1960 UNFORGETTABLE SUMMER: GLASGOW WAS A SHOCK!

SHOCKED!…I WAS NOT READY FOR MAY 31, 1960

alan skeoch

April 2019

An ordinary life in Toronto in May 1960 was really wonderfull but I never thought much about it.

Our life was safe, affluent, active, open, … and taken for granted.

Lots of friends, enough money to enjoy life and safe streets.

The people in Glasgow were not so lucky….

TYPICAL TORONTO STREET SCENE IN 1960

TYPICAL SOCIAL SCENE IN TORONTO 1960

JOURNAL  ENTRIES

Wednesday May  18, 1960

CAught the train in Blind River.  Arrived back in Toronto from the Elliot Lake adventure.  Phoned Marjorie from Sudbury as she is still in North Bay…always easy

to talk with her, perhaps for a lifetime.  My brother Eric met me at the West Toronto station and later drove Eric to work at Toronto beaches where he is a lifeguard

with endless stories to tell some of them quite bizarre.  Loved the screwing match story best…Binoculars used to survey Cherry Beach then yell ’Screwing  Match’

to get others excited by illicit sex.  “Where?  Where?”  “Right here  and Eric would show that he held a screw and a  match in his hand.”  I found that really funny.

 Then  proceeded  to the Huntec  office.  A  beautiful day of sunshine.  FloydFaulkner is getting married  on Saturday

then almost immediately will fly to Hudson’s Bay for a three month job.  No time for a honeymoon obviously.  Floyd remains cheerful still calling  me Fucking Al as a

term of endearment.  Then picked  up my passport and health certificate  for entry to Southern Ireland. A flight has been booked…Toronto to New York to Scotland to 

Dublin.   Gord Brand  got me a  day  job in Kinmount using our family 1953 Meteor at 9 cents a  mile.  Dad is not too happy about that for he will have to

take public transportation all the way  from west Toronto to Whitby…couple of hours each way at least.

Thursday May 19, 1960

Got up at 6 a.m. and  travelled fast to Kinmount on empty roads.  Two cow moose  ran  alongside the car just east of  Kinmount.  Arrived  at the hidden job site  

where Paul Head and  Gord Brand were waiting with the Induced Polarization (I.P,) unit all set to go.  Lunch was fittingly eaten and washed  down with a  case

of I.P.A. (Indian  Pale Ale) which seemed  fitting.  Get it?  I.P. unit and  I.P.A. Ale!  We  spent the afternoon laying base line  cable through the bush.  Found a strange

shack in the bush  with a  bunch of dead porcupines.  Disgusting if killed for no reason…hunters hate porcupines as quills get in the mouth and noses of their hounds.

We drove down to Peterborough in the evening staying in luxury at the Rock Haven Motel.  Gathered  in the bar where Paul Head told us tales of Arizona.  Just think

Huntec  had planned to send me to Arizona  ten days ago.  Now all has changed.  Earlier in day we met two large turtles…a painted turtle and  a snapping turtle.

All told it was  a grand day.

Friday May 20, 1960

We drove back north to the anomaly which is a few miles east of  Kinmount.  Stopped  for breakfast at a beautiful spot with a waterfall beside it.  Continued north 

as  road  changed  from triple lane paved to double lane to single lane to gravel to a grass covered trail.  Sounds joyful?  Not so.   Every  square inch of  our exposed

flesh  was dinner for the damn black flies who are at their peak  right now.  They are ravenous.  We only managed to completed less than  two lines, This machine 

(I.P.) can be quite dangerous…500 volt shock if foolhardy.  We  are careful.  Drove back to Kinmount which was really jumping for a change…summer people have

arrived.   I was too tired and dirty for any socializing.  We  are putting one hell of  a lot of mileage on the ’53 Meteor which  is a bit of a worry as it is  our first

family car and treasured by all.  Phoned mom from a Kinmount telephone booth which was  loaded  with mosquitoes just waiting for someone like me.

Saturday May 21, 1960

We  got a good early start in the bush today.  Voracious flies everywhere drove us on so we managed to finish the job by 6.30.  I left immediately for Toronto. Thick fog 

but managed to make it home by 9.30…250 mile in three hours. “The damn car is  full of black  flies!”, exclaimed  Dad who  went after them with with a swatter and

insect spray.

Sunday May  22, 1960

We  drove to the farm today … mom, dad and  me…too much wind, fog and rain for effective  planting but managed to get some vegetable plants in the ground.

The dog loved the mud.  Later paid a short visit to Uncle Frank and Aunt Lucinda at their farm up the road.  Tested  the Turam E.M. unit on our  farm by laying 

main cable attached to motor generator snd grounded at both ends with steel  rods…apparently need couple of ground rods at each end…pounded in with sledge.

Monday May 23, 1960

Bought a pile  of film for the trip to Ireland then we drove Eric to his lifeguard  station.  Then mom, dad and I went to the horse races at Old Woodbine track.  Dad  had 

a friend  at the gate that let us slip into the first class  section.  “Look straight ahead and follow me, do not look at the gate keeper.”  I lost  a bit of money but Dad made

a few dollars. Foggy track.  I think Dad and Mom missed  having Marjorie with them at the track.  Her enthusiasm is catching…loves the horses.  Gambling is secondary

 Then we drove back to Cherry Beach and picked up Eric.  We all went for supper at Bassel’s restaurant then home  to bed.  Typical

family day.

Tuesday May 24, 1960

Drove to the office on O’Connor Road today.  What a luxury after the long hot trips on the street car and TTC bus.  But taking the car really puts a load on dad to get from our

house on Annette Street, West Toronto all the way to Whitby  I don’t know how he does it frankly. Barrie Nichols gave me  my flight tickets…strange  route via New York and  

Scotland to reach  Dublin. Also $300 in expense  money.   Gord Brand and  Paul Head left by Land Rover for  Arizona.  Collected $44.31 expenses  for use  of the 53 Meteor…

covered 480 miles.  Dan Bereskin arrived from Saskatoon as a  seismic assistant and was immediately sent to Niagara Falls  on a project.

Wednesday May 25, 1960

Final preparations at office.  Seems like a  number of the professional staff would like to be on this job.  Why me?  Simply because  I used the Turam system  on the Alaska

job last summer. The other guys are no longer with the company.  My Good luck.  Took it easy at home then decided to visit Bob Taylor and his wife Anita (Simmons) Taylor…both are very happy with no financial problems

like poor Bill faces.  Missed their wedding while I was in Alaska.   Seems strange to have friends that are married.

Thursday May 26, 1960

All ready for Ireland now.  Went to Scouts and  handed out uranium  samples from  Elliot Lake for the lads.  Then we  all zipped over to the Dairy Dell for a milk shake.

Friday  May 27,1960

Final briefing.  Dr. Norman Paterson asked  me to demonstrate the AFMag.  One of his secretaries then typed a report on the demonstration.  She inadvertently referred to me as  Dr. Skeoch.

Barrie Nichols took me aside saying I must pretend to be a permanent employe… experienced using the Turam.  (a  Swedish  invention)  I was flattered that they trusted me so much.  Determined not to let anyone down.

  Picked up voltmeters

and maps  and  drove home for the last time before the flight to Ireland.

Saturday May 28, 1960

Last chance to shop in Toronto.  Bought technical books, rainwear, self-timer, filter, map case.   Still time to plant so got 30 tomato plants for the  farm.  Dad  had  a good

day at the racetrack…cashed some tickets.  I wish  Marjorie was here rather than in North Bay.  Mom and I went to see ‘Our Man in Havana’ .  We weighed  my luggage

which was 40 pounds overweight.  Shiela Baird dropped by and cannot believe I am flying to Ireland.   I have trouble believing that myself.

Sunday May 29, 1960

Dad kicked  me out of bed for an early  start to the farm where the three of us put in A full day’s work.  Uncle Art with cousins John and  Norma Skeoch came up to the 

farm later…Art and  Dad, brothers, had  a beer or two.  Drive back  to the  city and  went to Presbyterian Young People’s Society meeting as usual.  Shiela Baird showed

her slides of Europe and gave me some good addresses in Ireland.  Went to Red  Stevenson’s  after…nice to have so many  friends.

Monday May 30, 1960

HERE  GOES.  Lots of well wishers…address of Mrs. Langford in Glasgow…Doris gave  me  $2…Mr. Cook (Dad’s gambling  buddy) drove  me to the airport…Doug and Harry there 

for send off, gave me that rosary which made us  all laugh…overweight $60,75.  Met a Boy Scout/Rover Scout from Sarnia.  Nice greeting from TCA stewardess.  And takeoff to New York.  Fantastic  airport. KLM (Royal  Dutch

Airlines) had a  man meet me and escort to KLM terminal.  Luggage did not follow though.  I did have a bit of time to explore then boarded at 6.25 p.m. in a rush…got window seat

with no window. Flight will take 9 hours.  Dutch  are very friendly,  always  smiling.

Tuesday  May 31, 1960

I did not get a wink of sleep all night hemmed in by young children on all sides…some kicking…John, Henry and Raymond were assumed to be my children which was quite a shock…do not

remember name of the other one.  Suddenly a new world opened up to me…made me think.

FLASH OF MEMORY #!

   So many things were whirling through my head….fragments of the past that were so meaningful.  

Village of Mauchline about 1900…Kilwinning might have been same in 1844

1) My Great Great grandparents had boarded sailing vessels at Kilwinning, a port not

far from Prestwick airport.  They did so in 1844 and 1846…Agnes Skeoch sailed for Canada first along with three of her children…Jame. James and David Skeoch, boys were so full of energy 

while crossing the Atlantic that their aunt Margaret feared they would be swept overboard.   Agnes Skeoch husband came two years later in 1846 Robert Skeoch with the rest of the

children.  Why didn’t they cross together? I have no idea, perhaps the other children were just too young.   And the bigger question, why did they decide to leave Scotland?  We have no family records to suggest distress or starvation.  They were lucky.  The Cholera pandemic hit Scotland in 1847 brining horrific death rates as described later.

2)  As our plane circled to touch down the green fields of the Scottish lowlands emerged.  The Skeochs, according to letters saved by my Aunt Elizabeth, had  a

farm somewhere below…perhaps near Stevenston…or Mauchline.  Less clear since there are no records to prove it is  the possible connection with the long 

gone village of Skeoch near Stirling where family legend states two orphan boys were found on the battlefield of Bannokburn in 1415.  The boys were placed with the convent of St. Skeoch, an

obscure Irish Saint of the 9th century.  We think it was  a convent but could have been a  monastery.  No matter, the legend says the boys were named by the mother superior.. James and John

Skeoch.  Where was the convent?  Who  was St. Skeoch?  Assuming the place was a convent, where was that convent?  Was it in the village of Skeoch?  Was the story even true?  Perhaps

a core of truth. (*In 2o19 I found the Chapel of St. Skeoch, a ruin about the size of a garage, a  long way from here near Montrose, north of Edinubrgh.  Nearby is the Rock of St. Skeoch (also named St. Stay)

also called Elephant Rock.   Seems a long way from the Bannockburn fields of the Skeoch Steading.)

3) I wonder if the Skeochs back in 1840’s celebrated the poetry of Robbie Burns.  Much of it was written about the land below me as the plane throttled down for a landing.  Burns was a 

womanizer and his  poetry gave eternal life to so many Scottish girls who once roamed these fields below…and had love affairs with Robbie.   Did a Skeoch lass ever get involved?

The Belles of Mauchline  (excerpt…by Robbie Burns in 1784)

 

Miss Miller is fine, Miss Markland’s divine, 
Miss Smith she has wit, and Miss Betty is braw: 
There’s beauty and fortune to get wi’ Miss Morton, 
But Armour’s the jewel for me o’ them a’.

4) Now sweeping over the Isle of Bute and here below is the Skeoch Wood almost enclosing the seaside town of Rothesay.

5)  And there to the North…distant… is the sprawling 62 square miles City of Glasgow.  Long long ago in  1553 Sir John Skeocht (sometimees spelled Skewyhche0 was procurator of Glasgow. Procurator?   An agent of the government perhaps in charge of the finances of Glasgow.  Procurators in ancient times were officers of the Roman empire entrusted  with managing the financial affairs of a province…agents of the Roman 

emperor.  The word  continued to be used  long after the Romans vacated Britain.  Was Sir John Skeocht a relative?   What would  the city be like.  A family letter written in 1866 was not comforting. ” We too often see daily in our streets the degrading effects of alcohol; not to speak of the numberless cases which our eye never meets”   (Walter SMITH 1866 TO Robert Skeoch, Fergus, Canada West)

I had a layover in Scotland…one night and  part of two days.   Was Scotland going to be like I  expected?  What did I expect?  Bagpipes,  tartans, Scots reciting the poetry of Robbie Burns.

Those three things I knew were unlikely.  Glasgow was about to open my eyes. 

                                                                             

FLASH OF MEMORY #2

WORLD WAR TWO … GEORGE FREEMAN MAY HAVE LANDED HERE

   Prestwick was the touchdown  point for Lancaster Bombers being ferried from North America to England in World War II…Hundreds to those planes came in here.  Most made it across

the Atlantic non stop.  One out of every ten,  however, did not make it.  That was an acceptable loss  rate.  The top military people in Great Britain were even prepared  for a  loss  rate

of  50%…one out of every two.  They were just that desperate for Bombers to carry the war to German cities. So the big Lancasters  made in Toronto and  elsewhere in North America

were ferried  to Gander, Newfoundland…and  Goose Bay as well.  Then they were topped off  with fuel and  flown  by  civilian  pilots,  168 of whom were women.   One of these pilots 

whose son I interviewed  long ago gathered his crew together before each flight and asked one simple question.  “If something fails,  do you  want me to go straight in or try

a flat landing in the Atlantic?”  Most crews  said  “straight in” because they new survival  in the cold  Atlantic  was unlikely…perhaps  only a few minutes before the biting cold of the water

shut down the body.  All those bombers leaving Gander landed  here in  Prestwick.

The smaller aircraft…fighter plans…could not make the Transatlantic  flight so semi-secret bases were built in Greenland for refuelling.  These  flights were also dangerous.  Just to

find  these two USAF bases was  a chore.  To land  required skilled navigating up a  long fiord, then making a sharp turn and fast descent to an airstrip hastily built in the 1940’s.  Those 

Greenland Bases are  now empty.  Have been so since 1945 when US forces just pulled out fast and left much  behind.  They are unreachable ghost bases readily identifiable

by the rusting hulks  left behind.

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In 1945 Prestwick was the touchdown point in Britain after the long flight from Gander, Newfoundland.

Not all the planes  leaving  Gander landed safely.  One out of ten disappeared.  A few  that had engine

trouble were able to land  in Greenland,  But finding the semi-secret landing strip was  not easy for

big bombers.   it was hard enough for spritely P 52’s, Mosquitoes and others.

                         This Lancaster heavy bomber  may have been made on the outskirts of Toronto.  How can you tell that this  is a veteran bomber and not the kind that were touching down in

                         Prestwick?   

Our cousin, George Freeman, who I never remember meeting, was killed when his Halifax Bomber was 

stitched with explosive shells from a  German night fighter.  George was a mid upper gunner with not much

chance to defend HX 313 – the Blonde Bomber, because night fighters liked to attach  from 

behind and under.  His best friend,  Victor Poppa, was the tail gunner.  As HX 313 caught fire and began

its death dive, Victor was thrown out of the rear bubble and fell free.  His parachute was  only attached  by

one strap which he had to reach up above his head  to yank  the rip chord.

How  many of these heavy bombers were lost in the war?  So many  that, even today, I can hardly believe

the number.   Avro Lancaster bombers lost totalled  4,171.  Handly Page Halifax  bombers lost totalled 2,627.

And  with these losses were thousands  and thousands of young men.   The Lancaster Bombers pictured

above were being repaired,  prepared, refuelled in readiness to fly to the Pacific after 1945.  That never

became necessary once the atom bombs were dropped  on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.,

The is what the abandoned Greenland  base, called Blue West 1, looks like today.

Leakage from these barrels colours the water trickling into the fiord.

TOUCHDOWN AT PRESTWICK, SCOTLAND MAY 31, 1960

Scotland first class lounge 1960…where I caught flight with Are Lingus to Ireland

We landed  at Prestwick which to me was a  bleak barren place   Seemed  like the bleakness of  war was still being fought. 

Prestwick  did  not share that fate of Blue Base 1 in Greenland, i.e. abandoned and forgotten.

. The reverse happened to Prestwick as the former military base became a bustling international airport. 

 But not a fancy airport in 1960…just 15 years after the end of World War II.  

GUESS WHAT?  Elvis  Pressley landed  here  in March on his way  to serve

with American forces  in Germany.  He  was  received  royally.  

My reception was  not as welcoming.  No  sleep on the airplane  made  me  very doze

and I fell to sleep on the hour long bus  ride to Glasgow.

Downtown Glasgow was not what i expected.   The city buildings are layered with a  century’s worth of   coal dust which

   I had expected a city much  like Toronto with lots  of  open  space and modern buildings.  Trees and parks.

Glasgow was the  reverse of these expectations.  Barren…never saw a tree. Somehow I had to get to an address outside my hotel (St. Enoch).   With help from many locals, i managed to get heading in correct direction by subway.

  

Stone staircases  in the tenements were worn, dark, damp and disconcerting…as above.

GLASGOW in 1960 was one of the most poverty stricken  cities  in England, perhaps Europe.  Families were crammed  into dreary blackened  stone

tenements  that stretched as far as my eyes  could  see.  This family pictured above is keeping warm in front of their coal  burning

cast iron combined furnace and  cook  stove.  It is  hidden by their wet laundry.   Most of these tenements  had no  running water and

the toilets were small brick buildings in the rear of the tenements.   Others  may have had running water but families  shared toilets.

I was there in 1950 just as slums  were being cleared and replaced with tall apartment style buildings with running water.

It was very dreary.  Shocking!    My  warm reception by a nice elderly lady  almost made my eyes 

water.   There was a social  life in spite of the poverty.

Demolition of these stone built tenements  was just getting underway in 1960 and continued through the next few years. 

At some point local authorities realized the old buildings were worth rescuing and modernizing but in 1960 that was  given

little thought.

This picture, taken in 1960  shows the stone tenement ‘back yards’ with the 

back  built outdoor toilet.   

Each apartment had these cast iron cooking and heating units  built into a chimney system.

BACK TO MY JOURNAL

Tuesday May 31, 1960 (continued)

Today was one of those unforgettable days that get burned into memory the details  of which when told could be upsetting.

Why upsetting ?  Because my words may seem arrogant.  They are not intended to be such, The city

of Glasgow was a shock to me, a 22 year old Canadian  raised in a working/middle class  part of Toronto.  Before leaving 

Toronto, a great many people were interested in my summer job… no people moreso thant our next door neighbours,

the Hobsons who had recently emigrated from Scotland. They rented the third floor of the house next door and were overjoyed

to be in Canada but at the same time a bit homesick

“Alan, you must visit my mother in Glasgow.”

“One night layover before flight to Dublin.:’

“Grand…you will have time then.  She would  love th see you.”

“How will she know?”

“I phoned her last night to tell her…she wants you to come for supper.”

“Terrific.”

And so the visit was planned.  I would drop in on Mrs. Langdon for a  short visit.  KLM had already given me tickets for 

meals at St Enoch hotel along with ferry service from Prestwick to Glasgow.  Had a shave and converted some money to British 

pounds then had a  luxurious meal in the hotel dining room before venturing in search of Mrs. Langdon.  That was the upside.

The downside was  Glasgow’s grime reflected in faces of people on the street.  A fast judgment and hopefully  wrong.  I decided

to ride the “Underground” rather than take a taxi.  Twice I got off and climbed to the surface just to see “what suburban Glasgow

looked like”.  Depressing.  Seemingly endless black tenements.  No trees, no grass…no cheerfulness.  Found Mrs. Langdon’s

building and climbed the dark stone stairway to her floor.  Knocked and received a joyous welcome.  

“Come in, Alan, I’ve heard so much about you…and  about Canada.”

The apartment was tiny, perhaps  two rooms…a bed room and the combined kitchen and living room at

the centre of which was a back cast iron coal burning stove which also served as  a cooking facility.

“You must be hungry!”  I had  just eaten a huge meal at St. Enoch Hotel but dared not say that for

a special supper was underway.

“I have a  special meal for you…steak with a fried egg on top…a specialty.”

“Looks wonderful.”  My gut was already full but I somehow made room because I knew this was a great

occasion for Mrs. Langdon.  Her friends kept dropping by … Georgia and many others.

Now the genuine warmth of this greeting almost made me cry.  Grown 22 year old male. When I left Mrs. Langdon’s 

place the place seemed less  bleak.  The lyrics of “I belong to Glasgow” may not exactly fit this visit for there was

no alcohol involved but the spirit of the song fits perfectly.

“I belong to Glasgow

dear old Glasgow town

There’s something the matter with Glasgow

Cause it’s going roon and roon

I’m only a common old working lad

As  anyone here can see

But when I get a couple of drink on a Saturday

Glasgow belong to me.”

After dinner Mrs. Langdon and Georgia took me on a short tour of the Glasgow they knew best…old 

churches and old trams.  What I could not help but notice and yet say nothing about was the sickly appearance

of so many of the people.   How should  I show gratitude?  Without insulting my hostess?

“Mrs. Langdon, the people at KLM gave me this pass for an evening dinner at St. Enoch’s,  I will have

no time to use it.  Could I give it to you?  Otherwise it will be wasted.”

“St. Enoch’s, now that is a grand place.”

And just before I left Mrs. Langdon said  a strange thing.

“It’s too bad you have to leave  tomorrow for you might like to have seen the Skeoch Wood?”

“Skeoch wood?

“Yes,it is a grand forest cheek to jowl with the seaside town of Rothesay on the Isle of Bute”

“A forest?”

“Aye, forest still standing in spite of timbering…a castle inside the forest as well.”

“Is it far from here?”

“Not so far…a day trip for us.  Ferry service to Rothesay.”

Skeoch Wood, Rothsey, Isle of Bute, Scotland.  

(Idea of visiting the Skeoch  Wood put in my mind May 31, 1960, Glasgow)

When I went to bed in that “grand old hotel, St. Enoch’s” I had the  feeling the events of this day, May 31, 1960,

would last a lifetime.  Both sides of Glasgow.  The seamy, down at the heels, Glasgow that is so obvious.  And also

the upside of Glasgow that Mrs.  Langdon showed  me…warm, loving, laughing, unvarnished.  

OFF TO DUBLIN…JUNE 1, 1960

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On June 1, 1960 I flew to Dublin  Southern Ireland on an Aer Lingus flight.

Alan Skeoch

April  2019

POST SCRIPT:

IS GLASGOW A DANGEROUS CITY?

In 2014, Glasgow was  rated as one of the ten most dangerous cities in Europe.

Glasgow gangs were notorious in 1960…called razor gangs in earlier decades when strait razors were the weapons of choice.  I never came across

them.  Never felt in danger.  Did feel depressed by the poverty.. The People spoke nicely to me, gave directions, made me feel  welcome.  I was not looking for trouble. I was Sober.

It was daylight.

The situation could have changed dramatically had I shown support for either the Celitc or Ranger football clubs.  Violence was easily triggered by an offhand remark like “Are you a Ranger or Celtic?”

The City of Glasgow. even today in 2019, is sectioned off …    The Celtic Football Club draws Catholic and Irish supporters.  The Rangers  draw Protestant and British supporters.

  Ranger and Celtic fans share strong yet opposite religious convictions. Hate each other though neither groups are likely  to be

seen in churches.  Hard to believe.

 “How dangerous is Glasgow?”

Here are some of the responses:

“Glasgow is not at all dangerous…it is one of the friendliest place in Scotland.The social life is  amazing.  The banter is wicked and you will never run outa friends.

As for dangerous, everywhere has  their ‘not so great’ areas…”

“Glasgow is extremely dangerous if you want to corner a slice of the heroin trade or licensed taxi trade. Otherwise it is fine….There’s a lot of fun to be had…”

“Glasgow is dangerous to your health.  The traffic exhaust and the cigarettes will kill you before any of the people will do you harm. The people are wonderfully friendly

just used the same common sense in Glasgow that you use in your own city…”

“Glasgow is violent…”  Murder rate is higher than London, a much larger city, and the murder rate in Glasgow is more than twice the national average.”

“Glasgow is a  crime hotspot with three times as much  crime as the Scottish average.   Violence is where Glasgwegians excel.  Drug related  crime is twice the national average.

They are twice as likely to carry offensive weapons. They also encourage sectarianism …”

“Glasgow has four of the most deprived areas in the UK.”

“My family and friends have lived in Glasgow all of our lives and have never had any experience with crime.”

“I don’t know how many fights I’ve got into.  Lost count.”

“Most places are safe except for the Hen Beaters Arms

.  Don’t go there.”

CHOLERA  1847

TO  Miss Margaret Watt,

Guelph

c/o James Wylie, Galt

Canada West

 

Kilwinning, 5^th April, 1849

 

My very dear friend,

 

 We would have answered your letter long ere now had it not been of my brother George’s illness and Death which has made a sad blank in our family. He was in Dalry as a doctor and had good Practise but the labour was too sore on his constitution which gradually gave way and was more or less in trouble for 15 months.  He was in sore trouble but made no complaint. He said it was of (no) use to complain. He came to us about a month afore his death.  His death took place on the 21^st December last.  His trouble began with … enlargement of the liver and ended in Dropy (?) Painful as our case is there has been cases of a more depressing nature in our place.  James Kirkwood Inn (?) his mi… at a Little Drang… One morning he went …to his shop and hanged himself.  And James Brown in Glasgow cutted his throat and was buried here.  This is Janet Brown’s son and old Janet is dead also and Old Margaret Woodside died this week.  Mrs. James Service (of) Glasgow died last week and Old Robert has died also and Mrs. Love in Kilbride, your mother’s cousin.  And John M(?)iller, your fathers cousin in Saltcoats.  His death took place under rather painfull manner.  He went to Ireland(?) with his brother James.  He left the ship one morning and was never more heard of.  William Jack in Townheed (Townshend?) that is John’s brother is dead.  Old Mary Janis fell in the  fire and was burned to death, and Joseph King’s wife is dead also.  Your cusing (cousin?) daughter Mary Ferguson is dead.  His death was very distressing.  Doctor Brown gave her a Pother (potion? Polter?) and she never a wake but sleepet away.  Our town and neeberhood has been visited with the pestilence which  have carried a great number of our town people away.  We will name …full of the many that is carried of.  Matthew Patterson that is Jean Bickets man with a five hours illness.  James Small, Sae Mill David Tumbrie that wrought on the hoods(?) also his wife and son all with a five hours illness and Margaret …daughter of the William Allan Smith and Jean Dickie , Miller Dickies daughter and John  Baillie … Brae and Andrew Service and old Mrs. Clark that is the Late John Clark’s wife and … Young and Old Mirvin young and Ann Craig, Decon Dunlop’s weedow (widow?)  and … Dick and Helin Brown – Dr. Brown’s Doghter and Jean McClane came to wate on him died of it also.  Andrew White and Margaret Hanna his wife and John his brother.  All these died in a few hours illenes (illness) . It commenced at the  … (iron?) works the week after the New year, and … (exited?) the town a week afterwards.  Above 60 died at the … works above 50 in our town.  Let Ann Allan know that James Cowel and Elizabeth Allain his wife died in a farmhouse illense (illness?) at Irvine. All the above is of Cholera. Geory(?) Jena good-mother Elin Biggart in Stevens(t?)on also died of Cholera. All the surrounding towns as as bad as Kilwinning.  Mr. Watson died at Polock-shas(?) of Cholera.  He was late scool-master in Byers(Byens?). he went into the Established Church of Scotland.

 

  There was prayer meetings at the time of the Cholera…  The town had a strange appearance the time of Cholera you would not have (hardly?) seen a person on the streets at night.

I ommited to menson (mention) Elizabeth Allan’s death after a long illness.  The late William Allan clock maker daughter.  Let

Ann Allan know that there is a great change in his uncle James Famly.  … George and Robert are all dead. 

 

                                             Yours truly

                                              Jean Whyte

 n.b. Write us soon.