Being a researcher in the history or heritage fields is often the closest most of us will get to being a detective. This is probably even more true in family history. I was asked recently if I had ever come across a specific portrait that had a fascinating provenance. I hadn’t. I was intrigued – but had no idea where to start hunting it down. The person in question had pursued most available avenues, and I think her efforts make a really interesting case study for other family historians.
Anne was delving into her family history and looking for more information about her four-times maternal great-grandfather, James Clough. She had first heard from a friend who was also researching their family history on the Ancestry website. Anne, on the other hand, uses Find My Past. They often share their research, which is how Anne came across a copy of a 1903 article about her ancestor, along with an image of the painting.
Immortalised on a signboard
The article was from a publication titled The Budget, dated 29 August 1908, and reported that the death of William Oddy, a well-known Bradford tradesman, revived memories of his father, Sam Oddy, and a signboard that once hung outside the Oddy’s premises – a remarkable relic from Bradford’s past.
This sign, still in the Oddy family’s possession at the time, was a rare piece of craftsmanship, cherished by generations of Bradfordians. In the Bradford of 60 years earlier, where there were few distinctive landmarks; two curiosities had captured the imagination of schoolboys on their daily routes. One was the talbot dog, which was said to trot down to Sun Bridge for a drink just as the parish church clock struck noon. The other was the sign that hung outside Oddy’s shop: a portrait of James Clough.
Painted by John Hunter Thompson in 1838, the portrait depicted Clough at work as a painter in the employ of Sam Oddy, whose business had flourished at Kings Arms Yard, Westgate. The painting was more than just a likeness: it captured an entire way of working now lost to time. Clough had been shown engaged in the laborious craft of paint grinding, using a tool known as a muller – a heavy, mallet-like weight – which, when worked with both hands on a stone slab, gradually refined the pigment into the perfect consistency. This painstaking process had occupied workmen throughout the winter months to ensure that a stockpile of paint was ready for the arrival of spring. “Like weaving by handloom and other tedious manual operations, the use of the muller had been superseded by expeditious milling machinery,” noted the article, yet even in 1908 the method was still used occasionally to produce the finest colours.
A portrait with a story
Sam Oddy had trained with James Clough under a painter named Anderson, before establishing his own business in 1834. Clough had soon joined him, and the signboard bearing his likeness had first been displayed at Westgate before moving to Ivegate and later Market Street. It had survived for half a century before being retouched by its original artist and mounted in a grand gilt frame. Despite its age and exposure to the elements, the painting had remained in excellent condition. Closer inspection revealed it to be not on canvas, but on three wooden panels joined together.
Thompson, a celebrated portraitist in his day, was highly regarded in Bradford. His work, including this striking signboard, came to be considered part of the city’s artistic heritage, with pieces potentially destined for the Cartwright Memorial Hall’s collection.
However, James Clough’s legacy was not limited to painting. A man of many talents, he was also an amateur musician. He was believed to have been Bradford’s first double bass player, and performed in the now-defunct Philharmonic Society. In addition, he had played the horn in the Bradford Old Band, a group that once echoed through the city’s musical halls.
Through both art and music, Clough’s contributions to Bradford’s cultural life endured. His portrait, originally crafted as a simple trade sign, had become a unique historical artefact – one that told not only his story but also the story of an era.
The search for the lost painting
Anne would be delighted to see the original painting of James Clough, her four-times great-grandfather, or a photograph of it, on the shop or in its archives. Her research led her to Bradford Galleries and Museums, but they had no record of it. Next, she tracked down Mr Andrew Oddy who was able to tell her that the picture remained at their shop until the business closed in 1940. After that, it stayed at the Oddy family home until 1951. At that time, the head of the family died, and his will stipulated that his two unmarried sisters be provided for until the end of their lives. To meet this obligation, some possessions, including possibly the house, had to be sold. The picture was auctioned off, but the company that conducted the auction closed down in 2006.
Anne also posted appeals on social media, but found no leads. She even wrote to Phillip Mould of the programme Fake or Fortune to ask him how she could go about tracing it, but received no response. That’s where I came in. After her setbacks, Anne has become more pragmatic. She told me: “I must say that, even if I never find it, it is still thrilling to see what such a distant ancestor looked like! Not everyone gets the chance!”
If anyone can help, though, it would be wonderful if she could see the original.
A musical legacy
Clearly, Clough’s musical ability was passed down, as his grandson, John Dodsworth, was an extremely talented musician who eventually became the musical director of the Theatre Royal and Opera House, Bradford, and composed music for their almost-legendary pantomimes. Before his appointment at Bradford, he had a successful career as one of the country’s finest euphonium players, working with such figures as Sir Charles Halle and Herr Meyer Lutz (Scarborough Spa Orchestra). He composed for many productions and conducted in theatres around the country. It is important to note that he achieved much of this after losing his right arm.
A story waiting for an ending
While the fate of the painting remains unknown, James Clough’s legacy lives on through his contributions to art and music. His portrait, originally a simple shop sign, has become a treasured historical artefact. Anne’s search continues, and perhaps, in time, she will find the missing piece of her family history, adding a final chapter to this remarkable story.
CLICK HERE TO DONATE TO OUR CROWDFUNDER
HELP US BECOME STRONGER SO THAT WE CAN CONTINUE TO DELIVER POWERFUL CITIZEN JOURNALISM!
