Hooptedoodle #308 - An Unknown Uncle

Back in my mother's archives - more from Cousin Dave's notes on family history (the last, incomplete work of one of the world's happiest librarians). Don't worry, this isn't the start of a whole new blog.

Starting point is the same people I was writing about yesterday - in particular the immediate family of Robert James Moore (1875-1930), the gentle, big man from an Irish family who was a coal merchant in Birkenhead and also drove armoured cars in the desert in WW1. [As an aside, it is a sad coincidence that RJM died of prostate cancer at 54 - which is the same illness and the same age which took away Cousin Dave - no matter.]

Robert James Moore married a very vigorous woman - Winifred Agnes Booth. She had a difficult childhood - it's her family I'm going to write a bit about today - beset with some real hardship. She became a local legend in Birkenhead. She was a devout Fabian socialist, and a Quaker (I was surprised to learn), and a prominent Labour firebrand on Birkenhead Town Council for many years. For such a small town, Birkenhead has a remarkable history of social innovation - first wash houses, first public parks, you name it - and that tradition was strongly embraced by Winifred. For all her good works, she seems, in fact, to have been something of a monster - she completely dominated her two sons (particularly my maternal grandfather) and must have worn out her poor, quiet husband. My mother remembers her as "a right battle axe", in fact, the actual wording was "a right, fat battle axe" - the grandchildren were terrified of her, and one of the great joys of my mum's childhood in Paris was the occasion when Grandma Winifred visited them and sat on a chair in the girls' bedroom, to lecture them about something or other (as was her way). The chair, bless it, broke under the strain and left Councillor WA Moore stuck fast for some time, her regal derrière protruding majestically from the fractured seat.

This is my great-great-grandmother, Sarah Jane Miller, with
her second husband and their son - anybody have any clues
about the cap badge?

Let's not dwell on Winifred - enough has been written and said about her over the years, and she surely worked very hard to ensure this was so. No, today's tale is really about Winifred's mother, a much more unassuming person, it seems. It's not an entirely cheerful story, to be sure, she had to overcome more than her fair share of trouble, but it also throws up another relative I didn't even know I had.

Sarah Jane Miller was from an Irish family (from Galway - there must have been some English families in Victorian Liverpool, but it seems I'm not related to any of them), and she married a Scotsman, Richard Pithie Booth (he came from Peterculter, near Aberdeen). They had 5, possibly 6 children before Mr Booth was killed in an accident at Birkenead Docks in about 1890 - the Dock Authority refused to pay the normal compensation for such an accident because there was some dispute about whether Booth was officially supposed to be at work that day. Sarah and her family were left destitute, and she became a teacher in the village school at Bidston. One of her sons left home very early to go to sea, to help support his mother.

Eventually she remarried; a widower, another Scotsman (yes, all right), from Kirkcudbright, named William Beattie, who was a master bookbinder and whose business appears in trade listings for Birkenhead from 1883 onward. Beattie had children from his previous marriage, so the combined family was large, though now quite prosperous. In later life Sarah became active in the Birkenhead Cooperative Society and the Cooperative Women's Guild.

I knew some of this, in very little detail, but I never realised that William Beattie and Sarah had a child together. There he is in the picture - this is James - that's (let's see) my mother's father's mother's half-brother, James. Not a very close relative of mine, then, but I never knew he existed. He hardly did - James Beattie was killed in France in 1917, aged 19. This photo, which must have been taken in 1916 or 1917, was published in the Birkenhead News and the Wirral Advertiser in December 1923, after Sarah - who had become quite a prominent citizen after her personal struggles - passed away.

So there you go - a complete relative I had never been aware of.

I promise not to unload any more family history for a while. Back to the toy soldiers - I'm involved in a wargame this coming weekend...!

***** Late Edit *****

OK - did some further hunting around.

The cap badge is clearly that of the Cheshire Regt - that would make sense, since Birkenhead was in Cheshire in those days.

And I found great-great-uncle Jim. My dates were a bit out, but the idea was correct.

1 South Hill Rd, Birkenhead today, courtesy of Google Maps (on the
left of the two houses)

He was James Wallace Beattie, son of William Beattie, of 1 South Hill Road, Birkenhead. He was with the 10th Bn, Cheshire Regt, which, as part of the 75th Brigade, landed in France in Sept 1915. His serial number was 49435. Private JW Beattie was killed on 11th October 1916, almost certainly at the Battle for Ancre Heights, which followed the Battle of Thiepval Ridge. The history notes that the Germans put up a determined defence, and it was pissing with rain. James is buried at Thiepval. He was, as stated, 19 years old.

Ancre Heights, Oct 1916

Jesus Christ.

********************

Didn't mean to add anything further to this post, but I've now seen a scan of a form which was issued in 1922 to provide details of individuals to be included on a war memorial for the fallen of Birkenhead. The information was completed by James' mother (Sarah), and the only information additional to all the above is that his date of enlistment is given as 31st March 1916 - so he must have gone out to join the 10th Battalion, who were already in France, shortly after that date. That puts a very narrow window of time when the family group above was photographed. Must have been April 1916 - something like that.

And here is the Birkenhead War Memorial - located in Hamilton Square, opposite
the Town Hall. It's been cleaned recently. Unveiled in 1925, there were some additions
after 1945 to deal with yet another war - very obvious disproportion in the numbers
of losses for the two wars. Sarah, who died a year after completing the
form above, never lived to see it.

*********************

Hooptedoodle #13 - More Ancestors

I would not wish to suggest that my family is especially interesting, so I promise this is not the beginning of a genealogy blog. I was going through some archive stuff on the computer, and came across some ancient photos.

Great-Grandfather Robert is on the right end of the middle row

These were taken by my Great-Grandfather Robert during his WW1 service, and they form part of an extensive archive of documentation and pictures which has been painstakingly compiled by a relative of mine. Robert (who was the father of the grandfather I mentioned in Hooptedoodle #10) served in the Royal Army Service Corps, Motor Transport branch. His discharge papers in 1919 describe him as a "Ford driver". His service included spells in Egypt, Damascus, Gaza and Palestine. He carried his snapshot camera with him throughout and, understandably, most of his pictures are of things which he found interesting during his off-duty moments - the ruins of Palmyra, casual groups of his mates, tourist stuff of camels and so on. He did, however, take some pictures of his unit at work, and their vehicles, and I thought someone might be interested in the WW1 machinery.

This is described as 'a camel ambulance'

A breakdown

Army chaplain on horseback, in Egypt

While thinking about family history, a story which was handed down by Robert's father (who was also named Robert) is interesting, if only as a glimpse of a historic occasion. Robert senior (my great-great-grandfather) was an Irishman, from Tralee, a career soldier who served in the 95th (Derbyshire) Regt. He was present at a big ceremony at which many of the British Army units were re-organised and renamed.

I guess this was the 1881 event (in Hyde Park?), when Queen Victoria presented the new colours. The story is as I was told it, as a boy - if the details are inaccurate or have changed through retelling over the years, please reject or correct as you wish. The drill was that the 95th had to march up to the dias where Her Unamused Majesty was located, receive a blessing and the new flags, and then be ordered by the RSM to march off, under their new title (2nd Battalion, Sherwood Foresters) - this last is the important bit.

Sadly, the RSM had been steadying his nerves with much gin, and when his big moment came to march them off, he couldn't remember the new regimental title. After a long, awkward silence, during which we may imagine the RSM growing very red in the face, he eventually roared, "Oh - bugger it! - 95th Regiment of Foot - about face, quick march..."

Legend has it that HM was even less amused than usual, and the RSM was dismissed from the service without pension. Feel free to append your ending of choice.