floor window sat a bird cage, with 2 songbirds within it, alive and singing. A fireman made a precarious climb to rescue them.

Despite substantial offers, he refused to part with them, and they lived with him until the end of their days. A cat and dog were the last survivors that would be found, 6 days later on the Friday. Starving and thirsty, but with vital signs, they were sold to the highest bidders

But what about this substantial and apparently solid building? Why had it collapsed in such a violent manner? It had been built in 1612 by James Trotter. On its lintel was the legend "Be Pasient in the Lord". 7 storeys and 70ft tall at the front, it was 8 and 85ft at the rear

It was the house where a young William Fettes had lived, who as a man would rise to become Lord Provost of the city and leave the huge endowment that would found the college that bears his name.

On the ground floor of the building, at street level, were the shops of Mr Cairns the grocer and Mr Brown the victualler, below were their cellars. On the first floor was the warehouse of Moir the Ironmonger and the workshop of Mclusky the shoemaker who lost his life

Above that were 5 storeys of flats of varying sizes, and an attic in which some people slept. It is estimated 20-25 households and perhaps 77-83 souls lived in the building, all "respectable working people", but the precise number on the day in question would never be known.

Turnover in this part of town has high, and with 7 different absentee owners and multiple subletters and households taking in lodgers, the occupants varied from day to day without anyone really knowing exact names and numbers.

Families such as that of James Begg, furniture polisher, his wife and 3 children; Irish labourer James McKenzie and his son; and washerwoman Elizabeth Lindsay, her 2 sons and her grandson had all been spared on account they had moved out since the census taken in April that year

It soon became obvious what had happened, and also how close chances to avoid disaster had been. The building had a 3-feet thick, internal supporting wall running perpendicular to the front and back. 50 years previously, at ground floor level it have been cut back to 2 pillars

This had allowed the shops to be expanded to run the whole depth of the building, but the work had never been officially inspected or approved. Within the created void was a boiler, its flue cut into the wall, further weakening it.

The heat of 50 years from the boiler's furnace had slowly dried out the mortar and turned it to dust. On the Saturday, Mr Cairns had called his builder - Mr Watherston - to inspect cracks in his basement. Watherston was not immediately concerned but promised to return on Monday

Watherston was aware of the pillars, he had previously been asked to remove 1 and refused. He also noticed workmen shoring up the roof of the passageway of Paisley Close - they thought a drain was collapsing beneath it - and he offered them his professional advice on the spot.

The "canary in the coalmine" should have been joiner Gavin Greenshields. Greenshields noticed a bulge forming in the passageway walls as he could no longer fit his barrow past, he watched it grow in the weeks he was employed in the building

The red flag was that Greenshields had been explicitly employed to unstick jamming doors in the building. He made his feelings known about the cause of this to residents but was laughed off. He was progressively more concerned and so visited the owner on his own initiative

The owner however looked down his nose at his joiner. As a mere tradesman, he was disregarded, the landlord in question telling the subsequent inquiry he did not think "his opinion entitled to any weight" and he talked too much. If only he had listened to a man who knew his work

The collapse was precipitated by the undermined, decayed, supporting wall giving way - "it not merely fell but was shattered to pieces". It turned out this wall was not tied into the gables but stood freely.

When it went, the entire wall above it, all the way to the top, came down. When the rescuers removed the 250 year old timbers from the wreckage and stacked them in the street, it could be seen by everyone that their ends were rotten.

With the central wall gone, the entire rotten floor structures simply snapped at their joints with the exterior and party walls and folded in on themselves, pulling the façade down on top of everything. The residents hardly stood a chance and it was amazing that so many survived

It is estimated that 35 persons died in the disaster - some bodies were never found but although some posessions were it was not clear if they had moved away already as the people they lodged with had died. I've pieced together the names and ages from the newspapers and census.

And now we have to take a short intermission for a few hours as I've things to do and places to be. I'll follow up later this evening with what the consequences for the city were as a result of the calamity.

And.... we're back on the air! I've a box of Maltersers and a mug of tea, so lets wrap up a few more of the details and consequences of the "Fall of Heave Awa' Land"

Several people have asked about the inscription "Heave Awa Chaps, I'm No Dead Yet!" The use of the word "chaps" and "dead" vs. "deid" sounds very out of place for a working class lad from Edinburgh at that time. Other sources use "lads", "boys" or "men".

In truth, nobody was exactly sure what poor Joseph Mcivor cried to his rescuers. The first report of the disaster, on Monday 25th November in the Caledonian Mercury said simply that he cried "I'm no deid yet". "Chaps" is not in print until 1862 when the new lintel was revealed

Joseph has been said to have lived a long life - I can't substantiate this. I can find no Joseph Mc/mac/iver/ivors of his approximate year of birth dying in Scotland up to 1950. My best guess is he was born to Irish parents in Ayrshire, but the rest of his life is a mystery

There is a picture captioned "survivor of the Heave Awa' Land disaster and others" in the City collection, but it's not Joseph, it's William Geddes. He lost his father in mother but survived on the account of being absent on the night of the collapse.

The Fire Brigade ceased their rescue efforts at 345PM on the Sunday, handing over to the city authorities. Fifteen survivors lay in the Infirmary, of whom 2 would soon die. These were the aforementioned Mrs Beveridge, the 50 year old lodger with the Mclusky family and...

...John Bruce, aged 55. He was pulled apparently dazed and confused but physically well from the wreckage which claimed the lives of his wife and 2 daughters. He was taken to the Infirmary and was recounting his experience to the Doctor when he suddenly expired.

On Monday morning, the Caledonian Mercury published the news under the headline "Fall of a Whole Land." It quickly questioned "the safety of such lofty buildings, the frameworks of which have been, during a long course of years subjected to the slow but certain process of decay."

Charles Dickens happened to be in Edinburgh at that time and was one of the spectators of the scene of devastation. Another was the Reverend Thomas Guthrie of the Free Church. At this time, leading men of that Church were some of the strongest advocates for the poor in the city

Guthrie told the papers "it was a horrid thing to look up there and see 3 or 4 gowns shaking and moving most ghastly-like in the wind of the night, and think that right down below were those that had put them off last night, and in perfect health, now lying begrimed and mangled"

Guthrie and his colleague, the Rev. James Begg, used their pulpits and the numerous public meetings called to discuss and respond to the disaster to demand, more stridently than ever, action on the part of the city authorities on the living conditions of the City's poor

The "House of Refuge" was opened to the survivors and Mr Mcculloch, treasurer of the "Destitute Sick Society", put his funds at the disposal of the City for the relief of "those sufferers... not sent to the Infirmary". £1,500 was raised in relief funds by December 7th.

The long term response was to do something many had long called for - appoint a Council Medical Officer of Health. Although carried by only 1 vote, in 1862 Dr. Henry Littlejohn, the police surgeon on the spot that night in November 1861, took up the role; the first in Scotland

This can't deviate into a thread about Littlejohn, as that would take books, however the man was a revelation. He served his post tirelessly until retiring in 1908 a the age of 81. A devoted, diligent and far-sighted public servant, he was a conscientious man.

Littlejohn's work as police surgeon brought him into regular contact with the city's poor and their conditions of life and he understood them well, empathised with their plight and was determined to use his office to try and improve things for them.

His 1865 report "A Report on the Sanitary Conditions of the City of Edinburgh" would lead to one of the first big phases of town improvement schemes - the City Improvement Act of 1867. This saw concerted action taken to start addressing slum housing in the city's Old Town

It is fair to say Littlejohn revolutionised public health in the City. In 1863 the city he set about improving had 170k people, a population density of 49 per acre,an infant mortality rate of 145/1000, a pulmonary TB death rate of 2.5/1000 and a fever death rate of 6.2/1000

When he retired in 1908, it had doubled in size to 350k people, but density reduced to 30.7 per acre. Infant morality was down to 114/1000, pulmonary TB death rate halved to 1.1/1000 and fever death rate reduced over 6-fold to 0.7/1000

I said he was a visionary - in 1900, 62 years before the Royal College of Physicians would follow suit, Littlejohn identified a link between tobacco smoking and lung cancer.

With both legal and medical training, and time with the police, he was also a pioneer of forensic science and its application to policework. He was *the* go-to medical advisor for the Crown in Scottish criminal legal cases for nearly half a century.

And yet Littlejohn has not a street, a statue or even a medical centre named after him. But he is certainly commemorated for his instrumental part in the hugely improved living conditions and life outcomes for tens if not hundreds of thousands of Edinburgh's citizens

4 Paisley Close was rebuilt the following year and became known as "Heave Awa Land" (or House). 3 years later the newspapers reported one of its rescuers, stonemason John Taylor (54) of 4 St. James Square, died after a fire in the Theatre Royal on Friday 13th January 1865. 🔚

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