From Shoreditch to Axminster

I often wonder how my 4xgreat aunt felt on her wedding day in 1828, as she walked up the aisle of the ancient church in the village of Molland, on the southern border of Exmoor. Ann Wait must have felt a world away from the grimy streets of Shoreditch, in London’s East End, where she had been born. Did her father escort her? This was her second marriage and as she gazed around the box pews, did she see any other members of her family that had managed to travel the 200 miles to see her?

Piecing back together the lives of my ancestors and those of my clients gives me great satisfaction and this particular historical journey is yet another example of how interesting it can be.

Ann was baptised in St. Leonard’s Church, Shoreditch on Christmas Day 1797. She was one of four children of John Wait (1765-1831) and Ann Wheatley (1766-1840). John seems to have been a reasonably successful carpenter and paid around 10 shillings a year for a property in New Inn Street. I even found him listed as a member of Freemasons at the Lodge of Good Intent in the Ship Tavern in Leadenhall Street.

How Ann met her first husband, William Bowden Quartly, will no doubt remain a mystery, although members of the Quartly family were living around Shoreditch and the Lambeth area at that time. But the couple were married at St George’s Church, Botolph Lane, in Billingsgate, Middlesex on 27th July 1820. Ann seems to have signed the register quite tentatively compared to the confident flourish of her new husband.

Quartly was described as a yeoman farmer and gentleman in the village of Molland, Devon. But sadly his marriage to Ann only lasted three years. He died at the beginning of 1823 and was buried in St. Mary’s graveyard, Molland on the 5th February of that year. His gravestone still stands and is legible.

In that short time, Ann and William had two children, Sarah Ann and William Bowden junior. Sarah later married Henry Weekes a former ship's surgeon and William farmed 50 acres in Bickington, 20 miles from Molland, with his wife Anne.

So, five years later, on the 30 August 1828, Ann married William Gunn in the beautiful medieval church of St. Mary’s on a hill overlooking the picture-postcard village of Molland. Inside the church, she would have no doubt noticed the carved timber wall tablet above the squire’s pew, dedicated to members of the Quartly family - her previous husband’s family.

The 1841 Census shows Ann and William Gunn in Oakford near Tiverton, approximately 10 miles from Molland. William’s occupation is that of a school teacher and they now have a son, Frederick, born and baptised in Molland. Anne’s daughter Sarah Quartly is also living with them. 

In 1851 Ann and William were living on their own. Ann’s daughter Sarah had married Henry Weekes in 1845 and Frederick was working as a chemist’s assistant in Middlesex. The census also gives Anne’s place of birth as Shoreditch and William’s in Rackenford, Devon.

The sad news of the death of Ann’s eldest brother 

William Valentine Wait in the early weeks of 1857 was probably delivered by the newly formed Penny Post. William was an unmarried barristers clerk from Marylebone in London. His last will reveals that he had made Ann is sole executrix and states:

“I give to my sister Ann Gunn the wife of Mr Gunn of Oakford Bampton in the County of Devon, School-Master, five silver tablespoons, twelve teaspoons, four salt spoons, caddy spoon and sugar tongs and all other, my plate and plated articles and things except my plated castor stand”.

Ann and her husband were also beneficiaries of £200 a year from her brother’s life annuity, so they must have been fairly comfortable in their later years. This might have given them the financial incentive to move to Axminster, 40 miles from Oakford, where their son Frederick was a chemist.

Ann died in Axminster in 1867. She was buried in Axminster Cemetery and the memorial is still there (grave number 403). The inscription reads:

‘In affectionate remembrance of Ann wife of William Gunn. Died January 28th 1867. Also of the above named William Gunn who died March 21st 1870.’

Another Happy Customer

 

Another satisfied customer…

‘Hi Tony,

I have just received your folder covering my grandfathers ancestral history. On glancing through it, it is exactly what I’m looking for, so a very big thank you for your research. 

Are you still in a position to research my grandmother’s?’

From

Michael Feeney.

Contact me at tonywait@hotmail.com or pm me on here if you want to learn your ancestry.

Dad and The Dirty Half Hundred

 

At 2:30 am on this day seventy-seven years ago my father was facing another screaming attack by Japanese soldiers around a garrison set up on the grounds of a Deputy Commissioner's bungalow in India. It was overlooked by a series of small hills near the town of Kohima. Along with his regiment, he was involved in a siege that lasted a fortnight. It involved fighting described as 'desperate as any recorded in history.'

Most people have never heard of the Siege of Kohima. Probably because it was fought by men involved in the Burma campaign, 'the forgotten army', whose story has never been given the glitzy Holywood treatment, like many military events of WWII.  It was hardly reported at the time, the people of Britain were facing enough perils of their own, yet two Victoria crosses were awarded and Lord Mountbatten described it as one of the greatest battles in history.

Those that have read my recent book will know that my father, Samuel Wait 614883 was flown to Imphal with the rest of the 161 Brigade when the Japanese launched a major offensive to invade India. At Kohima, the Japanese hurled three infantry regiments, of over 6,000 men at the Fourth Battalion of the Royal West Kents. Together with what they called the 'odds and sods' the West Kents, known as "The Dirty Half Hundred," formed a scratch garrison of approximately 1,500. So began the siege of Kohima, one of the pivotal fights of the war against Japan.

The siege, which a Japanese colonel would later call, 'that great bitter battle', lasted for a fortnight, with hand-to-hand combat, fierce and ruthless, by 'filthy bedraggled, worn-out men, whose lungs were rarely free of the noxious smell of decaying corpses inside and out the perimeter'. By the night of the 18th April 1944, the Japanese had cut the garrison in two with wave after wave of attacks. They were everywhere, in all the trenches and just one hundred yards from the Battalion Headquarters that held 600 hundred casualties.

If the Japanese were to achieve the great prize, the blooming rose of eastern India, they would first have to grasp the thorn of the hill station at Kohima. The Indian Official History records that the whole defence was about to crumble and the perimeter had been reduced to a little square with each side being no more than 350 yards. The tennis court became the front line between attacker and defender and where tennis balls had been idly lobbed, grenades whizzed back and forth across the width of the court.

When I asked dad how he felt during this siege, he replied, "I did not want to let my mates down".  His Commanding Officer, Major John Winstanley later explained that they had no idea that they were confronted by a whole Japanese division. But they had no thought of surrender at any level.

The garrison did not fall. The thin line of the West Kents held. On the morning of the 20th April, the Royal Berkshire Regiment relieved the garrison and witnessed little groups of grimy, bearded rifleman standing at the mouths of their bunkers and staring with bloodshot sleep-starved eyes. The siege was finally over. My father and the rest of the shattered West Kents went down the hill in two's and three's. They had fought and lived in trenches for almost a fortnight. For rest, they had thrown themselves on the ground with their boots on, ready to fight at a moments notice. 

This epic battle was a decisive turning point in the Burma Campaign. It demonstrated categorically that the Japanese were not invincible. Major General William Slim, Commander of the 14th Army later said that "sieges have been longer, but few have been more intense, and in none have the defenders deserved greater honour than the garrison of Kohima."

Today, the cemetery in Kohima is located exactly where the battle took place. There are two memorial crosses. One is dedicated to the Indian and Sikh soldiers, the other has the epitaph:

'When You Go Home, Tell Them Of Us And Say,

For Your Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today.'

My father survived this horrific siege and remained in Burma fighting with the 14th Army until August 1946. By then, the Japanese had been driven out of Burma and surrendered. 

 

Blowing My Trumpet!

 

O.K time to blow my own trumpet! I recently received this from a client, regarding my research into his family tree:

“What can I say? This is an amazing piece of work, the detail is nothing short of incredible. My fathers side of the family has always been sketchy, but, thanks to you, it has all come to light. I can't thank you enough”.

Craig Robinson

My Dad’s Burma War

I have finally had a book published about my dad’s experiences in Burma during WWII. It has been a labour of love that has taken me over two years to complete.

Like many war veterans dad rarely spoke about his experiences with the ‘forgotten’ 14th Army. Thankfully, I did manage to jot down a few of his memories, until mum warned me that my questions were triggering his nightmares. After he passed away I ordered his military papers. But they contained almost unintelligible military abbreviations.

As a genealogist, we are taught to use prime and secondary sources whenever possible. So I located and researched his regimental diaries, deciphered the abbreviations and studied the Burma Campaign. Gradually it all came together and I found myself following in his footsteps. I can’t contain my pride in his bravery. His experiences in the Arakan attacking Razabil Fortress (along with Captain Tom Moore), the battle of the Admin Box, the Siege of Kohima, Imphal, the Race to Rangoon and so much more.

But to create this book I needed to reproduce old maps and various images. As this is a self-published book the formatting and editing was a major headache. But thanks to the incredible skill and hard work of my fiancee Jules, we were able to overcome this and get the book published. She never met my father but was pleased to contribute to his memory.

Dad fought with a ‘forgotten’ army. But now future generations of his family and friends will learn of his incredible bravery. 

If you would like a copy of this book please email me. 

 

In between researching the family history of my clients, I like to delve into my ancestry. This has resulted in several popular blog posts. So for this article, I have decided to travel back to the year 1763. During this period, George III purchased Buckingham Palace and made a Royal Proclamation limiting the expansion of the American colonies. But, I am going to focus on a particular wedding held in the East End of London. 

David Wait a carpenter of New Inn Yard, Shoreditch (c.1738-1793) and Eleanor Wait nee Rice (1737-1793) were my 5xGreat Grandparents and were married in the newly built Christ Church Spitalfields, in London’s East End on the 6th February 1763. Christ Church was one of the fifty churches urgently commissioned, with the backing of Queen Ann, through fear that the ‘godless thousands’ outside the City of London had no access to a nearby church.

I always get excited to see the signatures of my ancestors, this is often the only 'physical' thing they have left us, yet it can hold clues to the times they were living in and their personality. Today, the ability to read and write is accepted as normal. Being illiterate is regarded as shameful. During this time, literacy was considered a luxury. It would not be until the 1870s -1880s that education became compulsory. But, both David and Eleanor have signed the register confidently and with flourishes.

The parish register indicates that David Wait was from the parish of Spitalfields, but Eleanor was ‘of the Liberty of Norton Folgate’. This was land owned and originally occupied by the Priory and Hospital of St Mary Spital. Although the priory was dissolved in 1538 the area retained its status as extra-parochial liberty. Included in its particular boundary was White Lyon Yard, now Folgate Street where Eleanor and her family lived.

Eleanor Rice was baptised on the 9th March 1737 at St. Leonard’s Church, Shoreditch. Her parents were Walter Rice (1712-1749) a Glove Maker and Mary Rice nee Offin (b.1713) of White Lyon Yard, Norton Folgate. Surviving London Tax Records show that Walter Rice of Norton Folgate paid 16 shillings annually from 1743-1749.

Walter and Mary’s marriage took place in Fleet, London on 19th August 1734. Intriguingly, it was a ‘clandestine marriage’. Historians estimate that by the early 18th Century a third of all marriages were irregular or clandestine, with nearly half in London, performed at or around Fleet Prison. 

Although they complied with English Common Law and were valid, they were cheaper than a parish church wedding, did not need parental consent, banns were not read, could be held in secret and even backdated! They were banned by the Marriages Act of 1754.

So why did Walter and Mary have a ‘Fleet Wedding?

I have yet another mystery to solve.

Maria Frusher (1825-1887)

 

Over Christmas, Jules asked if I would research the Frusher side of her family. It soon became extremely interesting, particularly the life of her 3xGreat Grandmother, Maria Frusher (1825-1887). Maria’s life must have been exceptionally difficult - even for those times. She was a single woman who managed to raise three children in Doddington, a small village in Cambridgeshire. 

There is a local story told, that conditions were so hard in Doddington village, the local curate decided to live elsewhere.

Being unmarried, Maria no-doubt raised a few eyebrows in such a close-knit community. But, it was through her that the Frusher name has come down to Jules and her family. 

John Frusher, Maria’s father was an agricultural labourer and her grandfather, Peter Frusher (1743-1803), owned a farm in Doddington. But, even though I discovered the family on the census and other legal documents, I couldn’t find any record of Maria’s baptism or parish records for many members of her family.

The pieces of the puzzle eventually fell into place when I discovered that in 1825 the vicar of Whittlesey, in Cambridgeshire, baptised Maria with the surname Thresher! He also continued to register other family members with this surname. Was the vicar hard of hearing? Or was their broad Fenland accent hard for him to understand? Perhaps their Huguenot ancestry might have played a part? 

The family were likely illiterate. They were mainly farm labourers and shirt makers. As late as 1850, half the children in Britain did not attend school. So this branch of the Frusher family probably could not correct the miss-spelling of their surname. 

Whatever the reason for the mistake in Whittlesey parish records, the family line re-opened up for me and I have been able to continue following the Frusher's in Cambridgeshire. But as a family historian, it has taught me never to give up.

3 Cup Alley

 Two years before Charles Dickens’s published ‘A Cristmas Carol,’ my 4xGreat Grandfather John Wait (1797-1868) appeared on the 1841 Census with his wife and family. They were living in Three Cup Alley in Shoreditch, then part of Middlesex. 

I will never know if John Wait celebrated Christmas. His family might have eaten rabbit if they were lucky and drunk gin and beer, which was easier to obtain then fresh drinking water. Although he was a carpenter by trade, life was getting incredibly hard for him. His family seem to have been one step away from the workhouse. I have discovered in the ‘Poor Law and Settlement’ records that he had applied for Church Relief in October 1840 because his wife Jane was suffering with rheumatic fever.  Remarkably, Jane seems to have survived for another nine years. She was buried on 21st August 1849 at St. Leonard’s Church, Shoreditch.

The name Three Cups Alley has a quaint charm about it. But, in reality it was far from being a pleasantly old fashioned place. James Elmes in his, “A Topographical Dictionary of London” (1831) gives us a graphic description of it:

“The place alluded to is Three-Cup-Alley, Shoreditch, where shame to magistracy, and those in power, it excels in nastiness, its entrance is dark as Erebus , and the polluted smell that issues from the nauseous filth … The posterior parts of their dwelling. Are they not bestrewed with blood, offal and contaminated matter, from which an effluvia arises that darts through all the avenues of the brain, and maked the inhabitents wretched indeed.”

The area has changed considerably down the centuries. The alley first appears in John Rocques map of London in 1746 (shown). The north-south stretch was once known as George Street, while the grimmer east-west length was known as Three Cup Alley. With the construction of the railways in the 1860’s and 70’s most of the buildings were demolished - probably for the best.

Family Christmas

 

This was my family Christmas nearly sixty years ago. These are colourised photographs of my Nan’s house in London when nearly all my mum’s side of the family got together. In the first picture I am at the back in my dad’s arms holding a toy, my brother David is being held by my mum.

Above us is a cuckoo clock which absolutely fascinated me. I often called my nan (bottom right wearing glasses) ‘Nanny Cuckoo.’ She was truly a remarkable woman. How she managed to feed us all I will never know!

In the second photograph I am wearing a toy gun holster and looking half asleep. I think the journey from Kent in my Uncle John’s car (I can remember the smell of those leather seats) and all the excitement had worn me out.

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year

 

In a year like no other, I have been lucky enough to continue researching for my clients. I love what I do, and there is nothing more pleasurable than introducing someone to their ancestors and taking them on a trip into their family history. To all my clients, past and present, I would like to wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.