Grandma Baggott’s Journal – Part Two: Marriage, Motherhood, and Migration
- Deborah Ismay
- Feb 23
- 9 min read
This blog is based on a remarkable journal written in the 1950s by Mary Ann ‘Polly’ Baggott, a Newcastle-born woman who later emigrated to the United States with her family.
Through her own words — quoted directly from her journal — and supported by historical context, we see what life was like for an ordinary working-class family in Newcastle upon Tyne from the late nineteenth century into the early twentieth.
In our previous post, Grandma Baggott’s Journal – Part One, we explored Polly Wells’ childhood in Victorian Newcastle — a world of cobbled streets, frozen park lakes, seaside holidays, and simple pleasures remembered decades later with warmth and clarity.
In this second instalment, Polly’s journal carries us forward into adulthood. These pages follow her journey from marriage to motherhood, revealing the everyday rhythms of family life in Newcastle upon Tyne in the early twentieth century, along with moments of joy, hardship, and resilience. Through her words, we glimpse not just historical events, but the emotional heart of a busy working-class household.
Courting Days
By the late 1890s, Polly was no longer the carefree child of Sunderland Street. In 1898, she was appointed a Sunday School teacher at the Blenheim Street Wesleyan Chapel, where she met William Baggott, a brick layer (later a builder) originally from Newbottle in County Durham. William was a talented musician, playing both piano and organ, and serving as choirmaster and conductor at his local Chapel.
Their courtship included modest but much-loved day trips to Tynemouth and Cullercoats — outings that echo Polly’s happy childhood memories of the seaside:
“We used to have tea in the tearoom on the top of the cliffs and the picture window looked on to the sea. We used to watch the ships going out and coming in and the sea was beautiful and the sands clean and white. We strolled hours along the sands and climbed the rocks. It was fun. Well, we always had cold ham and rolls and a teapot and cakes and sat and enjoyed it; all this for six pence each”.
Not all their seaside adventures were without drama. On one occasion, a rowing trip nearly ended in disaster:
“[William] took the rowboat out from the short sands [now King Edward’s bay, Tynemouth] and a storm came up and we were a long way out. Ours was the last boat out and the fishermen kept shouting which way to come in…... It ended with one of them putting his oil skin suit on and coming out to pull us in. I reeled like a drunken person and asked [William] did he intent to drown me?”.
Marriage to William Baggott
Polly married William on 22 December 1900 at the Blenheim Street Wesleyan Chapel. She was 23; William was 26. Her description of the day offers a rare and vivid glimpse into a turn-of-the-century wedding:
“My dress was of light grey soft cloth and made with a small jacket and white silk vest. The dress was trimmed with small pearl trimming, and I had a large picture hat of grey felt trimmed with evet ribbon and a long white feather. I carried white chrysanthemums ….. [William] wore a light grey suit. My brother Will was best man. We had two cabs with white horses. After the ceremony as my brother helped me into the cab, the horses took fright. My brother jumped into the cab, leaving [William] standing on the pavement. I always say I’ve been in a hurry ever since. We had a reception at my brother Tom’s home on Warrington Road and had a delicious meal and a sing song and fun”.
The warmth of her account is matched by a deeply touching tribute to her mother, who ensured the newlyweds’ first days in their new home were comfortable:
“When we arrived, I found a nice cheery fire burning and when I went into the back kitchen and opened the pantry door, my mother had thought of everything for the coming week. She had made a rabbit pie, apple pie, some ham, eggs and vegetables (just like my dear mother – she thought of everything)”.
A First Home Together
This first home was an upstairs Tyneside flat, where even small improvements brought enormous joy:
“I did not like the sound our feet made on the bare stairs. Well …. we budgeted our money and found we could buy a carpet. So… Saturday afternoon we went to the co-operative Society Store and bought a lovely ruby and tan design carpet and brass rods to fix it with. We came home very happy and the next Saturday, [William] fixed the carpet and rods. We stood at the bottom of the stairs. Then we laughed at each other and ran up, then down, then up”.
Christmas 1904
By December 1904, Polly and William were parents to two small children, Cyril and Winnie and keeping Christmas in their own home for the first time. Polly recorded walking into Newcastle on Christmas Eve to buy presents for the children:
“We did feel proud and happy, going shopping for the children. We walked down the West Turnpike, down Arthur Hill to Westgate Road, down the long band of Westgate Road to Grainger Street. It was a long walk, two miles or more, but the night was a beautiful frosty night with moonlight. It did one good to walk and feel the crisp air on your face.
We went to the Toy Arcade and bought a large wooden engine painted red (Cyril called it puff-puff) and a large rubber ball; some blocks for Winnie, a doll, a basket pram (buggy), a washable picture book made of linen. I don’t remember buying anything for me or my husband. So, we started the long uphill jaunt home. We were young and happy, had two nice children and a nice comfortable home and good friends”.
A Growing Family — and Loss
Polly’s family continued to grow and nine further children, including two sets of twins, were born between 1906 and 1916. She remained at home managing the household while William worked hard to provide for his family as well as volunteering for the St. John Ambulance Association. They lived in just three rooms in a Tyneside flat in Benwell but Polly remembered that they did have some wonderful times as the family grew up.
The outbreak of the First World War in 1914 cast a long shadow over Newcastle and the wider North East. Although William was too old to be called up for military service — he was forty when war began — and their sons were still children, the war years nonetheless brought anxiety, disruption, and added strain for families like theirs.
Amid this period of pressure came one of the most devastating moments recorded in Polly’s journal: the death of her baby son, Stanley, in November 1916. Her account is both deeply personal and revealing of the quiet resilience expected of mothers:
“It was a dreary November day. I had kept him by the fire to keep him warm all that day, but the doctor said he would not live. He died about five o’clock. The little ones were all asking for me to give them their afternoon meal. I laid the baby in his cot and sent Winnie for the nurse, and although I wanted to just sit and cry, I had to keep the children quiet. I told them the baby had died and after tea the nurse prepared him for his last rest. All the boys and girls watched her. She carried him into the parlour. Laid him on a table covered with a white sheet. She told them their little brother was an angel, and God was going to take him home. They were too young to understand but they went out of the room and seemed as though they couldn’t understand why the baby was left alone.
I missed the baby terribly and now had Sydney to care for. The twin girls who were only 1 ½, so what with the others around and some going to school and Edwin and Marge also at home, I found plenty to do and little time to weep”.
When we encounter infant deaths in our family histories, they often appear as brief, stark entries. Polly’s words remind us of the lived reality behind those records — loss borne quietly, and strength drawn from necessity. Set against the wider hardships of the war years, her account speaks to the endurance of countless women on the home front whose struggles rarely found a place in official histories.
Leaving the North East
In 1920 William and Polly took the life-altering decision to leave everyone and everything they knew behind and emigrate with all their children to Detroit, Michigan in the USA.
Post-war Britain was characterised by industrial contraction, rising unemployment, and increased financial hardship, making life particularly difficult for large families dependent on a single wage. At the same time, Detroit was booming, offering plentiful work, higher wages, and improved housing. Two of William’s brothers had already settled there.
In December 1920, William travelled ahead to America to secure work and prepare for the family’s arrival, while Polly remained in Newcastle with the children, selling their furniture and planning the journey that would carry them far from the streets and communities she remembered so vividly.
Tragedy struck once more before their departure, with the sudden death of their 14-year-old son, John, in January 1921. John had suffered a minor leg injury and, in the days before antibiotics, this led to septicaemia or blood poisoning which proved fatal.
“The days were too sad to think of. We all loved John. His schoolmates and principal all came to his funeral. I had to write a sad letter to my husband telling him. I thought I would never get over it”.
Despite her grief, Polly was supported by neighbours who helped prepare the family for their journey — a powerful reminder of the close-knit communities they were leaving behind.
A New Life in America
In June 1921, Polly and her nine children sailed from Liverpool to Quebec onboard the ‘Empress of France’ and then travelled on to Detroit by train. Her account of the journey — the kindness of the stewards on the ship, crowded terminals, tired children, long hours — ends with a moment of reunion:
“At the gate we saw Dad… The children crowded round their Dad and we were all glad to see him and be together”.
The family settled successfully in Detroit, where William built their new home with his own hands.
Polly, never forgot her North East roots though and kept in touch by letter with family and friends for over 40 years. She even received copies of the ‘Newcastle Chronical’ and wrote letters and poems for the newspaper which were published under the name ‘Mrs W Baggott’.
William Baggott died at the age of 81 in 1956. His wife survived him and died in 1961 aged 84. The couple are warmly remembered by their many children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.
Looking Back
Through Polly’s words, we see a life shaped by love, loss, faith, and determination — a journey that carried her from Victorian Newcastle to industrial America. Her journal reminds us that family history is not just about where our ancestors lived, but how they felt, endured, and remembered.
In sharing these memories, we hope — as with Part One — that Polly’s story encourages you to reflect on your own family’s past, and to treasure the voices that connect generations across time and distance.
Editor’s Note: Why Polly’s Journal Matters
Personal journals like Polly Baggott’s are rare and precious sources for family historians. Unlike official records — census returns, certificates, or electoral rolls — journals preserve emotion, memory, and interpretation. They tell us not only what happened, but how it felt to live through it.
Polly’s writing captures the textures of everyday life: the sound of footsteps on bare stairs, the strain of wartime shortages, the weight of grief carried alongside domestic duty, and the courage required to leave home in middle age with a large family.
Her words give voice to experiences shared by many women of her generation, yet so rarely recorded in their own hand.
By preserving and sharing her memories, we gain more than insight into one family’s past. We glimpse a wider social history — seen not through headlines or official reports, but through the steady, observant eyes of a wife, mother, and eventually a grandmother, determined that her story, and the world she knew, should not be forgotten.
[Family photographs and extracts from Grandma Baggott’s 'Journal of Memories' are reproduced here courtesy of her granddaughters Karen and Kristen Baggott, USA]