Fletchers. What can I say? Well first off, thanks to TheNewMendoza, Rooks, and especially to Havoc: all help received was appreciated big style. Secondly, although I’ve seen several sets of photos from Fletchers, I was still unprepared for the effect of seeing the place “in the flesh”. The gamut of colours is breathtaking, and the bonus of early morning sunshine means that the spaces had a great sense of depth. I’ve been highly selective, but hopefully I’ve managed to capture a sense of its atmosphere, and show some new views.
As I’ve only read partial histories of Greenfield Mill so far, I spent a bit of time in the archives the next day, digging out more of the history of Fletchers and their antecedents. The buildings were originally established as a woollen mill by a Mr. Bottomley on or around 1780; a great flood in 1799 washed away several buildings, and that marked the first rebuilding at Greenfield. Bottomley’s Mill stood on a 500 acre estate, and by the 1850’s, several hundred workers were employed in wool carding and spinning: by that time, the core of three- and four-storey buildings had already been built, and almost all survive today, albeit containing different functions. Many of the workers at Bottomley’s Greenfield Mill were housed in the row of cottages which still sits above the mill on the opposite side to the Holmfirth road: they’re known as Hey Top, or “Forty Row”, the latter because there were twenty back-to-back cottar houses, hence accommodating forty families. Other key mill workers were housed on houses and cottages elsewhere on the estate.
By the end of the 19th century, Bottomley’s Mill had slipped from wool spinning lower down the value chain, and had become a bleachworks. The reasons for its decline aren’t clear, but bleaching apparently made less money than spinning, so you can guess that maintenenace, morale and investment all dropped away, too. In March 1914, cotton wool caught fire in the Finishing Department at Greenfield and destroyed several buildings. And there ends the second part of Greenfield Mill’s life, because the Great War was about to kick off (thanks, Archduke Franz Ferdinand …), and both capital and manpower were tied up elsewhere. Perhaps the mill wasn’t insured? As far as I could establish, the damaged buildings were left alone, and at least part of the mill lay dormant for the duration.
The Great War was a turning point for another industry. Cigarette paper was a French monopoly until then, and British giants like Imperial Tobacco became concerned when their supplies were cut off as hostilities spread across the Continent. They determined to find a British source for fag wraps after the Armistice, and Robert Fletchers spotted an opportunity. Robert Fletcher & Son had been in existence since the 1820’s, although only since 1860 under the Fletchers name: they also had a mill at Stoneclough which made onionskin and typing paper. When the war ended, Fletchers searched throughout Britain for a suitable site (plenty clean water, close to ports, presumably close to their other mill), and in the end landed at Greenfield. The existing mill buildings were gutted, new parts added (like the office range to the west, and some of the warehouses), and two paper-making machines were installed. Robert Fletcher & Son (Greenfield) came into operation in 1921, and operated 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, from then until it shut.
Cigarette paper is made from a mix of flax and hemp, due to those fibres’ strength, and the need to make cigarette paper as a fine tissue. Flax is nearly pure cellulose, which when made into paper it burns cleanly and doesn’t leave a bad taste to taint the tobacco. In the top floor of the mill, right at the back of the site, is the bale store, with a chopper machine which was used to open press-packed bales (there are still a few bales of hemp on the floor). I recognised the “chopper” immediately, because Taybank jute mill in Dundee had machines like this, although they were bigger because the jute bales were far larger. Once opened, the bales of hemp and flax were sorted and fed into spherical revolving boilers to “cook”. These are the bits of kit which other explorers dubbed “death stars”. The fibres were cooked in a mild alkali solution which dissolved out oils and organic compounds. I think the papermill workers called these boilers “pans”, but I’m happy to be corrected.
As I’ve only read partial histories of Greenfield Mill so far, I spent a bit of time in the archives the next day, digging out more of the history of Fletchers and their antecedents. The buildings were originally established as a woollen mill by a Mr. Bottomley on or around 1780; a great flood in 1799 washed away several buildings, and that marked the first rebuilding at Greenfield. Bottomley’s Mill stood on a 500 acre estate, and by the 1850’s, several hundred workers were employed in wool carding and spinning: by that time, the core of three- and four-storey buildings had already been built, and almost all survive today, albeit containing different functions. Many of the workers at Bottomley’s Greenfield Mill were housed in the row of cottages which still sits above the mill on the opposite side to the Holmfirth road: they’re known as Hey Top, or “Forty Row”, the latter because there were twenty back-to-back cottar houses, hence accommodating forty families. Other key mill workers were housed on houses and cottages elsewhere on the estate.
By the end of the 19th century, Bottomley’s Mill had slipped from wool spinning lower down the value chain, and had become a bleachworks. The reasons for its decline aren’t clear, but bleaching apparently made less money than spinning, so you can guess that maintenenace, morale and investment all dropped away, too. In March 1914, cotton wool caught fire in the Finishing Department at Greenfield and destroyed several buildings. And there ends the second part of Greenfield Mill’s life, because the Great War was about to kick off (thanks, Archduke Franz Ferdinand …), and both capital and manpower were tied up elsewhere. Perhaps the mill wasn’t insured? As far as I could establish, the damaged buildings were left alone, and at least part of the mill lay dormant for the duration.
The Great War was a turning point for another industry. Cigarette paper was a French monopoly until then, and British giants like Imperial Tobacco became concerned when their supplies were cut off as hostilities spread across the Continent. They determined to find a British source for fag wraps after the Armistice, and Robert Fletchers spotted an opportunity. Robert Fletcher & Son had been in existence since the 1820’s, although only since 1860 under the Fletchers name: they also had a mill at Stoneclough which made onionskin and typing paper. When the war ended, Fletchers searched throughout Britain for a suitable site (plenty clean water, close to ports, presumably close to their other mill), and in the end landed at Greenfield. The existing mill buildings were gutted, new parts added (like the office range to the west, and some of the warehouses), and two paper-making machines were installed. Robert Fletcher & Son (Greenfield) came into operation in 1921, and operated 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, from then until it shut.
Cigarette paper is made from a mix of flax and hemp, due to those fibres’ strength, and the need to make cigarette paper as a fine tissue. Flax is nearly pure cellulose, which when made into paper it burns cleanly and doesn’t leave a bad taste to taint the tobacco. In the top floor of the mill, right at the back of the site, is the bale store, with a chopper machine which was used to open press-packed bales (there are still a few bales of hemp on the floor). I recognised the “chopper” immediately, because Taybank jute mill in Dundee had machines like this, although they were bigger because the jute bales were far larger. Once opened, the bales of hemp and flax were sorted and fed into spherical revolving boilers to “cook”. These are the bits of kit which other explorers dubbed “death stars”. The fibres were cooked in a mild alkali solution which dissolved out oils and organic compounds. I think the papermill workers called these boilers “pans”, but I’m happy to be corrected.
Fantastic pics coupled with an interesting history & informative explanation of the proccesses involved in this industry. Without doubt one of the best 'complete' reports i've seen! If i wore a hat i'd take it off to you! 
