A Journey into the Past - April 28, 2010

A journey into the past…
Alright folks, I’m finally recovered enough to start writing this blog. These last days I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m going to combine my family history research here along with the regular travel type blog you are used to. I just don’t feel like writing it twice and it was an integral part of the journey. So, here goes :

As most of you have already heard, five days before we were set to fly off to England, the Icelandic Vocano erupted, spewing an ash cloud which brought down all flights to a standstill in Europe. Our flight was supposed to leave from Lyon to Gatwick on Sunday night, April 18th. We of course started hearing about the UK flight closures on Thursday. We had the pleasure of sitting in our own home while it destroyed our travel plans, but it was nonetheless a difficult wait to see if there may be a re-opening so we could fly. After watching and reading every possible notice, on Saturday we decided to enact Plan B. Plan B was to drive to Caen (a seven hour drive north) and then to sail the English channel overnight (another seven hours) and then arrive in Portsmouth Harbor, England at 6 :30 A.M. on Monday morning. So, thankfully we were able to book our seats online for the ferry. Turns out when we actually sailed, there were a thousand fellow travellers and we were lucky to have assigned seating. Most people had booked after there were no seats left and ended up sleeping in hallways and such.

So, our flight was finally cancelled Sunday morning. At 7 A.M. I requested a refund from easyjet and we packed the car and set off for Caen. The drive was long but beautiful because in the Spring the fields of Colza are in bloom all over. Colza is a plant cultivated for oil and it has a bright yellow flower. We drove through the regions Beaujolais, Dijon, Macon, Auxerre, Bourgogne (Burgundy), Ile de France (Paris)and Normandy. Basically bisecting France from south to north. We arrived in Caen/Ouistreham around 3 P.M. and checked out the ferry dock. It was what Stephane and I like to call , « Le Clusterfuck ». There were several displaced travellers whose flights had been cancelled, now boarding the mid-day ferry. We decided to get out of there pretty quickly after asking a guy where we should park upon our return from Omaha Beach. He said there was no pay parking anywhere in Caen and our vehicle would be safe just about anywhere we could get a spot. So, we headed out down the coast in search of the American Cemetery at Omaha Beach, and one of the landing sites for Allied invasion during the second World War. We got to the site only 45 minutes before closing. We headed down the hill to see the beach and also the cemetery. It’s pretty astounding when you stand there and look down at the beach, which has been repilcated in movies and see all of the graves of the soldiers. I took anly as many pictures and video as my time allowed. Then we grabbed a bite to eat and set off back to find parking at the ferry.

The guy we had asked about parking said we should show back up fairly early in order to check in, so we returned around P.M. for a six hour wait until he ferry disembarked. A lot of it was annoying, but we met a nice drunken Austrian woman who was waiting with her family. While I desperately tried to avoid having wine spilled on me, I listened to their horror story about being trapped in Austria on a skiing trip, and taking trains and buses to get back to Caen for days, in order to get home to England, where they lived now. Finally, it came time to board the huge ferry and be on our way. Our seats were comfortable (kind of) but I still had a hard time sleeping. At one point, after everyone was asleep, I got down behind our seats and crashed on the floor for about three hours of uncomfortable shut eye. I was exhausted by the time we reached port at 6 :30 A.M.

As we were docking I got to see the Isle of Wight, which is where some of my ancestors are from. And in fact, back in those days, they had to come off the island to baptize their children. Portsmouth was where they baptized five of their children although I didn’t know where and we only had time to grab a quick breakfast before heading out by train to Horley, England. This is where some of my Butcher ancestors lived. At Ten A.M. we pulled into Horley after a train ride where we saw a lot of the southern English countryside including lots of rabbits and pheasants from the windows. Beautiful !
We called Peter Cox, one of the Horley Historians for a tour of the two places the Butcher’s were known to have lived in Horley. He drove us to, and walked us down the street where they appeared on the 1861 and 1871 England Census. Now, on the census, the road was still « New Road » and offered no street address. However, at the time, there were only five houses on the block, so he showed those to us as the only possibilities they could have lived. The road is now called Lumley Road. This is the original reason I had contacted the historical society in Horley, to try and pinpoint « New Road » as it may be known now. Peter was generous enough to offer to take us on a tour at that time. So, after walking Lumley Road with him and hearing all sorts of stuff about Horley history, he then took us to the other place they were known to live in the 1851 census. A place called « Cinderfield ». In the census there were shown to be five families (including the Butchers) at the location. Now it is just one cottage. We went to the gate and introduced ourselves to the woman living there. At first she was a bit wary of three straingers pulling up, but once she realized we weren’t selling anything, she promptly let us through the gate and gave us a personal tour of the grounds and the cottage. Her and husband were both very nice and had also done some research into the history of the home. They too, had in fact, found several families living at « Cinderfield » in all the previous censuses they looked at. So, we all came to the same conclusion that there had been outerlying buildings on the property where other families lived. So, that being said, it’s unlikely the Butchers actually lived in this particular cottage on the property but at least we still got to see what it looked like inside and had the opportunity to meet the current owners. The man who lived at this property was named George Butcher. His occupation was a « Jobbing Gardener » and I couldn’t help but think he may have helped to cultivate some of the plants growing on this property. His wife eventually gave birth to Albert Butcher, my Great Great Grandfather, whose son was the immigrant who brought the line into Rensselaer County, New York.

After the tour and before heading out of Horley, Peter took us to the oldest church in Horley and we walked the grounds and the really old and neat church graveyard, just for fun. I knew none of my relatives were buried there because eventually they moved to Kent where George went from being a gardener to being a Methodist Evangelist Preacher who had ties to the Wesleyan Society, one of the earliest Methodist sects. But since I’m obsessed with graveyards, I still was thrilled. Unfortunately, we did not have time for a trip to East Grinstead, where the Butchers were originally from, as we had an appointment to keep that afternoon in London. So, Peter dropped us off at the train station and we gave hima little thank you gift and were on our way to Victoria Station in London. We bought our Oyster cards for the Tube and set off towards our hotel in Islington Burough, which is in the North of London. We stayed at a bed and breakfast called « Charlie’s Hotel ». Fitting I thought, since it’s both my father and brother’s name, and after all this was a trip into my family history as well as my honeymoon. After checking in, Stephane decided to stay behind at the hotel while I went off for a tour of St. Luke’s Old Street church in downtown London. I can understand as we were both exhausted from the travel already. But I wanted to keep this appointment.

So, if you had seen my posting about St. Luke’s, you would already know that this is where 9 members of my family were baptized in the 1800’s and also it is no longer a church, but an education center, rehearsal hall and venue for the London Symphony Orchestra. As the church was derelict for a number of years, with no roof, the LSO bought and rebuilt the church into what it is today. The family whose children were baptized here were the Mackmins. In Rensselaer County, Albert James Butcher, the immigrant I spoke of before, married Florence Alice Mackmin and brought the two families together in my family tree. The immigrant in this family was George Theophilus Mackmin. He was Florence’s grandfather and he was on of the children baptized in this church. His father John Joseph Sumner Mackmin had two wives, Frances Anna and Amelia. Two of the four children from his first marriage were baptized here and all of his children with Amelia, as well. This was quite an experience for me. Robert Gent, who is the events planner at the LSO St. Luke’s, took the time out of his busy day to give me a one hour tour of the location. We discussed family history, the history of the church and the current goings on in St. Luke’s. It was a pleasure and he had several photgraphs to show me of what the church looked like during the renovation.

After our tour, I took a walk down to Finsbury, about eight blocks to the south to see where the Mackmins lived and were buried. I took a walk down Tabernacle Street, which used to be Tabernacle Walk and Tabernacle Row, back in Old England. Differant family members had lived at 31, 48 and 51 Tabernacle Row for a number of years during the 1800’s. I photgraphed all of the addresses and then headed off to Bunhill Fields (a short distance away) where some of the Mackmins are buried. I was slightly disheartened because it was clear I would never find them in this graveyard. First of all, most of the stones are unreadable. Secondly, this is a non-conformist burial ground, and the non-conformists did not believe in marking their graves with a stone. Adding to this is the fact that when I wrote to the Parks department, who now runs this burial ground as a city park, to inquire about the burials, they told me some graves were seven deep and only the top body would have been on the stone. Anyway, I visited it and paid my general respects to the family buried here. Here is a list of the burials in Bunhill Fields.

Amelia Eliza 10w Jan 1837 (a child of John Joseph Sumner Mackmin and Amlia Dore)
Ann 35 May 1811 (JJSM’s Mother)
Augustus 1 May 1831 (a child of JJSM and Amelia Dore)
Elizabeth 62 Jul 1846 (JJSM’s Step Mother)
Frances Anna 33 Nov 1825 (JJSM’s first wife)
Frederick 4m Aug 1827 (a child of JJSM and Amelia Dore)
John Sumner 73 Apr 1849 (JJSM’s Father)
Mary Ann 7m Jun 1808 (I do not know who this is, and do not think it’s a relation)


After visiting Bunhill Fields, I grabbed some dinner for Steph and I and headed back to the hotel. We ate and passed out at 8 o’clock.

In the morning, Stephane and I ate the heart attack English breakfast at the hotel and headed into Soho to pick up some books he had ordered online at a bookstore named Foyle’s. We then took a short stroll around Soho, which is also the theater district. Then we headed out to Westminster, to Abbey Road studios. You cant’ get in, obviously, but I got some shots of the outside and the street where I think the cover of the Beatles album, Abbey Road, was taken. While the visit wasn’t all that exciting, I couldn’t help being thrilled that I was anywhere near this place, being that both The Beatles and Pink Floyd had both recorded here. After Abbey Road, we headed down to Green Park and then to Buckingham Palace for the changing of the guard, which happens at 11 :30. Yet another bad scene. So many people and police on horseback telling you to not block the gates. However, even if it was a mess, we still got to see the changing of the guard. From there we headed down to Grovesnor Park to wait for our tour bus to pick us up and take us to Stonehenge.

Around 1 :30 we were picked up for the two hour drive to Wiltshire to see Stonehenge. On the ride, the loudest people were the Americans ! Not me, of course, but it was clear this may be why people in Europe can’t stand us. :)

They drove me crazy the entire trip and it was freezing on the bus. Finally we made it to the site. I’m sorry to say, it’s very much a tourist location now. I got the pictures and visited, but I was a little disheartened by the feel of it all. It seemed very canned and not so spiritual of a place anymore. I did bury something of mine out there, in the outskirts of the large circle, just so I could feel a part of it. You can’t get anywhere near the actual monument, which makes sense. I would have liked to walk among the stones, but I understand preserving the sanctity of the place. I just wished everyone would go away and I could take a moment to just feel the energy of the place. Sadly, there was no way that was happening. So, in turn, I bought my Stonehenge magnet at the shop selling everything Stonehengish outside the gate and Stephane and I proceeded to steal a better seat for the bus ride home. Since we still had some daylight left, we decided to disembark the bus at Hyde Park. Hyde Park is where Floyd last played together on stage at the Live 8, and also performed several free concerts back in the day. Also several bands you know and may love have played here over the years. The Who did their , « The Kids are Alright » video here, which is horribly lip syncned. They also played several times here back in the day.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=siVodkpxhac

Not only was it beautiful, but it does hold a lot of Rock and Roll live concert history. I was thrilled to be there and to watch a beautiful sunset before heading out for a late dinner with Steph across the street. After dinner we headed back to Charlie’s and went to bed.

In the morning, we headed out to visit the churches that my family were wither baptized or married at. We also stopped by two places to get photgraphs for a distant cousin of mine in Canada. He is a descendant of JJSM’s first wife, Frances Anna. Our first stop was St. Giles without Cripplegate church. This was a stop for Shaun, my distant cousin. It was where one of his relatives was baptized (I believe). It actually was a very cool place to visit because it is right next to the Old London Wall. There are still pieces of the wall nearby and I guess this church stood very close to the inside border of the original Old England. Plus, there were some pretty neat waterways nearby. It was a cool little oasis in the middle of one of the busiest sections of London.

Our next stop was Christchurch Newgate/Greyfriar’s where John Joseph Sumner Mackmin (JJSM) and Amelia Dore were married on March 25, 1826. The old church was destroyed in WWII bomb raids and the tower was the only thing left standing. The church part is a few walls left. From there we visited St. Sepulchre without Newgate. This is the church where JJSM married his first wife, Frances Anna. I went here for Shaun because it is a ten minute walk from the other one. What’s also interesting about this church is that John Smith, the guy Pochahontas saved from the Indians, is buried here. I did not see is grave because it’s probably inside and I couldn’t get inside any of the churches. Also, this church is known for it’s bells, which would toll in time with the criminals being executed at the Old Bailey Courthouse, which is directly across the street. I also got some pictures of that on our way down to the church where JJSM was baptized in 1775, St. Benet , Paul’s Wharf church. Turns out this is known as the Welsh church of London. I’m not sure if that’s significant. As far as I know this family orginally comes from Scotland. Anyway, since this is directly next to the Thames River and what’s known as the Millenium Bridge, we decided to take a stroll over the footbridge to the replicated Globe Theater on the other side. We decided not to go inside because the ticket cost too much just to go inside a fake Globe Theater. We had lunch by the Thames and then headed back over to the Tube station. From there we visited St. Botolph Aldgate Church, where JJSM’s parents, John Mackmin and Elizabeth Sumner were married on November 21, 1771. This church is still standing and in great condition. It’s also right next to the Gherkin, a huge pickle shaped building in London (see pics). Then we headed back to the hotel for a brief siesta before heading out to Abney Park cemetery in Stoke Newington to try and find the burials of the other Mackmins.

Turns out, we found none of them. The place is so overgrown and we eventually found the sections they were buried in but found no stones . I had written the cemetery trust a few weeks before going and never heard back from them…until the night after we got back searching through like crazy and finding nothing. Turns out, only one grave was marked. That of Shepherdess Mary (a daughter of JJSM and his first wife, Frances Anna) , her husband and one other family member. They included a picture of the grave for me. Would have been great to know there was no other markers, PRIOR to searching for three hours in underbrush, for nothing. Regardless of actually finding anything here, it was an interesting experience. Seems the lack of upkeep has made it a hangout for all sorts of people, including now being a local pick up spot for the gay community. I saw several men and no women except me and one other woman with a family. I was starting to think it may be a gay hangout and then I was assured when I saw two men together, one zipping up his pants behind a tree and some headstones. Doesn’t bother me, just an interesting side note. We also, on our way out, saw a huge fire someone had set near the old Chapel, since derelict. It was not controlled and seemed to be burning itself out fast. We searched for someone to tell and founf no one. Later on that day, when I finally recieved the late email from the cemetery trust , I told them about it, in case they needed to check it out.

We headed back to the hotel with a dinner of fish and chips, wrote out our postcards before passing out after another long day. In the morning, I was having a cig before breakfast on the front steps of the hotel. I saw what looked like a dog passing behind the bushes. Turns out, it was a fox. He came around near the opening to the front walk, peeked at me and then took off. He stayed for only about Five seconds, but for me, the experience was super cool. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a fox up close and never in such a residential area.

This being our last day at the hotel, we ate and handed in our keys and set off for the Islington Local History Center for an appointment at Ten. Stephane read in the library while I met the local historian. Seems that I had more information than her regarding the family, so it went pretty quickly. It was kind of a let down because they claimed to have several pictures indexed by street and I thought they may have some photos of Tabrnacle Street back in the day. The earliest pictures they had were in 1973. It looked exaclty the same as it did today. They also did not have any other information to help me. My next stop was the London Metro Archives, which is a few blocks away. Stephane stayed behind at the library to read while I researched some genealogy there. I found the internment record books for Bunhill Fields, which didn’t give me too much more information on the burials than I already had, but a little. In about 1860, JJSM started listing his occupation as a Linen Draper AND an Undertaker. Prior to that on the census, he was only known as a Linen Draper. I was always confused by this becuase Undertaker could have meant someone who « undertook » special requests, say in a tailoring capacity. Another distant cousin of mine also thought this to be the case. But it turns out he actually was an Undertaker, in the sense we know that term to mean now. In fact, on the Bunhill Fields Internment records, the last column lists the « Undertaker’s name and Address » for the burial of the person. Turns out, JJSM was not only an undertaker, but undertook and prepared, not only his father’s body for burial, but also his three young children who died before the age of two. Sad, but I guess he knew he could take the most care and probably did not trust those things to anyone else, seeing as he knew the trade. Still, pretty sad when you think about it. Other than that, the only other information I found was three fire insurande policies from the 1800’s , for a relative on my Mom’s side of the family. His name was William Wright and he was a Confectioner and Baker. I thought it was pretty cool to see the insured contents of his home, which included, silver tableware, musical instruments and glass stemware. His estate total was £1200 in two policies and £900 in an earlier policy. So the candy and confection business must have been good to him. I think it’s pretty cool that I have an ancestor who held the same trade as myself (when I worked that is).

:)


After that we sat in Green Park together after lunch just waiting for our train back to Portsmouth Harbor to head home. After the lazy afternoon in the park, we walked passed Buckingham Palace again and down to Victoria station and headed out of London, by train, to start our long journey back home. We sailed again overnight on the Channel and drove seven hours to get home in the morning.

Now, you can see why I need a few days of rest before writing this blog.

Overall, it was a long bunch of travelling, followed by long days of walking all over London. However, despite the fact every day we were truly exhausted, we did everything we had planned to do, regardless of the situation regarding the Volcanic ash. I can’t express to you in words how much it meant to me to visit these places and to tour around where ancestor’s of mine lived, married, gave birth and died. Thanks to Stephane for allowing our honeymoon to really be all about what I wanted to do. We had some romantic moments amidst all the running around, but I won’t be blogging about that.

;)