On this day, 17th December, in 1935, a roof collapse at Loftus Ironstone mine trapped two miners, John Cooper Henry and Henry Murrell, under a heap of rock.
Enter George Heslop, the mine’s Agent and Manager, who arrived at 9 a.m. to find that the roof was still collapsing and other miners were understandably reluctant to risk their lives. Not Heslop. He crawled four yards into a cavity just two feet high, cleared stones from Henry’s face, but could not free him because a timber beam pinned his legs.
Heslop ordered the passage to be widened and shored up before crawling in again—this time to locate Murrell, who was pinned by his foot. Offering a stimulant to the trapped man, Heslop then worked alone for four hours in a space so small that no one else could assist. Debris continued to fall around him, and onlookers repeatedly urged him to abandon the effort. He ignored them and freed Murrell alive.
Heslop then returned to Henry, supervised the removal of the timber beam crushing him, and released him after eight hours of imprisonment. Seconds later, the entire structure collapsed in a heavy fall.
Both miners, tragically, died later of shock from the ordeal, but for his troubles, Heslop was awarded the Edward Medal by King Edward VIII for “outstanding courage and very great personal risk.” This was not his first brush with heroism.
George Christopher Heslop, born in 1885, was the son of Christopher Heslop, Agent at Ayton Ironstone Mine for Pease & Partners. Following in his father’s footsteps, George eventually took over at Ayton before his military detour to France during the Great War. There, as a Captain in the Durham Light Infantry, his bravery under machine gun and artillery fire on the Somme in 1916 earned him the Military Cross. After the war, he returned to Ayton Mine and later became manager of Loftus Mine in 1932.
The Edward Medal, specifically awarded for miners and quarrymen risking their lives to save others, was discontinued in 1971. Recipients were invited to exchange it for the George Cross. Nine, including Heslop, declined.
Heslop continued to work at Loftus for two more decades, retiring quietly before dying in 1975.
As for Ayton Mine, where Heslop’s legacy began, its small size and relative isolation ensured it was perhaps treated as an afterthought. Lacking its own manager, only a ‘sub-manager’, the job fell to Pease’s Agents. Today, nature has reclaimed the site with brambles and gorse, leaving concrete remnants to be swallowed by the undergrowth. The drift entrance remains, though only for those who know where to look.
In 2006, I had the dubious pleasure of being invited by the Cleveland Mining Heritage Society to explore the mine. An experience, certainly. In theory, one can still crawl all the way under Great Ayton Moor—if one did not require oxygen. After 50 metres, the air became unpleasantly stale. At a large flywheel, common sense prevailed, and we turned back. Hence, my admiration for George Heslop is difficult to overstate.
Sources
- Pepper, Richard. “Glimpses of Monument Mine Great Ayton 1908-1931”. Cleveland Ironstone Series. Published by Peter Tuffs 1996
- Award of Edward Medal. London Gazette. 17th May 1936. Durham Mining Museum. https://www.dmm.org.uk/news19/9360517.htm
- George Heslop biography. Durham Mining Museum. http://www.dmm.org.uk/whoswho/h536.htm
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