When
I was at Worcester, Quarter Sessions presented few problems. I can
only remember one Court Room at the Shire Hall; this was conveniently
situated in relation to the office of the Clerk of the Peace. The
Judge's Lodgings were immediately behind the Shire Hall, so the
Magistrates could retire easily from the rather high bench where they
sat. A permanent staff consisting of a Butler and his wife lived
there ready to receive and look after'the Judge at Assizes. The
Chairman of Quarter Sessions could also stay the night, if he needed
to, as was the case in my time when the Chairman was the retired, and
much respected, County Court Judge, Farrant, whose home was in
London. Farrant always came up to Worcester the day before the Court
opened.
On
one occasion, after a long and hard fought trial which had lasted all
day, until about tea-time, the moment came, after Defendant's and
Plaintiff's Counsel's arguments, when the Chairman had to sum up. But
Farrant remained silent, with his head in his hands. After a minute
or two Mr Bird got up and turned round to face him. He quickly
realised that the Chairman was unwell, so he turned again and said
that there would be an adjournment of twenty minutes for tea. The
Chairman was helped to his feet, and the Magistrates retired, Mr Bird
with them. A few minutes later Mr Bird came back, and beckoned to the
two Counsel. He told them that the Chairman had been feeling faint
and had not made full notes of the evidence; so he was unable to sum
up. But Mr Bird however had made notes, and if Counsel agreed it
might be possible to read an adequate summary from these. Both
Counsel readily accepted, as they were tired of a rather dreary case.
Mr Bird delivered the summing up as the Chairman still did not feel
well enough. The Prisoner [sic] was found guilty and there was no
appeal!
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49
By
the next Sessions Judge Farrant had retired. But he forgot this and
turned up as usual, and had to stand down at the request of the newly
appointed Chairman!
At
Beverley the atmosphere was different. The Sessions House, at the
north end of the town, is a beautiful building in the classical
style, circa 1711, part of an enclave of local government buildings
including the former House of Correction and some buildings used by
the Police. Fronting the Sessions House was a magnificent beech tree
which when I first saw it was somewhat neglected. The main court room
is very fine and in the long room behind (where buffet lunches were
laid on) there were some contemporary chairs.
So
those of us who needed to attend court took a taxi from the office
with all the indictments and other documents together with an
enormous collection of whatever books and reports might be needed.
A
day or two before the Court opened the Chairman (this was Lord
Halifax when I first went to Beverley), would appear at County Hall
and take over Sir Godfrey's chair and desk. Smoking a cigarette
(without offering one to Sir Godfrey), he would then go through the
cases carefully and consider all the legal issues. But despite his
vice-regal manner (as Lord Irwin, he was in fact Viceroy in India),
he was friendly and conscientious.
It
was my job to prepare, on separate pieces of paper, short notes on
the offences to be tried and the essentials of evidence required. If,
as generally happened, other issues raising legal questions arose, I
had to think quickly and be ready to hand up more notes if needed.
However, Sir Godfrey was never better than when in court. And a young
barrister once told me that he had been recommended to 'open' his
career at Beverley because the Bar considered the East Riding Quarter
Sessions procedure to be a model of smooth efficiency.
Lord
Halifax retired from the bench when he became Foreign Secretary and
the German crisis loomed.
After
the formal opening of the Court and whatever civil business there
might be, including appointment of committees, most of the
Magistrates who did not want to deal with the criminal matters left,
leaving the Chairman and half a dozen or so sitting. It was very
unusual if business was not concluded by five pm. Though on one
occasion in the War I had to drive Mr Fenby home to Bridlington very
late in the evening.
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50
As
the East Riding County Council's solicitor I had to deal with Town
and Country Planning. Indeed I owed my appointment to my experience
of this at Worcester. No real attempts at planning control had been
introduced. But an emergency had sprung up, in that Butlins (who ran
holiday camps) had acquired a large area of coastline south of
Primrose Valley and towards Hunmanby Gap, where they intended to
construct a large camp on the cliff top. Since the view from Filey of
the Bay looking towards Flamborough was outstandingly beautiful and
largely unspoilt, most of the natives, including the area's two or
three representatives on the County Council, regarded Butlins' plan
with horror. However, the camp would have been a 'goldmine' to Filey,
whose own Urban District Council would have all the extra rates.
The
County Council had recently appointed E.R. Voyce, a young qualified
town and country planning officer. Under the then Planning Act, of
1932, if the County Council was to get any effective control over the
situation it was essential to get the 'planning authority', which was
the Filey U.D.C., to pass a resolution to delegate its powers to the
County. Filey Council was very keen to have the camp, but had no
officer who knew anything about design or planning, and indeed had
never considered the subject at all until that time. So there was an
evening meeting; Voyce and I appeared before the assembled
dignitaries of Filey. I started off by explaining what the Act said,
and that if Filey wanted to exercise any control over their coastline
and view, the Council must pass two resolutions - one to assume
powers under the 1932 Act and another to delegate them to the County,
which the County would then use for the benefit of Filey through its
qualified staff! Voyce then explained what he thought should be done,
namely to have the camp set back away from the cliff edge and to tidy
up the projected layout by planting trees and so forth.
For
some while, the Filey people did not welcome these ideas. They feared
that Billy Butlin would gib at the interference and the extra cost.
But eventually the more sensible views prevailed, and Councillor
Caine (who I remembered and revered as "Andie Caine" from
my boyhood - he had owned some brilliant Pierrots) turned the tide
for us. So the resolutions were passed, and the view saved. Billy
Butlin co-operated with all Voyce's suggestions, and the camp was
built, complete with a special railway line. It was a success for
many years, but has now gone. And Filey, alas, has been transferred
to the "North Yorkshire" council.
A
subject that was allied to the possible eyesore of Butlins' Camp was
advertisement hoardings beside Highways. There were thousands of
these. Objections could be lodged against them on two grounds –
that
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51
they
distracted drivers from authorised road traffic signs, or on amenity
grounds. Sometimes, the advertisers could be persuaded to remove the
hoardings or resite them in places where they would be less
offensive. But one firm was particularly difficult to deal with. This
firm had a series of boards at Spital Corner, where the road from
Malton to the coast divides for Filey or Scarborough. It was a
wonderful site for advertising, as approaching traffic was confronted
with it, and there were trees behind. The local councillors wanted to
use it as a test case, so I was instructed to prosecute. I decided to
take the case myself, not to brief Counsel and not to spend money on
expensive experts. So I photographed the signs myself, and got one of
the local councillors to say he found the hoardings to be
distasteful. Best of all, Sir Godfrey persuaded the artist Sir
Frederick Elwell (whom of course, he knew) to hold forth about the
countryside and how it was being destroyed by garish signs.
Against
me, the case was argued by Counsel, but Elwell was more than able to
hold his own, and the Magistrates ordered that the signs be removed.
I fully expected that there would be an appeal, but there was none,
and the case was a huge help to us in dealing with other sites.
I
did not take very many cases before the Magistrates. But one - which
actually found its way into some of the reports, those dealing with
food and drugs matters - related to the dilution of milk. It had
recently been found that the freezing points of cream and water were
sufficiently different that it was possible to establish with
reasonable certainty whether water had been added, as was the case in
this particular - and hard won – battle.
All
this is just a little of my work at Beverley. My personal life was
governed by the places where I lodged. After a month or two in
Bridlington I decided that I needed to live nearer Beverley, and this
was when I moved to live with the Everinghams, and from them I moved
to the Opies at Etton. It was a large and pleasant early Georgian
Rectory complete with garden, in which I happily helped, producing
vegetables. Blossom, the nanny goat which liked me and which used to
wait by the gate for me to get home from work on my old Raleigh, was
also keen on vegetables, and used to pretend to help me in the
garden. I have already mentioned Mr Opie, his two parishes, and his
horsemanship.
The
big house in Etton was occupied by a schooner magnate from Hull, an
alien to village life. But somehow he knew Joan Hacking, and when she
came to stay on one occasion, I was invited to dine - a stiff affair
with a Butler, much silver, and port.
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52
During
all this time the shadows of war were hanging over our lives. Indeed
they had lengthened since I stood on Great Malvern Station discussing
the Spanish Civil War (see
above) and learning
about the Nazis' support for General Franco, who at that stage we had
wanted to win. And even before that was the Italian invasion of
Abyssinia - fairly obviously a practise run for a more serious game.
I had been sent on a short ARP course before moving to Beverley, but
once there, I do not think I was much involved in the preparations
for possible war. But I do remember being surprised one day by a bevy
of WVS ladies coming down stairs from the Council Chamber - one of
them was Jewel Jackson, with whom I had played on Filey sands and who
went on to be the head of the WVS in the East Riding. I have often
sat on the seat in Scarborough that Jewel gave in memory of her
brother Maurice.
I
always thought that, as a T.A. Reserve Officer, if war came, I should
be called up. Throughout late August and early September 1939 the
weather was brilliantly sunny and hot. Some people from the office
had got into the habit of lying out on the grass in the County Hall
garden at lunchtime, and that was where I was when the telegram was
handed to me instructing me to report as soon as possible to Captain
Ford at Newark Drill Hall.
I
left a lot of my things at Etton Rectory, including my bike, in the
stable, and packed up the rest and drove home to Southwell. My car
then was the Armstrong Siddeley 'Z plus' sportsman's coupe
(Registration WF 8765) which Sir Godfrey Macdonald had had new and
which I had bought through the main distributors in Leeds when he
traded it in for a saloon.
(1998
note, revised 2017:- this car was called Woeful, continuing the
tradition of naming by the registration letters. When Richard sold it
in the 1950s he retained all its servicing and oil-change information
and its clock, which he then used by his bedside for the rest of his
life. Some papers about this and several other cars are in the family
archive but I have forgotten what happened to the clock).
My
orders were to report to Fred Sketchley, who was then temporarily in
charge of "A" Company at Arnold. I got there in time for a
bread and cheese supper, and slept on the floor in the back of the
Bonnington Cinema. Next morning we sorted the men into two platoons.
I had no uniform, but wore my T.A. badge and carried my Repton
swagger stick! Charles Ransom soon appeared, and others, Tony Gamble,
Renwick, Simpson, and also Ted Beckwith. He was certainly the most
efficient of the officers, and kept us all on our toes. Having
absorbed all
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53
of
the information in the Training Manuals, he could not bear to see
anyone doing nothing.
After
some weeks at Arnold we joined the rest of the Battalion at
Finningley RAF station, presumably for the purpose of guarding it
against saboteurs. Us officers enjoyed RAF luxury and modern
quarters. Some training was done, and some trenches were dug. My
chief memory is of cycling around in the dark as an orderly officer
and going along the road to Epworth at about midnight to see that our
guard was awake in his post near a bomb store. There were daytime
trips to a Bank in Doncaster to draw cash for pay.
But
that comfortable existence soon ended when the whole Battalion moved
to Shildon in County Durham. This was a coal-producing area, and had
suffered greatly from unemployment, so the locals were quite pleased
to see us. I was billeted some distance from the building which
served as officers' mess, in a miner's cottage on the other (north)
side of the Stockton & Darlington Railway. Training was done on
land north of the town which I think was part of the Surtees estate.
Nearby a section of the Roman road to the north had an exposed
surface down the steep bank to the river Wear. Most of the officers
went on a "firing course" on the Yorkshire Moors above
Leyburn - sleeping in wooden huts - and back at Shildon the winter
weather grew worse, with banks of snow three or more feet high at the
sides of the road.
Whilst
at Shildon, Geoffrey Wills told me that his wife was coming to stay
the weekend, and would like to meet me. They would be staying in a
hotel. Would I go to dinner? I had not met Geoffrey's wife, so I was
taken aback when she said, "Richard, I wanted to meet you
because I have a bone to pick with you. A few years back you and
Vivian Lucas left four frightened girls surrounded by the most
terrible cows on the Upton-on-Severn golf course!". Fortunately
Rosalind Wills (nee Jewell) remained a friend until her death not
many years ago.
During
that terrible winter I developed bronchitis, and it turned into
pneumonia. The miner's wife with whom I was billeted, Mrs Hodgson,
kept me in bed with hot water bottles and for a few days my absence
from the Mess seems not to have been noticed. Mrs Hodgson (who could
see that I was rather ill) supposed that they would send the M.O. to
me, but no-one came, until Fred Sketchley found out where I was. For
a few days until my high temperature came down, I was kept in bed and
nursed by my landlady, and when I got up, I found I was very weak. I
went down to the Mess to discover that preparations were being made
for a move to Northern Europe, Finland as was thought then (where the
Finns were fighting the Russians). A few days later the Battalion
left, from Darlington station, to go to Norway, which had
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54
recently
been invaded by Germany. And Neville Chamberlain made his unadvised
remark that Hitler had missed the boat (or was it the bus?).
Obviously,
I had not gone. I was not well enough. Those of us who were left made
our way to Derby - I went there in John FitzHerbert's open Morris
Minor, which he had asked me to deliver to his sister, together with
his belongings. John's father was the Archdeacon of Derby, and I knew
where they lived. I then went on to Normanton Barracks, where I
shared a room with Peter Branston for a few nights. Whilst I was
there I represented a man at the Coroner's Court. I do not remember
the facts of the case, but I got a ticking off from the Coroner,
which I reported to the C.O. He supported what I said in Court and
said, "I shall never ask Mr [Coroner] to come to the Barracks
again!"
I
was in fact given a short leave to get my strength back. When I felt
better I got in touch with the East Riding County Council and found
that my departure had been a contributing factor to a disaster - the
extra strain had caused Sir Godfrey Macdonald to have a coronary
heart attack, and he had had to resign.
I
was given the job of Signals Training Officer, based at Markheaton
Park. This beautiful mansion was used as billets. The officers' mess
was in the basement. The previous Signals Officer seems not to have
adapted his training programme to wartime conditions (ie to train
them faster), so a large proportion of his intakes had been failed.
My knowledge of Infantry Signals was archaic. But there was a good
Sergeant, and when a new intake arrived, he and I selected the men
who seemed to have the potential to learn. Then I reorganised the
Training Programme to try to make it interesting. So after a little
basic Morse, we went out on imaginary schemes. One of these would
involve climbing the medieval tower of All Saints Cathedral and
sending and receiving messages to and from a distant high point. We
saw some other flashes being sent from elsewhere, which could not be
accounted for either by the Army or the Police. Their sender was
never found!
I
had a room in a school on the left hand (north-east) side of the
Ashbourne Road, where about twenty men were lodged. I slept in a
separate room, on the floor, except in the hot summer months when we
lay out on the grass or in tents. This was when we saw, in the sky,
the bombing of Coventry, forty-odd miles away. And the Midland
Station was also bombed, and the Germans tried to destroy the Rolls
Royce Aero Engine factory.
I
was required to learn to ride a motorcycle, and I found it easy
enough, on the road to Ashbourne. I was once sent to stop all traffic
coming into Derby from the Uttoxeter Road, to check identity cards. I
was not
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55
actually
told who or what we looking for, but we were certainly armed, and
caused a great nuisance to travellers that day.
Shortly
after the fall of France an order reached me from Normanton Barracks
telling me to drop all training and lay a telephone cable from the
Barracks to Burnaston Aerodrome. Immediately. We only had two drums
of cable, so I straight away told the C.O. that I did not think it
would be enough, and he said to lay it as far as would go and then
report back! We started from the Guardroom, and laid the cable as
best we could, hanging it on trees or posts across side roads or
private gardens out to the main Derby to Burton road. From here, it
was easier, as there were tall GPO telegraph poles, and we made good
progress to within about a quarter of a mile of the entrance to the
aerodrome. Then we connected up one of our antiquated First War
phones, and much to my surprise, the system worked, and we reported
back that we had gone as far as we could.
After
the war when I once had occasion to motor down towards Burton I was
amused to see our cable still hanging in places!
Much
of the climbing up the telegraph poles had been done by a keen and
active young Lance-Corporal called Eric Mercer, who was clearly
fitted for promotion. So we recommended him for a Commission. He duly
went to an O.C.T.U., passed, and in due course returned to us as a
2nd Lieutenant. A circular came out from the War Office asking for
surplus field glasses to be surrendered. I had a pair, with my name
on the case, which had been given to me on my twenty-first birthday
by Dr Jacob. I offered these to Mercer, who was about to be sent out
to Egypt. I did not really expect to get them back, but in due course
the glasses were safely returned.
(1998
note, revised 2017: not without a little sand in the case, it was
said. Eric Mercer, who became Bishop of Exeter, had retired to a
village in Wiltshire. Caroline and I delivered the glasses to him
once again. I think he was somewhat bemused. It happens that his son
Patrick, later MP for Newark, had commanded the Regiment, and through
Bishop Mercer I entrusted to him a variety of papers and memorabilia
relating to Richard's wartime activities that I found in the loft at
Bishop's Drive. I had discussed these first with David Crane at
Halloughton. Amongst them were postcards from several of the officers
and men, who of course had been taken prisoner in Norway, sending
thanks for parcels. Something which Richard had evidently quietly
organised, and never said anything about. I retained a list of the
items, which were intended for the Regimental Museum / Archives).
At
Markheaton, besides the signallers there were some transport
trainees, whose officer in charge was Jack Hancock, with George Dodd
for tracked vehicles. The Camp Commandant was Captain Griffin. We had
a most competent cook called Chuff, who produced amazing meals from a
dingy basement kitchen with a small door out onto the Park. The
Sergeants and men were equally well served. And the Hall hummed with
life.
Towards
the end of that summer I was getting frustrated at the lack of
necessary training equipment and the failure of the Colonel Q.M. at
Normanton to get any response from York stores to my "indents".
The
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56
stuff
we had was quite out of date and there was not enough of it.
Eventually the Q.M. lent me a truck and a driver! The York Barracks
were in Fulford, and as the gates were open, we drove straight in and
aimed for what we thought looked like the store. This was very
naughty of me, of course. But I was only a civilian in disguise, and
walked right in to the Store with my Sergeant. Up one side of the
store, we could see little of the kind of stuff we were looking for.
Then we spotted some drums of cable at the far end. But we had been
observed, and a uniformed man rather crossly wanted to know who we
were and what we were up to. We pleaded ignorance of the proper
procedure, and showed him our list of wants. A lot of the best stuff
in the store was in what looked liked leather holsters, and we were
told, "That's all Cavalry Stuff," but the only cavalry was
in Palestine, with tanks, and we eventually persuaded the man that
they could not possibly need the sort of gear that was designed for
cavalry of horse! So we came away with some quite useful things.
On
the way back we ran into very dense fog around Daybrook and on the
Nottingham Ring Road. We had to grope our way back to Markheaton,
taking it in turns to put our heads out of the window to help the
driver. When I told the Colonel Q.M. that we had returned from York
with a good load of things he was very much put out!
Alas!
the fog and cold laid me low again. It did not get to pneumonia this
time, but I was pretty knocked about. Moreover the East Riding County
Council had started pulling strings to try to get me back, since
coping with the bombing had made things impossible for Stephenson to
cope with all the problems.
Fortunately
for me, the medical organisation was better than at Shildon, and I
received attention. I was brought before a Board, whose members
seemed to be aware of the strings being pulled, and I was declared
unfit and discharged from the Army. The Chairman (if that is the
right word) made it clear to me that as soon as I had recovered
sufficiently I was expected to return to my old job.
(1998
note. The letter from the War Office was dated 24 January 1941).
So
I retired to Southwell where my parents, and Annie Rushby their
maid-of-all-work, and Selby, all fussed after me. My father made
arrangements for me to see Dr Jacob, who was on the point of
retiring. He examined me, but did not say much to me except that for
a few
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57
months
I must have a good long lie down in the middle of each day. After a
week or so I returned to Beverley.
I
found County Hall transformed. Stephenson was using my small old room
as a sort of bedroom, having been the natural candidate to succeed
Sir Godfrey Macdonald as Clerk of the County Council. But since he
was quite unqualified there was a bit of a hiatus about the Quarter
Sessions. The magistrates had tried to call J.R. Procter back from
retirement to be their Clerk, but as Miss Wray put it, the old man
had "gone to jelly" and could not be appointed. Eventually
some time limit in an obscure Act of Parliament took effect, and
Stephenson automatically became Clerk of the Peace.
Besides
being Deputy to both offices (as I had been under Sir Godfrey) I
found that I was also Deputy Controller of Civil Defence, and I was
given the more urgent job of helping E.R. Voyce and the W.V.S. to
establish Rest Centres and organise Emergency Feeding, especially in
the Hull area.
Stephenson
had of course moved into Sir Godfrey's room and I now occupied the
very grand room that Stephenson had had before the war. It had a
large desk, the space underneath which was now used for storing
crates of emergency rations. The whole of County Hall was full of
dried foodstuffs such as sugar and flour, and there were mattresses
all around, as the place was used - as were all the churches and
other public buildings - as accommodation on nights when Hull was
hit.
At
the end of the passage was the County Civil Defence Control Room,
which was manned at all times, being somewhat protected from blast by
a high wall of sand bags in the garden. The Control Room was run by
W.J.N. Bryce, the County Surveyor, who was getting over injuries
sustained when he ran his car into one of his own Road Blocks.
I
also became Registrar of Deeds. This building too was full of food,
stored under all the tables. Luckily there was not much conveyancing
being done, and the Deeds Registry was able to live up to its
reputation and continue sending out Searches by return of post. Many
of the Deeds of the period must bear my signature. On Memorials we
used a facsimile signature on a rubber stamp which I still have in my
desk now.
(Note,
2017: I sent the inking stamp, or one of them, to East Riding
Archives in December 1998. They have also got the original edition of
these notes, all with reference zDDX968).
At
first, I used to go back to Etton to sleep. But Mrs Opie began to
feel the strain and suggested I should go to the Murrays at Bishop
Burton. The Murrays' children were grown up; their son was in
submarines,
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58
and
their daughter Elizabeth married to an Air Force Officer (later,
Air-Commodore Manning) -
her daughter Esther is my god-daughter. Mr Murray had been a notable
scholar but both he and his wife were now elderly. I did my utmost
not to burden them more than absolutely necessary.
Bishop
Burton seemed an even more feudal village than Etton. Most of the
land was owned by a squire and managed by an agent called Mr Young
who lived in a nice house behind the Mere. I never met the squire;
but he was said to indulge in cock-fighting.
Fortunately
my law-clerk Miss Wray was still around to help with the Quarter
Sessions although there was much less of this to do.
I
took my Army camp bed into the office and put it beside my desk. When
air raids became frequent I slept there most nights with the
telephone beside me. People flocked out of Hull. All sorts of
buildings were adapted for emergency accommodation, and we were
criticised by an MP for housing people in pigsties!!
Firewatches
were established in Beverley but we escaped serious bombing, as Hull
took the brunt. One particular raid knocked out the Hull Civil
Defence HQ itself, putting the control system out of action and
killing the controller. The Regional Commissioner, General Sir
William Bartholomew, ordered the Clerk to the County Council to go in
and take control and re-establish Civil Defence. This Stephenson did,
with his customary efficiency as an organiser. But I do not think he
went to bed for three nights. During one of these days I had to get
in touch with him and I can remember driving a little Austin Seven
car as far into Hull as I could, among all the debris. I had to park
in a side street as I could go no further, and continue on foot,
until I found TS and the new HQ. For this service in Hull Stephenson
was given the CBE, which he richly deserved, but the incident is not
recorded in the book "Hull at War".
My
own nearest contact with disaster occurred late in the war when we
thought air raids were a thing of the past. I was now lodging at 4
Norfolk Street, and, at about 4 am the Air Raid Warning suddenly
sounded. I got up hastily, put on a pair of shoes and my army
greatcoat, and rode my old Raleigh bike down the darkened North Bar
as quickly as I could go. Just as I got to the Bar I heard a plane
and realised that it was firing. I lay close by the wall of Bar
House, the bike having been left to fall in the gutter. I confess I
was rather shaken as I cycled on my way to the Control Room. And on
my way back I saw that the red pillar box
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59
immediately
on the other side of the road to where I had lain had been hit, cut
open and unfolded like a book.
Whether
from that raid or another, St.Mary's church in Beverley still has a
pew containing a bullet embedded in the wood.
I
had moved into Beverley after spending about a year at Bishop Burton.
At 4 Norfolk Street, Mrs Lambert had a large late Victorian house and
it was rather a select area near the Police HQ and the Octagon - part
of the old House of Correction. Mrs Lambert had been a farmer's wife
and now had one or two boarders. She had an old servant called Lily
Rispin, with whom I kept up for years, and she fed us well, adding to
our rations an occasional egg or rabbit from farming friends.
One
Saturday I cycled to Hornsea with the young Roman Catholic family who
lived opposite. It was the only time I ever went there, and we found
a gap in the wire entanglements and were able to picnic on the sands.
All of us were surprised and impressed by the lake or "mere"
behind the town.
My
friends in Beverley included John Hare and his wife Mary, and the
Lloyds (Molescroft). Geoffrey Lloyd was the nephew of Doctor Lloyd,
of Southwell. He was the Engineer in charge of Hull Docks. There were
also the Thornleys, the Tardrews (?) (Vicar of St. Mary's), the
Beachells (Wold farmer and tenant of Lord Hotham), the Huzzards, the
Sedgwicks, and many others, who flash into my mind. But above all I
have the clearest memory of and the most respect for, Thomas Davis
Fenby. Fenby succeeded Earl Halifax as Chairman of Quarter Sessions,
and made it his business to tighten things up. He was already Vice
Chairman of the County Council, and though he was a Liberal he worked
in harmony with the Chairman, Colonel Jefferson, who was a
Conservative. Harmony became doubly important during the war, because
an Emergency Committee was set up, which met at frequent intervals,
and which I normally attended.
Fenby
was important to me in many ways. He saw me as the future Clerk of
the County Council, and in the meantime appointed me as clerk to a
committee of which he was chairman, which regulated roadmen's wages.
I enjoyed the meetings in the various northern capitals - Newcastle,
Durham, Carlisle, and the TUC people greatly respected Fenby.
As
the County Solicitor I had to become involved in anything which
looked as if it might lead to litigation. One such was the pollution
of the river Hull. I had to go up the river in a small barge to see
what was
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60
happening.
The Driffield Canal was acting as a sewer, but Driffield had expanded
a good deal and there was also a large wartime hospital.
After
the war I acted as the Returning Officer for the Holderness Division
in the General Election, but by the time that was all over I was
coming to the conclusion that I did not want to continue indefinitely
in my position. What might be called Home Support was lacking, and I
had no really close friends to share my troubles with - except Sir
Godfrey, and I did not want to bring him into it, as he would have
been greatly embarrassed.
My
relationship with Stephenson had become an uneasy one. I respected
his great administrative skill. But his positions seemed to have gone
to his head. I heard constant complaints about it but could do little
without being disloyal. TS spent his time motoring around the County
attending ceremonies, with his secretary who was now suspected of
being his mistress.
I
had also become rather worried about my elderly parents, neither of
whom was very well, and my father was I feared starting to be unable
to look after his own affairs. I was fairly confident that his friend
and solicitor W.N. (Noel) Parr would be glad to have me and that I
would be able to take over the Southwell Diocesan Registry when he
wanted to give that up. So after agonising over the decision for some
weeks I made up my mind to resign, and wrote to the Clerk
accordingly.
The
very next day the County Council Chairman Colonel Dunnington
Jefferson suddenly walked into my office holding the letter in which
I had given in my notice. He sat himself down opposite me at my desk
and said he would not accept my notice for twenty four hours to give
me the opportunity to change my mind! He made it clear that he wanted
me to stay, and that it was a "moral certainty" that I
should take the place of Stephenson when he retired - which would be
due in about four years. I thanked Col. Jefferson, but I can remember
saying that I did not think Stephenson would in fact retire in four
years time. Since he was enjoying himself so much I thought he would
probably stay as long as he could! Although I spent another sleepless
night, I decided not to withdraw my notice.
I
have thought back many times about that decision. It completely
altered my life. I was on the threshold of an interesting and perhaps
successful career, and I threw it up. I could have easily managed the
work, if I had a home base in Beverley, or if I had married. But
there was no likelihood of that, and as I have said, I had no-one to
consult and did not like to consult Sir Godfrey. In any event, he
could not have known how Stephenson had changed since his time.
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61
Before
my notice expired I must have been due some holiday; and I took Dr
Thornley to Eire. Petrol was still strictly rationed, but 1 had
enough of my ration saved to get a full tank which would get my
Armstrong Siddeley to County Donegal, and the Irish Government
offered a special ration for visitors (I had applied for this, but
the coupons had not yet arrived). When we got there, to a little
place called Ardara, my tank was nearly empty, and I asked the hotel
proprietor if he could let us have a few gallons unofficially until
my coupons arrived. To my surprise he said we could have as much as
we wanted, and that petrol was so plentiful that they had given up
bothering with the coupons in those parts. We did some fishing, I
know, but since I have forgotten all the details of the holiday, I
suppose I must have been very tired, what with the war and with the
strain of my decision to leave Beverley. I know we found everyone in
Eire very friendly. The IRA were not active then.
So
in the Autumn of 1945 I returned to Southwell. I went to Nottingham
to see Mr Parr, and also Dick Ford, who had come out of the army
having been a Gunner, stationed locally. I did not know any of the
office staff, except Mr Stokes who had been Mr Parr's cashier and had
handled our income tax for many years. It was agreed that I should
come for a three month trial period on a small salary.
The
office was in an old Georgian house up a little yard off Friar Lane.
I occupied a small dark room on the ground floor, to the right of the
front door as one entered. It had been Mr Morley's office. There were
no amenities, except an antiquated internal telephone system and a
book case with not much in it. But the old house had been adapted for
office use, with two large strongrooms, one downstairs for tin boxes
and one upstairs for deeds and account books.
The
office accounts were written up by hand in copper plate writing by Mr
Stokes, or by Mr Lenton, the Ford cashier, who sat opposite one
another in a room upstairs. Behind my room was the Diocesan Registry,
occupied by Mr Sims and Miss Young - she had been doing the job since
she was a girl in the then Registrar Doyley Ransom's office. Leading
off the Diocesan Registry was another small strongroom which was
sacred to church stuff.
(1998
Note:
In
‘A Long Glance Back..." Richard wrote "I arrived on the
scene
….. knowing
that Mr Parr.... would like me to take his place. So did Canon Lee as
both had known me since boyhood. Thus I had plenty of opportunity to
find out how the Diocese worked and to learn some law which was quite
different from that for which I had been trained. Gradually I began
to do some of the work which Mr Parr had done, as he soon made me his
Deputy.” Richard did of course succeed Noel Parr as Diocesan
Registrar.).
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62
For
some time I did not really have enough to do, so I soon learned all
about the Registry department. Mr Parr gave me various things to do
as they came in, and I also managed to get the odd Quarter Sessions'
defence from KTM's Shire Hall staff, though I found that time-wasting
and profitless.
The
Ford family "ran" the racecourse. When there were to be
races it was usual to apply for an Occasional Licence. Once or twice
I appeared in debt cases in the County Court, and once before Denning
in the High Court - a case which we lost. Coal Nationalisation threw
up interesting cases. But on the whole "law life" was less
demanding than in Local Government, and I felt like a fish out of
water, rather as Godfrey Macdonald must have felt when he arrived at
Beverley.
A
few of the men whom I had known when I was an articled clerk, or whom
I knew, were around, notably Fred Sketchley and David Crane, both of
whom had spent much of the war in prison camps. There was also
Charles Ransom, who was farming not far away, and Tom Forman Hardy at
the Guardian Evening Post. He was so much under his mother's thumb
that he soon moved to Hardy's brewery at Kimberley.
Michael
Argyle, now practising as a barrister, Charles Hanson, Norman Hanson,
Myles Hildyard, Assheton Craven Smith Milnes, Philip Lyth - naturally
new people emerged from the shadows, and some of them solidified and
became friends. One was the notable scholar and writer Henry Thorold,
whose family home at Marston, filled with its beautiful pictures and
antiques, became a place almost of pilgrimage, particularly after he
retired from his job at Lancing College and came to live there
permanently. And Henry’s cousin Anne Acland, my childhood friend,
went back to live at nearby Syston with her husband Ian Gordon.
(Note,
2017: I was at Lancing when Henry Thorold taught there. He would
famously call boys Sir. “What kind of car do you drive, Sir?” “I
don't drive a Car, Sir, I drive a Rolls-Royce.” It was thirty years
old and apparently received no maintenance whatever. I am pleased to
have known such a character, and especially that my own children may
just remember him, as we called on him once at Marston. From him also
I have the phrase “preserved by neglect.”).
Some
of the people who swam into my ken at the office also became friends,
none more so than William Spalding. I knew him first as one of the
owners of Griffin & Spalding, and old and important Nottingham
shop. He was a trustee of Mary Dickinson's Charity, of which I was
clerk. He became a friend despite being about twice my age, and
supported me on an occasion when the other trustees went against my
strong advice. He died on the same day as my mother and left me a
generous legacy but kept me busy as I was also his executor. He knew,
and knew that I knew, that I would earn the legacy in the personal
care and attention that I gave to his estate and that of his widow.
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63
Another
was Mrs Fowler, whose husband had been the Colonel of the 8th
Foresters at the time of the Kaiser's War. She lived at Leamington,
and died there, leaving me with two elderly servants and a dog to
care for. And a third was Mrs Dudley Forman, whose beautiful house at
the top of the Park was full of lovely things which she had to keep
selling off in order to maintain her household - and the house
belonged to her late husband's trustees and had a leaking roof!
A
more personal worry arose because of my old friendship with Pete
Gauld.
He practised as a doctor in Staffordshire and had two children. Then
Pete's wife died suddenly. Near to him lived a divorced lady, a
talented
musician and a communist, who had a girl the same age as
Pete's
son Colin, and an older boy. She looked after Pete's children and
eventually,
he married her. Now, I was his first wife's Trustee. I held a small
fund of her money for her children. Then out of the blue Pete's new
wife telephoned me one day and asked if I had seen him (he was
apt
to call in from time to time). But that day I
had
not seen him. A few hours later she rang again to say that Pete was
dead. His car had hit a tree. She later remarried her original
husband, of whom Colin, fortunately, had become very fond.
A
while later Mary and I invited Colin, and his step-sister Bridget, to
stay at Riber, and I went to Matlock Station to meet their train from
London. As I waited there was an announcement, "If Mr Beaumont
is on the Station, will he please go to the Station Master's office
for an important message." The message was short and shattering.
Bridget's father had dropped dead. I was to put the children on the
next train back.
By
this time, the train was coming in. I met the children, said nothing
to them of the message, and drove them up the hill to Littlemoor Wood
Farm. After supper and a game, when the children were going to bed,
Mary and I agreed that I would tell Colin and she would tell Bridget.
Both these poor children cried themselves to sleep that night, and in
the morning we had to send them home to London.
Meanwhile
Southwell affairs had loomed large in my life. W.A. James began to
fail after the war, and eventually died. Provost Hugh Heywood asked
me once or twice to find things in the Minster Library, or to get
information, and after a while I suggested he should leave me the
key. That was how I became the Minster Librarian, though I suppose
the Chapter confirmed the appointment. There was no-one else to do
it, and I spent a great deal of my spare time learning what was there
and studying the early records.
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64
Quite
soon Hugh Heywood warned me that Sir Frank Stenton wanted to see the
"White Book" - the Minster's most valuable archive. But
after a search in the Library, I had to report to the Provost that it
was not there! And only then did he remember he had lent it to
Nottingham University - without entering anything up in the
appropriate book.
Sir
Frank Stenton came, and since he actually wanted to size me up, I
invited him to The Burgage for tea, producing the White Book for him
in a tattered brown paper parcel. The boards were loose and so were
many of the vellum leaves. Stenton shuddered, and said we were not
fit to have it in such a state, and that he would take it to the
Bodleian Library to be properly restored. Which he did.
As
and when I could get the money, I was now set on a continuous
programme of archive restoration. I acted as Minster Librarian for
nearly forty years - with only a short gap in the middle when a lay
clerk took over following a difference between me and Provost Heywood
- who would allow Grammar School boys into the Minster Library
unsupervised. After a time the lay clerk left, and since there was
no-one else available, I took over again. I produced various
booklets, and recorded what I could in and around the Minster,
including those of the gravestones in the churchyard as were still
legible (this had never been done before). The "Monument Book"
was the bedrock on which Mr Cripps filled in the details which the
Church Commissioners required from every Cathedral; and Southwell was
the first to produce the inventory. In fact I was told that York,
which has thousands of monuments, copied our method. I also tried to
list the Masons' Marks in a basic way.
I
was glad to be able to hand over the Minster Library to Harold Brooke
- whose modern mind comprehended computers, enabling him to produce
lists of things as they should be listed nowadays, which I could not
have done. But sadly, I attended Harold's funeral a week before
writing this paragraph (April 1997).
MY
FATHER AND MOTHER
(This
section was written at the suggestion of Mary Oakeley in December
1997, after Mary Beaumont had died and only a month or so before the
end of Richard's own life).
When
I returned from Beverley in 1945 my father was approaching his
eightieth birthday. He had been born on 7th October 1865, the second
son of George Beaumont, of Bridgford Hill, and his wife Emma (nee
Heycock). My father went to a "Dame School" at Leominster,
and later
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65
to
a Preparatory School (Richard
did not know where),
and then on to J. Gould's house (later Mitre) at Repton.
Although
my father was a magnificent sportsman he was forty-three by the time
he married, so he was in his fifties by the time I was old enough to
play cricket or other games. I can remember taking over a couple of
his bats, and how they stung my hands badly on a hard hit. He once
put on his whites (he had been a member of Notts. Amateurs) to bowl
balls to me in the garden. But his real passion was shooting. I still
possess some of his records of shoots starting from 1894-53, showing
that in that year he was shooting with his uncle Tom.
(Uncle
Tom: Thomas Elliott Beaumont (d.1899) who lived at Kenwood,
Sheffield).
The
woods shot were at Daneswood, Heydon, and Cawston, the parties
including "Bedford" and "G.B." In 1894-5 they
shot 1,415 pheasants and 302 partridges! Later shoot records show
visits to Scotland with the Beardmores in 1904-5 and there were more
of these later on, as my mother told me. It was on these trips that
my father will have met the Tullis family amongst others.
(Bedford:
means W.J. Bedford, whose wife’s mother [or grandmother) Ann
Charlotte was a Beaumont
- sister
to Richard (of Old Trafford), George (Richard’s grandfather). Uncle
Tom, and Henry (of Grantham). It
was from
W.J. Bedford (whose family ran John Bedford & Sons Limited, a
Sheffield steel and tools manufacturer) that Richard's father bought
a
“picture
by Poole" for £23 in June 1923. Many of us admired the picture,
of the Eiger, the Monch, and the Jungfrau. It hung in the dining
rooms at The Burgage and Popely’s Piece.)
(G.B.
might perhaps be Richard's grandfather, who died in 1899)
Records
of about 1905 show local shoots on Manvers land at Saxondale, and
from 1925-38 the Stapleford Syndicate which was run by Captain
Aldred. Members included Beevor, Branston, Higgs, Kendal, Kinmont,
Nicholson, and Warwick. My father's accounts show much detail,
including about how much of the game was given away locally. But,
sadly, I cannot find anything about the Oxton shoot which he shared
with Higgs. At Edwalton and Normanton by Plumtree my father usually
picked old George Parr up and took him to walk up fields of roots by
the Midland line "signal box field" - it was horrid
walking.
(Note,
2017: The shooting and fishing account books were lent to
Nottinghamshire Archives, but are now back in the Family archive
along with much other material. I thought it best to keep everything
together, so that I can look at it all, though in fact I have not yet
studied the shooting records. I found that the County Archive wanted
to “pick and choose” somewhat).
My
father also very much enjoyed fishing. For some years he looked after
the river Greet fishing club at Southwell. This club fished the water
between the "Silk Mill" and the "Upton Crossing".
My father was not quite as good at fishing as he was at shooting, and
he was certainly not as good at casting a fly as my Grandfather
Hacking or Uncle Cuthbert. My father's irritation when he saw no fish
was only mitigated by the satisfaction of smoking one of his
nose-warming short pipes (of which he had bought a gross!), with the
added bonus that the smoke tended to drive away midges.
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66
I
do not know whether my father had ever been in love before he met my
mother. I doubt it. I never heard anything. There was certainly no
scandal in my father's case. He was probably very shaken by the by
misbehaviour of his eldest brother, the "scapegrace"
Charles.
My
mother was a very different character to my father. She was always
quiet and unexcitable, and most caring to her children. She used to
maintain that she had never had a proper education! But when my
Grandfather was Vicar of Cromford, she did go by train every day to
the Derby High School for Girls. When the family moved to
Chesterfield he sent her to an up-market school at Bedford, where she
became ill (because she was not being looked after properly), and had
to be brought home.
(I
have the Mozart sonatas that she was given as a school prize at Derby
in 1893.
/ think
both Richard's parents were accomplished pianists. Grandfather's
accounts show that he was renting a piano when he was an articled
clerk).
She
learned, somewhere, to play the piano quite well, and she kept it up
even when her fingers stiffened with arthritis. She tried to teach me
to play, but in a typical lazy Beaumont way I never kept it up!
Johnny's
death devastated my mother and she took a long time to get over it;
indeed she got pneumonia, and I wonder whether it partially a
consequence of her having lost a son. She was a very good cook, and
also managed the household affairs with skill, including the
servants, when we had any (which we certainly did in Nottingham). At
Wollaton, my mother had more work to do, especially since she had to
go into Nottingham to shop, a trip which would take most of the
morning there and back, and she would return with her purchases in a
basket on the front handlebars of her bicycle.
My
mother's death in May 1963 was a blow to me (his
father had died in 1952).
Though it was not unexpected - we knew that her heart was failing -
it happened one morning, quite suddenly, in the Hacking manner. By
coincidence William Spalding (aged about 92) died the same day, and
since I was his executor as well as my mother's I was kept very busy
for a while.
And
a mother is quite irreplaceable.
(This
last section was the most incomplete)
The
most important event of all occurred in May 1960 when I married Mary
Becher, in Southwell Minster. Of course, I had known Mary for very
many years, since children's party days, and I had always known and
liked her widowed mother Vera, her brother John, who came to see me
at Malvern before the war, and her younger sister Joan. Indeed, I had
spent part of a pre-war summer holiday as a guest of the Bechers at
Arisaig, where Joan Becher later inherited an estate.
(1998
Note, amended 2017: Gertrude Veronica Gale.
Her
father Henry (a talented water colour painter who changed his name
from Coore to Gale) died when she was a child, and Vera and several
sisters moved to Southwell with their mother, who married Dr Henry
Handford. Vera married John Pickard Becher in 1911. Vera lost her
husband and her two
Handford
half-brothers in the First War and her son in the Second. I remember
Vera Becher very well and also Richard & Mary's wedding, for
which I had time out of school).
Arisaig
was a place which was to become important and familiar to me later,
when I would visit most years with Mary to stay with Joan. More
important to me still, however, is the land which I bought in
Derbyshire. The hills near Matlock, and the walks among them, have
always entranced me since I was a schoolboy at Riber, and one morning
early in 1957, in the train from Rolleston Junction to Nottingham, I
spotted a small advertisement of the forthcoming sale by auction of
High Leas Farm.
I
remembered High Leas well from my school days, so I decided to go and
have a look. It was very run down, but it has a wonderful position
looking south down the Derwent Valley. The landlord, lately deceased,
must have been a bad one, and the farm suffered from lack of water.
The tenant, Mr Woodward, was elderly and rather unprogressive. The
house needed attention. I decided to attend the auction, on 24 July
1957, and bid if there seemed little competition. I bought the place,
and the adjoining part of Littlemoor Wood!
My
first step was to consult Tom Cartwright who, with his wife, farmed
the adjoining Low Leas Farm. He put me onto Mr Brumwell, a local
builder who eventually became a good friend. We made the house at
High Leas wind and watertight. Later, with the help of a
water-diviner - a Wizard - we bored, and found water. And I added to
and improved the farm buildings in various ways, with the aid of some
grants.
I
have mentioned Littlemoor Wood Farm, which lies the other side of the
wood and only half a mile from Riber castle, in connection with Pete
Gauld's children. A few years later I bought this place as well.
After a while Mary and I started using Littlemoor Wood Farm as a
holiday home, but after we gave up occupying it we have leased it,
with its fields, to Simon Groom.
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68
I
also bought the fields and farm buildings of Low Leas, with a yew
tree - then dead-looking, but now thriving - which a Forestry
Commission expert has told me is nine hundred years old.
At
first, after our marriage, Mary and I lived in a flat created
upstairs in The Burgage - in what had been the nursery part of the
house. But after my mother died we took over the whole house - and
the staff - and lived there until Mrs Becher's death in 1970. This
occurred whilst Mary and I were holidaying in Trinidad to celebrate
my retirement as a partner in Perry Parr and Ford.
Mrs
Becher had moved from her old house "Minster Lodge" into a
smaller one called "Popely's Piece" and it seemed sensible
for us to move there. So I sold The Burgage, not without reluctance
(and at the wrong time, in view of what very soon happened to
Southwell property prices!). But I kept the gardener's cottage where
Selby still lived, and the kitchen garden, which he and I shared for
a time, and it kept us both active and happy. After Selby died his
wife continued to live there until she left to go into a Nursing Home
in Newark, and I sold the cottage. It has, with its various
outbuildings, been restored and made into quite a pleasant house
which, as I write this, I see is now advertised for sale. Strangely,
John and Angela Radford, the current owners of The Burgage, have got
that up for sale as well, as they are finding it too big. So I could
buy the whole property again! But it would not turn the clock back.
And, most sadly, the very fine Black Hamburgh vine which Selby
cherished, and which year after year produced the finest grapes
anyone could imagine, has been demolished. However, John Radford has
done his best to preserve The Burgage's ancient mulberry tree, and
has propped up its branches more than ever we did.
