The 1953 coronation celebrations in Stokesley gained national attention due to their unusual nature, as this “poet” in the Sunday Pictorial newspaper (from 1963 called the Sunday Mirror) rhymingly informed his readers.

The men who live up Stokesley way

Are on their guard; in fact they say

They’re dodging Coronation Day

And won’t be seen around.

They know too well, if they get tight

With rolling pins to left and right

They’ll all end Coronation Night

Like Royalty, well “crowned”!

We are grateful to the volunteers at The Globe Community Library in the town for sending in some cuttings which tell of the planned “Throwing the Rolling Pin” competition. It was to be held during the coronation day sports just after a tug-of-war competition in which the two sides had been stationed on either side of the River Leven – so the losers were guaranteed a ducking.

The Rolling Pin Competition was for women only and, said the Yorkshire Post, “a live target will not be used”.

The committee organising the sports decreed that the competing women would throw a pin provided for them rather than be allowed to bring along their own kitchen utensils.

“One of the reasons for this decision is that rolling-pins are not now very widely used and some contestants may not be able to produce their own missiles,” said the Yorkshire Post’s reporter. “This may be owing to a decline in home baking, but I prefer to think that it is attributable to the improvement in husbands’ behaviour.” 

However, as Looking Back told last June on the 70th anniversary of Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation, the region was hit by what the D&S Times called the worst early June weather for 25 years. It rained throughout coronation day and the temperature never climbed above nine degrees – seven degrees below the seasonal average – and at Middleton St George aerodrome, gusts were regularly recorded at 40mph.

 

One of the most curious celebrations of the 1937 coronation was in Ingleby Greenhow, near Stokesley, where an avenue of trees at Ingleby Manor was named after the king and then a 62 gun salute to the coronation was fired over the tops of the trees, led

One of the most curious celebrations of the 1937 coronation was in Ingleby Greenhow, near Stokesley, where an avenue of trees at Ingleby Manor was named after the king and then a 62 gun salute to the coronation was fired over the tops of the trees, led by the Honourable William Sydney, a nephew of Lord de L'Isle who owned the manor 

 

Consequently, most outdoor events were cancelled or moved indoors.

“The roads winding through the dales, and across the moors, were almost deserted and the flags hung in bedraggled folds from the windows and chimney stacks, but behind the scenes, in the isolated farms and the demure front parlours of village streets, the festivities were going merrily,” said the D&S Times.

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Most people huddled indoors around the new-fangled television sets with 14 inch screens and flickering black and white pictures.

“In rain-swept Wensleydale, most of the people spent the morning of Coronation Day listening to the radio or watching TV, either at home, in schoolrooms or hotels,” said the D&S.

 

The Honourable William Sydney fires the first of the 62 gun salute at Ingleby Greenhow which commemorated the 1937 coronation

The Honourable William Sydney fires the first of the 62 gun salute at Ingleby Greenhow which commemorated the 1937 coronation

 

There were only about 350,000 television sets spread among Britain’s 50 million population so neighbourly people gathered together. All Spennithorne was huddled around two sets in the big houses. Durham Urban Council ensured that every village hall in its patch had its own set, and while Yorkshire wasn’t so generous, places like Aysgarth Methodist schoolroom were somehow equipped with their own apparatus. In Richmond, 50 old people were taken to watch the ceremony beamed onto a set in the YMCA.

“The hours passed surprisingly swiftly for TV viewers,” said the D&S’ Spectator column. “Taking their seats at 10am, they were quickly absorbed in the panorama presented, and when the brief mid-day interval arrived, the buffets, provided by kindly hosts, were at hand. The scenes and incidents of the afternoon procession were captivating, so much so that the viewers were surprised to find at 5pm they had been occupied for approximately seven hours.”

Whenever anyone ventured out into the rain, they were showered with souvenirs. In Richmond, children were presented in the town hall with beakers and spoons; in Thornton Watlass, children were given sweet-filled mugs; in Harmby, 45 children were presented with mugs in a loft at the Manor House, while in Crakehall, children were given a medal, a hanky and a new sixpence coin and the over 65s receive a tea caddy containing ½lb tea.

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At Northallerton, three leading, mackintoshed members of the urban council released homing pigeons which flew to East Retford in Nottinghamshire bearing messages of good will while the mayor there released a Northallerton bird to bring a similar message home to North Yorkshire. One of the three releasers was Alistair Carter, the chairman of the coronation committee, who featured here only a few weeks ago as he went on to become the pioneer of the electric car.

 

Alastair Carter, right, was pictured in the D&S Times releasing a pigeon to celebrate the 1953 coronation

Alastair Carter, right, was pictured in the D&S Times releasing a pigeon to celebrate the 1953 coronation

 

At Thoralby, near Leyburn, a tea went ahead for 200 people who consumed two hams, four tongues and 28lb of beef. “The ancient game of wallops was played on the Thoralby high road,” said the D&S. “Adults taught children how to throw the sticks. Some missed the ninepins entirely but four-year-old Kenneth Bell, wearing red Indian dress, knocked down four pins at one throw.

“Other events included a lady’s ankle competition, a ‘grinning through the horse collar’ competition, and a bread and treacle race.”

This must have been a great dose of wackiness: wallops sounds good fun, and one can easily lose hours of one’s time gurning through a horse collar. But a lady’s ankle competition would not be allowed these days – women usually had to stand on a stage with the curtain lowered so only their ankles showed for the male arbitrators to fondle and rank.

Such a coronation competition can be held whatever the weather, indoor or out, but Rolling Pin Throwing cannot be confined to a village hall – it must be held in the open.

But unfortunately, the D&S of 1953 does not report whether Stokesley’s celebrations were curtailed by the weather, so we do not know whether the competition went ahead and, if it did, who won – unless you know?