“Spring-Heeled Jack in Everton” #8 – In My Mappy Place

Another early blog – I’m in work with my muggle job this evening, and I don’t fancy writing another zombie post this evening.

We’ve just had our first dramaturgical meeting, discussing what’s come out of this week’s developments, and by Monday we should have a structure (I keep on wanting to call it a plot, but given the nature of the work that’s not really accurate). When that happens I’ll have a better idea of what research needs I’ll have for next week, and how to focus my dramaturgical energies. Right now, though, I’m ordering old OS maps of various areas of Liverpool in order to have a geographic resource for when we start planning in earnest.

I’m also going to be away over the weekend, enjoying the delights of Edinburgh – but fear not! I will have blogs for you, thanks to the magic of the ‘schedule posts’ feature on WordPress. I do know how you’d hate to be without them.

“Spring-Heeled Jack in Everton” #7 – Don’t Know Jack

I’m taking a bit of a different tack for today’s update. I’m currently ensconced in the audio-visual suite at Hope Street Limited’s premises, just round the corner from the Everyman, delving into in various methods of research and debating exactly where I’m going to go for my lunch.

Tomorrow, the performers are going to present their initial ideas for how they wish to pursue their storytelling traditions. Not many of them are in today; those that are have been attending meetings with the lead artists or doing physical exercises in the library, hence my change of scenery. I’m moving back into historical research for a few days whilst this is going on – but this is of a different bent to my previous work. Whereas then it was focused on the mythos of Spring-Heeled Jack and people connected to it, I’m now looking more broadly into the recent history of the places where we’ll be performing.

In some ways, this research is easier than what I was doing before – because it’s more factual, there’s less extrapolation and the information is more readily available. On the other hand, if you run into a dead end, you’re kind of stuck – you can’t co-incidence your way out of trouble here.

That’s not to say there isn’t interesting stuff to be found. For example, there’s neighbouring suburbs of the Australian city of Brisbane called Everton Park and Everton Hills, which amuses me greatly. Everton (the Liverpool one) also used to be an affluent suburb in the days when towns were places of pestilence and suburbs the last word in upper-class living. And, when John Houlding wanted to form a breakaway club from Everton FC, it was originally going to be called Everton Athletic, which frankly sounds like a complete failure of imagination on his part.

I would write more, but food calls, and then I have to go hill-walking. It’s only one hill, but it’s a pretty steep one.

“Spring-Heeled Jack in Everton” #6 – Post-Work Quickie #1

Quick update, because it’s late and I’ve been at work.

Delving into other methods of research now – the aim with the research my fellow EAPs are doing is to find something of their given storytelling tradition that interests them and produce something for our show from that. That means that, whilst I’m pointing people towards the resources I’ve found, which are mainly academic, I’m also pointing them towards other resources, whether it’s fantasy novels, Saturday night TV, or Discworld (I’m particularly keen on pushing Discworld. Everyone should read Discworld. Everyone). I’m also beginning to get into the wider bits of dramaturgy, beginning to draw the show together and giving us a framework to hang our story on.

I’m also keeping an eye out for weather reports, because I have a feeling I’m going to be spending a significant chunk of tomorrow wandering around Everton Park. It’s a good job I like the view.

“Spring-Heeled Jack in Everton” #5 – Dramaturgid Waters

Today has been a good day.

It’s also been a very busy day, which is why I’m writing this at my kitchen table with a Maccies’ milkshake trying to desperately beat a self-imposed midnight deadline. I spent my morning running my Incredible Ever-Condensing Hope Street Limited Library, giving my fellows advice on where to look for their own research, and my afternoon and evening working on musical projects in various far-flung corners of Everton (and even managed to sneak in some writing of my own, which hasn’t happened in ages). Basically, today’s been my first proper taste of being a working dramaturg.

At this point I have to address a question I’m almost certain you’re asking: What on earth is a dramaturg? Truth be told, I’m still asking that myself.

The difficult thing about describing the role of a dramaturg is that nobody agrees on what a dramaturg’s role actually is. From what I’ve found out by doing some reading around the role, every dramaturg has their own definition of what their role is, and I get the feeling that every show has a different role for a dramaturg (and, of course, lots of shows have no need for them at all).

The role of dramaturg (in its modern form) was developed by Gotthold Lessing in the eighteenth century, as a kind of ‘font-of-all-knowledge’ about the historical background of plays and operas. Of course, the eighteenth century was a long time ago, and things have changed a fair bit since then. For a lot of people – especially those who don’t work with dramaturgs – it’s still a predominantly research-based role; another definition common amongst dramaturgs themselves is that it focuses on advising the development of new works for the stage. Some dramaturgs see their role as being the representation of the author in the production, whilst others consider themselves ‘designated outsiders’, people who offer different perspectives on shows. And some people consider it an ever-changing grab-bag of whatever roles other people didn’t want, a kind of ‘odd-job man’ of the production team.

So, with that in mind, here’s my definition of ‘the dramaturg’s role’: to ensure the coherence and cohesiveness of a production. That means research, definitely, and also probably taking on a lot of odds and ends that don’t quite fall into anyone else’s job remit but nonetheless need doing to make sure the production works. It means I may occasionally have to stand up to the other members of the production if something they really want doesn’t work, and that I will basically turn into a massive continuity geek over the next month. Well, I say ‘turn into’. I mean ‘unleashing the slathering continuity-porn addict that lurks deep within my psyche, usually shackled with shatterproof bonds to prevent him ruining Discworld for me’.

If you’re reading this, and you think I’ve completely missed the point of dramaturgy, drop a note in the comments section. I fancy having a lively debate about this (a lively debate is probably the last thing I need right now, but to hell with stupid niggling things like necessities).

“Spring-Heeled Jack in Everton” #4 – Changing Jack

Today was my first day working with the EAPs – my fellows on Hope Street‘s Emerging Artists Programme. A lot happened.

My role from here on out is going to be changing; I’ll be moving away from doing the research myself and starting to guide my fellow performers in research of their own – of which, more anon. This post is going to be dedicated to reflecting on my research so far, and looking at where I go from here.

Tessa sent me a very long list of storytelling traditions to have a look at, and over the past (very hectic) weekend I’ve been digging up stuff on as much of that as I can – there was even one point where I pulled my laptop out at a house party and spent an hour boning up on the traditions of mummers’ plays, which may account for the paucity of my social calendar come September. In the process I found loads and loads of really interesting stuff, including Ewan MacColl’s account of the making of the radio ballads, a National Theatre video series on Commedia dell’Arte, and a blog about penny dreadfuls and the increase in literacy in Victorian England. This is only scratching the surface of what I’ve found, and I haven’t had the chance to more than skim-read the stuff I’ve found. If I ever manage to finish the vast pile of experimental literature I’ve acquired I’ll still not want for reading material for weeks at the least.

So that’s the story so far. I’m not going to say that my research endeavours have ceased – and I will doubtless come back to them in the coming days and weeks, because there’s three weeks of research currently sat on my computer and I can’t adequately detail it all in the space of four posts (though I have tried). But my day-to-day activities are going to be a bit different – I’ll be spending less time hunched over my laptop on my own, rifling through census details for Kirkdale in 1891, and more time actually communicating with real live people. I’ve even got a desk; it’s in a library and everything (or at least it is when Hope Street’s admin staff don’t keep nicking it). In other words, I’m becoming less of a pure researcher, and moving into the murky waters of dramaturgy.

This is where the fun starts. I hope.

“Spring-Heeled Jack in Everton” #3 – Lurkin’ on the Railroad

I talked yesterday about the websites I’ve been using to do my historical research, and about how the available material affects the nature of my research. There’s been another aspect of this, which has been digging into the history of the area going back before Spring-Heeled Jack’s reign of terror, and in the years since he disappeared.

Some of this comes from the research I’ve already dug up; the history of High Park Street Reservoir, for example, is fascinating – a serious architectural undertaking, and one that was still in use during my lifetime. Other areas can be a bit more tangential – for example, when researching the character of ‘A. Guthrie’, a temperance advocate and vocal letter-writer to the Liverpool Mercury, very critical of John Houlding, I found that the building from which he addressed his letters was the headquarters of the Cheshire Lines Committee. Being a massive train buff, I knew that the Cheshire Lines Committee had built two lines through this part of North Liverpool in the 1880s to compete with the commuter lines run by the Lancashire & Yorkshire Railway. Was it possible that ‘Spring-Heeled Jack’ could be part of a land-war between two rival companies seeking dominance in this quarter of the city?

Alas, it’s unlikely – the North Liverpool Extension and the Southport Extension were never very profitable, and they eventually closed in the 1960s. Still, it was an interesting diversion, and I’m pretty sure that there’ll be some use for that information in some form.

My research now is starting to move away from the local history aspect and into folklore and folk traditions – I have a big, big list provided by Tessa from the Suitcase Ensemble of themes that they’d like to see included in the show, and there’s going to be more to come, almost certainly, as people develop their own ideas and start pursuing their own paths of inquiry. That means the resources I use will change, but some of the methods will carry over. Just last night I managed to find an excellent brief documentary on mummers’ plays in Ireland by typing a few choice terms into Google.

Also, at some point, I think I’m going to have to take a trip to Antrobus to find out what ‘soul-cakes’ are.

“Spring-Heeled Jack in Everton” #2 – Record Fakers

I realised, after yesterday’s update, that it’s been a year to the day since I last updated this blog. WordPress has decided that in the intervening time its update facility doesn’t like Safari, which is less than ideal.

Anyway – news thingies! We were in the ECHO yesterday. That kind of makes it real now. Good good, not panicking…

So I said yesterday’s update was the only time I’d treat Spring-Heeled Jack as fact. You may well be wondering what on earth I’ve got left to do for the rest of the month. I’m not gonna lie, there were times when I felt that way myself.

Because there aren’t many facts to go on about Spring-Heeled Jack, my research has been largely focusing on the people connected to the legend – people like police constables John Cunningham and Tom Tinniswood, who saw Spring-Heeled Jack leaping off High Park Street Reservoir in 1888. I’ve also dug into the wider area and uncovered some characters. For example, Father John McHale of St Francis Xavier’s Church and School, a brutal disciplinarian whose death inspired cheering amongst his pupils; or John Houlding, owner of Anfield football ground, Lord Mayor of Liverpool, brewer, Orangeman and Conservative Councillor for Everton Ward, a divisive and controversial figure even before we get into otherworldly Victorian scoundrels.

For this kind of work, sites such as findmypast.co.uk, ancestry.com and the British Newspaper Archive have proven invaluable resources. Even though everyone involved in the story is long dead, it’s surprisingly easy to find enough information to build up a pretty clear picture of their lives using census records.

More interesting, though are the figures who aren’t traceable through the census. It adds a sense of mystery, a mystique to their seemingly sudden appearance in this tapestry that’s being woven. And sometimes, when these figures include Father McHale and Mayor Houlding…

…Why, the story almost writes itself. Makes my job easier, anyway.

“Spring-Heeled Jack in Everton” #1 – Facts On The Ground

For the rest of this month, I’m going to be working as a researcher on Hope Street Limited’s community project Spring-Heeled Jack In Everton. It’s a bit daunting – I’ve done research projects before, but nothing quite on this scale, where my work is essentially responsible for the basis of the project. Parts of my brain are screaming slightly.

The purpose of this blog is to keep a log of my research discoveries and methods, and of the results of my work – it’s perceived as part of the project’s legacy, which is another terrifying prospect. Personally, I’m also hoping that the process of sitting down and writing about my experiences will help me draw together plot-lines and spot coincidences and patterns in what I’ve found. I’m becoming increasingly aware that my role is almost as much that of a dramaturg as a researcher – a can of worms I intend to open further in short order.

I’ve been doing drips and drops of research over the past few weeks, with the help of my professional mentor Seamus Rush, and have somehow managed to amass a fair bit of information. Most of it is about Liverpool at the time of Spring-Heeled Jack’s sightings there during the last twenty years of Victoria’s reign – like most urban legends, hard facts about Spring-Heeled Jack himself are notoriously thin on the ground. Nevertheless, Tessa Buddle of the Suitcase Ensemble, the lead artists on the project, asked me to put together a ‘fact’-sheet that can be taken into the community workshops, and I figured this would be a good way to start off this blog – the first, and last, time I’ll discuss Spring-Heeled Jack as fact.

So:

*Spring-Heeled Jack was first seen in London in 1837, and terrorised areas of England throughout the Victorian period
*His name comes from his ability to leap astonishingly high – far higher than any human
*He was reported to attack young ladies, especially servant girls, and shred their clothes
*Other reports mention him having glowing red eyes, claws, breathing fire and having a strange light emanate from his chest
*Jack was seen in various towns across Britain during the Victorian era, including *Sheffield, Warrington, Northamptonshire, Aldershot and Lincoln
*In 1888, he was reportedly seen leaping off the roof of High Park Street Reservoir in Toxteth
*Jack was said to have terrorised the area around All Saints’ Church and the Bloody Acre in Childwall not long after
*Then, later that year, he appeared on the spire of St Francis Xavier’s Church in Everton, before leaping off and vanishing
*In 1904 Jack was once again reported to have appeared in William Henry Street, running across the rooftops and evading the police in what is considered his last proper sighting in England
*In the intervening years, Spring-Heeled Jack has become a part of the fabric of English horror and folklore, appearing in novels, comics and films
*He’s mostly remembered as a bogeyman and a way of making unruly children behave *Theories abound as to what he really was – a spaceman from another world, a monster from Hell, a mischievous aristocrat or inventor…

That may not be the list as it ends up, as Tessa may want me to change it – such is what I’m here for, after all!

I also threw together a few quotes from people I interviewed at Out Of The Blue festival in Everton last month, chosen because they illustrated important or commonly-held beliefs about Jack (or because they entertained me):

*“He had springs on his heels and he’d go jumping over walls scaring kids”
*“He used to leap out and frighten women – don’t think he murdered anyone though”
*“It’s a kid’s story – not to be taken seriously”
*“There was a rumour he was ‘the Devil in disguise’”
*“My dad used to use him as a way if he didn’t want me to go down certain streets, he’d tell me Spring Heeled Jack’d get me”
*“He was kind of the first free-runner”

These also illustrate the main focus of this project – it’s not the ‘facts’ about Spring-Heeled Jack that matter, so much as the stories we tell about him. If this project is about anything, it’s about storytelling.

My aim is to update this blog once a day for the entirety of August. Keep your eyes peeled, keep vigilant, keep watching the skies.

Ladies and gentlemen, Jack is back.