#52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks. Week 24 Prompt: 'Fathers Day'

Week 24. Prompt: Father’s Day.

As this prompt is relevant time-wise to the other side of the world, I will transgress a little and type out a poem my Daddy composed in 1950 and added to, in 1981.

1950

We have two rascally daughters, their hair’s tomato blonde

and though they are such mischiefs of them I’m very fond

The first her name is Frances - in years she numbers seven

I’m sure her ways will take her to everywhere bar Heaven

And then there’s little Isabel, so sweet, but knows her mind, 

She has a perpetual twinkle of the most mischievious kind.

These two have one big brother and fight with him in turn

While Billie he looks down his nose, some day no doubt he’ll learn.

1981

Some thirty years have now gone by, in fact I should add one

And these young lives have since matured and guess what they have done.

Those girls both through nursing trained and overseas they went

And Frances since moved far away, there many years has spent

Her voice has quite a Yankie flow and Mum has changed to 'Mom'

and two young Nelsons are the fruit of life across the pond.

Now Isabel though not so far, 3500 miles or so

has too a fine young family as well a handsome beau

These fine young ladies all named Flynn and Dad his name is John

who finds he has to permanently work his fingers to the bone

But happiness is theirs and friends as many as of yore

when Poppy formed that witty verse some thirty years before

Our Bill became the wanderer, through the world he went

we’d like to see him settle down and wish he be content

But Bill has caught this modern craze and computers are his bend

and what life further holds for him we’ll find out in the end

no doubt a fine young lady will capture him in time 

and then the two will gain for each a happy life sublime

Should Nanny Noo and Poppy too now leave this earthly shore

feeling at ease and satisfied to look for what’s in store 

and enter in a lighter sphere with all who’ve gone before.

Dad (1904-1982); Mum (1913- 1996); brother Bill (1941-2004) in Victoria in the 1960's.

#52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks. Week 23: 'Going to the Chapel’ Historical Fiction

Week 23 prompt -  'Going to the Chapel'

Historical Fiction. Reminiscence of John Cottam by daughter Elizabeth.

A last dab of powder on her nose and in the mirror Elizabeth sees him again.  Her joy turns to sorrow.  She hears mother’s words, “You carry the looks of your father and ’tis your young brother James who carries his ways.“ 

Twenty-three years gone yet we still miss him so.  I think the suddenness of it broke mother’s heart.  

Father loved working for the Railway.  They say he was a hard worker who learned quickly and lived by God’s law.  A strong man for his height.  Little schooling yet moved right up to engine driver at only 29 years and carried his pride inside.  

That last morning he left with lunch package and thick coat for the Nottingham/Toton run.  Mother always rose early to see him off and as usual, he gave her extra kisses for us when we stirred.

If only he hadn’t got out to check the brakes … if only the other shunting hadn’t happened…

Thomas the fireman said father was always careful and checked things ‘proper’.  They didn’t know eight other wagons were being shunted nearby.  It was so dark and foggy at five o’clock that morning. With God’s help, he may not have seen anything.  But I know he would have heard it.  Too late.  I shiver and cry … all those carriages going over him. 

Not the time to dwell though.   
I will go now to the chapel to be wed.  I know father would be happy for us.  I must keep my thoughts to that.

St Elphin's Church, Warrington, Lancashire, England

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RESOURCES: 

John Cottam: 28 Aug 1831 Winwick, Lancashire, England – 09 Oct 1860 Nottingham Meadows, 

Nottinghamshire, England.  (My Great Great Grand-Uncle – Mum’s Father’s Father’s brother)

Elizabeth Pashley Cottam: 1854 – 1890, daughter of John Cottam and Rebecca Pashley (1831-1869).  Elizabeth married David Rankin Apr-Jun Qtr, 1883 at Warrington Lancs, England.

Newspaper articles: 

Nottinghamshire Guardian, 11 October 1860, “Fatal Accident on the Midland Railway”

Derbyshire Advertiser and Journal, 12 October 1860.  “Fatal Accident at the Nottingham Station”

Photo:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Elphin%27s_Church,_Warrington#/media/File:St_Elphin%27s_Church,_Warrington.jpg

#52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks. Week 22: 'So Far Away'

Week 22 Prompt: 'So Far Away' - Historical Fiction.

Watching the excited passengers moving up the gangway of the ship “Ann Milne” a middle-aged woman caught my eye.  There was nothing exceptional about her style of dress that attracted me.   It was her shuffling and stumbling gait slowing down the throng, that caught my eye.  She kept looking back, not at the crowd, but to the sky past the pier and into the distance.  

It was clear that her family was encouraging her as they nudged her forward.  She alternated between wringing her hands and holding them in prayer.  Her shawl had slipped to her shoulders and the severe hairstyle, pulled up into a greying bun, revealed a tear-stained face.  I could see the shake of her head and the heave of her shoulders as she wept.  

She was all reticence and despair.  Something was stopping her from wanting to board the ship. Something or someone she could not bear to be parted from.   Her long black skirts swirled about the railing as if they too, wished to stay behind.

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This is a fictional story about my maternal Great Great Grandmother - Eleanor Wells nee Fry who was pregnant when she left England for Australia with her husband and 4 surviving children.  She was leaving behind 3 young ones in graves.
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#52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks. Week 21: 'Military'

Week 21 Prompt: Military

I have many relatives who were in the military and served in wars and have written about some already. This time I am selecting one who is not a close relative and I know very little about him,  but it touched me when I first came across him.  

Frank Ernest WELLS born 02 November in Hawthorn a suburb of Melbourne, Victoria.  His parents were Henry Wells and Annie Mary Gavin. He was the fourth son of 6 and had 3 sisters.  Two of his brothers, Alex and George, served in the war also.

Frank is my 1st cousin 2X removed. We are both great-grandchildren of Thomas and Eleanor Wells. (My Maternal side.)

Photo of Frank aged about 18 yo.

When Frank enlisted for World War I on 14 August 1915, he was a single man, 26 years old, Roman Catholic living in Hawthorn.  He was a carpenter and joiner having completed a 5-year apprentice under his father Harry (Henry) at Bendigo, Victoria.  Five foot 8” tall, weighed 9 stone, fair complexion with blue eyes and brown hair.

Service Record for Frank Ernest WELLS

He had already served 5 years in the 2/8th A.I.R.  I tried to find out what this service was, but a response letter from the National Archives explained that they were unable to find Frank’s previous service. So the ‘2/8th AIR’ listed in his records will remain a mystery. (See Letter below story)

On completion of his recruitment training, he was given leave to spend Christmas at home with the family at Quarry Hill, Bendigo.

Pte Frank Wells Service No: 4624, sailed away to war on the ‘Themistocles’ with a number of Bendigo boys on 28 January 1916.  




He arrived in Egypt in preparation to head into a theatre. Initial posting was at the Ferry Port.

Frank was… ‘part of The 58th Battalion raised in Egypt on 17 February 1916 as part of the expansion of the AIF. Roughly half of its recruits were Gallipoli veterans from the 6th Battalion, and the other half, fresh reinforcements from Australia. Reflecting the composition of the 6th, the 58th was predominantly composed of men from Victoria. The battalion became part of the 15th Brigade of the 5th Australian Division.’ (AWM)

It was only five months later that Frank contracted Spanish Flu’.  Frank’s parents received the terrible news that he was dangerously ill with enteric fever in hospital in Cairo, having been admitted on 16 June. 

His mates would have headed on to France whilst he was in hospital. 

Frank died 8 days after being admitted on 24 June 1916 in the No 4 Auxiliary Hospital, Abbassia.  It is said that more soldiers died of Spanish flu’ than those killed in the war.  He was buried the day he died in Herli, Grave M125 at the New RC Cemetery at Cairo, Egypt.  

Index No E9 Cairo War Memorial Cemetery: WELLS Pte Frank Ernest 4624.

Cemetery at Cairo.

Poor Frank had only just got to war and was struck down with illness and died before facing battle.

Two packets of his personal effects were returned to his father and consisted of:  Comforter, Money belt, 2 Knives, Pipe, Biblical book ‘Key to Heaven’, Diary, Matchbox containing 2 coins, Badge, Button, 2 Miniature Monkeys, Handkerchief. The other packet contained: Identity Disc with charms and keys, Leather wallet, Papers, Notebook, Postcards, Ring (stone missing), Wristwatch, Strop, Holdall with 2 combs, Razor and Housewife.

His father Henry died on 24March 1917, so in December 1921 it was his mother Annie Mary who signed for a Memorial Scroll, and in February 1922 for a War Medal and again in August for a Memorial Plaque.

Packet that held Frank's Personal Effects

In searching through Frank’s army files I found an interesting letter that piqued my curiosity. It looked like Frank had left behind a sweetheart or at least a very dear friend who was close enough to write to the army about Frank’s welfare.

Letter from Miss M Robson

Return letter from Army to Miss M Robson.

I tried to track down Miss M. Robson of Elsternwick but couldn’t find any leads.  I felt sad for her and all others who were in relationships with young men who were lost at war.  I do hope that she had a happy life. 

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REFERENCES:

http://www.awm.gov.au/people/rolls/R1666973

http://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/scripts/Imagine.asp?B=8380621

http://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/scripts/Imagine.asp

http://www.awm.gov.au/people/rolls/nominal_rolls/first_world_war/page/R1552231/?query=frank+ernest+wells&op=Search&section%5B0%5D=people&section%5B1%5D=articles&section%5B2%5D=books&section%5B3%5D=collections&submit=&filter%5Btype%5D=Private+Record

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LETTER FROM: 

National Archives of Australia
National Reference Service

Reference: NAA1000072090

Dear …,
Thank you for your enquiry regarding the military service of Frank Ernest Wells.

Our Melbourne office holds two series that relate to your enquiry:
B4747 – Army militia service records, 1901 – 1940
B4717 – PMF (Permanent Military Forces) and Army Militia Personnel dossiers, 1901 – 1940

I conducted a search in both series; however I was unable to identify any related records.
These series are both incomplete, thus the absence of a record does not necessarily indicate that a person did not serve; rather it means that such a record, had it existed, was not retained by the Department of Defence for subsequent transfer to the Archives.

Thank you for your interest in the National Archives.

Anna Koh

Reference Officer,  National Reference Service

#52 Ancestors in 52 Days. Week 20: Another Language.

Week 20: Another Language

The first time I heard my father on the telephone - I thought he was speaking a different language.  I would have been about 11 years old so Dad would have been about 53.  He had been in Australia for 45 years, having come out from Scotland with his family in 1912, however he sounded as if he had just stepped off the ship.

Talking to him person to person I didn’t notice his accent (although others did comment on it). But when I answered the phone to his call - I didn’t know who this man was.   

The ship the Pearce family travelled on - ‘SS Demosthenes’.  

Her maiden voyage from London to Melbourne via Cape of Good Hope in 1912  was made in 36 days. (photo in family possession)

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Dad kept his accent all his days and he died in 1982, aged 78.

He had many little Scottish phrases that we children still remember.

When we were little he called us ‘Bonnie wee lassies” and he used to get us to say: ’t’s a braw bricht minlicht nicht the nicht, Mrs Wricht’  meaning: It’s a brilliant bright moonlight night tonight, Mrs Wright. Then he would laugh at our efforts.  Another saying I remember was:

“Ah dinnae ken, Ah’m sure” meaning I really don’t know.

And he loved to say Rabbie Burn’s Selkirk Grace before dinner:

‘Some hae meat and canna eat,

And some wad eat that want it,

But we hae meat and we can eat,

Sae let the Lord be Thankit!’

My father holding me when I was about 3yo, and Dad about 45yo in 1949, at our extended family picnic spot, Keadys Bridge near Euroa, Vic. (Family photo)

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He was a very loyal Scotsman and set up the Burn’s night, the Ladies Highland Pipe Band and the Highland Games in Shepparton.

Dad also recited the poem: ’To a Mouse’ at family gatherings and: 'Address to a Haggis' on Burns Night.

‘To a Mouse’ 

(On Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough,

November, 1785.)

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, 

O, what a panic's in thy breastie! 

Thou need na start awa sae hasty, 

          Wi' bickering brattle! 

I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, 

         Wi' murdering pattle!

I'm truly sorry Man's dominion 

Has broken Nature's social union, 

An' justifies that ill opinion 

         Which makes thee startle

At me, thy poor, earth-born companion 

         An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; 

What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! 

A daimen-icker in a thrave 

         'S a sma' requet; 

I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, 

         An' never miss't!

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! 

Its silly wa's the win's are strewin! 

An' naething, now, to big a new ane, 

         O' foggage green!

An' bleak December's win's ensuing, 

         Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, 

An' weary Winter comin fast, 

An' cozie here, beneath the blast, 

         Thou thought to dwell, 

Till crash! the cruel coulter past 

         Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves and stibble, 

Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! 

Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble, 

         But house or hald, 

To thole the Winter's sleety dribble, 

         An' cranreuch cauld!

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, 

In proving foresight may be vain: 

The best-laid schemes o' Mice an' Men 

         Gang aft agley, 

An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, 

         For promis'd joy!

Still thou are blest, compared wi' me! 

The present only toucheth thee: 

But Och! I backward cast my e'e, 

         On prospects drear! 

An' forward, tho' I cannot see, 

         I guess an' fear!

Robert Burns

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'Address to a Haggis'

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, 

Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race!

Aboon them a' ye tak your place,

       Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye wordy of a grace

       As lang 's my arm. 

The groaning trencher there ye fill,

Your hurdies like a distant hill,

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

       In time o’ need,

While thro’ your pores the dews distil

       Like amber bead. 

His knife see Rustic-labour dight,

An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight,

Trenching your gushing entrails bright,

       Like onie ditch;

And then, O what a glorious sight,

       Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive:

Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,

Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve

       Are bent like drums;

Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,

       Bethankit hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout,

Or olio that wad staw a sow,

Or fricassee wad mak her spew

       Wi’ perfect sconner,

Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view

       On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,

As feckless as a wither'd rash,

His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,

       His nieve a nit;

Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash,

       O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,

The trembling earth resounds his tread,

Clap in his walie nieve a blade,

       He'll make it whissle;

An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,

       Like taps o' thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o’ fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware

       That jaups in luggies;

But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,

       Gie her a Haggis!

Robert Burns

(from The Canongate Burns: the complete poems and songs of Robert Burns (Canongate, 2001). First printed in The Caledonian Mercury in 1786)

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#52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks. Week 19: 'Mother's Day'

Week 19 Prompt: 'Mother's Day'

My little story today is about my 6 X Great Grandmother - Anna McBean, who was born about 1670 in Inverness, Scotland.  

She married Donald McIntosh/Mackintosh and was mother to my  5 X Gt Grandfather Alexander Mackintosh.

Parish Record of birth and baptism of Alexander McIntosh 

son of Anna McBean and Donald McIntosh.

Alexander married Christian Ross

Their son John married Margaret Morrison

They named their son Alexander and he married Isabel Cairns

They had Richard who married Elspeth Gary  

Then their daughter Isabella Mackintosh married James Finlay Lumsden

They had a daughter also named Isabella - Mackintosh Lumsden and this is where my family name comes in - she married Francis George Pearce  - my father’s parents.

Sadly I haven’t found out anything about Anna to get to know her at all or to share in my story.

One thing I do know though is that she would not have had a Mother’s Day celebration in those days. So I am saluting her today and thanking her for being the oldest proven grand-mother in my family.