Recalling the days when ‘tyke’ was an insult – and not a compliment (From Darlington and Stockton Times)

Recalling the days when ‘tyke’ was an insult – and not a compliment

11:23am Friday 8th January 2010

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ONE of the regular queries I receive is why Yorkshire men are often known as tykes. This name does not seem to apply to Yorkshire women and it can be spelt as both tyke and tike.

Various dictionaries give a range of meanings, but the most common is that the name applies to a small dog or perhaps a cur, but generally a terrier used by country people for hunting rats and other vermin. Tykes were extremely active and quickthinking dogs and were constantly at the ready for tackling rats, mice, cats, foxes and even badgers. Not surprisingly, they were favoured by poachers.

Because of this, they were sometimes known as sneckdogs.

Dogs such as poachers’ whippets, greyhounds or lurchers were also known as sneck dogs because they were used for ‘snecking’ rabbits and hares. Sneck was a word that indicated catching something, or to click hold of it.

It seems that the word tyke did not apply to larger types of dog, being restricted to terriers and similar small breeds.

In some areas, spaniels were known as tykes and the word seems to have been applied also to small mongrels.

Precisely when the term became applied to people rather than dogs is something of a mystery. For example, mischievous or troublesome young boys were known as tykes and there are records of the term being used outside Yorkshire and particularly in Cumberland and the eastern counties such as Lincolnshire.

There is even a note of the word being used in Essex where its meaning was the same as the Yorkshire term, ie a small dog or an unpleasant person.

The beginning of the association between tykes and roguish men is not certain. In the Dictionary of the North Riding Dialect by Sir Alfred Pease, 1928 (with comments by Major J. Fairfax-Blakeborough) there is reference to a ballad-opera entitled A Wonder, or An Honest Yorkshireman written by Henry Carey in 1736. Its verses contain a phrase ‘If thoo can trust a Yorkshire tike, a rogue you’ll nivver find me.’ A later reference, probably dating to around 1820, spoke of an awd Yorkshire tyke who lived hard by Clapham townend while Cotton’s dictionary, published in 1734, contained an entry: Tike. 1. A Dog of the common kind. 2. A term of contempt still used in the north.

Various other references suggest that tike or tyke applied to a disreputable Yorkshireman although, when W.H.

Burnett of Stokesley compiled his dialect glossary in the nineteenth century, he described a tyke as either an old horse or a mare, or a wide-awake Yorkshireman.

It does seem that the earliest standard English dictionaries did not link tyke to a Yorkshireman, stating that the word referred only to dogs of the terrier type.

There is also a case for believing that Yorkshire men called tykes were to be found only in the former West Riding.

They were those of the rougher kind – poachers, thieves, petty villains and travellers. It was claimed that Yorkshire tykes were never found in the North Riding because men from that Riding were never known by such a name.

There is a suggestion, however, that people from outside the entire county of Yorkshire, knowing nothing of the sheer size of the broad acres and even less about the people, began to refer to all Yorkshiremen as tykes. Quite simply, they knew nothing of the distinctions between the three Ridings and so they used the term as a derogatory name that included all Yorkshiremen.

Among Yorkshire folk, however, the name has become one to be used with pride. In the past, however, it indicated a man who was a keen sportsman, but the sports in question were not soccer, rugby football, cricket, swimming, cycling, running, motor racing and so forth. In a Yorkshireman’s opinion, such activities were not sports – they were nothing more than games or pasttimes.

Sports indicated essentially rural occupations such as fox-hunting, fishing, shooting, horsemanship, houndtrailing and like country pursuits – even poaching – and so, when southerners and people outside Yorkshire used the word tyke in a derogatory sense, Yorkshire folk turned the tables on them by adopting the name as one of pride.

Nowadays, men born and bred in all parts of Yorkshire are proud to be known as tykes. It suggests they are clever and skilled at whatever occupation or hobby they have adopted, along with just a hint of cunning and mischief, and so the accolade of Yorkshire Tyke is now a compliment.

There is even a motto for Yorkshire Tykes; it is very well known but worthy of repetition here: “Hear all, see all, say nowt; eat all, drink all, pay nowt, and if thoo does owt for nowt, do it for thyself.”

IHAVE received an interesting letter from a 90-year old reader now living in Australia. Her name is Peggy Kitchen, who emigrated to Australia from the Richmond area.

Before her marriage to Sgt Geoffrey Kitchen, a pharmacist with the RAMC in Richmond, she was Pte Margaret Johnson of the ATS. Peggy, who celebrated her 90th birthday in November, now suffers from deteriorating eyesight but manages to write some very interesting letters.

She has sent me a newspaper cutting about an incident in which she was involved at Richmond during World War II. Indeed, her bravery resulted in her being awarded the BEM in recognition of her gallant conduct, and on March 9, 1943, she was presented with her medal by King George VI in person.

The story began at RAF Scorton on the night of December 14, 1942. An enemy aircraft had been recorded in the North-East of England and four Beaufighter night-fighting aircraft were scrambled from RAF Scorton. Their task was to intercept the intruder.

However, as the second Beaufighter became airborne, its pilot, Flight Lieutenant Bill Hunt, radioed to say he could not control the aircraft. It reached Richmond, where it just missed the flagstaff of the castle and some houses before hitting the top of a tree and crashing into a field some 400 yards to the north.

At the time, Richmond’s residents were living in their blacked-out homes but the sirens told them something unusual was happening; the plane crashed into a hillside and burst into flames with 500 gallons of aviation fuel on board.

Peggy, then 22 years old, was in an ambulance heading to the scene and with machine gun ammunition and cannon shells exploding, she leapt from her vehicle and ran to the blazing aircraft. The pilot was still in the cockpit that was partially buried in the soil as Peggy tore at the canvas fuselage as the fire spread along the entire plane to envelope the navigator, Flt Sgt Harold Gysel.

A 17-year-old ambulance cadet, Ray Thornton, ran to help and saw a uniformed figure whose clothes were alight apparently trying to get out of the aircraft and as he decided whether or not to rugby-tackle the person to safety, they collided but he managed to get a blanket to smother the flames.

The blazing figure was Peggy whose bravery and swift action were honoured with the British Empire Medal. The crash site is marked with a commemorative plaque that was unveiled in December 2007 by the American nephew of the pilot, Flt Lt Bill Hunt.

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