Arriving in Liverpool in 1780, he would have been greeted by a city that was noisy and busy; its
landscape dominated by windmills and chimneys; animals being herded in some streets; grand
merchants' houses in others. All activity would have been centred on the docks  and one of the
growing activities there would have been the importing of tobacco.

The young Williamson would have had little difficulty finding a job in such a burgeoning town and at
some point he began employment with the tobacco & snuff firm of Richard Tate. Tate's main office was
based in Parr Street, adjacent to Wolstenholme Square, near the city centre.

It was a family business and when Richard Tate died in 1787, the reins were passed to his son, Thomas
Tate. The business was successful - it enjoyed the spoils reaped by most Liverpool firms as the city's
greatest years dawned in the early 1800's. It would appear that by this time Williamson was rising
through the ranks of the company, perhaps being promoted from runner to clerk and so on. As a
sideline, Williamson set up as a merchant in partnership with Mr. Joseph Leigh, while still working for
Tate's a few doors away.

He must have done well because the family gave its blessing to Joseph to marry Elizabeth Tate,
Thomas's sister. In 1802, Elizabeth Tate, amateur artist, became Mrs. Elizabeth Williamson in a
ceremony held at the family church - St. Thomas's, near the waterfront.

Just a year later, Williamson bought the tobacco business from Thomas Tate and incorporated the
Leigh & Williamson merchants company into Tate's. He continued to run it for many years. One
suspects that the business was even more successful under Williamson's auspices: in the very early
1800s he appears to have built several houses on a previously all-but empty street called Mason Street
on Edge Hill on the outskirts of the town.

It is important to understand that in the early 1800s Edge Hill was largely undeveloped, although the
layout of Mason Street had been in place for some time. Mr. Edward Mason, after whom the street
would be named, had his mansion on one corner of the then narrow pathway. This and the few houses
which Williamson had added stood on a breezy outcrop, offering an unobstructed view down to the
River Mersey.

Around 1805, Mr & Mrs Williamson moved into one of the Mason Street houses - a house which
was to be their home for the rest of their lives.

Williamson quickly set about building more properties. These houses were built with cellars, as most
houses were at the time. However, the key point is that Williamson decided that his properties would
follow the fashion for having large gardens and orchards behind them.

Around 1806, with several houses under construction at once and the arches taking shape behind them,
Williamson would have been employing a large gang of men. At this time, many healthy men of
Liverpool would have been among the British troops battling against France as Napoleon Bonaparte
sought to conquer Europe. However, there was labour aplenty available to him as Liverpool began her
rapid expansion, fuelled by immigration, in turn fuelled by the success of her port.

At the back of each house was a certain amount of space but then the sandstone bed rock dropped
about twenty feet, down to the same level as Smithdown Lane. So that the gardens could be as big as
possible, Williamson had his men build brick arches that they could be extended onto. In this way, the
gardens and orchards were built and, most significantly, the first parts of the tunnels had been put in
place.

The safest assumption as to what happened next is as follows: Word had clearly got round that a day's
work could be had up at Mr. Williamson's on Edge Hill. Whilst tales of him employing thousands of
workers at once are probably exaggerations, there would no doubt have been a large number of
unemployed men knocking at his door. Once the garden arches and first set of houses on Mason Street
were complete, Williamson probably had no need for any great number of men, but having started his
life in relative poverty he would have seen fit to take them on, paying their wages from his considerable
fortune. With the main parts of his building project well staffed, he would have sent the additional men
into the arches to extend them, cutting into the bedrock, perhaps so that they met up with the houses'
cellars to provide a convenient exit to Smithdown Lane.

And so the construction of the labyrinth began ...

A passage to link two cellars here, an extra basement there. An arch within that arch should keep a few
busy for this week; why not a tunnel to link up with that plot over there? ... I'll be building a house there
soon. That house doesn't have enough rooms - we'll put an extra cellar under the one it's got. Don't
break that stone, man! Cut it out square and we'll trade it for bricks, so your brother can keep building.
Another tenant wanting a house ... this landlord business makes good money - I'll need to fill this street
with buildings. A job in my employ, eh? Can you build arches? ... No? ... Start work tomorrow ... that
man over there will teach you. What to do with all this stone? ... Give it to people who need it. A new
church? ... a fine institution, Sir ... my men will have all the stone you need on your doorstep tomorrow
...

By 1816, the Napoleonic Wars were effectively over. Soldiers returned to their home towns and began
looking for work and, just as important, the home industries which supported the war effort suddenly
had a lot less to do. Unemployment was rife and social support was only available on a scarce and
informal basis.

Williamson had retired and sold the tobacco firm by now. It would appear that from this point on
almost all his attention was given over to expanding the tunnels. The common belief, and no alternative
rationale can be proven, is that the tunnels were the means and saving men from poverty was the end.

It is easy to underestimate the severity of the recession that hit Liverpool at the time. Jobless men far
outweighed the vacancies around the port and those who had returned from war permanently injured
stood little chance other than to try their luck with the man who locals were now referring to as 'The
King of Edge Hill'.

Williamson kept taking more and more men on. No doubt others left: through age, through finding a
better job. Certainly some would have been injured, but they would surely have been kept on. There
would always have been a need for storemen, counters, men to hand out the food and wages.

Williamson would often have his men perform apparently pointless duties. It is said that he would get a
man to move a pile of rocks from one place to another and then get him to move them back again. In
the parts of the tunnels accessible today there is evidence of tunnels being built and immediately bricked
up again, alongside fine arches that lead nowhere. All this was purely to keep the men busy, but
perhaps Williamson was also deriving satisfaction from his growing domain - the power it gave him. The
street had become fully occupied, with all the residents vetted by himself. The King of Edge Hill now
controlled his own kingdom.

Williamson would often be seen above ground, conversing with those he had time for or bawling at
those he didn't. Just as often he would disappear under ground, instructing the navigators where to
direct their pick axes next.

Conditions for the workers would have been difficult: dark, dusty, noisy, cold in winter and hot in
summer. The rock men worked with picks, shovels and barrows while the carpenters used axes and
saws to build formers for the bricklayers to lay arches on. Under ground, the men worked by
candlelight.

Then again, there was plenty of work going on above ground. Not only in building houses (Williamson's
domain was now extending across the other side of Mason Street and further up into Edge Hill) but
also in some apparently spectacular structures at the back of the Mason Street houses, alongside the
original garden arches. These are dealt with in the 'Articles' section of this site.

In 1822, Williamson's wife, Elizabeth, died, aged 56. There is a supposition, and it makes some sense,
that thereafter Williamson sought solace by turning his attentions even more vehemently to the labyrinth.
Some say that after Elizabeth's death he rarely ventured above ground, but this is unlikely.

By 1830, the railways had arrived ... and they were right on Williamson's doorstep. There is little doubt
that he would have taken himself the few hundred yards up the road to witness the the inaugural journey
of the Liverpool - Manchester railway. Perhaps he was one of the many private shareholders in what
was a highly speculative and controversial project. Certainly, Williamson would have noted the colossal
movement of sandstone as cuttings and tunnels were dug - not least when, a few years later, the main
tunnel to Lime Street was dug right under his own street!

Many of Williamson's men, of course, became highly skilled as they served their apprenticeships on his
tunnels. It is highly likely that at least some of them were recruited by the rail engineers from the 1830s
onwards.

Williamson died, aged 70, on 1st May 1840, by a quirk of chronology what would become
International Workers Day. The cause of death was given as water on the chest. Seventy was a ripe
old age at that time and his life was no doubt lengthened by his active lifestyle. The tunnelling stopped
immediately and was never continued.

He was buried with the remains of his wife in the Tate family crypt in the cemetery of St. Thomas's
Church, where they had married 38 years earlier. He had remained steadfastly loyal to the church
throughout his time in Liverpool. St. Thomas's was demolished years later, but by the time that the
graves of the churchyard were moved elsewhere some alterations to the street layout had been made
and for some reason the Tate family crypt was left where it was. So it is that the remains of the King of
Edge Hill lie today under an innocuous looking car park on the edge of Liverpool city centre.

Arriving in Liverpool in 1780, he would have been greeted by a city that was noisy and busy; its
landscape dominated by windmills and chimneys; animals being herded in some streets; grand
merchants' houses in others. All activity would have been centred on the docks  and one of the
growing activities there would have been the importing of tobacco.

The young Williamson would have had little difficulty finding a job in such a burgeoning town and at
some point he began employment with the tobacco & snuff firm of Richard Tate. Tate's main office was
based in Parr Street, adjacent to Wolstenholme Square, near the city centre.

It was a family business and when Richard Tate died in 1787, the reins were passed to his son, Thomas
Tate. The business was successful - it enjoyed the spoils reaped by most Liverpool firms as the city's
greatest years dawned in the early 1800's. It would appear that by this time Williamson was rising
through the ranks of the company, perhaps being promoted from runner to clerk and so on. As a
sideline, Williamson set up as a merchant in partnership with Mr. Joseph Leigh, while still working for
Tate's a few doors away.

He must have done well because the family gave its blessing to Joseph to marry Elizabeth Tate,
Thomas's sister. In 1802, Elizabeth Tate, amateur artist, became Mrs. Elizabeth Williamson in a
ceremony held at the family church - St. Thomas's, near the waterfront.

Just a year later, Williamson bought the tobacco business from Thomas Tate and incorporated the
Leigh & Williamson merchants company into Tate's. He continued to run it for many years. One
suspects that the business was even more successful under Williamson's auspices: in the very early
1800s he appears to have built several houses on a previously all-but empty street called Mason Street
on Edge Hill on the outskirts of the town.

It is important to understand that in the early 1800s Edge Hill was largely undeveloped, although the
layout of Mason Street had been in place for some time. Mr. Edward Mason, after whom the street
would be named, had his mansion on one corner of the then narrow pathway. This and the few houses
which Williamson had added stood on a breezy outcrop, offering an unobstructed view down to the
River Mersey.

Around 1805, Mr & Mrs Williamson moved into one of the Mason Street houses - a house which
was to be their home for the rest of their lives.

Williamson quickly set about building more properties. These houses were built with cellars, as most
houses were at the time. However, the key point is that Williamson decided that his properties would
follow the fashion for having large gardens and orchards behind them.

Around 1806, with several houses under construction at once and the arches taking shape behind them,
Williamson would have been employing a large gang of men. At this time, many healthy men of
Liverpool would have been among the British troops battling against France as Napoleon Bonaparte
sought to conquer Europe. However, there was labour aplenty available to him as Liverpool began her
rapid expansion, fuelled by immigration, in turn fuelled by the success of her port.

At the back of each house was a certain amount of space but then the sandstone bed rock dropped
about twenty feet, down to the same level as Smithdown Lane. So that the gardens could be as big as
possible, Williamson had his men build brick arches that they could be extended onto. In this way, the
gardens and orchards were built and, most significantly, the first parts of the tunnels had been put in
place.

The safest assumption as to what happened next is as follows: Word had clearly got round that a day's
work could be had up at Mr. Williamson's on Edge Hill. Whilst tales of him employing thousands of
workers at once are probably exaggerations, there would no doubt have been a large number of
unemployed men knocking at his door. Once the garden arches and first set of houses on Mason Street
were complete, Williamson probably had no need for any great number of men, but having started his
life in relative poverty he would have seen fit to take them on, paying their wages from his considerable
fortune. With the main parts of his building project well staffed, he would have sent the additional men
into the arches to extend them, cutting into the bedrock, perhaps so that they met up with the houses'
cellars to provide a convenient exit to Smithdown Lane.

And so the construction of the labyrinth began ...

A passage to link two cellars here, an extra basement there. An arch within that arch should keep a few
busy for this week; why not a tunnel to link up with that plot over there? ... I'll be building a house there
soon. That house doesn't have enough rooms - we'll put an extra cellar under the one it's got. Don't
break that stone, man! Cut it out square and we'll trade it for bricks, so your brother can keep building.
Another tenant wanting a house ... this landlord business makes good money - I'll need to fill this street
with buildings. A job in my employ, eh? Can you build arches? ... No? ... Start work tomorrow ... that
man over there will teach you. What to do with all this stone? ... Give it to people who need it. A new
church? ... a fine institution, Sir ... my men will have all the stone you need on your doorstep tomorrow
...

By 1816, the Napoleonic Wars were effectively over. Soldiers returned to their home towns and began
looking for work and, just as important, the home industries which supported the war effort suddenly
had a lot less to do. Unemployment was rife and social support was only available on a scarce and
informal basis.

Williamson had retired and sold the tobacco firm by now. It would appear that from this point on
almost all his attention was given over to expanding the tunnels. The common belief, and no alternative
rationale can be proven, is that the tunnels were the means and saving men from poverty was the end.

It is easy to underestimate the severity of the recession that hit Liverpool at the time. Jobless men far
outweighed the vacancies around the port and those who had returned from war permanently injured
stood little chance other than to try their luck with the man who locals were now referring to as 'The
King of Edge Hill'.

Williamson kept taking more and more men on. No doubt others left: through age, through finding a
better job. Certainly some would have been injured, but they would surely have been kept on. There
would always have been a need for storemen, counters, men to hand out the food and wages.

Williamson would often have his men perform apparently pointless duties. It is said that he would get a
man to move a pile of rocks from one place to another and then get him to move them back again. In
the parts of the tunnels accessible today there is evidence of tunnels being built and immediately bricked
up again, alongside fine arches that lead nowhere. All this was purely to keep the men busy, but
perhaps Williamson was also deriving satisfaction from his growing domain - the power it gave him. The
street had become fully occupied, with all the residents vetted by himself. The King of Edge Hill now
controlled his own kingdom.

Williamson would often be seen above ground, conversing with those he had time for or bawling at
those he didn't. Just as often he would disappear under ground, instructing the navigators where to
direct their pick axes next.

Conditions for the workers would have been difficult: dark, dusty, noisy, cold in winter and hot in
summer. The rock men worked with picks, shovels and barrows while the carpenters used axes and
saws to build formers for the bricklayers to lay arches on. Under ground, the men worked by
candlelight.

Then again, there was plenty of work going on above ground. Not only in building houses (Williamson's
domain was now extending across the other side of Mason Street and further up into Edge Hill) but
also in some apparently spectacular structures at the back of the Mason Street houses, alongside the
original garden arches. These are dealt with in the 'Articles' section of this site.

In 1822, Williamson's wife, Elizabeth, died, aged 56. There is a supposition, and it makes some sense,
that thereafter Williamson sought solace by turning his attentions even more vehemently to the labyrinth.
Some say that after Elizabeth's death he rarely ventured above ground, but this is unlikely.

By 1830, the railways had arrived ... and they were right on Williamson's doorstep. There is little doubt
that he would have taken himself the few hundred yards up the road to witness the the inaugural journey
of the Liverpool - Manchester railway. Perhaps he was one of the many private shareholders in what
was a highly speculative and controversial project. Certainly, Williamson would have noted the colossal
movement of sandstone as cuttings and tunnels were dug - not least when, a few years later, the main
tunnel to Lime Street was dug right under his own street!

Many of Williamson's men, of course, became highly skilled as they served their apprenticeships on his
tunnels. It is highly likely that at least some of them were recruited by the rail engineers from the 1830s
onwards.

Williamson died, aged 70, on 1st May 1840, by a quirk of chronology what would become
International Workers Day. The cause of death was given as water on the chest. Seventy was a ripe
old age at that time and his life was no doubt lengthened by his active lifestyle. The tunnelling stopped
immediately and was never continued.

He was buried with the remains of his wife in the Tate family crypt in the cemetery of St. Thomas's
Church, where they had married 38 years earlier. He had remained steadfastly loyal to the church
throughout his time in Liverpool. St. Thomas's was demolished years later, but by the time that the
graves of the churchyard were moved elsewhere some alterations to the street layout had been made
and for some reason the Tate family crypt was left where it was. So it is that the remains of the King of
Edge Hill lie today under an innocuous looking car park on the edge of Liverpool city centre.