CHAPTER 1
Team Spirit
Foul Play
âIt was like being part of a family, they were good days.â1
During the 2020 Covid-19 pandemic, a sports commentator wrote, âboth male and female sport were equally affectedâ by lockdown restrictions. However, âthat is no longer the case. ... The situation in football is particularly stark.â His explanation was that, unlike menâs football with the financial power of the Premier League behind it, the Womenâs Super [Football] League cannot afford the mandatory âsystematic twice-a-week corona-virus testing programmeâ, making the womenâs game another âcasualty of the crisisâ.2 While in global terms the delayed return of British womenâs football is of minimal importance, its lack of status and âfinancial powerâ may stem from a day in early December 1921 when leaders of the Football Association (FA) gathered for a specially convened meeting in Londonâs Russell Square. They held the fate of the womenâs game in their hands.
The story of womenâs football is intricately linked to the Great War and its immediate aftermath. Following the so-called (May 1915) Shell Scandal when shortages of ammunition led to it being rationed, working- class women had flocked into rapidly established munitions factories. By July 1918, these employed over a million women. Middle- and upper- class angst about female workersâ behaviour was so acute that, operating under the title âWelfare Supervisorâ, middle-class women were employed to oversee workersâ physical well-being and ensure that off-duty hours were appropriately filled. Such concerns did not, of course, apply to males. Many Welfare Inspectors believed involvement in a physical outdoor sport would help keep the female workforce out of trouble. From the supervisorsâ point of view, football, which had enjoyed some popularity in the 1880s and 1890s (the first so-called âinternationalâ, England v. Scotland being played in Edinburgh in 1881), seemed to fit the bill. Some middle-class girlsâ schools had even embraced the sport, although others questioned its appropriateness for the developing female frame. Crucial for its subsequent acceptance by working-class factory women, and notwithstanding middle- class womenâs early, short-lived enthusiasm, football was considered the working-manâs game.
Also acting in favour of womenâs football was the 1915 suspension of the menâs game âFor the Durationâ, leaving fans with no matches to watch. Reports of matches between female teams started appearing in local newspapers from mid-1916, although generally these were âdiverting itemsâ, played as part of a plethora of âentertainments in aid of âWounded Heroesâ.3 This association with war charities would be fundamental to the gameâs initial crowd appeal. For factory owners, managers and welfare supervisors, the team spirit that football fostered between workers, and rivalry with other establishments â potentially even leading to greater productivity in the sheds, was also important. Sometimes it was a challenge from another factory which resulted in the creation of a team. This happened when Messrs. Beardmoreâs women challenged the Scottish Filling Factory to a match in May 1918, thereby leading to the inception of the Georgetown Girls.4 What is striking in some reports of inter-factory fundraising matches is that while the âLadies of the Committeeâ who helped organise the match are individually named, those whose endeavours raised in this particular instance âthe splendid sum of ÂŁ57 (ÂŁ3,756)â for the âCrewe Cottage Hospital and the Red Cross fundsâ, are unidentified, merely thanked for the âsplendid effort they made [training] in their spare timeâ.5 Such player anonymity anchors womenâs football as a game played by lower-class women, sanctioned by their social superiors.
Wartime charitiesâ need of funds lay behind the creation, success and ultimate demise of the most successful of all womenâs teams, Dick, Kerrâs Ladies (DKL). In 1916, Private Jimmie Sibbert (Loyal North Lancashire Regiment), was captured and transported to Germany. His wife, Grace, worked at Dick, Kerrâs in Preston, now churning out munitions at the rate of 30,000 shells a week. Aware of Jimmieâs and the thousands of other prisonersâ plight, she soon became an adept fundraiser for POW charities. In autumn 1917, the matron of the local Moor Park Voluntary Aid Detachment Hospital for Wounded Soldiers asked her to galvanise munitions workers into raising money for the hospital via a series of concerts. She agreed on one condition, rather than a concert, the fundraiser would be a Christmas Day football match. She could never have guessed how this would turn the factoryâs nascent team into a household name, assign celebrity status to a few of Englandâs poorest women, turn one of them into womenâs footballâs greatest legend â and contribute to the womenâs game being banned.
Initially, football enthusiasts at Dick, Kerrâs simply spent their lunch break practising kicks, passes and âshooting at the little square window at the back of the cloakroomâ, covertly watched by an office worker, Albert Frankland.6 In autumn 1917, he had suggested to Sibbert that a factory team should be formed in order to play charity matches; the Moor Park request thus came at the ideal time. Frankland had vision, a range of contacts and an ability to network. In late November, a notice appeared across Preston: the DKL football team had challenged another Lancashire factory, Arundel Coulthard Foundry, womenâs team to a âGreat Christmas Day Attractionâ in aid of Moor Park at Preston North Football Clubâs home ground, Deepdale. Using Deepdale was a bold move; its pitch fee was ÂŁ20 (ÂŁ1,318). For a later rescinded ÂŁ5 (ÂŁ329) fee, Preston North FC shouldered the responsibility of advertising this first match to be played at Deepdale since footballâs suspension. This reaped significant rewards. Less confident characters than Sibbert or Frankland may have wondered how the 10,000 spectators and journalists who flocked through the gates on Christmas Day 1917 might react to the match. Initially not quite sure what they were expecting, the crowd began enjoying the playersâ prowess. Inevitably in a match involving women, clothes featured. Told ânot to wear corsetsâ, DKLâs black and white striped shirts, black shorts and matching ânatty, close fitting hats, which were kept on throughout the matchâ, itself a âdistinctive wartime noveltyâ, were commented on as were the Arundel teamâs âred and white stripesâ.7 Unusually, however, for these early matches the Lancashire Daily Postâs report focuses primarily on the actual football. The journalist concedes that after some initial giggling, the teams âsettled down in earnestâ, the home teamâs forward work was âsurprisingly goodâ, while Coulthard were âstrongest in defenceâ. It is as though, like the spectators, once it was obvious that the teams âmeant business and were âplaying the gameââ, the journalist was prepared to report accordingly and extend the top players the courtesy of naming them as worthy sportswomen, not an amorphous entertaining working-class mass. When the final whistle blew, the home team had won a resounding 4-0 victory and womenâs football would take a whole new direction. After settling the not inconsiderable costs, about which there were some adverse comments, DKL donated ÂŁ600 (ÂŁ49,500) to Moor Park and other charities. They were poised to make sporting history for, long after the guns fell silent and most factory teams disbanded, they continued their fundraising endeavours, initially in aid of veteransâ charities, and initiated the first truly international football match. A century later, on 22 December 2017, a massive memorial was unveiled at the home of Preston North End. A 6m by 4m wide granite memorial weighing 3.5 tonnes pays tribute to these footballers who for three years put Preston on the map, raised unimaginable amounts of money for war and other charities and, for a short while, were the face of football.8
If Moor Park were delighted with the takings, the crowd entertained and the players eager to capitalise on their success (which had required them to sacrifice their own Christmas Day), the odd whisper of discontent about women players was audible. Whispers that eventually turned into a clamour muttered that âthe female frame wasnât built for such a rough game, and playing football could damage [womenâs] healthâ; Molly Walkerâs boyfriendâs family ostracised her for wearing shorts that showed her legs.9 Nevertheless, Deepdale and Dick, Kerrâs Boards pronounced themselves satisfied and agreed to two further charity matches on 23 February and Easter Monday, 1 April 1918. Deepdale would take charge of the gate, 80 per cent âgoing to Dick, Kerr to distribute, that is after all expenses incidental to the match are paidâ.10 The team could train on the ground three times a week at a fee of ÂŁ3 (ÂŁ200).
By mid-1918, with fewer munitions needed, factories shed workers and football teams disbanded. But not DKL. How exactly he managed this is unclear, but Frankland successfully persuaded the senior management that not only should DKL continue, but it should expand and actively seek talent across the North West. He may have stressed, both to the Board and to the local aldermen who were consulted, local charitiesâ spiralling need of funds and reminded them of the womenâs well-proven abilities to draw crowds, not to mention that the teamâs name kept the company in the publicâs mind. (In 1919 Dick, Kerrâs was taken over by English Electric Ltd and re-tooled to revert to its pre-war production of railway carriages but, locally at least, it was still referred to as Dick, Kerrâs.) Armed with the company cheque-book, Frankland began his mission. An unexpected defeat on 21 December 1918 strengthened his resolve and he eyed members of the winning Lancaster Ladiesâ team covetously, and successfully. By the time DKL took to the pitch on 10 January 1919, four of the Lancastrians were both playing and working for Dick, Kerr. Franklandâs vision soon paid off. At the start of 1920, DKL drew 35,000 spectators at an âawayâ fixture and were considered the countryâs premier team.11
Despite factory closures, there were still some opposing teams to play. The idea of football as a game which fostered team spirit among a female workforce had caught on. Enterprises other than factories continued to nurture, even form, teams. The famous Lyons Corner Houses tea-rooms with their waitresses (initially known as âGladysâ before acquiring the better-known ânippyâ sobriquet) entered the pitch and inter-Corner House rivalry led to what was seen as a healthy competition between tea-rooms; a League was established between the four âCorner Housesâ: Strand (despite lacking a Corner site), Oxford Circus, Marble Arch and Trafalgar Square. The company invested heavily in the teams, Lyonsâ training ground and facilities at Sudbury (North London) were far superior to those that many male clubs enjoyed. Football was beginning to be seen by women â and not exclusively the working-class women of the wartime factory teams â as a worthwhile and fun occupation.
DKL players, rougher diamonds than the Corner House âGladysesâ, would soon include Lily Parr (b.1905) the youngest of eleven (living) children. Destined to become a legend in her own lifetime, she hailed from St Helens, a poor area of Merseyside; her future seemingly lay in factory or rough domestic work.12 Rather than play with other girls, Lily kicked a ball around in nearby Queenâs Park; by the age of 13, she could hold her own against her older brothers in both rugby and football â and also smoke a packet of Woodbine cigarettes a day. Having joined the recently formed St Helenâs Ladies, she could score from any place on the pitch with her left-footed kick. Her second match was against DKL. The watchful Frankland spotted her and her teammate, minerâs daughter Alice Woods (b.1895), who had recently lost her job in the huge Sutton Glass Works munitions factory. Better-educated than many workers, Alice had escaped the back-breaking foundry work and, rather than filling shells, had been assigned the more sophisticated work of numbering completed ones. Tall and athletic, she had been involved in factory football and athletics, particularly running, winning in 1918 the first womenâs 80 yards race at Blackpool F.C ground, believed to be the first womenâs race under A.A.A. rules.13
This DKL v. St Helenâs match was played against an increasingly hard economic climate, even tougher for women than for men thanks to the 1919 Restoration of Pre-War Practices Act which stipulated âthat all pre-war customs which were given up during the War, and in connection with the purposes of the War, shall be restored by every employer throughout the country within two months of the passing of the Act.â14 Women war workers were now expected (or forced) to surrender their jobs to returning men. Potentially facing a long period of unemployment, Woods was relieved when Frankland approached her, offering a job with Dick, Kerrâs, 10 shillings (ÂŁ27) out-of-pocket expenses including loss of time per match played, and lodgings in Preston.15 She later termed herself as âone of the first major football transfersâ. Aliceâs widowed mother refused to allow her to move but the rest of the deal was agreed. Frankland also approached Parr making an identical offer, an additional sweetener was negotiated: a daily supply of Woodbines. She would lodge with another player, Alice Norris.
As Frankland began thinking beyond the confines of Lancashire, the Northwest, even England, the playersâ own skills and hard work were opening up an unimaginably different world, one normally tightly locked against women of their lowly roots. Although on Christmas Eve 1917 an intrepid group of women footballers had crossed the submarine-infested Irish Sea and played âthe first womenâs internationalâ in front of 20,000 spectators in Belfast, Franklandâs thoughts extended far wider.16 But to stage a truly international match, he needed a like-minded traveller. He found one in Parisienne Alice Milliat, well-known in French sporting circles for daring to challenge the revered Founding Father of the modern Olympics, Baron de Courbetin, who had publicly endorsed the ancient Greeksâ view that womenâs only part in sport should be placing wreaths upon the [male] victorsâ heads. In 1915, she had assumed the presidency of the Parisian multi-sports club FĂ©mina Sport, and in 1919 had founded and become president of the FĂ©dĂ©ration des SociĂ©tĂ©s FĂ©minines de France (FSFF). Milliat, manager of the FĂ©mina Sports womenâs football club, was determined to nurture the increasing popularity of the womenâs game. Frankland must have read her much-quoted statement, âI do not think it is unwomanly to play football.â17 In March 1920, he invited her and the team to England; Dick, Kerrâs would host a series of four DKL versus France matches in support of British ex-servicemenâs charities. She accepted and set about selecting a team drawn from the wider Paris region.
John Bell, Daily Newsâ Paris correspondent, began drip-feeding details to tantalise a British readership, including the colour of the French strip: horizon blue shirts with a red white and blue cockade on the breast, navy shorts, black socks completed by a stereotypical black beret. The French team finally arrived at Victoria Station on 27 April to a rapturous press welcome. Milliat proved more competent at handling journalists than Frankland, who struggled to push his way through the reporters to welcome DKLâs guests who arrived in Lancashire at 6pm. Working-class Preston was about to encounter the chic petite bourgeoisie of suburban Paris. Reporters as well as football fans had a field day. Wearing dainty high heels, cloche caps over fashionably bobbed hair, their captain Madeleine Bracquemonde confessed to her team feeling daunted by the sight of the âbig, strongâ, Lancashire Amazons who greeted them at the station. Covering the âFrench Teamâs Rousing Welcome in Prestonâ, the Lancashire press reported every detail, including Bracquemondeâs cap flying overboard during the Channel crossing. That this was above all a Dick, Kerrâs event was underlined by the factoryâs band playing the âMarseillaiseâ as the tourists, followed by their opponents, were driven in style through cheering crowds to the Bull and Royal Hotel. A dinner attended by local dignitaries was followed by a dance after which the French side collapsed into bed before the next dayâs round of sightseeing which ended with a visit to the fact...