Thus, I bring my essay on Great Baddow’s history to an end. I have skirted over the twentieth century. The oral histories found in Great Baddow’s library mostly cover this period. They deal with it as reminiscences of people, many of which are mothers, fathers, aunts and grandparents of people I bump into in the White Horse Inn and they would be bound to tell me I got it all as wrong as a ChatGPT rendition of the first ever advert on ITV!
So, what have I learnt by delving into Great Baddow’s history? I’ve learnt how slow changes come. I’ve learnt how a very small number of families have managed to hold the land and often quite inordinate amounts of power for generations. I’ve learnt that every man seems to have called their eldest son the same name as themselves in a deliberate attempt to confuse future historians.
I have also discovered that when looking at the politics of a village, Lords and Ladies might be involved in murderous squabbles over who rules, but it is drains, disease, and potholes that are the real issue for most people. Which brings me to a final character that I should give a shout out to: Dr Lyster! He should not be confused with Dr Joseph Lister who in 1865 found that a liberal sprinkling of carbolic acid reduced rates of post-surgical infection, but Dr Lyster does have a right to be mentioned as a Great Baddow hero.

Dr Lyster's house, Great Baddow
Dr Lyster was the poor law medical officer in 1908 and subscribed to the “open air treatment” of TB. It was noticed that being cooped up in a room full of consumptives was not healthy and neither was it healthy for those tending to them. Sanitoriums with suitable ventilation and open-air balconies were very expensive but Dr Lyster had a simple solution: tents! Or at least a mix of wood and canvas not too different from the beach huts of the day.

Erecting these in people’s gardens cost about £20 and after experimenting with a six hut sanitorium with full medical facilities, costing the princely sum of £100 pounds, donated by a local benefactor, his point was proven. Consequently, he expanded this service to ten patients, with an adjoining cottage where the cottager and his wife dealt with the catering and laundry. The results of this were not exactly stunning regarding cures, but served the purpose of isolating the sufferer and keeping them from infecting others. Further, the fact that they could be isolated and remain within their community meant that sufferers were more likely to come forward for treatment rather than stay home infecting other members of their family. A paper in the British Medical Journal stated that not only did the average villager passing by the huts learn a valuable lesson in the virtues of fresh air and the beneficial effects of the countryside, but that: “In eight years he (Dr Lyster) has been able to eliminate every centre of infection in his own district!” In short, a hundred quid well spent.
Three cheers for Dr Lyster! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
And goodbye.
Lawrence Gray
28/07/2024
Let me know of any other bits of Great Baddow history.