As the sun rose over the City, the lush green landscape would reveal  its secrets that lead to many a person frequenting the meadow that at  times became their home-from-home. The chorus of pleasant sounding  birds, the sound of the slow running river that contained a plethora of  wildlife from cray fish to eels added to the calming ambient atmosphere  that the meadow had to offer.

In the fields surrounding the area, farmers would go about their  morning routines of herding their cattle ready to take to the markets or  back to the farms ready for milking.

The aptly named Angel pub would be preparing for the day’s trade,  making sure enough ale was ready to serve on the regulars as well as  passers-by, all willing to throw a shilling or two down onto the  counter.

Meanwhile, over in the distance, the dark spectre of change was fast  approaching. Smoke billowing from huge chimneys had blanketed parts of  the skyline and was visible from the hillside heading down and into the  City and the sounds of machinery echoed into the narrow streets and  snickets that weaved in and out of the close-knit suburbs.

Angel Meadow was changing.

By the mid 1800’s, the expansion of the mills and factories had  spread like a virus all over the City, taking with it the pastures, the  meadows and the green hills that had once graced the northern sectors.

Soot that poured endlessly from the towering chimneys blanketed most  parts of the Meadow, attaching itself to the buildings and anything else  that got in its way. And even today, you can still evidence of this on a  few of the buildings that are still standing now. Simply rubbing a hand  over the brickworks within the archways of the passing railway line  will a dark shadow on your skin.

The river Irk, once a clean looking river that had teamed with an  abundance of life was now nothing but a cesspit of brown, murky filth  containing rotten food, human excrement and even dead animals.

As for the Angel pub, this had long since closed its doors, being  replaced perhaps by those lodging houses containing those people on the  lowest rung of the ladder, those struggling from day to day both  physically, mentally and financially and who would do almost anything to  survive – even if it meant murder.

And beneath those lodging houses, more people would live in cramped  conditions in the basements and damp cellars. With no windows, the air  stank and would become unbreathable – especially during the hot summer  months, and this would often lead to outbreaks of cholera, typhoid or  tuberculosis.

The walls of the lodging houses were so thin, everything could be  clearly heard by neighbours. From threats to beatings, nothing that went  on behind closed doors was ever kept secret.

But it would be poverty that would enshrine Angel Meadow as thousands of Irish immigrants would flood into the area, many coming into the  City of Manchester because of the great famine and obviously all trying  to find work simply to survive.

But with poverty came a huge increase in crime and soon gangs would  be formed in territories so close to each other that you would have one  gang on one street and another directly opposite on another.

These gangs were known as the Scuttlers; young boys aged anywhere  between 14 and 19 years old, and they would often end up fighting with  other gangs using knives, belt buckles and stones as their weapons of  choice. The belt and its buckle was the favourite for most as they were  often made of brass and measure around 3″ in diameter. By wrapping the  belt around a hand with the buckle showing, it would make a formidable  weapon when used in a fight.