About Will Crooks MP.
Will Crooks MP has been described as a character straight out of Dickens. Indeed, his early life certainly reflects this. As a young boy, just like the Dickens character of Oliver Twist, Will was sent to a Victorian Workhouse when his family was plunged into poverty. Will Crooks then grew to become a larger than life character that fought for social justice and change on every platform. At a time when Labour men were viewed with suspicion and often seen as political agitators and radicals, this fight was not always easy, but with the flame of justice and fairness burning brightly within him, he never shirked from that fight, no matter what barriers were put in his way; be they class related or the political system of the time related. He was not one for taking ‘No’ for an answer. Hence the title of the book, ‘Where there’s a Will, there’s a way’.
The people of Britain owe an enormous debt of gratitude to Will Crooks MP. He was one of the original members of the National Committee on Old Age Pensions. This body was created with a view to lobby Parliament for the introduction of a national old age pension scheme for Britain. After 10 years of campaigning, he, along with the others on the committee finally saw some reward for their campaigning when Britain introduced its first ever national old age pension scheme in 1908. In Parliament, while debating the Pensions Bill and fighting for its passing, Will Crooks MP told the House of Commons, “After all, who are these old men and women? They are the veterans of industry, people of almost endless toil, who have fought for and won the industrial and commercial supremacy of Great Britain. Is it their lot and end to be the bastille of the everlasting slur of pauperism? We claim these pensions as a right. They have a right to some consideration from the State. Here in a country rich beyond description there are people poor beyond description. There can be no earthly excuse for the condition of things which exists in this country today. If it be necessary to have a strong Army and Navy to protect the wealth of the nation, do not let us forget that it is the veterans of industry who have created that wealth. Let us accept this as an installment to bring decency and comfort to our aged men and women.” The Bill passed and became the Old Age Pensions Act.
When Will Crooks was approached to run for the parliamentary seat of Woolwich, few could have imagined a Labour man winning in what had up until then been a Conservative stronghold, but win he did in dramatic fashion. The speaker of the House of Commons at the time, William Court Gully (Liberal), would later remark that it was ‘the greatest by-election victory of modern times’. The win meant that Will Crooks became only the fourth ever Labour Member of Parliament. The unlikelihood of the win again sits well with the theme and title of the book ‘Where there’s a Will, there’s a way’.
Some of the other things that Will fought for in his political career include:
The unemployed becoming a Government responsibility.
Free schooling for Britain’s children.
Free school meals for the country’s poor children.
Votes for women.
A minimum wage.
Let’s take a quick look at some of Will’s other achievements. As chairman of the London County Council’s Bridges Committee, he gave Londoners the Rotherhithe tunnel, the Greenwich foot tunnel and the Woolwich foot tunnel under the river Thames. Also, when chairman of the London County Council’s Public Control Committee, Will Crooks delivered a killer blow against one of the darker sides of Victorian Britain; baby farming.
Will Crooks was quite the local hero, choosing to live among the poor people and the working class that he represented. His home was open to anyone, and he received an endless stream of visitors asking for his help and advice on all manner of subjects.
Will Crooks campaigned for, and gave the people of Britain (whether directly or indirectly) so much of what they take for granted in their lives today. ‘Where there’s a Will, there’s a way’, will hopefully go some way to keeping the memory of the life and achievements of Will Crooks MP alive.
The people of Britain owe an enormous debt of gratitude to Will Crooks MP. He was one of the original members of the National Committee on Old Age Pensions. This body was created with a view to lobby Parliament for the introduction of a national old age pension scheme for Britain. After 10 years of campaigning, he, along with the others on the committee finally saw some reward for their campaigning when Britain introduced its first ever national old age pension scheme in 1908. In Parliament, while debating the Pensions Bill and fighting for its passing, Will Crooks MP told the House of Commons, “After all, who are these old men and women? They are the veterans of industry, people of almost endless toil, who have fought for and won the industrial and commercial supremacy of Great Britain. Is it their lot and end to be the bastille of the everlasting slur of pauperism? We claim these pensions as a right. They have a right to some consideration from the State. Here in a country rich beyond description there are people poor beyond description. There can be no earthly excuse for the condition of things which exists in this country today. If it be necessary to have a strong Army and Navy to protect the wealth of the nation, do not let us forget that it is the veterans of industry who have created that wealth. Let us accept this as an installment to bring decency and comfort to our aged men and women.” The Bill passed and became the Old Age Pensions Act.
When Will Crooks was approached to run for the parliamentary seat of Woolwich, few could have imagined a Labour man winning in what had up until then been a Conservative stronghold, but win he did in dramatic fashion. The speaker of the House of Commons at the time, William Court Gully (Liberal), would later remark that it was ‘the greatest by-election victory of modern times’. The win meant that Will Crooks became only the fourth ever Labour Member of Parliament. The unlikelihood of the win again sits well with the theme and title of the book ‘Where there’s a Will, there’s a way’.
Some of the other things that Will fought for in his political career include:
The unemployed becoming a Government responsibility.
Free schooling for Britain’s children.
Free school meals for the country’s poor children.
Votes for women.
A minimum wage.
Let’s take a quick look at some of Will’s other achievements. As chairman of the London County Council’s Bridges Committee, he gave Londoners the Rotherhithe tunnel, the Greenwich foot tunnel and the Woolwich foot tunnel under the river Thames. Also, when chairman of the London County Council’s Public Control Committee, Will Crooks delivered a killer blow against one of the darker sides of Victorian Britain; baby farming.
Will Crooks was quite the local hero, choosing to live among the poor people and the working class that he represented. His home was open to anyone, and he received an endless stream of visitors asking for his help and advice on all manner of subjects.
Will Crooks campaigned for, and gave the people of Britain (whether directly or indirectly) so much of what they take for granted in their lives today. ‘Where there’s a Will, there’s a way’, will hopefully go some way to keeping the memory of the life and achievements of Will Crooks MP alive.
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Where there's a Will, there's a way. The remarkable life story of Will Crooks MP.
Chapter 1
The River Thames, Poplar, East London, England, 1855
The small, thin figure of George Crooks walked through the cold morning fog towards the wharf where the ship on which he worked as a stoker was moored. The collar of his dark shabby coat was upturned to keep out the morning chill. The fog was a blessing; it hid the squalor that was most of Poplar. It could not, however, hide the wretched stench of the River. As he walked past the ships that were docked there, he managed to sidestep a group of rats, which scurried away as he disturbed their foraging. He watched them as they disappeared back into the fog. The rats were an ever present resident of the docks because of the ample, easy food pickings found there. Even at this time of the day the river was noisy with the sound of warning bells, fog horns and the shouts of men.
He climbed the damp, wooden gangway that led to the steamer on which he worked, his heavy boots announcing his arrival on board. He waved across to the dimly lit figure of the night watchman sitting in the wheelhouse. The night watchman returned the wave and opened the door to the wheelhouse and leaned out. He was a heavy set, pale faced man with a wisp of blond hair sticking out from beneath the front of his dark woolen hat.
“You’re early today, George!” he called. “What’s up?”
“Noisy engine yesterday,” replied George. “I’ve come in early to give it a good oiling.”
The night watchman shivered. “It’s a chilly one this morning. I’m going back inside. Be careful around that engine now,” he warned.
“I will,” said George as he made his way across the deck to where the steps that led below deck were. At the bottom of the steps a young lad was already hard at work scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees. His clothes were nothing more than rags. He looked up when he saw George, exertion making his cheeks glow in the lamplight. “You’re early today, Mr. Crooks,” he said, smiling.
“Morning John,” George answered, trying to avoid the area that was being scrubbed. “I’ve got an engine to oil.”
“Oh,” said John. “I don’t envy you, Mr. Crooks, having to put your hands into all that machinery; sounds a bit dangerous to me.”
“Just as long as I don’t accidentally turn the engine on, I’ll be fine,” George laughed. John laughed too, although uneasily, and went back to work scrubbing the floor.
John was a good, honest lad, and he continued to scrub hard. The time passed. His vigorous scrubbing stopped mid-stroke as the engines started and a terrible scream echoed through the lower deck. He dropped his scrubbing brush and spun around facing the direction of the engine room, a look of terror distorting his young face. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to run to the engine room and help, but fear had him in its grip and it would not release him. He had to do something, he knew that, but going into the engine room wasn’t an option. A vision of the night watchman flashed before him. “Of course!” he cried. He turned and ran up the steps taking two at a time and ran across the deck to the wheelhouse.
“Mr. Roberts!” he yelled at the watchman. “It’s Mr. Crooks! I think there’s been an accident!”
The watchman ran to the steps that took him below deck. John followed nervously. When they entered the engine room they found George on the floor lying on his side in a pool of blood.
“George!” shouted the watchman. There was no answer. He rolled George over onto his back. Horror spread across his face. “Oh my god! Where’s his arm? John, go get help, now!” But the young lad did not move. His traumatised gaze was fixed on the engine mechanism and the mangled arm that hung there.
“John!” the watchman shouted again urgently. His shout brought the young lad back to his senses somewhat and he managed to slowly pry his eyes away and look down at the bloody figure that was George.
“John!” the watchman snapped. “You need to go and get help, NOW!” John finally nodded, turned and ran for help.
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The River Thames, Poplar, East London, England, 1855
The small, thin figure of George Crooks walked through the cold morning fog towards the wharf where the ship on which he worked as a stoker was moored. The collar of his dark shabby coat was upturned to keep out the morning chill. The fog was a blessing; it hid the squalor that was most of Poplar. It could not, however, hide the wretched stench of the River. As he walked past the ships that were docked there, he managed to sidestep a group of rats, which scurried away as he disturbed their foraging. He watched them as they disappeared back into the fog. The rats were an ever present resident of the docks because of the ample, easy food pickings found there. Even at this time of the day the river was noisy with the sound of warning bells, fog horns and the shouts of men.
He climbed the damp, wooden gangway that led to the steamer on which he worked, his heavy boots announcing his arrival on board. He waved across to the dimly lit figure of the night watchman sitting in the wheelhouse. The night watchman returned the wave and opened the door to the wheelhouse and leaned out. He was a heavy set, pale faced man with a wisp of blond hair sticking out from beneath the front of his dark woolen hat.
“You’re early today, George!” he called. “What’s up?”
“Noisy engine yesterday,” replied George. “I’ve come in early to give it a good oiling.”
The night watchman shivered. “It’s a chilly one this morning. I’m going back inside. Be careful around that engine now,” he warned.
“I will,” said George as he made his way across the deck to where the steps that led below deck were. At the bottom of the steps a young lad was already hard at work scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees. His clothes were nothing more than rags. He looked up when he saw George, exertion making his cheeks glow in the lamplight. “You’re early today, Mr. Crooks,” he said, smiling.
“Morning John,” George answered, trying to avoid the area that was being scrubbed. “I’ve got an engine to oil.”
“Oh,” said John. “I don’t envy you, Mr. Crooks, having to put your hands into all that machinery; sounds a bit dangerous to me.”
“Just as long as I don’t accidentally turn the engine on, I’ll be fine,” George laughed. John laughed too, although uneasily, and went back to work scrubbing the floor.
John was a good, honest lad, and he continued to scrub hard. The time passed. His vigorous scrubbing stopped mid-stroke as the engines started and a terrible scream echoed through the lower deck. He dropped his scrubbing brush and spun around facing the direction of the engine room, a look of terror distorting his young face. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to run to the engine room and help, but fear had him in its grip and it would not release him. He had to do something, he knew that, but going into the engine room wasn’t an option. A vision of the night watchman flashed before him. “Of course!” he cried. He turned and ran up the steps taking two at a time and ran across the deck to the wheelhouse.
“Mr. Roberts!” he yelled at the watchman. “It’s Mr. Crooks! I think there’s been an accident!”
The watchman ran to the steps that took him below deck. John followed nervously. When they entered the engine room they found George on the floor lying on his side in a pool of blood.
“George!” shouted the watchman. There was no answer. He rolled George over onto his back. Horror spread across his face. “Oh my god! Where’s his arm? John, go get help, now!” But the young lad did not move. His traumatised gaze was fixed on the engine mechanism and the mangled arm that hung there.
“John!” the watchman shouted again urgently. His shout brought the young lad back to his senses somewhat and he managed to slowly pry his eyes away and look down at the bloody figure that was George.
“John!” the watchman snapped. “You need to go and get help, NOW!” John finally nodded, turned and ran for help.
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