Who was “Uncle Albert”?

In December 2017 I spotted a request from Sherri Murphy of Shantytown on the popular Facebook group West Coast South Island history. “I’m am after any information on Albert Lawn” Sherri asked “he had a Barbers shop in Reefton then Hokitika. I especially would like to know the name of his Barbers in Hoki.”  Sherri is in the process of re-creating Albert Lawn’s barber shop at Shantytown and the following information we have gathered includes excerpts from To Live a Long and Prosperous Life, West Coast Recollect (sister site to West Coast South Island history), Shantytown and Hokitika Museum  archives and descendants of Albert. Perhaps this post will jog a few more memories and bring more information to light.

Albert Harold Lawn was born on 9 June 1878, probably at Blacks Point. He was the second son of Thomas Henry and Sarah Esther (nee Hart) Lawn. Thomas and Sarah Lawn had married in Greymouth in 1876 and began married life in Blacks Point, a short distance out of Reefton; Sarah’s precious piano made the journey up the Grey river on a boat, then over the Reefton saddle to the Inangahua river, and again by boat to Black’s Point. Thomas and Sarah soon had their first child, Samuel, who was born the following year in January 1877. He was soon followed by Albert born in June 1878, followed by Norman in 1880.

By the end of 1885 the Lawns were all living in Greymouth again: Thomas and Sarah had moved back from Reefton in 1882 in time for the birth of their son Frank on the first of February, Ernest arrived two years later and Victor in 1887.

Lawn brothers, Greymouth c1891: Left to Right standing: Albert, Samuel, Norman. Sitting; Victor, Ernest, Frank.  HLR collection

Thomas and Sarah and their family returned to live in Reefton in December 1890. Esther was born in 1895 and Ida was born in 1897. The home of Sarah and Thomas, and their six boys and two girls sat up on the Terrace with a wide verandah at the front. Even though the older boys had left school it seems Sam and Albert both shifted to Reefton as well. Norman was still at school when they came to Reefton, he later attended Nelson College on a scholarship and began work in the Consolidated Goldfields Company, first assisting and then running the assay office. The older boys seemed quite at home in Reefton. . .

. . . In the years to come social and sporting events in the Inangahua Times invariably had at least one Lawn listed as a team member, player or singer contributing. Sarah Lawn continued to fit teaching piano and singing around her growing family, who all learned music as they got older. . .  Thomas and Sarah’s eldest sons Sam and Albert Lawn appeared in concerts, Albert playing the auto-harp and Sam the euphonium.

Albert Lawn, c1897

In June 1898 Sarah’s son Albert went into business on his own account when he took over a tobacco shop and hairdressing business ‘The Leading Hair-dressing Saloon’ on Broadway, Reefton where among other things, he ‘made up ladies own combings’ as well as false moustaches and wigs. His profile and a dashing photograph were published in the Cyclopedia of New Zealand (Nelson Marlborough & Westland Provincial Districts) in 1906 (page 251-252) The entries in these were paid for by the contributors, so could arguably called ‘Vanity’ publications, and not always accurate. Albert’s description of his ‘Toilet Club’ has lead to much mirth in modern audiences, although the term ‘toilet’ at the time meant the same as personal grooming. 

Albert married Harriet Noble on the 13 November 1901. This event and  the extended family photograph has been covered in an earlier post, see Lawn Cousins. In 1902 Thomas Lawn died. Sarah and Thomas’s sons Albert and Norman Lawn both remained in Reefton when their mother and sisters shifted back to Greymouth.

Another photograph survives from this period probably taken mid- to late-1903. It is a four generation photograph, of Albert with his first-born daughter Dorothy (born in December 1902), his mother Sarah and grandmother, Dinah Hansen.

Albert Lawn with his daughter Dorothy, Flanked by his grandmother Dinah Hansen and mother Sarah Lawn courtesy I. Messenger

Albert and Harriet Lawn had their second of two children in 1904; family stories recall young Harold visiting his grandmother Sarah and great-grandmother Dinah in Greymouth and taking afternoon tea. The little boy asked if he could have a piece of cake that was on table, and Dinah told him she would tell him when he could have it. Again the little boy asked, and again came the answer ‘I will tell you when you can have it’. To the mortification of his parents, and the astonishment of all others present, in a fit of great daring Harold suddenly snatched the cake off the plate and threw it at Dinah, hitting her in the eye. His father mildly remarked: ‘he was always a good shot’.

Albert Lawn 1906 Cyclopedia

 LAWN, ALBERT H., Hairdresser  and Tobacconist, Broadway, Reefton.

This business  was established  by Mr. R. J. Simpson and taken  over by the present  proprietor in June, 1898.

The hairdressing saloon is handsomely equipped  with  three  up-to-date chairs, and every  necessary  comfort  has been provided at considerable expense.  Mr. Lawn subscribes to, and places in his saloon, all the West Coast papers and Canterbury  weeklies. The shop is well stocked with the leading  brands  of tobacco, pipes, cigars and cigarettes. The show window  is one of the best in the town, and is at all times tastefully dressed. A feature  of Mr. Lawn’s business is a toilet  Club, with a membership of thirty-five, including some of the principal  residents  of Reefton. There is a complete  tobacco-cutting plant  on the premises.  Mr. Lawn was born and educated in Greymouth. He served  his apprenticeship in Wellington  with  Mr. L. P. Christenson, a well-known hairdresser and tobacconist of that  city.

In 1913, Albert and Harriet moved to Hokitika, where they had a house on the corner of Hampton and Bealey Streets, and Albert opened a shop in Revell Street. One year later was the 1914 outbreak of WWI. Albert was 36 and with two children was graded C in the Reserve Roll. In September 1918 he was reported as seriously ill in the local newspaper and confined to bed for several weeks. His ill health could have passed him as unfit if he was called up, which he was in the ballot drawn in September 1918, published in the newspaper. No official army file exists for Albert, therefore it is likely that he was not actually processed for service.

Grandson Keith Stopforth described what he knew of his grandparents:

In 1913 he moved to Hokitika and opened a barbers shop that he ran with his wife – she sold the tobacco and newspapers at the front of the shop. The shop was always busy with lots of men seated on the long wooden seats down either side of the walls. Some I think were only there to talk. He had 3 or 4 chairs and 2 other barbers helping him.  There was an open fire at the end of the shop where men would pass the time of day while they waited for a haircut, a shave or their whiskers trimmed. My grandmother worked in the front of the shop, tobacco sales and cigarettes kept her busy. . .

 . . . He could play anything to fit the occasion.  He had his own band called the Black Hand Band that comprised of two pianists and eight other musicians. He established the ‘Black Hand Society‘ which was a group of friends that gathered together for social evenings. It was exclusive and the yellow badge  with the black outspread hand was keenly sort after. [an example of the tin badge in Hokitika Museum (“Beware we never fail”) is red and black] 

(Keith Stopforth, 2003 to J. Bradshaw, Shantytown.)

According to Keith, his grandfather had never been taught to play the piano – however this is most likely incorrect, given that his mother Sarah was a music teacher from before her marriage, and almost certainly taught all her children to play along with the many students she tutored throughout her life.

Writing his reminiscences of Hokitika, local man  Henry Pierson recalled that Albert’s shop on Revell Street . . . was next door to an old watchmaker called Clark. . . next to that a small lolly shop occupied by . . . Winnie Westbrook. . . Next to Winnie’s was James King Bookseller and Stationer.  Pierson continues:

“Albert Lawn, the barber and tobacconist next door to Winnies, used to give us short back and sides for threepence.  He was well known for his musical talent and his dance band, the Black Hand, was immensely popular in the 1930s. It gained quite a reputation throughout the West Coast. Because of his great sense of humour, his salon was often the centre of outrageous stories and much hilarity. Some of the town’s local characters came in only to tell a yarn or exchange some tit bit of local scandal to which Albert would respond by adding his own version of the subject.”

(pp 13-15, Pierson, H. (2004) The Crooked Mile: Revell Street as I knew it. Silverfox: Christchurch.)

Great grandson Mike Stopforth adds:  The family lived out the back.  Nana told me once that they weren’t allowed to go out to the front of the shop and they had to come and go the back way.  It was located where the old Supermarket used to be when it was just a four square.

Arguably one of Albert’s ‘proudest’ occasions came in May 1920 with the visit to New Zealand of Edward, Prince of Wales. Arriving on the HMS Renown, in Auckland in late April, he departed Lyttelton, New Zealand at the end of May, enroute for Australia and India.

Preparations for the Prince’s visit to various locations around New Zealand were met with an astonishing frenzy of patriotic excitement, with civic events, triumphal arches (involving large quantities of fern fronds), and hordes of school children and obligatory pretty young ladies positioned to catch the playboy Prince’s eye. Bunting and flags were strung everywhere, children wrote essays and holidays declared. The newly formed RSA were hopeful to have their building officially opened, and returned servicemen were lined up to be presented with medals. In Greymouth, a young man Mr. R. G. Caigou of the Public Works Department spent hours laboriously painted an illuminated address to be presented to HRH by the Mayor on behalf of the citizens (see bottom of this post for an image of the address). This young man became Albert’s brother-in-law when his sister Esther married Russell Caigou in Greymouth, in January 1921.

The visit of the Prince to the Coast was somewhat fleeting: he came by train as far as he could from Nelson, motored to Westport, then back to Reefton in a motorcade of 30 cars that included being ‘filmed for the cinema’ passing through fern arch on the Buller. (The press car ended up upside down in a ditch full of blackberries before it reached Reefton). On the 12 May the Prince went by train from Reefton to Hokitika, where he spent the night and then to Greymouth the next day before heading to Christchurch. Details of events of the tour were reported in newspapers all over New Zealand (and overseas).

“We Revere You As Our Prince” Welcome to Hokitika – Prince of Wales visit 1920. Contributed to West Coast Recollect by Tom Hartill

In Hokitika on the night of the 12 May a grand ball was held in his honour.  The Black Hand Band played and after the event the members were greeted by the Prince and shook his hand. According to Keith Stopforth the Prince was so intrigued by the name [of the band] that he enrolled as an honorary member of the Black Hand Society.

The following was originally published in the Melbourne Age:

“PROMENADE YOUR PARTNERS”

AND THE PRINCE DOES SO. A HUMOROUS PICTURE A delightfully humorous picture of the ball given at Hokitika in honour of the Prince of Wales was cabled to the Melbourne Age by one of the correspondents with the Royal party. He said: “The ball at Hokitika was an enormous popular success. After a public reception the Prince, attended by his staff, proceeded to the ball, which began at 10 o’clock. Most of the young men attending wore tweed suits. One old gentleman wandered through the happy throng wearing a long overcoat dating back to the period when “Bully” Hayes used to make Hokitika a favourite port of call when returning from his predatory expeditions among the islands. Another elderly dancer appeared in tweed trousers and a Cardigan jacket buttoned tightly around the throat. The ladies devoted more attention to dress than the Hokitika men. Many were accomplished dancers, and the Prince danced vigorously with a succession of Hokitika girls. In the official set, which opened the ball, Mrs R. J. Seddon, widow of the late democratic Imperialist, took part. The Prince danced in the set with Miss Perry, the Mayor’s daughter. A dance or two later the master of ceremonies, taking the middle of the floor, issued in a loud word of command, ‘Promenade your partners for circular waltz.’ The Prince does not care about waltzing as a general rule at balls which he attends, and he frequently exercises the Royal prerogative of cutting waltzes out of the programme, substituting one-steps or fox trots. At Hokitika, however, he promenaded his partner, according to directions, with the rest. Supper was an immense success. Rising early, a cool breeze from the snowclad mountains refreshed overnight revellers. From the hotel windows one could see Mount Cook, covered with snow apparently overlooking Hokitika, but in reality many scores of miles away.

Black Hand Band at the “Marquis of Lawn Hotel” (Lawn residence) – Collection of Hokitika Museum

Albert and Harriet Lawn in the 1920s courtesy Kath Stopforth

In later years Albert became a radio announcer and had his own children’s session once a week from Hokitika on Thursday nights. Known as Uncle Albert he was obviously very popular as he had a studio photograph that was given out to his listeners. A copy of this photo, cropped without the inscription is in the HLR collection – it wasn’t until Sherri shared this image that I realised that this was Albert Lawn in later life.

“Uncle Albert” Mike Stopforth

 

“In Weld Street , Hokitika, was the studio . . . “Uncle Albert” was the man children came to love. Uncle Albert was gifted with his hands – not just for his daily job of haircutting, but as a pianist who had learnt to play by ear. One of his proudest occasions would be when the Duke of Windsor [sic] visited Hokitika in the 1920s – Uncle Albert being the official pianist as a member of the Black Hands [sic] Orchestra. 

He was often heard on Mickey Spier’s 3ZR Greymouth radio station conducting sessions with Donald McLeod, a well known identity who possessed a phenomenal memory. Within the space of seconds Donald would answer any questions, including trick ones, relating to events and dates, he was seldom wrong. Also joining “Uncle Albert” as he was known to radio listeners was ‘Aunt Dorothy’ (Jock Robinson) a talented pianist of Hokitika.

Bill Dwan served his apprenticeship with Albert Lawn, until he left to open his own business in Weld Street. Ron Brown, another of Albert’s apprentices, opened his own shop in the Regent Theatre corner shop.

After Lawn’s barber and tobacconist shop had closed down, Don Ramsey conducted a radio and records business in it for some years.”

pg 26 Looking at the West Coast, August 1965

A staunch Labour party supporter, he represented the Blind institute on the West Coast for many years. After suffering from diabetes for some time, Albert lost his left arm to the disease.

Albert Lawn courtesy Kath Stopforth

Understandably this was devastating for him as it meant he was no-longer able to work or play the piano, although there is one account of him wearing a prosthetic limb so he could play chords on the piano. However, family reported he sunk into a deep depression, from which he never truly recovered.

Albert Harold Lawn died in Hokitika on 22 April 1952, aged 72. Harriet lived until the age of 82, until she died in 1961. They are buried together in Hokitika.

Update September 2020:

A photograph of Russell Caigou’s illuminated address presented to the Prince of Wales. Kindly supplied by P. Caigou

A Passionate Conviction

‘Do not think your single vote does not matter much. The rain that refreshes the parched ground is made up of single drops” Kate Sheppard

The phrase
The ‘Whakatū Wāhine’ phrase represents women — and all people — standing for the rights of women. It was central to the Suffrage Centenary celebrations in 1993 and remains relevant today as we continue to take a stand for gender equality.
The symbol
The Suffrage 125 symbol draws on historical colours and icons adopted by women’s suffrage petitioners and presents them in a contemporary form. Violet represented dignity and self-respect and the white camellia was worn by people supporting women’s right to vote in New Zealand. The ‘125’ contains a koru as a link to our distinct New Zealand culture.

This week on the 19 September 2018 marks a special occasion in New Zealand and World history: it will be 125 years since Women’s Suffrage was granted. This was to change the face of politics in New Zealand, and paved the way for further emancipation around the world.

In honour of the three women from our family: Dinah Hansen, Rachel Lawn and Ida Hart who were signatories on the Suffrage Petition I have submitted short biographies on-line that can be viewed here:

https://nzhistory.govt.nz/suffragist/d-hansen
https://nzhistory.govt.nz/suffragist/i-l-hart
https://nzhistory.govt.nz/suffragist/r-c-lawn

To see if any of your family signed the petition, search here.

Dinah Hansen née Nathan, wearing her Temperance white ribbon c1892 (courtesy P. Caignou)

Rachel Lawn née Hart  c. 1902 (courtesy Owen Lawn)

Ida Lillian Hart née Ball, c. 1910 (courtesy Grace Hanley)

Viewing women’s signatures on the long scrolls what stands out is the wide variety of handwriting: some neat and with a flourish, others scrawl and stab at the paper, leaving ink blotches. Most are written in black ink, some blue and even a few are in red ink. The signatories include Dinah Hansen, who was the second woman to sign the first Greymouth sheet 246 (WCTU president F. Brooke was the first), Dinah’s daughter-in-law Ida Hart later signed the same sheet in Greymouth, and Rachel Lawn signed sheet number 251 along with her friends at the little Methodist Church at Black’s Point, just out of Reefton. Interestingly, Sarah Lawn, who was also involved in the Methodist Church for many years and the WCTU almost certainly supported the cause did not sign the petition.

Progressive, or another agenda?

It is interesting to study the political and social background to this momentous event. Although on the face of it New Zealand could be seen as progressive, the motivation behind granting the Women’s Franchise was because of the unique nature of New Zealand politics at the time. Traditionally political power had been held in the hands of the wealthy few – in order to vote, you had to be white, male, upper-class landowners. The balance of power was threatened by universal male suffrage; there was concern from the traditional, conservative men that their influence would be weakened by having a large number of ‘uneducated’ working-class men casting votes. Despite being the vast majority of voters in New Zealand, men who laboured in farming, fishing, freezing works, railways, factories and mines were seen as a threat to the established order.

Personal and political

Women like Dinah Hansen who had struggled when her husband had left her virtually destitute with a young family, and who had fought to gain and hold onto her little piece of land in Greymouth, also wanted greater economic independence; to be recognised as equal in marriage and their opinions valued and heard in political life. For Dinah, behind the motivation for change in society was a personal reason: the abhorrence of hard drink. Family anecdote suggests that this had something to do with Nathaniel Hart and perhaps his disappearance in Australia. Whether this was just because he got into trouble in their early days in Christchurch by selling alcohol to the gold diggers, or whether he himself liked to drink and it affected the family, is unknown. By the time of the late 1880s it was clear that Dinah and her family, now deeply involved with the Methodist faith, decided to seek a temperate lifestyle and even to push for prohibition.

Bills for Women’s Franchise were introduced to the New Zealand Parliament in 1880 and 1881. A major vehicle for change was spear-headed in New Zealand by the Womens Christian Temperance Union, a movement that had begun in America but soon spread in popularity. By the beginning of 1886 there were 15 branches of the WCTU in New Zealand. Their first convention, held later that year, decided that they would work for women’s suffrage. In 1887 Kate Sheppard, of Christchurch was appointed the national WCTU superintendent for franchise and legislation. Under her steerage the Union worked with intense determination to achieve their goal. By May 1892 Greymouth had formed its own chapter of the WCTU with members pledging to work for “For God, for home and humanity” and Dinah Hansen was the first secretary.

 A meeting of the newly organised Women’s Christian Temperance Union was held in the Town Hall, Gresson street, on Wednesday afternoon, 18th inst. There were present 17 members, all of whom signed the Women’s Christian Temperance pledge. After the minutes of the last meeting were read and confirmed, the election of officers took place, with the following result Mrs Brooke, president, Mrs Calders, vice-president Mrs Hansen, secretary pro term Mrs Whall treasurer pro term. Communications were read from the Town Clerk re using the Town Hall for the meetings, and from the secretary of the WCTU Christchurch, giving all information for carrying on the work. The meetings will be held on alternate Wednesday afternoons, when all who are interested in the work will be heartily welcome.∗

The first two petitions for franchise of 350 signatures were presented in 1887 and the Jewish parliamentarian Julius Vogel introduced a Woman’s Suffrage Bill which was withdrawn at committee stage. In May 1888 the WCTU stepped up their campaign, ensuring that every parliamentarian understood their reasoning by sending each member of the house of representatives a leaflet Ten reasons why the women of New Zealand should vote, which outlined how women were discriminated and why women deserved full suffrage.

In 1890 long serving Conservative MP Sir John Hall introduced another Women’s Franchise Bill which failed on a technicality. An amendment also failed as supporters were not present when the vote was cast. The following year 9000 women’s signatures on eight separate petitions were not enough to sway Parliament despite the premier John Ballance giving his support. The parliamentarians arguing against Franchise were supporting the lucrative liquor lobby. It was to be a few more years before this battle was won, yet the women and men of New Zealand were not about to give up the fight for their moral and political revolution. It was no longer if, but when.

Winning the Vote

Roused by 600 members of WCTU around New Zealand, women gathered in churches, schools and halls to sign the petitions: in 1892 over 19,000 women contributed to six petitions and then in 1893 thirteen petitions signed by 32,000 women were presented at parliament.

The campaigners had little time to celebrate: their next task was to ensure women were enrolled in the next two months when the rolls closed before the New Zealand general election scheduled for Tuesday 28 November. By Election Day there were 84 percent of the eligible women registered, of those two out of three women voted.[2] The Liberals won nearly 58 percent of the vote and Richard Seddon became Prime Minister for the next 13 years.

Many of the parliamentarians who had voted for women’s suffrage were not entirely altruistic. Hall, a long time support of Women’s Suffrage and a conservative politician, thought women would be conservative voters. Some also believed that women would vote according to the wishes of their husbands and fathers.

So often the stories recorded are of men and their accomplishments. These three suffragists deserve to shine as well. Once they had won the right to vote, they did not sit back, but continued to forge what they thought would be a better society, by following their beliefs with a passionate conviction.

Dinah Hansen (front row, seventh from left in dark dress and hands folded in her lap) and her daughter Rachel Lawn (behind Dinah’s left shoulder, wearing a large white hat tilted forward) in Greymouth, 1906, alongside Kate Sheppard  (large white collar, no hat) and others.  Auckland Weekly News. Image: AWNS-19060412-10-7  Used with permission. Sir George Grey Special Collections, Auckland Libraries.

For further background on the work Dinah and her daughters contributed to the Methodist Church, WCTU and Women’s Suffrage see Chapter 13 – Fighting the Good Fight in my book To Live a Long and Prosperous Life.

∗ Grey River Argus, 20 May 1892 

[2] Aitkinson, N. (2012).‘Voting rights – Votes for women’, Te Ara

 

Lest we forget

The role that photographs play in fixing people in our minds eye is vital for a family historian. Photographs of forebears are pored over, with each feature compared to those in other photos, to other family members, and to yourself – seeking recognition, belonging, a likeness – and memory, for those recently departed. How often were these photographs clasped close and studied by family shortly after they were taken, as they were, unexpectedly, the last of loved ones?

I have written about my great, great-grandmother, Rachel Lawn née Hart as if I knew her, but of course I was born long after she died – even my own grandmother was too little to remember her as she was under two when Rachel died. All I know of what Rachel was like is from a handful of six or seven photographs that I had been given copies of from across the family, mostly formal family groups and a few stories second and third-hand. Trying to select images for the book, and the requirements of publishing means that a lot of details (and colour and tone) are lost, so when new photos turn up, it is exciting to share them in this medium.

It is now just over a hundred years since Rachel Lawn, née Hart died, aged 57, less than a year after her son Ben was killed in WWI. I now have been given access to several more photographs¹ – most tiny ( 5cm x 3cm ) reprints off scratched negatives and in poor condition. I have edited the images to enhance and repair obvious cracks and stains. These ‘new’ images add a further dimension to what little we know of Rachel – but more importantly these images that were taken in a the space of a year: just before Ben was killed, and just after, and trace the grief that family said broke her heart and sent her to an early grave.

This studio image (which appeared in my book) was taken in Reefton on Ben’s final leave before embarkation and brought together almost all of the Lawn family (except Charlie and George). Along with this original image I also had various group poses: Dinah, Ben and Jim; Ben and John; James and his sons.  I was startled to find that there was another portrait – Rachel with her two daughters Eva and Dinah. It seemed that ‘just the women’ were not as valued as the pictures of the ‘boys’ in uniform which several different family members had copies of.

Lawn Family, Reefton, July 1916:                                                                           Back Left to Right: Dinah McIvor (née Lawn), Ben, Herbert, James, John.
Front L to R: Dorothy McIvor b 26 Nov 1913, Edith Evans, Eva Evans (née Lawn) with baby Eva (b 1 Dec 1915), James ‘Jack’ Lawn, with Henry ‘Harry’ Evans, Jennifer ‘Jean’ Evans, Rachel Lawn.
absent: George Lawn. Charlie Lawn
[Rachel wears a shawl brought back from probably Egypt or Gallipoli by John]

In this portrait of mother and daughters it appears that Dinah is wearing one of Ben’s collar badges (with ‘XIII’ in the centre) at the throat of her blouse, and Rachel too is possibly wearing one of John’s cap badges, it is unclear in both photos whether the flowers on Eva’s blouse are also pinned by a badge.

Mother and daughters: Rachel, Dinah and Eva, 1916

Previously I had only seen one informal photograph of Rachel – this somewhat blurry snapshot taken about 1910 in Blacks Point:

Jim, Rachel, Dinah and Ben, outside their house at Blacks Point

Now another small image taken in summer time – of Rachel and James Lawn with a young woman has come to hand – I am not positive, but judging by the shape of her jaw, this may be Eva Evans née Lawn; I would be interested to hear what others think. How lovely to see Rachel in a relaxed and happy mood, James dapper in his car coat: a vingette of before.

James and Rachel and possibly Eva Evans

The next image I had used in my book was what I thought of as ‘Rachel’s last photo’. In To Live a Long and Prosperous Life, I wrote that this was taken on a visit to see her new grandson.  James and Rachel had travelled to Woodville in the North Island for an extended stay² with George and Doll and their children, the little boy ‘named after his late uncle’ Benjamin. Rachel here is smiling, but looked tired. Her dress, as usual, is dark, but the dull crepe and the complete lack of lace at her throat and her hair pulled back a little more severely suggests that she was wearing mourning clothes: it is likely that the visit was arranged to help Rachel in her deep grief.

James and Rachel with George and Doll,  Olive, Benjamin and Evelyn, 1917

Another photograph – a portrait of Rachel – had been taken around this time (her bow brooch doesnt have the chain in the photo above so possibly not the same day).  Is it my imagination, or does she look resigned – a sadness in her eyes? Perhaps just a result of the poor photographic print, her colour looks high. Blood pressure elevated, overweight, suffering from grief and depression, a few weeks after this on their journey home Rachel was overwhelmed by a stroke which killed her.

Rachel, 1917

Another candid shot – possibly as James and Rachel were about to depart on their homeward journey:

James and Rachel Lawn, Woodville, 1917

Rachel fell ill on the overnight Wellington to Lyttelton ferry and upon berthing she was taken to Lyttelton hospital where she lingered for three days before she died. Family, including her mother Dinah Hansen raced from the Coast to be by her side and others came from afar for her funeral and burial at Lyttelton cemetery.

 

                 Greymouth Evening Star, 24 August 1917                               courtesy Papers Past

George and his family must have travelled down for her funeral and then visited the Coast, because the next snapshot is of James with his grandchildren, possibly at the Evans farm at Waitahu, near Reefton. He holds baby Ben on his lap, on his right is Edith Evans and on his left Jean Lawn. Sitting on two little chairs are George’s daughters Olive and Evelyn Lawn and on the grass at the front are Harry Evans and the only possibility for the curly-haired toddler in the centre is my Nana, Eva Evans (born December 1915).

James Lawn and grandchildren, 1917

The final snap was one that appeared in my book, but I have included here again as it is easier to see (somewhat blurry) detail in this format. I believe that this is taken at George Lawn’s home in Christchurch, where he and his family shifted in the early 1920s. James went to live with them there at Slater Street, Richmond until he died in 1928, and was buried with Rachel in Lyttelton. George’s daughter Olive was living there in the 1960s when I visited and stayed there as a child.

James Lawn in a reflective mood

Peering at these new images, it brings home to me that we take for granted the ability we have today of taking endless digital images of our family, our homes and ourselves, yet we rarely think how they might be available for the future generations. Do you print out photographs? Do you edit or delete images that show the everyday interiors or awkward moments?  The last photograph here is tantalising – if only it was a clear image and we could see more of what is in the background: what is in the picture frame above the fireplace? I have so  many questions about the things in this photograph! Where did the shell come from? What are the porcelain animals? What time was it on the clock?

What matters is that someone thought to keep these pictures, and I hope that somewhere in your family pictures are safely stored (and named and dated!) for the future generations: to remember, lest we forget.

¹ Thanks to Mervyn Lawn for sharing these images.

² Little Benjamin was born 19 October 1916 just four days after the family learned of Ben’s death. In the group picture little Benjamin looks about six months old, and the photo taken after Rachel’s death he would have been 10 months, so if the George Lawn family picture was taken in Woodville James and Rachel were visiting there for several months.

What happened to Ben

. . .as we are the Thirteenth Reinforcements we are doubtless the unlucky ones, according to the superstitious “13”.

Just over a year ago, I travelled across the European farmland that had a hundred years previous reverberated with the sound of mortars and machine guns. I posted here about my great, great-uncle Benjamin Lawn, whose fate was to die and lie buried ‘somewhere’ on the Somme.

On my journey I carried with me a poppy – the symbol that has come to represent the bloodshed and remembrance of the fallen. We in New Zealand wear these on our Remembrance day – Anzac Day – which falls on the 25 April and commemorates our defining moment as a nation at Gallipoli alongside our Australian comrades, although now all battles, including the wars that have followed the Great War are remembered. I had kept this poppy for five months, and carried it across the world for Ben.

Poppy image: Royal British Legion

The poppy, a seemingly fragile flower, nevertheless persevered and came to be the first to bloom again in the mangled farmland: it is a fitting tribute to the fallen. Travelling by high-speed train from Paris to Amsterdam and watching the fields of towering ripe corn shoulder to shoulder in the achingly bright sunshine was surreal: a million light-years away from the horrors that happened here. Seated in plush comfort and sealed behind the train windows meant I could not let that single poppy float to the ground, nor place the poppy anywhere: I kept it safe until we arrived in London later that month, 100 years to the day that Ben was killed.

But what exactly had happened to Ben was something that always eluded me as I wrote To Live a Long and Prosperous Life. Many years ago my mother wrote  to the New Zealand Defence Force, and enquired about what happened to Ben. I remember  seeing the report, and the horror when I realised he had died in the Somme. Yet this report was somehow mislaid and although we both seemed to recall that he was shot, or struck in the head, and that after he was buried the continued bombardment of the area meant his grave was unable to be relocated as all identifying landmarks were obliterated, the frustrating lack of accurate reference material meant that I was unable to write with any accuracy on Ben’s death. Ben’s Army records, now with New Zealand Archives, like other records, does not provide much to confirm or elaborate on his fate.

Papers Past has now filled in the gaps, with further releases of digitised newspapers. For the following excerpts I owe a debt of gratitude to the sleuthing skills of my cousin Peter Walker for providing this information. Peter also contributed significantly to Live Long and Prosper with his research on Ben’s brother John Lawn’s WWI service at Gallipoli.

The first excerpt is from a letter printed in the Greymouth Evening Star on 5th October, 1916. The letter was written two months earlier by Ben on 5 August – he had died on the 27 September. Just one week after this letter appeared in print his parents received notification of his death on the evening of the 12 October and his name was published in the Roll of Honour on Saturday 14 October.

Here, then, is Ben’s final letter home captioned by the newspaper as “Salisbury Plain Camp – A Reefton Boy’s Experiences”:

 

We have been in this camp since Wednesday week. At Plymouth all the people belonging to the place were at the station to see us.   They treated us well, giving buns and tea and plenty of it.  The Mayor of Exeter sent us a big bag of cakes each, with a card on each, on which was his name, and wished us a safe return.   We arrived at camp at about eight o’clock at night, and the first one that I met whom I knew was Andy McIvor. [Ben’s sister Dinah Lawn had married Sim McIvor, Andy’s younger brother, in 1912) When he saw me he said I had no right to be here.  He has not been to France yet.  I have been mess orderly and have not done any drill.  I hope they won’t keep me back from Ralph and all the boys on account of not doing drill.  We were supposed to have been off for the front seven days from when we landed, but owing to an outbreak of measles on our steamer, the Willochra we have been isolated for 16 days.  We had about 150 cases, and as we are the Thirteenth Reinforcements we are doubtless the unlucky ones, according to the superstitious “13”.   We get leave for three days and most of the boys are going to London.  I will, I think go to Cornwall to see Dorothy. [Dorothy James (born 1894), Ben’s cousin, daughter of his aunt Sarah née Lawn]  I expect to get there in about eight hours.   The distance is about 400 miles, and the trains do go some.  We travel at half rates.

We are not tied down so much here as we were at Trentham – we can go anywhere we like within a radius of five miles without a pass.   We can travel by motor, but not by train.   Ralph and I went for a walk and we got into some big fields and lost out bearings, and we did not arrive until ten o’clock at night.  We had to be in not later than 9.30 so we had to go before the commanding officer.  Nearly all my mates have joined the machine gun section.  They wanted me to join, but I think the infantry will do me.

Alas, the Infantry was to well and truly ‘do’ for Ben.

It was not until many months later that word was received about his fate, underlining how the not knowing must have compounded the grief for family and friends back home and how it was that ‘private’ letters and scraps of information were shared by the publication in the newspapers of “OUR SOLDIERS LETTERS” – the collective noun emphasising the sense of the entire community – and country’s involvement in this Great War.

In the first week of January 1917 William Nicholas (14141), who had been a driver for a carter on Buller Road, Reefton when he enlisted, wrote to his sister, (Mrs Rix of Greymouth) from “Somewhere in France”. This was a welcome letter, received nearly two months later, as he had previously been reported killed, instead of just seriously wounded.

Our company came out of the trenches a couple of days before Christmas.   We are billeted in a nice little town, and are having a good time.  Our Christmas dinner was a good one.  It consisted of roast pork, plenty of vegetables, and an ample supply of plum pudding.  All the Reefton boys were together.  Minehan, of Cobden, was with us.  He was not hurt, as you suppose, but is still going strong.  Among our company were Steve Hocking [Blacks Point neighbours of the Lawns, survived the war] and Pal McMasters. The former, having a job at headquarters, is done with fighting for a while.  Anyhow, he deserves a spell.  He has come right through the campaign without getting a smack.  Pal McMasters is in the band.  I have not met Jim Hannah, of Boddytown, but am on the lookout for him.  Our brigade was relieved for Christmas and New Year holidays, after a long spell in the trenches, and it was up to us to enjoy ourselves a little. 

Ben Lawn, of Black’s Point, was not with us. He, poor fellow, was killed while charging the enemy.  A piece of shell struck him on the back of the neck.  His death was sudden, but painless. 

It is a terrible experience to be under continuous fire.   Not much credence can be attached to the words of those who say they like it.   Those who talk that way have not seen much fighting.  I have been in No Man’s Land frequently, small companies having to lie down flat for six consecutive hours on the enemy’s wire entanglements, armed with revolvers, bayonets, and bombs; snow on the ground, and the night bitterly cold.  At present we are in the rear seven miles from the front trenches, drilling and route marching all the time.  There are many casualties from stray shells, but it is preferable to the front trenches.  Building dug-outs, and other kinds of work also has to be done.  Indeed, more men are hit in the fatigue parties than the front-line trench, but it is better for the reason that we can occasionally get to town at night.   One of Fritz’s aeroplanes will come over and discover some working parties; Fritz receives the report, the result being that the big guns are put on the spot.  Of course we do the same.  The efforts of the Huns to bring down our aeroplanes are often watched by our men with hilarious laughter and shouts of derision.  They will fire 200 shells without a hit.   Sometimes we have some close shaves.   Our chaps say, jokingly, that they would like to get a “blighty” – meaning a smack – just mild enough to be sent to England.  But they cannot be taken seriously, if one is to judge by the manner in which they race for cover when the shells are falling.

We are holding a very quiet part of the line now. The Somme advance, made by our boys a while back, was a hell upon earth.  The experience was a rough one.  It was in the very place where we are now that the Australians got chopped up terribly.  We relieved them when we took over these lines.  They advanced and took Fritz’s two front lines.  But Fritz was cunning.  He let a big dam go in the vicinity, flooding the trenches just occupied by the Australians, and as they clamoured out like drowned rats, Fritz turned his machine guns and shrapnel on them.  Even now dozens of them still lie out in No Man’s Land.  We send out parties frequently.  Forming one of these parties, I have had many peculiar encounters with Fritz.  One night we dispatched two Germans sitting on their own wire.  This was done through stealthily creeping along in the stillness of the night.  Our retreat to our own lines was very hasty and accomplished before Fritz in the trenches had time to recover.

Our rations are good. Porridge in the morning and bacon; good stew for dinner, and bread and butter and cheese or jam for tea.   In addition, if desired, plenty of tinned meat.  In the trenches a pair of clean sox are issued to us every morning.  In conclusion, I think we will all be home for next Xmas.   The Germans are beaten.  Lately the French have been giving them something to go with.   I hope to get a look at Paris before my return.  Reefton friends will excuse me for not having time to write.

(Greymouth Evening News, 3 March 1917)

Although Nicholas was nearly 10 years older than Ben it is clear that all the Reefton lads serving knew each other well, as later in the year he again touches on the death of Ben in one of his published letters home. (Nicholas survived the war and returned home in 1919, he died in Auckland in 1959).

Touching the death of Private Ben Lawn, a letter from Private Nicholas to his Greymouth relatives says he was talking to one who was near him when hit. It was during the advance at the Somme that Ben was hit. He dropped and never moved.  The writer does not know whether he was hit with a bullet or a piece of shell, but he was killed outright.  The boys were going to over to take a Hun trench, but on the way Ben was hit in the neck, and immediately sank.  This would be about September 27th.  . . Private Nicholas and his friends are still going strong, the latter wishing to be remembered to all friends.

(Greymouth Evening Star, 28th June 1917)

In September 2016, on the periphery of Hyde Park, under some leafy trees just beginning to lose their leaves in the stifling heat of late summer we stumbled upon a memorial to all the animals who have died in British warfare: from pigeons, dogs, to horses and even elephants, here represented in sculpture by two bronze donkeys, labouring to a carry a small cannon and cases of ammunition. Hugely moving, this memorial signals that so many men relied on their beasts of burden, yet their vital role is often over-looked. I tucked what I had come to think of as ‘Ben’s  poppy’ into bronze of one of the humble little donkeys, and left it there with the cacophony of the traffic wending its way around Hyde Park, and the hub-bub of shoppers pressing down near-by Oxford Street oblivious to the frozen tableau of the donkey, his shoulders straining forward, his head lifted, in eternaldetermination, as he steps up to serve.

An inscription on the wall reads:

“They had no choice”

 

UPDATE:

Recently I learned from a family member who visited that Ben’s medals are in the repository at The National Army Museum Te Mata Toa, at Waiouru.

Benjamin Webster Lawn’s medals. Image courtesy of National Army Museum (New Zealand)

I wrote to enquire about them, and the whereabouts of his ‘Dead Man’s Penny’ which was sent to the next-of-kin of fallen soldiers. I recieved this reply from them:

Dear Cynthia

The medals of Benjamin Webster Lawn are currently on display in our Medal Repository. He received the British War Medal and the Victory Medal. I have attached a photo. We do not have his Memorial Plaque, though.

The medals were donated in 1984 but I am afraid it is not our policy to release details regarding donors.

I would be intrigued to know if anyone knows who had the medals and subsequently donated them.

 

Following in their footsteps – part 4

Whitechapel – Spitalfields

On the final day of our trip, we were due to fly home from Heathrow 9.30 pm.  We had a whole day to fill before then, but of course had to check out of our accommodation first, and store our bags, before setting out to trace the final day of my 4 x great-grandfather Eleazer Hart, but in reverse.

From where were staying in Praed Street it was just a short walk to Edgeware Road Station, where we caught the tube to travel the six miles across to Whitechapel Station on the Hammersmith line. I had found using the tube in London was a great way to get around, although by the time we arrived at Whitechapel it was no longer the ‘underground’.  Having experienced earthquakes in New Zealand the constant rumbles and vibrations of passing trains, even three floors up where we stayed was quite disconcerting. Another thing I wasn’t quite prepared for was trying to find your sense of direction after emerging from the underground. Not to be recommended in the dark as we found out too late in Madrid, but that is another story.

So when we emerged into the early morning autumn sunshine I headed confidently across the Whitechapel Road and then realised we actually should have stayed on the north side. There were stalls and awnings set up the length of Whitechapel Road, selling clothes, fruit and knickknacks, by this time we were by the Royal London Hospital. We had to risk our necks and dash across the road, then figure how to get through the stalls to the footpath beyond again.

Whitechapel Road looking north. ( credit: Google Street View)

We quickly realised that the area was now a Muslim neighborhood, women pushing prams wore headscarves and long skirts or traditional kabuli trousers; one or two in full burka. There seemed to be every skin-colour from milky coffee to ebony, representing a range of countries of origin for the forebears of these people: Morocco, Algeria, Nigeria, Egypt just some of the diversity. This was of course a transformation from what had once been the Jewish quarter, 150 years ago, full of long-established families and new immigrants, from across Europe: Germany, Poland (Prussia) Russia, Spain and Portugal. As Kiwis from a provincial town we felt just a tiny bit out-of-place; some people seemed to stare, but maybe they just thought we were lost tourists.

We were headed to Brady Street, where we had arranged to meet the caretaker of the cemetery where Eleazer Hart was buried. Brady Street was called North Street in the 1850s and before that Ducking Pond Lane. Goodness knows what sort of things used to go on in this area when it was just fields, lanes and trees in the Middlesex countryside; the original name hints of superstition and witchcraft.

Brady Street is a tiny, narrow street, the entrance from Whitechapel Road on one side is marked by a gleaming green glass multi-storied Idea store, and behind that, a Sainsburys supermarket, so incongruous to everything I had read about the historic Whitechapel. As we passed down the narrow street opposite the supermarket came the sounds of laughter as teenagers gathered at Swanlea Secondary School, girls giggling in headscarves and boys racing their friends into the glassed foyer of the school, tucking away their cell phones, late for classes. This link to another blog about Brady Street shows an old map of Whitechapel with a coal depot where the school now stands, another shows a manure works on the site.

The narrow street widens a little, and gives way to brick buildings; lovely old Victorian almshouses and more recent brick apartments overlook the quiet street lined with leafy trees. A high brick wall, with more green trees beyond, is the only sign of the cemetery, passing a more recently built brick apartment building, the passerby will see a driveway and metal gate (NO PARKING) beyond which are tall timber gates. A single gnarled and broken, but well-pruned oak tree has been allowed to remain at the kerb, neatly surrounded with a wooden planter, probably one of the original trees in the area.

Image from Google Street View of the entrance to the cemetery. ( credit: Google Street View)

A small plaque discreetly shows that this cemetery is still revered in the Jewish community. It has been a constant for over 250 years, unlike some of London’s other burial grounds that have been quietly reclaimed as prime building land. The cemetery here was originally supposed to close about the time of Eleazer’s death in 1857, but was given a royal reprieve from the Queen. Because of recent burials in the late 20 century the site is guaranteed to be preserved for at least another 100 years. The cemetery has some important graves including Nathan Mayer Rothschild (1771 – 1836) and his wife Hannah. Nathan Myer founded the British branch of the Rothschild banking dynasty. A list of internments can be found at Cemetery Scribes.

Stepping through the gates we were suddenly surrounded by hush: school was in and the shrieks and laughter subsided. Leaves were beginning to fall, but there were still shade cast by the trees.  Blackbirds were singing high in the trees. Just inside the gate a low wall illustrates how in the mid-1850s an extra layer of earth was mounded in the centre of the burial ground, to allow more burials and raising the ground level by a metre or more.

I quickly found Eleazer’s grave – the cemetery was not large, but somehow I was drawn to the southern side and of course I had already seen photographs of the stone. I was startled to realise that Eleazer’s grave, dug when the extra mound had been added in the centre of the burial ground was actual on the lower, outer area. Was this because he was buried with his wife Sarah, who had died 17 years earlier?

Eleazer Hart’s headstone with the ‘Hands of Cohen’ symbol which shows he was from a male line of Cohanim; traditionally called the ‘priestly tribe’ of Levi.  Researching this symbol and the associated blessing ‘Live long and Prosper’ gave me the title for my book: To live a Long and Prosperous Life

 

‘Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home. . .’

A beautiful, peaceful place, a little oasis of nature in the midst of one of the largest cities in the world, yet it was just us and the long-dead there. As I contemplated the headstone, I noticed a ladybird had alighted and trundled industriously across the pitted surface. ‘Fly away home’ I thought as she raised her scarlet wing-covers and extended her shiny black wings before zooming away – soon we would be flying home too. I felt a little sad remembering how Eleazer had been on his way home too when he died. A new book has just been published featuring beautiful images across the seasons of Brady Street cemetery and another old Jewish cemetery; Alderney Road: make sure you check out Louis Berk’s blog.

We then retraced our steps to Whitechapel Road and made our way through the quiet back streets towards the city, to find the former White Lion Street, now Folgate Street. This is about a mile away, an easy twenty-minute walk. As ever on this trip, I was astounded by how close everything was – somehow living in the Antipodes so far away from these historic places I have a sense of smallness – that somehow all these great places will be great in size as well – but they are quite compact, and the locals stroll about seemingly oblivious to the immense numbers of people in history that has passed the same way. The back streets are full of surprising and impressive street art, something that would have bemused the Victorians in their grimy, smog-laden slums.

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Folgate Street on the corner of Commercial Road: this was the addition to White Lion Street that was built to connect to Commercial Road. The Peabody Buildings in the background were designed as new housing to replace some of the slums that were notorious in the Spitalfields.

White Lion Street used to end where the white building meets the lane (once Wheeler Street, but now part of Lamb Street).

It was from Wheeler Street that Eleazer Hart had an entrance to his Rag Merchant business, with warehouses, access for horse and wagons and to the rear of his house which was at 20 White Lion Street. Folgate Street now has different numbers, so the Hart home was situated at about where 44 Folgate Street is today.

This was a strange experience, walking on the street where Eleazer and Sarah Hart had their family, where my great, great, great-grandfather, the elusive and enigmatic Nathaniel Hart had likely played as a child with his siblings, and where their mother Sarah had died.

Cobbles of the former Wheeler Street under my feet

Their house has gone, replaced with a brick and white plastered building, now probably exclusive and expensive apartments.  But further down this little, very short street there are buildings that were there a hundred years before the Harts moved in: part of Spital Square, where Huguenot weavers plied their trade in silks and satins, including weaving of Queen Victoria’s coronation robes. 

Weaver’s Houses Folgate Street

Folgate Street looking towards Commercial Road

The little pub once called the Pewter Platter (now the Water Poet) played host to rousing addresses given by Chartists: men who hoped to inspire the hundreds of workers who laboured in the Spitalfields to demand the right to vote, it also fed and ‘watered’ people tired and thirsty after a hard days work. It was scarcely lunchtime, but we were tired and thirsty so went in and availed ourselves of their custom, managing to knock back some good ale and good British pub grub: Steve had bangers and mash, and I finished with a Eton Mess.

 

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Towards London Town

Replete from our repast, we staggered onwards. At the end of Folgate Street you are confronted with vast towers of glass and steel, now standing in the place where Eleazer Hart first started his Rag Merchant business along with Joseph Lee in Primrose Street. Modern commerce and history clash. Turn left and walk down Norton Folgate (the A10) and the architecture is amazing; ‘the Gherkin’ (30 St Mary Axe) gleamed in the sun like a fabulous Arabian jewel. It was just another mile (1.6 km) to our destination. I was astonished to realise the heart of the City of London was closer than the distance of my home to downtown Timaru, an easy Saturday morning stroll for coffee.

The Gherkin from Norton Folgate

Further on down Bishopsgate we saw other distinctive buildings such as the ‘Cheesegrater’ and the  ‘Walkie Talkie’ both designed with sloping faces to give unobstructed views to St Pauls Cathedral. I couldn’t help thinking what the former inhabitants of the area would have thought of these astounding constructions, the sheer enormity of them makes you feel very, very small.

‘Walkie Talkie’ building – designed not to obstruct classic views of Old St Pauls.

Once upon a time the spires and domes of the churches were landmarks from which Londoners took their bearings, the chimes of their bells marking the passage of the day. Now these massive glass and concrete buildings dwarf and hem in the modest stone and brick churches, their spires diminished in grandeur and their walls squeezed so close it seems sacreligious. We reached Gracechurch Street and a few steps later could see down Fish Street Hill to the monument to the Great Fire of London, once another tall landmark almost buried amidst the higher buildings that have sprung around it.

Monument to the Great Fire, the spire of St Magnus beyond.

 

Crossing Eastcheap we walked past the monument towards the Thames. It surprised me how high we had been, and that the descent was steep – to our right the approach to London Bridge was higher so that when we came out at Lower Thames Street you could see that we would need to climb higher to cross the bridge. Ahead of us was the church of St Magnus the Martyr, with its arched porch and clock. This small street was once large and the direct approach to the bridge. Pedestrians crossing the bridge passed through the archway on the church porch, avoiding the wheeled traffic grinding past. It was here that Eleazer’s body was laid and his inquest was held on the afternoon of his death.

St Magnus the Martyr. This was once the approach to London Bridge. Beyond is another new icon of London ‘The Shard’ which is in Southwark on the other side of the Thames

To get onto London Bridge we had to back-track past the monument, and soon found ourselves gazing into the river. The present-day London Bridge was built during the 1970s. The previous one was sold and shipped to America (they probably thought they had bought Tower Bridge). The stone-arched bridge that was there when Eleazer died had been built in 1825, and the remnants of the ‘original’ London bridge were still visible for some time.

Demolition of Old London Bridge in the 1830s looking towards St Magnus (the Great Fire Monument beyond), and the ‘new’ bridge to the left. (credit: Stephencdickson)

Access from the riverbank to the bridge was through three flights of steps, still in place for many years as can be seen in old photographs.

London Bridge in the 19th Century showing the steps alongside. (credit: Cornell University)

The steps were to be the death of Eleazer. Rushing to catch his train back to Portsea on the far side of the bridge, the climb up was too much, and he collapsed and died.

Details of his last moments were recorded by the coroner, with witness statements written in a form of shorthand. Luckily these documents are from just a handful  of reports that survive today in the London Metropolitan Archives. These were kindly photographed for me in 2013 by a kind member of the online forum, British Jewry.

It took me a couple of weeks to transcribe the coroner’s shorthand:

Henry Huttle City Police Officer 577:  about 5 minutes to 6 this morning I was in King William Station and I saw the deceased just by the top of the steps leading down to King Station on the lower side of the bridge. It appeared as if he had come to the top of the steps and he fell forward immediately. I saw 2 men lift him up and I went up to them they left him in my hands and I got a cab and took him to Dr Smiths in Fenchurch [?] Street he pronounced him dead. I saw him fall. No-one pushed him or knocked him down. I brought him for S Turks[?] of the church. When he was dis(covered?)  he had 2 books on eating fish, and the basket a whiting [cod], he was carrying them

Henry Balls  26 George St, Kent.  The cabman: I saw the deceased in the station and saw one person with him.  I thought he was in a fit  I took him to the doctors in my cab   I then got him to the church entrance[?] I did not see him fall

Michael Hart, 112 Middlesex St, Whitechapel, Islington: The deceased was my brother. His name is Eleazer Hart. His age [ is] about 70. He was a gentleman. He lived at 47 St George Square, Portsea. He left me at 10 minutes upon 6 this morning at St-Mary-at Hill.I gave him one fish: his basket. He was in a great hurry to get to the 6 o’clock train at London Bridge to get him to Portsea. His health was good before this but he was taken occasionally with palpitations of the heart and gout.

[coroner?] The running up the steps caused apoplexy him.  I have seen him. This is my [observation?] sub[sequent?] of struck first on his cheek bone from the fall. I show by this his death was probably natural  [added note in pencil:  he has been in town for the week.]

Sworn before H Payne coroner

So now I stood and looked at my feet as I stood on London Bridge and thought of Eleazer’s cheek meeting the ground as his breath left his body for the last time, and how he, a Jewish gentleman, was gathered up and laid out in a Christian church while the coroner recorded his final moments from the witnesses, including his brother Michael Hart. I thought too, how I had written about the end of Eleazer’s life in To Live a Long and Prosperous Life (p96-97) and had wanted to see for myself where he died alone, yet surrounded by hundreds of strangers on one of the busiest thoroughfares of London – and now I was finally here and it all seemed surreal.

standing on London Bridge

From London Bridge looking towards Tower Bridge. The metal structure in the foreground are the new spiral stairs installed in 2016 leading from the top of the bridge to the riverside path.

I was too late to walk the old stairs, demolished just a few months earlier. They suffered from ‘a poor environment which can cause which can cause antisocial behaviour issues’ according to a report of the opening and the actual river bank can no longer be reached either.

Under London Bridge looking up-river to the rail bridge. Beyond is the square brick tower of the Tate Modern – the former Bankside Power Station

Just a bit further along the bank, the old Billingsgate Fish Market, which once reeked of fish guts and blood, was now reincarnated as an elegant fish restaurant. In the outside eating area waiters in long black aprons were clearing away tables from the lunchtime service with crisp white tablecloths flapping in the breeze and seagulls hovering expectantly for scraps. This was where Eleazer had met his brother Michael that morning, to get a fish to take home for his supper.

What would they have made of the transformation of this area into genteel fine-dining and ambient strolling? The only thing unchanged (apart from the gulls) was the massive grey, oily Thames, silently roiling past us towards the sea, turning and glistening undercurrents gave an impression of animal strength – a living thing. The same river that had carried Eleazer’s son and daughter-in-law Nathaniel and Dinah and their young family when they sailed to New Zealand 152 years earlier, full of excitement for their new life – or aching for those familiar faces and places they were leaving behind. Their voyage took three months. We, too, were setting off to New Zealand later that night: it would take us less than thirty hours to complete our journey. My journey to walk in their footsteps had come to an end. Time to fly away home.

 

 

 

 

Happy Dance

A short post to bring you the news that my book To Live a Long and Prosperous Life has won an award!

As a member of New Zealand Society of Genealogists I wanted to make sure that any future researcher has access to my book, so last year I donated a copy to the NZSG library. This meant I was eligible for an annual award which was announced at the NZSG Conference held in Auckland over Queens Birthday weekend at the beginning of June. I learnt of the award a few weeks ago, but I have just now got the certificate and official letter so I can now share with you.

“This book would have to be the best and the most comprehensive family history I have come across”  – judge’s comment

As a family historian I have always realised that my book would perhaps have a limited audience and subsequently I have been a little surprised when people without any family connection have asked to buy my book. I was also a little wary of the fact that by self-publishing I ran risk of falling into the ‘vanity’ publication category where puffery and ‘hollow ego-tripping’.

I agonised over endless edits (when is too much information too much? should I have included the Lawn family stories? was adding small fictionalised passages a bit over the top?), and lost a lot of sleep on the indexing, map making, diagrams and laying out, not to mention the photo editing – all things that sensible authors pass over to qualified experts.

My main motivation was (apart from just getting the darn thing finally FINISHED) was to make as much of my research available to future researchers and family who had contributed to the book at a reasonable price – hence the DIY of the layout, publishing and promotion.  I just about had heart-failure when I realised the publishers had mistakenly sent me the wrong quote, and the actual cost of the printing and binding was going to be just under the selling price I had set. After last-minute negotiations I was able to ensure that I did not need to ask all the people who had kindly pre-purchased to stump up more cash, however the end result has been a book largely created as a labour of love and with my costs only just covered.

Now, a year on since I published I am humbled and astounded to find that I have copies of my book in the UK, USA and Australia, as well as across New Zealand. Copies have been purchased and are available in Christchurch City Libraries,  Timaru District Libraries, Grey District Library, Nelson Public Library, University of Otago, Hocken Collection, Alexander Turnbull library – National Library of New Zealand, National Library of New Zealand, Auckland Libraries and of course the New Zealand Society of Genealogists.

This award recognises not only the research and writing that I put into it, but the combined knowledge of several generations of extended family, the selfless work carried out by other researchers who I have only met on the internet, friends for reading the drafts and offering advise and last, but not least, the continued support of my own family and my husband Steve, who has stood by with strong coffee and chocolate at the ready, listened to my endless stories of my long-gone forebears, and the constant pounding of the keyboard, who has driven countless miles to archives and family sites, trudged around overgrown cemeteries with me, gazed at memorials and plaques and turned a blind eye to the cost of certificates and subscriptions that enlightened and confirmed the stories as I brought them to life.

Now with just a few copies from the original print-run left I am still getting queries about my book from interested people. Once these are gone I will still be able to order copies from the printer but these will be at an increased price. If you have been meaning to buy a copy, now is the time to do it!  Full details are under the menu at the top right of this blog, or for purchasers from outside New Zealand the PayPal order option is at the bottom left (scroll down).

Now excuse me, I’m off to do a wee happy dance.

 

 

 

 

 

Following in their footsteps – part 3

After our quick tour around Canterbury (and a coffee) we were again on the bus for a twenty-minute trip down to Dover. Canterbury was really busy that day with a food fair, and it seemed no-one else but Steve and I were journeying down to Dover by bus that day – we had it to ourselves. The driver, a Dovorian, was very friendly and when he learned we were only to visit Dover for a few hours took us on an un-scheduled detour past the Castle through the tiny streets in his big bus just so we could see it close up!

a glimpse of Dover Castle

Again we were met in Dover by a friendly local Denise,  one of the Dover Greeters. This is a free service and well worth it if, like us, you have limited time and want to cover as many bases as possible.  We were expecting that Denise would just give us access to the cemetery, but she took us by car and walking all around the places we wanted to see and a few more besides.

Check out the map Dover Map 2 from To live a long and Prosperous Life to see some of the places I mention in this post.

First stop was the old Hebrew cemetery, Charlton Road, on Copt Hill. While none of the Nathan family are buried here as the cemetery was not opened until the family had moved away (although Solomon Lyon Nathan’s mother in law Catherine Isaacs was the first person to be interred), the walls incorporate plaques removed from the Synagogue after it was demolished as a result of bomb damage from WWII. (see p124 To live a Long and Prosperous Life)

The plaque laid by Barnett Nathan in the new Dover Synagogue in 1865.

THIS SYNAGOGUE
BUILT BY VOLUNTARY CONTRIBUTIONS:

B. NATHAN J.GRUNWALD, D.BARNARD, H.POLACK, H.BARRAS, B.LINDON WAS CONSECRATED ON MONDAY 10th AUGUST 5625 – 1865

W. GRUNWALD A.J.VANDERLYN PRESIDENT TREASURER

( D. Barnard and AJ Vanderlyn were Barnett Nathan’s sons-in-law)

The small cemetery is sandwiched between two other cemeteries and like the Canterbury Hebrew burial ground it is also locked. The lower part seen here is treed and is quite pleasant, however the graves are all perched higher up on the rise. There was little grass there (probably sprayed) with many graves eroding and some with rabbit holes which was sad to see. Over the wall was St James cemetery, where Dinah’s cousin Rebecca Mallett, nee Abrahams is buried (see ‘An intriguing affair’ p87 TLL&P). However as I have yet to find a plot reference or if there is a headstone for Rebecca Mallett we did not have the time to search for her.

We then went up to Western Heights where we could look down onto Snargate Street, and across the channel to France. The view is now vastly different from when Dinah was a little girl, or even the first few decades of the 20th century:

Dover, from Western Heights, Snargate Street in left foreground. (image courtesy Paul Wells)

Dover from Western Heights. The seaward side of Snargate Street is now bare after demolition post-WWII. The Pent and dry dock are visible. The Synagogue built in 1866 was at the end of the Pent, now a car park.

Dover Castle from Western Heights

Dover harbour looking towards France

The building with the big chimney is the old Harbour Railway Station, formerly in Elizabeth Street. It was in this area that the first Dover Synagogue was situated. Also near here is Limekiln Street, where little Nathaniel Nathan lived his short life with his maternal grandparents the Shepards.

On the way back down we stopped at the oldest burial ground in Dover; Cowgate Cemetery. Somewhere in here is the grave of Nathaniel Nathan’s son Nathaniel Sheppard who died as an infant. The graveyard has been allowed to revert to a wilderness and is a nature reserve. With mown pathways it is a pleasant sheltered place to wander in.

Continuing on our family history trail we drove down Castle Street, and stopped to find the retirement home of Barnett and Julia Nathan, at number 26. They lived here for a few years, long enough to appear on the 1861 census where Barnett is recorded as ‘gentleman’ and Julia ‘lady’.

26 Castle Street – Barnett and Julia lived here

I found that what I had thought was number 26 (searching in Google street view) was actually opposite the correct house. As I approached I realised there wasn’t a number on this house, but a young man was just about to enter and he confirmed it was the correct number.  So my description in the book of the Nathan house having ‘elegant pilasters’ isn’t quite accurate!

We then had a chance to get a feel of the Dover foreshore, walking along the waterfront and around the new harbour developments. Of course I couldn’t resist and I slipped down onto the beach and pocketed a small golden sandstone pebble and a piece of water-worn chalk. Next time I visit Greymouth I will leave this on Dinah’s grave – full circle again.

Then it was just a short stroll along Snargate Street. A handful of buildings remain, many vacant, on what was once the thriving business and shopping centre.

Snargate Street in early 20th century. The shop at number 20 owned by the Nathans was the one on the right with the white awning. (photo courtesy Ken Chapman)

Standing about where the Nathan shop and home at 20 Snargate Street would have been. How many my forebears had passed by here?

One building of note that remains is the Dover Masonic lodge, which Barnett Nathan was an esteemed member, it is masonic records which give us the earliest record of Barnett  in Dover. This is reputed to be one of the oldest continuously used lodge buildings.

While standing on Snargate Street I was quite relieved to hear seagulls , as I had written about Dinah hearing the gulls cry when she was a little girl.  She would scarely recognise the place now. Gone are the many shops, bustling crowds and red-coats; Dover seems to be a shadow of its former self. No longer a destination, it is a barely a stopping place for the traffic heading to the continent. The A20 runs alongside Snargate street, and there were an inordinate amount of traffic barriers as road works were underway to remove traffic roundabouts, no doubt so people can travel theough dover even more faster.

Waiting for the bus by the little park, Pencester Gardens, I did notice lots of families enjoying the sunday afternoon sunshine, with the castle on the sky-line. At the edge of the green area I discovered I could look down onto gently flowing water occuied by a couple of ducks. I had found the Dour (sometimes Dovr), the little river that over thousands of years cut down through the cliffs and created the valley in which Dover, the town of its name, sits. Now its path to the sea is culverted over and it exits somewhere into the former Pent which lay on the seaward side of Snargate Street. Snargate Street probably got its name from the barrier used on the Dour for preventing debris from washing into and fouling the harbour and anchorage area.

Pencester Gardens

The Dour

Our all too brief visit of Dover had come to an end. We boarded the bus and headed back to London, the lowering sun giving us a final glimpse of the white cliffs as we climbed up the valley and back to the motorway. We hadn’t seen the castle, or climbed the Grand Shaft, but we did achieve what some had said was impossible – a day trip to Canterbury and Dover. I was tired but so glad that I had the opportunity to see for myself the places that figured so largely in the Nathan family.

Following in their footsteps – part 2

A day trip to Canterbury-Dover

We finished our four-week trip of Europe and UK with a few days in London, arriving by train from Cheltenham on a Saturday afternoon. Very early the next morning, before the sun was up, we caught a big red double-decker bus from our lodgings in Paddington to Victoria station, and from there caught another bus to Canterbury, Kent. Travelling by bus was the only way to do this trip in a day – trains all seemed to be geared to travelling through to Europe and were very expensive. I was a bit apprehensive of catching a bus in London in the dark but each stop was announced along the way and we managed to get off in the right place! We then had a ten-minute walk to get to Victoria Station.

Waiting for a bus in the dark in Praed Road, Paddington

Victoria Station is the terminus for buses that travel out of London

A glimpse of London suburbs as the sun rose – it took best part of an hour to get out of greater London: even on a Sunday morning there was a lot of traffic

Flying southwards along the busy motorway through rolling, wooded Kent farmland down to the coast was altogether another experience: previously on our trip we had travelled by plane, train and car. The plus was that we sat high up and could see the countryside, the negative was that the tinted windows of the bus made it nearly impossible to take photographs of the scenery.

We arrived in Canterbury just after 9 am. Here we were met by a lovely local Gilley who was to let us into the locked Jewish Cemetery. First we walked up the High Street:

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The Jews Burial Ground

The cemetery is rather hard to find, located behind high brick walls and some shops on Whitstable Road. you have to go down what seems to be a private drive between the shops and a house to find the gate.

Here we visited the graves of Dinah’s parent’s grandparents and her brothers, sister and brother-in-law: Frances and her husband Mordecai Nathan (both died 1841), Barnett (d 1866) and Julia Nathan (d 1886), Solomon Nathan (d 1841) Joseph Nathan (d 1856), Benjamin Nathan (d 1848), Fanny (d 1878) and Joel Abrahams (d 1867). There are other unmarked Nathan’s here too: Dinah’s brother Solomon had at least two children buried here; Henry (1837-1838) and his un-named baby daughter. Four of the interments were brought to be buried from afar: Solomon Lyon and his son Henry both brought from France, Benjamin from Portsea and Joseph from Exeter. There may well be other family here too, as the sources I consulted (Webster, Cemetery Scribes) have only listed those associated with Dover and legible headstones. The Nathan family who had ties to Dover for nearly 100 years has now got descendants scattered across the globe.

As well as the familiar headstones, I was also able to identify that of Joseph Nathan, the brother closest to Dinah in age. Joseph had died aged just 25 a few weeks after Dinah and Nathaniel married. Joseph’s stone was made of sandstone and has badly deteriorated so the wording is all but obliterated, however I was able to make out the first name ‘Joseph’. His stone was next to his grandparents and brother Solomon on one side and his parents on the next. In fact all of the Nathan family graves that are identified occupy a single row, along with one or two other burials, towards the back of the cemetery.

Joseph Nathan 1831-1856. Hebrew on this stone followed by English is all but indecipherable. The headstone is recorded by Martyn Webster (1996). Webster refers to inscription records made in 1973 for the Jewish Historical Society in which this stone (M4) is: “NATHAN Joseph youngest son of Barnett age 24”.

‘JOSEPH . . . ‘ is just visible, here I wet the stone to try to get a bit more contrast.

I had first come across images of the Nathan family headstones (except Joseph Nathan’s) on Cemetery Scribes. In my research I also came across Tina Machindo’s site Historic Canterbury. Tina has several pages about the jewish community in Kent, including the one about the cemetery and the synagogue.  Tina kindly allowed me to use her photographs of Nathan family tombstones in To live a Long and Prosperous Life.

In correspondence with Tina I discovered that she had in her collection a letter written to a Nathan descendant: Kitty Glassman (nee Barnard) about the up-keep of the cemetery. Kitty was the grand-daughter of Dinah’s sister Kate and her husband David Barnard. It was Kitty’s parent’s B.I. and Abby Barnard who had been the last of the Nathan descendants to be in business in Dover. Tina kindly sent me a copy of this letter, the transcript can be seen on her website here.

It was incredibly moving to be in this place where so many of my forebears lie together. With finally seeing these headstones came the realisation that somehow a circle had now been completed – from when Dinah left England in 1864, as her great, great, great-granddaughter I was finally able to pay respects at the grave of her parents, which she was never able to visit herself, although she had undoubtedly stood here at the graves of her grandparents and siblings. I felt the ache of loss and grief and how difficult it must have been to be so far away from family in times of loss and felt tears well for Dinah.

At the end of my book I wrote of visiting Dinah’s grave in 2013 –

I had remembered to bring a stone—white quartz—and tucked it onto the ledge of what remained of her headstone. A sliver of white marble from the headstone lay there. I put it in my pocket. I found it there later when I absently slipped my hand inside: thin, white, crystalline and slightly dished like a shell. Limestone turns to marble under pressure.

I had kept this small fragment from Dinah’s gravestone in Greymouth, New Zealand since that visit in 2013. It sat above my computer for four years while I researched and wrote Dinah’s story. Now it had travelled with me on our journey across the world. It is the Jewish custom not to lay flowers at a grave, but instead to place a small stone in remembrance and to acknowledge your visit. I placed the fragment on Dinah’s parent’s gravestone. I also brought small white quartz pebbles for the other graves, carefully tucked away in our luggage and left them there too. A silent message: you are not forgotten.

Dinah’s gravestone fragment rests on her parents headstone.

Exploring Canterbury

After visiting the cemetery we went and found Hawks Lane, where Barnett and Julia Nathan were living at the time of Barnett’s death. Nearby is Jewry Lane, which is where (surprise) the Jewish community was situated before their expulsion from England by Edward I. Unfortunately the area where Julia was living when she died; Riding Gate (part of the city wall), has been redeveloped and lost to expanded roadway.

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We also found the building where the Abrahams had their Glass and China shop, rebuilt after the devastating fire in 1865. (p116) The stone building on the corner of Mercury Lane survived, but the ancient half-timber medieval hostel (featured in Chaucer’s Tales) in which Abrahams shop was situated was engulfed along with most of the block. The re-built part is white-fronted block to left of the corner building.

corner Mercury Lane and High Street

We also searched and found the remaining building of the Canterbury Hebrew Synagogue, now used by Kings School as a recital room.

Former Canterbury Synagogue, now part of a school

Canterbury was lovely and I really wished we could have looked at the cathedral, however as it was a Sunday there were limited entry times. The Cathedral is walled and you pay to get into the precincts, so you can’t even just wander around outside. We got small glimpses from various narrow and winding streets but it is quite different from the cathedrals and abbeys we saw in the Cotswolds which seem to have more green space around them.

Gate to Canterbury Cathedral Precinct. Being a Sunday morning, you were only allowed in if you were going to attend the service.

The High Street in Canterbury is paved as a pedestrian precinct, and was delightful to explore, although there are many shops aimed at the ever-present tourists. To the east of the High street lay the Cathedral precinct and a warren of tiny streets and lanes, yet to the west we suddenly found ourselves in a modern shopping precinct, complete with chain stores and food courts, giving a weird sense that we had just time-travelled between two or more centuries.

A view of the Cathedral tower

next: our visit to Dover

Pro patria mori*

*  second line from the phrase beginning  Dulce Et Decorum Est -Wilfred Owen’s gas poem.

September 15 2016 marks the 100 year anniversary of the Somme Offensive. This post details the involvement of  just one of Dinah’s grandsons and grand nephews who served in the Great War. What must it have been like as a grandmother and mother to see these young men go off to war, to feel the grief and worry of your daughters as they farewelled their boys? This is the story of one who never returned.

Benjamin on his mother Rachel’s lap in 1897 (part of a group photograph that included Sarah’s family, the older boy is  Ernest Lawn, son of Sarah and Thomas)

Ben from a group photo taken c1905

Ben and brother James at Blacks Point school

At Dinah and Sim McIvor’s marriage in 1912

Ben at brother Herbert Lawn’s wedding, 1915

Private Benjamin Webster Lawn

2418, 5ft 4½, 8st (64 kg), with ‘clear complexion, light blue eyes’ and ‘black hair’ signed up at Reefton on the fifth of February 1916; passed fit on the sixth February, sailed from Greymouth on the ninth and two days later he was in Trentham where he attested on 11 February 1916.

Ben Lawn was the second youngest son of James and Rachel. He had grown up in Black’s Point, with the sound of the great stamper battery ringing in his ears, a tease of his older sister Dinah and playmate of younger brother Jim. The three youngest children of James and Rachel played together, and went to school together. With dark curly hair Ben had the look of his mother Rachel, and he had grown tall as he reached his teens. Leaving school he headed to the inevitable job at the stamper as battery hand, working for the Consolidated Gold Mining Company. He kept fit like his brothers playing rugby and even joined his friends one Easter weekend cycling the Buller Gorge to Westport on his brother Charles’ bike.

Ben’s army record suggests he had high spirits in training, with two misdemeanours recorded, over staying leave: forfeit three days’ pay and bringing liquor into camp. The last meant he forfeited any leave and remained confined to camp before embarkation on Troopship No.35 Willochra which left Wellington on 21 May 1916.

James and Rachel Lawn family about April 1916

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Two months and six days later they arrived in Devonport, on 26 of July 1916, and two days after that he marched into Sling camp where he was attached to the British Expeditionary Force – France, 1st Infantry Battalion 2nd Company of the Canterbury Regiment. After a short, sharp, shock of drills and exercises, the young men who had arrived in high spirits had been transformed to a disciplined and focused unit, ready to face the enemy. One month after arriving in England on 28 August they were hardened up enough to be on their way to the front in France. The following day they arrived at the NZEF Depot at Etaples, near Calais where Ben joined the 1st Battalion Canterbury Regiment and was posted to the new 13th Company on 8 September.

The company went into the Somme, where the offensive had begun on 1 July. The British and Allies were trying to retake an area that the Germans had occupied for some time. What was once rolling farmland, woods, quarries and cellars in farms and villages disguised machine gun posts, and the ground was heavily entrenched. The Germans were in strong fortified bunkers, some double storied underground and trenches protected by vast beds of barbed wire some 40 yards (metres) deep. Bare ground was frequently mined, prolonged gun and artillery fire had blasted trees and shredded vegetation, pockmarked the fields and buildings had become an alien landscape. Air reconnaissance was used to see the enemy trench systems and to plan attacks, with various trenches and posts named as ‘alleys’, ‘lanes’ and also local roads, buildings and rivers in a confusing tangle of battleground that is hard to comprehend from the official written account: even the maps appear confusing to the novice. At points in the melee men frequently lost track of their battalion and with reinforcements and regrouping it was not until much later that they would find men were ‘missing’.

On the first day of battle in July over 60,000 British troops were killed or wounded. The offensive continued over the next two months, with little ground taken. The third ‘big push’ began on 15 September, in which the British used tanks for the first time. The rain began on the second day. On 25 and 27 September the third phase was begun with the New Zealand Division involved in attacks at Morval and Thiepval Ridge.

The official account of the Canterbury Battalion details how Ben’s regiment prepared for the attack near Longueval. At about 8 pm three companies of the 2nd Canterbury Battalion who had been detailed to be sent into battle emerged from their trenches and lined up on the road. Half an hour later they began to advance, silently creeping up until they were finally seen, 50 yards from the enemy line. Under rifle and machine-gun fire the troops rushed the German trench Goose Alley and captured it.

The mission was reasonably successful and they captured prisoners and machine guns, yet a few hours later the enemy made a ‘determined counter attack’ and the Allies were pushed back, only to then surge forward again. Such was the nature of battle in the Somme—forward and back, rush forward with bayonets, lose a trench, scramble and snare in acres of barbed wire, gain another trench. Exhausted, the company was relieved from the front line, but they were not given much rest, instead they were detailed to try and repairthe roads around Thistle Dump.

The ‘weather was wet’ was an understatement. The rain poured and the chalk ground was rotten: churned, muddy and waterlogged. Trenches were deep in water, uniforms and boots were wet through. After several days at this difficult task, on the night of 24-25 September the Brigade relieved the 3rd (Rifle) Brigade in the front line, with orders to take part in the Fourth Army’s attack the following day. This took place just after midday, and met slight opposition, and a few casualties. The line was moving forward, and the next forward push was about to be made.

For once, the rain had stopped, and as one account described, the weather was glorious, and was excellent for aviation work. First the artillery bombarded the enemy, and then a creeping barrage, with artillery fire moving forward in increments and the troops followed behind—although sometimes the troops were too enthusiastic, got too far ahead or the creeping barrage was off range and men were killed by ‘friendly fire’. The men were ordered over the top at 2.15 pm on 27 September. It was overcast and rainy: the fine weather had not lasted. The 1st Canterbury Battalion advanced behind the barrage, with the 12th and 13th (Ben’s Company) in that first wave. The official account concludes the description of this offensive:
The attacking company was held up for a short while by bombers and machine-guns; but the latter were silenced by our Lewis gunners, and all the objectives of the battalion were captured by 2.38 pm, with slight casualties.

Ben was killed in action on 27 September 1916, probably going ‘over the top’. He was aged 20 years, one of the ‘slight’ casualties. The Allies had advanced one mile on their last position. Behind them lay 50 square miles (130km2) of devastated land. By the end of the offensive the line had only advanced 5 miles (8km) into enemy held territory. Country roads ceased to exist as chalky waterlogged soil crumbled under heavy machinery; replacement artillery, troops, supplies all had to traverse the mess that had once been productive farmland. Ahead lay miles of equally soulless land. One hundred years on, the words: ‘The Somme’ still conjures unimaginable horror and loss.

When this battle ended the 2nd Canterbury Battalion counted 33 officers and 713 men killed, wounded and missing. Ben’s burial was recorded by the OCDGR E (Officer Commanding of the Directorate of Graves Registration and Enquiries), as Reference number 21836 B as having been performed by A.H. Cullen, attached to South African [Infantry?].

Those who died in No Man’s Land were often never identified: as they fell into the mud their bodies became obliterated by the on-going battle. Dog tags were perishable and in the wet, uniforms rotted. Nevertheless there are still human remains being discovered and identified in the twenty-first century. However, soldiers who, like Ben, were seen to be killed were probably buried by their comrades close to where they fell, perhaps in part of a trench, in a shell hole or a hurriedly dug grave, perhaps with one or two others, their dog tags removed and passed to an officer in command.

A telegram was prepared, addressed to Mrs R. Lawn, Black’s Point: she was noted as next of kin (mother) in his military file. Nearly two and a half weeks later Rachel and James received the dreaded black bordered telegram from the Ministry of Defence advising them of Ben’s death. The news spread quickly to his sisters and brothers, aunt and grandmother, as well as friends and neighbours—everyone in the community knew the boys who were away serving. The family reeled with disbelief that their Ben was not going to be coming home. He was just a lad.

The date of his death was what everyone turned to: what were they doing that fateful day? It was a Wednesday. Carrying on their work-day lives far away, while Ben heard the crack of rifle fire, the sudden thud as the bullet hit, the oblivion as he fell lifeless into the mud, the sounds of mortar and gunfire thundering on.

Although a grave reference is recorded on the Defence Force file, it was not until the following year that the bodies of soldiers in their temporary graves could be re-interred in appropriate cemeteries, the difficult task carried out by the British V Corps. The battle that had raged over the ground where Ben had been buried was to totally destroy the landscape and identifying features—his grave was never found. This was perhaps the hardest thing for his family to imagine: the boy from Black’s Point alone in the cold dark ground on the other side of the world. No funeral, with comforting rituals to help the grieving, no headstone for family to visit. A few lines in the newspaper under ‘Casualties’ and then: gone.

1500 New Zealanders were killed on the Somme. Most of them, 1272, remained unidentified and are buried in unmarked graves or remembered on memorial walls. Benjamin Webster Lawn is remembered on the Commonwealth War Grave Memorial at Caterpillar Valley, Longueval. White headstones lined up with military precision, enclosed in rectangular grounds, surrounding by rolling fenceless farm fields and a few trees creates a peaceful oasis in contrast to what it was like when Ben the boy from Reefton was there.

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Ben is also memorialised on his mother’s headstone in Lyttelton cemetery. Rachel Lawn nee Hart died just over a year later, the family believed, of a broken heart.

Benjamin Webster Lawn memorial on Rachel Lawn headstone, Lyttelton Cemetery

Rachel Elizabeth Lawn, Lyttelton cemetery (stone since collapsed after 2011 earthquakes)

 

(excerpts 327-29 Chapter 15 The Great War To Live a Long & Prosperous Life)