With alcohol,
Harry knew his limits, most of the time. His son Edwin (Ted) told his family a story
of how Harry could be bribed with jugs of ale, whenever Martha wanted him to
stay home with the children (about 1900 when his children were small) whenever
she and her sisters wanted to go shopping.
Harry would sit with the children telling them stories and drinking his
bribe while waiting for the women to return.
Harry had a
sense of humour and was a great story teller, not only to his grandchildren,
but also to his friends.” For example, he told his grandchildren that he fought
in the “Zulu War”, which he never did. He told them he sewed the lips of the
natives so they wouldn’t make any noise but of course, he’d never been to
Africa, ever.
But then the women, also, would have a few pints on their
way home. When they would
finally arrive at home, in the early hours of the next morning, bedlam would be
the result. Harry would “have a go” at his wife for being late and she would
“give it right back to him” - but he could always get the better of her. Then
Martha Jane would send some of the children to get one of her brothers-in-law
to help her.
When the
children and brother-in-law returned, rather than being afraid, the children
would laugh heartily when expecting the follow-up ruckus. First, the “uncle”
would protest the fighting, then, Harry would respond to his efforts to create
peace by tossing him through a window. Harry had done this many times and would
do the same to any other man who ever tried to intercede.
All the while
the children would be unafraid, all laughing at the spectacle. As a last
resort, their grandmother – Harry’s mother-in-law - would be asked to step into
the fray. Harry’s son, Edwin, witness to
many a fracas, reported that Harry often said he was afraid of “no man nor
beast, but, … Edwin then would pause, raise an eyebrow, then add mischievously,
“ except for his mother-in-law.”
Harry looked
after his health. He never smoked. He
always said, “If man were meant to smoke, he’s have been born with a chimney on
top of his head.” He liked “the ladies,” but he had no interest in birth
control. Grandmother Martha Jane revealed in a whisper to her grandson John’s
wife, Sheila Blaney, “I had 21 pregnancies.”
Of these pregnancies, only six reached adulthood.
At the age of
21, Alfred (Alfie) had already been awarded the Distinguished Service Medal in
recognition of “…gallantry during active operations against the enemy at sea…”
during the battle of Crete in 1941. After the war, Harry, Martha Jane, Alfie’s
sister Louise and his widow, Lily, were invited to Buckingham Palace to receive
this medal from the Queen.
Grandson John Blaney in the backyard shelter |
Eventually,
when Harry was old and infirm, “the ladies” remained one of his fascinations,
but his attentions weren’t reciprocated.
Grandson John, who loved Harry deeply, laughingly said “Grand dad couldn’t
keep a homemaker to care for him, because he wouldn’t stop trying to pinch
their bums.”
Harry was a
very fair man and also very clean for a man of his social background and age.
He bathed and changed his clothes on a regular basis. (In contrast, his granddaughter
Patricia learned in 1954, when working in the North Vancouver Hospital, that
some old-time loggers in Canada, would still don their long-john underwear in
the fall and wouldn’t take it off until the following June, for fear they would
catch pneumonia and die!) Harry didn’t
share their views.
When not at
work, he usually changed into a dark navy blue suit, an oxford-style striped
shirt with a white collar and a polka dot tie, a waistcoat (vest), a watch
chain and fob. He also shaved before going out in public. He retained his own
teeth for much longer than most people, brushing daily with salt and flossing
with thread. His daughter, Elizabeth,
told her niece Patricia that, many years ago, when most used “outhouses” in
working-class neighbourhoods, Harry installed one of the first toilets in their
English neighbourhood. He located it in
the alcove under the hallway stairs, the only place there was room for it in
one of their rented “council houses.”
Today, some
would judge that he abused his children by using his belt to spank them, but
that was usual for most parents in Harry’s day.
Parents then believed they were “spoiling” their children if they didn’t
spank them when they disobeyed parental orders.
Children were to be “seen and not heard.” Yet, Harry also would use some
of his meagre earnings to buy treats for his children on paydays. He spent time after long work-days teaching
them survival skills in very difficult times.
Though he was a working-class man, he inspired long-lasting love in his
children and in his grandchildren. His
daughter Elizabeth (Bess) wrote several poems about him including this one; her
hero.
He was a
good, loyal, hard-working friend and neighbour, which was affirmed by the words
of some elderly former friends and neighbours, with whom son Albert, granddaughter
Patricia and her husband Tom shared stories in Birmingham’s “Three Magpies
Pub,” during a visit to England in July, 1989. He was still remembered by them,
long after his death on March 13, 1955. We felt an awareness of Harry’s
presence in this pub where he often socialized and willingly shared his
laughter and talents.
We Canadian relatives, still wish we could have known
him, in person because in his own era, in his own style, he made his English
Victorian world a better place to be.