Places To Remember For A Newton Exile

Merse as we have talked about the work house in Newton on this thread, I wondered if you knew the story about Kitty Jay and more importantly, where the grave is on Dartmoor






Back in the late eighteenth century, 1790 some say, an orphaned baby was taken into the Poor House at Newton Abbot. The little girl was named, as was the custom, with a surname beginning with whatever letter the Poor House had progressed to, in this case 'J'. As many of the commoner names had been taken the baby girl ended up with 'Jay'. In those days the word 'Jay' was also a slang term for a prostitute so the Christian name of Mary was added.

Mary Jay remained at the Wolborough Poor House until her teens where she supervised the younger children. Then she was sent to Canna farm which was located outside Manaton. Here she was to be employed as an 'apprentice' which meant she would work both in the house and on the fields. This was to be a hard life as the task load was heavy, the days long and the rewards few. A decent meal and warm clothing were luxuries that many of these 'apprentices' learned to live without. It may have been at this farm that Mary Jay got her more famous name of 'Kitty'.

Not long after she had been at the farm she started to receive the attentions of the farmers son which at the time may have seemed a way of obtaining some security and a sense of worth. Sadly, as in many similar cases she fell pregnant and soon discovered that her meaning of worth was very different to that of the farmer and his wife. Clearly the girl had 'thrown' herself at their son and with the name of Jay, no wonder.

The end result was that she was thrown out of the farm and left with a reputation as a 'very *friendly* person'. Kitty knew only too well that once word got around she would never find employment in the area and that only left the prospect of returning in disgrace to the Poor House. Tragically Kitty Jay took the only other option and was found hanging in one of the barns at Canna.

The custom of the day was that any suicide could not be buried in consecrated ground as so they were interred at a crossroads, some times with a stake driven through their hearts. This was to ensure that the restless soul of the departed could not return to haunt god fearing mortals.

This was the fate of Kitty Jay, she was buried at the intersection of a road and a moorland track. The grave soon became known as 'Jay's Grave' and it did not take long for strange events to start taking place. On certain moonlit nights a dark figure could be seen kneeling beside the sad little mound with bowed head and its face buried in its hands. Nobody has ever been able to say if the spectral figure was male or female because it was always wrapped in a thick, black cloak. There are two schools of thought as to who the ghostly apparition is, some say it is the spirit of one of those responsible for driving Kitty from the farm and others say that it is the soul of the faithless farmer's son who as punishment has been sent to stand vigil over the grave of his victim and his unborn child.

The other phenomenon associated with the Kitty's resting place is the daily appearance of fresh flowers on the grave, nobody is ever seen leaving them but no matter what time of year there are always flowers, posies or greenery sat on the lonely mound. Tradition says that the flowers are the work of the piskies who out of sympathy tend the grave throughout eternity

In the 1970's the Dartmoor National Park Authority placed kerb stones around the grave for protection against damage from cattle and sheep.

My parents never owned a car until I was twelve and so trips as far onto Dartmoor as the location of Jays Grave and the adjacent Hound Tor were almost impossible.

For us it used to be the bus up to Haytor Rocks and a day spent exploring around the tracks of the Dartmoor Granite Railway and the rocks themselves.

However my Dad's brother in law ~ my Uncle Tom, was a taxi driver and once a year we used to be treated to a tour of Dartmoor by him and the never ending route used to take in the aforesaid Jay's Grave, Two Bridges, Dartmoor Prison and Princetown, Post Bridge and Dartmeet and also Brentor and Lydford Gorge (phew!) so although I hardly knew it in my early boyhood; I was fully aware of the legend of the grave and later in my life I realised just who it was leaving the flowers.

Who is it ~ or who was it in my days of living in Devon? Well although I knew them, I'm not telling.....................I wouldn't want to upset the piskies. Although it wasn't them it was a real life person alright; but what a long and never ending family tradition to inherit responsibility for and why that particular family when it was definitely NOT them who were held to be responsible for poor Kitty's despair and ultimate demise...............or was it?

Here's a 1920s OS map for you Newton boys - extending all the way from Heathfield via the Stover and Hackney canals to the makings of a new community at Aller (or should that be Milber?).

And, with respect to 1930s architecture, how about the church of St Luke at Milber? Apparently based on an interpretation of a dream experienced by a local vicar called William Keble Martin who, much later, published The Concise British Flora in Colour at the age of eighty-eight. These days St Luke is one of those churches affiliated to the See of Ebbsfleet - www.ebbsfleet.org.uk - which is opposed to the ordination of women. And I thought it might have a "modern"outlook...

:)Thanks Dave, opened the link and waow what a lot of work has gone into this collection of pics and information much of which will be remembered by many of the TUFF fans. Will re read but with more time to take it all in. Cheers.

Maybe all the rubbish about Newton Abbot I have put on various threads would be better on here Dave? As for Places To Remember For A Newton Exile are you boys too old/young to remember Ford & Lock supermarket, Madge Mellors & The Attic in Union Street (tight B*st*rd)?

Ford & Lock supermarket, Madge Mellors & The Attic in Union Street (tight B*st*rd)?

I remembered the name Ford and Lock no problem but had to think where it was. I can only think he was next to Bearnes School in Queen Street that must be the site Argos now owns. If I’m right then it was taken over by another supermarket company, but for now I can’t remember which one.

But what was there before? There was a garage that I would think must have been called Bearnes Garage and it sold petrol and as a little boy I remember so well the petrol pumps. They were against the wall of the garage and as we are talking about the days before self service, there was an attendant to fill the cars with petrol.

Only there was the footpath between the pumps and the road, so the pumps had a large swing arm fitted above them and the man after making sure the pathway was clear, would swing the arm over the path and then fill up the car. The arm was a good height, so the path could still be used. It was just one of those childish little boy things, but I loved walking under it when it was over the path.

So you had to sell a few things to Roy at the Attic when you were younger as you needed some money? He is still there some 35 years after he started there and I popped into see him last year. He took the shop on a six month lease as he and his wife ran an insurance office from the building on the far end of the same block in Union street.

That building was once Newton Abbots police station and the building across the road next to the school, was once the Newton Abbot Soup Kitchens. My only memory of the soup kitchens was attending a youth club there; at that time I believe it was also the home of Newton 66 football club.

So back to the Attic, Roy took the shop as he had lots of stuff in his large garage and was planning to just use the shop for a short time to sell it all. He soon found people were bringing in things to sell and as money was really tight for young families back then in Newton; he soon built up a large stock of goods that he paid next to nothing for.

Yes he was sure tight and as he knew people were desperate for the money, offered them rubbish prices to take the good off them, they may have kicked and screamed, but it was a take it or leave it offer and most took the money in the end.

I remember those early trading months well as at the time I was living in a rat infested flat that you got to through an alley way between Lloyd Maunders and Drewhurst, close to Marks & Spencer’s in Courtney Street. I was able to park my Hillman Imp in the street at night, but had to make sure I moved it in the morning.

I was forced to sell some things to him, but then someone in my family who was close to a local councillor, had a word in the councillor’s ear and a week later the council offered me 16c Linden Terrace to live in. My house was not on the road as such but up a driveway and there were three houses in total that were not long before police houses.

So we had little money and nothing to sit on in our new home, so we had to go and see Roy. The best he would do for the money we had on us, was, wait for It

Six yellow padded chairs that had just come out from a ladies hairdressers.


Madge Mellors, what a name that was and I bet many kids mums in Newton when I was young had worked there at sometime or other. What a shame when it closed and I never knew why it did. When you had been taken say to Torquay in a car as a child, you always looked for the big pink sign that was beside the road near Aller. It was the advert for Madge Mellors and you then knew when you saw it, you were nearly home