The Edwardsons of Widnes and Prescot: From Watchmakers to Entrepreneurs

mike12sheff
Oct 30, 2025
9 min read

By Tanja Arbuthnot

Tracing My Distant Edwardson Lineage

My Edwardson line is deeply rooted in the industrial heart of north-west England — in the small but historically rich towns of Prescot, Farnworth and Widnes, Lancashire. I can trace my family back through generations to early Edwardsons in the 1600s — a line spanning more than 300 years in the same region. Over two centuries, my family journeyed from skilled watchmakers to soda water manufacturers, hotel publicans, and community leaders. What began as a craft passed down through generations eventually blossomed into a story of reinvention, resilience, and entrepreneurship. While some records remain to be confirmed, these early Edwardsons appear to have been settled in the same region for more than a century, passing down their trade and nonconformist faith through the generations.

My 8^thx great-grandfather, Henry Edwardson (1691-1746) from Bold, Farnworth (north of Widnes) is the earliest fully documented Edwardson in my direct line; he married Ellin Burtsch in 1710 in the parish church of Prescot. Their son, Henry Edwardson (1718–1776), later married Mary Ansdell and remained in the Bold — Farnworth area. According to the parish baptism register, their son, Henry Edwardson (1755–1794) was born on 26 September 1755 and baptised on 11 October 1755 in the parish of St Helens, Prescot, Lancashire. The record also confirms his father’s name as Henry. Henry married Ellen Woods, and sources indicate they had at least four children. Their eldest, William Edwardson (1782–1835), was baptised at St Luke’s Church, Farnworth (now within Widnes). In 1808, William married Hannah Clitherow.

The Watchmakers of Prescot

It is with William that the family’s involvement in the watchmaking trade first becomes clearly documented. He is recorded as a watch wheel cutter, a profession later reaffirmed in his 1835 Will. William’s generation lived during the height of Prescot’s watchmaking era. By this time, the town had become a renowned centre for fine horological craftsmanship. As one contemporary observer noted in 1795, “Prescot produces the best [watches] in the world.” The Edwardsons formed part of that heritage—skilled artisans whose workmanship contributed to a craft tradition whose reputation reached far beyond Lancashire. The watchmaking trade was introduced into Prescot by a Huguenot refugee from France called Woolrich. The skills were easily picked up by the town's blacksmiths, with the work being carried out in houses. The first watch-mounts were made at Prescot in 1730, nearly a century after the arrival of the Huguenot refugees.

The town had hundreds of small workshops where either parts were made, or where watches were constructed from parts organised within an assembly tray. From the mid 18th to the mid 19th century Prescot was the most important centre in Europe for the production of clock and watch parts and tools. Most watchmakers in England in the eighteenth century were to be found in three areas: southwestern Lancashire, Coventry, and London.

The industry came to be linked particularly to Prescot and Widnes, villages located about eight miles due east of Liverpool, and its hinterland. The watchmaking industry employed skilled artisans, not factory labour. Workers often owned their own tools and worked on contract for larger watch finishers. Families frequently passed the trade down through generations. Apprenticeships began around age 12–14 and lasted 7 years. The trade in watch movements between southwestern Lancashire and London, where they were finished and sold, was helped by a good coach service between Warrington and the capital. In the early eighteenth century ‘ye Bell in Wood Street’, the terminus of the Warrington-London coach, was a frequent destination of Prescot watch movements intended for a well-known finisher.

The interior of a Prescot Watch Factory, 1925

The watch movements made in Lancashire were world-class; those made around Coventry, were ‘considered not so good’. “The trade appeared in Prescot in the earliest days as departmental watch tool makers, watch motion makers, watch hand makers, watch wheels, finishers. Watch hand makers were there early in the 18th century. The first local Will of a watchmaker to be proved was in 1765.” (PRESCOT WATCH-MAKING IN THE XVlll CENTURY, James Hoult,1925)

During 1891, a company was formed that changed the industrial landscape of Prescot for a hundred years. Joseph and Jacob Atherton established the British Insulated Wire Company that manufactured paper insulated cables in Britain under licence from the patent owner’s company in America. The following year they installed electric street lighting in Prescot and lighting inside Knowsley Hall, the ancestral home of the Earls of Derby. The Edwardsons, like many local families, were watch wheel cutters, specialists in crafting the tiny toothed wheels at the heart of every timepiece.

These craftsmen worked under magnification with miniature lathes, each component requiring microscopic precision. One imperfection could ruin a watch — and a week’s income. The trade was both an art and a science, passed from father to son. The Edwardsons were among the many families who contributed to Prescot’s international reputation for fine watch parts.

My 4th great-grandfather, Thomas Edwardson (1810–1882), was born in Prescot and baptised at the independent Ebenezer Chapel, New Road, a nonconformist church closely associated with Prescot’s artisan families. Thomas married Ann Critchley in 1833, and over the next two decades, they raised ten children while continuing in the watch trade.

From the late 17th century onward, Prescot became a centre of Nonconformist religious life in south-west Lancashire. Nonconformists were Christians who dissented from the Church of England and worshipped in independent congregations. These communities typically aligned with Presbyterian, Independent/Congregational, Unitarian, or later Methodist beliefs. The rise of nonconformity in the region was influenced by: - Industrial trades, such as watchmaking and toolmaking, which fostered literacy, independence, and craft-guild networks; Political and religious dissent following the Restoration and Act of Uniformity (1662) and a local culture that valued self-governance and community organisation outside the established church.

The Ebenezer Chapel was one of the major Independent (later Congregational) chapels in Prescot. Founded in the early 19th century (with roots from earlier dissenting meeting houses), it became a spiritual home for many families who did not attend the Anglican parish church.

From Watchmakers to a Soda Water Proprietor of Widnes

My 3rd great-grandfather, Thomas Edwardson (1843–1893), was a true entrepreneur of his time. Born in Prescot to a long line of watchmakers, Thomas transformed his craftmanship into business acumen. By the early 1870s, he was listed in trade directories as a Soda Water Manufacturer based on Widnes Road and later Peel House Lane. Advertisements from 1876 and 1879 proudly listed him as Proprietor of a soda water company — a symbol of progress in an era when sparkling beverages were the latest fashionable drink. Census records show he was referred as a soda water/mineral water & ginger beer manufacturer.

An advertisement appeared on 29 October 1879 in the Warrington Evening Post notifying customers of the change of address of the business. By 1881, Thomas had also expanded operations to Salisbury Street.

It’s no coincidence that this was also where the family lived and worked side by side — typical of Victorian entrepreneurial households.

During his years in business, Thomas was far more than simply a mineral water manufacturer; he became a familiar and influential figure in local civic life. He served as chairman on several community committees, including the popular May Day celebrations, and his name appears frequently in the local press.

Such articles reveal not only the demands of running a growing business, but also Thomas’s visibility and sense of responsibility within the town. In 1885, during a difficult period of depression in the chemical trade that left many working families in hardship, the Widnes newspaper recorded a remarkable act of generosity: Thomas arranged for the distribution of one hundred loaves of bread and cheese to support local men who had been thrown out of work. This gesture, widely remembered, reflects both the economic struggles of the era and Thomas’s standing as a respected and community-minded employer.

“The distribution was made in a quiet and orderly fashion, and we understand that Mr. Edwardson will continue with his generosity whilst the distress lasts.” (Widnes Examiner, 10 October 1885)

In Victorian Britain, soda and mineral water were not only fashionable refreshments but symbols of health, purity and modern living. Advances in bottling and carbonation allowed entrepreneurs to create thriving local businesses.

For men like Thomas, the trade offered mechanical familiarity —mixing chemistry, engineering, and marketing in equal measures. The Edwardson enterprise likely supplied local hotels, chemists, and households eager for the latest health tonic.

The Clap Gate Hotel (Clapgate), listed in local directories at 172 & 174 Clap Gate, Hale, is recorded under proprietor Thomas Edwardson in the late 19th century — a clear marker of the hotel’s existence at Halebank, the Clap Gate locality of Widnes and that of Thomas and his business.

Sadly, Thomas’s story ended at a young age. He died at the Clap Gate Hotel, Hale in 1893, aged only 50, from cirrhosis of the liver — an irony that cannot have been lost on a man who made his living from “mineral water.” His son, Thomas (1867–1922), continued the business as the hotel’s publican, and by 1939 his grandson William Eric Edwardson, was still running the establishment. Today, the old Clap Gate — now renamed The Goldmine — still stands, a quiet reminder of the Edwardsons’ industrious past.

Widnes in the 1890s — A Town of Smoke, Industry and Community

By the 1890s, Widnes had become one of the most heavily industrialised towns in England. It was a place of constant movement: wagons rattling over cobblestones, barges sliding along the canal, factory whistles marking out the hours of the day, and a thick, unmistakable chemical haze hanging over the rooftops. The town owed its dramatic growth to the alkali and chemical manufacturing that began in the mid-19th century. Huge works producing soap, bleaching powder, soda, and other industrial chemicals dominated the skyline. Their tall brick chimneys released clouds of acrid smoke, often turning the air a yellow-grey and leaving a residue on windowsills and washing lines. Contemporary visitors described Widnes as a “landscape of flaming furnaces, steam, and the tang of sulphur in the air”. Widnes grew fast and crowded, and it grew without much early planning. Rows of brick terrace houses stood close to the factories that employed their inhabitants. Streets such as Mersey Road, Victoria Road, Parliament Street, and Albert Road became busy commercial centres lined with shops, grocers, drapers, pubs, churches, and meeting halls.

Life was tough. The chemical works were hot, dirty, and dangerous. Accidents were common. The air wasn’t kind to lungs or clothes. But out of harsh surroundings grew something remarkable: a strong, stubborn sense of community. Public houses weren’t just places to drink — they were social living rooms. Chapels and churches doubled as meeting halls and support networks and Street festivals, especially May Day, were the highlight of the year. Families looked after each other, sometimes because no one else would. If you had walked through the centre of Widnes in the 1890s, you would have found thriving businesses.

Grocers and drapers, watchmakers and wheelwrights, general stores and corner bakeries, mineral-water manufacturers and soda bottlers and, of course, pubs on nearly every main road. These small trades were the heartbeat of everyday life. Business owners weren’t distant figures — they were neighbours, employers, churchwardens, councillors, and sometimes the only source of help when times were tight.

From Craftsmen to Community Leaders

Not all Edwardsons remained in the trade. As industrialisation reshaped Widnes, later family members adapted to new opportunities. One distant relative (3rd cousin x 5 removed), James Edwardson (1875–1950) stands as an example. He was baptised at St Luke’s Church, Farnworth (Widnes), the eldest son of James and Elizabeth Edwardson. His early education began at Warrington Road Primary School, followed by Farnworth Grammar School, where he studied from September 1890 to April 1892.

He became a successful grocer, property owner, and businessman. He established himself as a painter and decorator, later expanding his trade by opening a hardware shop at 22 Albert Road, Widnes, where he built a steady local business.

He was elected to the Widnes Borough Council in 1910 and later served as Mayor of Widnes in 1930 and subsequently held the office of Alderman. Throughout his civic career, he played a leading role on both the Education Committee and the Library Committee, contributing significantly to the cultural and educational development of the borough.

James Edwardson, Mayor of Widnes, January - November 1930

Reflections on a Family Legacy

My 2^ndgreat grandmother, Getrude Edwardson (1876-1959), was one of eight children born to Thomas Edwardson (1843–1893) and Elizabeth Hill, who married in 1866. Her life in Widnes reflected both the industriousness and the close-knit nature of her community. Gertrude married George Albert Hunt in 1895 at St. Ambrose Church, Widnes. Interestingly, her sister Mary (Polly) married George’s brother, Peter Hunt, just a few months earlier — a double Edwardson–Hunt marriage that tied the families together even more firmly. Family legend has it that their father, Thomas, disapproved of the marriages, believing his daughters were marrying “beneath their class,” and reportedly wrote them out of his Will. Despite this, both sisters went on to build loving families and lasting legacies in Widnes.

Researching my Edwardson ancestors has taught me more than just dates and occupations. It has revealed a family of artisans who adapted with the times — from crafting intricate watch wheels by hand to running modern businesses in the growing towns of northern England. Their story is a testament to the endurance of skill, the power of reinvention, and the value of heritage. Every generation of Edwardsons built upon the last, shaping not just a family, but a small part of Widnes and Prescot’s industrial story. Although I was not born in England, my family’s roots in Lancashire remain a powerful part of my identity.

Tanja

Sources

Ancestry/FindmyPast/FamilySearch