Sitting within the metropolitan borough of the City of Bradford in West Yorkshire, Low Moor occupies a place in English industrial history that goes well beyond its modest size. What was once a quiet hamlet of handloom weavers has been transformed twice over – first by heavy industry, then by large-scale redevelopment – leaving a village whose present appearance gives little hint of its dramatic past.
From Hamlet to Industrial Village
Before 1790, Low Moor was little more than a scatter of cottages. The weavers who lived there took their cloth to markets such as the Halifax Piece Hall to sell their goods. That quiet existence ended abruptly when the Low Moor Ironworks was established around 1790. The ironworks grew rapidly into a business with a worldwide reputation, and its workforce expanded so quickly that the surrounding area had to be built up almost from scratch. Housing, churches, shops, public houses, and other buildings appeared to meet the needs of the growing population. The village was then reshaped again during the 1960s and 1970s, when wholesale redevelopment altered much of what the ironworks era had left behind.
The 1916 Explosion
On 21 August 1916, while much of the world’s attention was fixed on the Battle of the Somme, Low Moor was the scene of one of the worst industrial disasters ever recorded in the United Kingdom. A fire broke out at the premises of the Low Moor Munitions Company, formerly the Low Moor Chemical Company, on New Works Road, where picric acid for high explosives was being produced in large quantities. The works fire brigade could not contain the fire, and when eighteen Bradford firemen arrived from Odsal station and the Central station to assist, a massive explosion threw them from their engine. According to Chief Officer Scott, within half an hour of turning out, all eighteen men were either dead or in the infirmary. Further explosions scattered burning debris across the site, eventually destroying the entire works. At the adjacent North Bierley Works on Cleckheaton Road, a gasometer holding 270,000 cubic feet of gas was ruptured by falling debris; the escaping gas ignited, and the heat could be felt almost a mile away. Nearly thirty railway carriages and wagons in nearby sidings were destroyed, and a further hundred were seriously damaged. Windows were broken in every house and shop within two miles, roofs were damaged, ceilings came down, and doors were blown in. Residents were unable to stay in their homes for several days, camping in neighbouring fields or staying with relatives. Some properties were completely demolished. Twenty-nine houses were built on First Street in 1919 to replace those lost. The official death toll was 34, with 60 injured at the works alone, and many more hurt outside by flying glass and debris. Among the stranger details recalled by eyewitnesses was the sight of dogs fleeing in every direction, later found as far away as Wakefield, Huddersfield, and Halifax.