Don’t worry, I’m not trapped in the grip of an existential crisis (at least, no more than usual). But as I’m listing accident record books at Milton Keynes Museum, identifying dates and creators and getting distracted by obscure treatments, I often find myself thinking: “what am I doing this for?” (And no, the correct answer is not, “my boss told me to”.) Perhaps it’s more relevant to ask, “who am I doing this for?” It’s a useful question to keep in mind, because the more I am aware of my audience, the more I can ensure I’m recording useful information. Of course, at this early stage of the archiving process, the details I’m recording will likely not be seen by the general public until the collection is properly catalogued. But it’s hard to avoid wondering what these records might eventually be used for. Greater minds than mine have much more to say on the “point” of archiving, so I will simply try to identify some potential uses of this particular collection—the accident record books of Wolverton Works.

Cover of accident record book Milton Keynes Museum WWO/41, 1931-32.
History of Wolverton Works

The first point is probably the most obvious. These books were vital documents in the running of Wolverton Works, updated on a daily basis. What insights can they give us to the Works themselves? Much of their usefulness will depend on what other records are available. There may well be much more detailed information about staffing and departments elsewhere. However, taking the record books in isolation, they communicate a range of information including who worked there, for how long, and even their salaries. We can see how First Aid functioned at the Works, and perhaps gain an insight into how the Works as a whole functioned. There are also clues to the way the Works changed over time: in 1923 ownership changed from London and North Western Railway to the London Midland and Scottish Railway. This is accompanied by a change in the way accidents are recorded—a coincidence or a change in procedure?

Family History

Knowing how captivated I am by the names in these books, I can imagine how amazing a resource this would be for someone researching their family history. In the books used between the 1880s and 1920s, there are indices by surname for each book, meaning that detailed research needn’t even be that time-consuming. I’ve already stated elsewhere how these books are as much about people as they are about accidents. There’s a great deal of practical information here, including the names and ages of workers, where they worked, how long they’d worked there, what their salary was, sometimes where they lived. But there are also personal stories—who was the victim of some horseplay on the shop floor, who was temporarily employed as a munitions worker during the First World War. There are some touching details, like the person in 1944 who suffered from “D.A.H” (I’m guessing disordered action of the heart). They’re worried about their husband, who is a prisoner in Japan.

WWO68 1944y
Milton Keynes Museum WWO/68, March 1944. Rest prescribed for D.A.H. from worry about husband imprisoned in Japan.
Women and the Works

This topic has fascinated me since I started, and more details are revealed each week. Each book is a little insight into women’s history: which job roles women were allowed to do, and in particular, how this changed during the world wars.

In the early record books, women were infrequently listed. Men were listed just by surname, but women were recorded as Miss/Mrs plus surname. This changes in 1941/42, as finally “sex” is listed alongside name (the women are still listed as Miss/Mrs). In the course of just a few years, women go from being listed a few times per book to multiple times on each page. Suddenly women at the works are no longer anomalies, but are playing intrinsic roles. This is surely indicative of more widespread changes in attitudes to the jobs women were able to do.

Milton Keynes Museum WWO/63, May 1942. Showing the addition of a column indicating the sex of the person being treated.
History of Medicine

Most of the information in these books is of course not just about railways, or people, but about the risks they faced, the accidents that inevitably occurred, and the way these were treated. It seems that nearly every malady or accident you could think of is listed in here, and these tell stories in themselves. Lead poisoning seemed a particular risk. You can tell what time of year it is just by whether there are more wasp stings or chills. You can study the various treatments offered, and even how these change over time. Warm olive oil for earache is an extremely common one, and who knew brandy was the way to combat an “attack of malaria”?

Looking at the accident record books over a long period of time, from the 1880s to the 1940s, there are a number of changes, which must be symptomatic of changes in management, ownership, or legislation. Between the 1880s and 1920s, a huge amount of detail is recorded for each accident, including lighting conditions, how long the person injured had been on duty, and a judgement on whether the incident was “accidental”. After the 1920s, far less information is recorded, and the type of incidents also changes—there are far more common maladies, like earache, toothache, and nausea, in addition to the lacerations and fractures one would expect from industrial accidents. The incidents listed become more what you might expect from a school matron than a railway works. In fact, from the 1940s, there are separate record books for illnesses and accidents. Is this because there were more dedicated medical staff on site? Changes to the medical benefits offered to employees? At this point the books start being called “Ambulance Room Records”—was there an actual ambulance on site? Ambulance trips themselves are infrequently mentioned in the record books. You can see that we’re in a bit of a catch-22 situation here—these accident record books can help us understand medical history, but you also need a basic understanding in order to interpret the books.

Milton Keynes Museum WWO/39
Milton Keynes Museum WWO/39, November 17th, 1930. Dose of brandy for an “attack of malaria”.

Anyone looking at these records will bring something new. One of my favourite uses of archives is as an inspiration for the visual art, like this incredible work on archives and landscape by Jeremy Bubb. Who knows what these personal histories concealed inside marbled book covers could inspire. I find it amazing that such specific records, even with no other context, can illuminate so much. What will the documents we take so much for granted today, the signing in books, the receipts, the post-it notes, tell future archivists about our lives?

Part One of Adventures in Archives: Milton Keynes Museum
Part Two of Adventures in Archives: Soundscapes and Tissue Paper
Milton Keynes Museum website


One thought on “Adventures in Archives: What’s the point?

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