I found a whole new genealogical revelation, yet another prison sentence for my ancestor John Harrison of Greenwich. I'd actually been looking up references to Jubilee Terrace where my Sugrue's had lived, when up came John Harrison also living there and his having been caught with suspected stolen wood. He was a 'dredger' it is noted in the newspaper, and he said he'd found the wood, but with mention in the court of his former theft and of at that time his attempt to throw a man in the river, his word was not taken in trust and he was sent back to gaol, his young daughter Maria being left alone yet again. So, more than one of my ancestors has lived at Jubilee Terrace, but a few years apart. I have wondered if the Harrison and Sugrue families knew each other. At some point their children, Maria Harrison and Thomas Sugrue would become sweethearts, and maybe their friendship began when they were still children. Young Thomas may have learnt from Maria's father, John, his skills on the Thames river, for which he would not follow the path of his own father in building work. AuthorAuthor Susie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees.
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I am perusing more the story of my ancestor Bartholomew Sugrue, a life that never stops fascinating me, regardless that it was so tragic. I am so near to completing a great write-up on him, and yet there is always more here and there to discover. When all is full and done then I can begin the book writing. But the Sugrue genealogical presentation naturally takes for ever, so it seems, as such things do. In gathering together workhouse records, I found one I'd not accessed before. This shows how important it is that we go back again and again, looking for any relevant records, and revising and updating accordingly. My Sugrue's had much association with the slum boarding houses of Deptford during their time of destitution. I had seen reference to them as being at 'Pesters', a boarding house run by William Pester, and now by this new record I saw that earlier on they were at 'Freaks', a lodging house run by Charles Freak, all being on Mill Lane. In between these two addresses they were at the Mitre, not the pub of Greenwich I realise, but another Mill Lane boarding house which doubled up as a place selling beer. The total poverty and destitute situation is what led Bartholomew Sugrue to spend most of the rest of his life, from the age of 57 upwards, in workhouses. He and his wife Catherine no longer rented their own home, but were in effect homeless, moving from one boarding house to another. Only the poorest of the poor would ever frequent such places. Despite working so much on expanding Bartholomew Sugrue's write-up, when I print it out, it still seems so lacking. More is needed. I see on Bartholomew's marriage certificates, and who he took in as as lodger, who were his friends, fellow Irish labourers, as is often the way with ex-pats, mixing with their own kind and not integrating with the traditional people. Those surnames of his friends, Reardon and McCarthy, there was much trouble in the community incited by men of such names. Maybe they were brothers of the friends, or cousins. Maybe they were Bartholomew's cousins, all related. These men were often in the papers for their drunken antics, when fights would break out and mobs of hundreds would surround them. This was the company Bartholomew kept, of the wild untamed Irish. He may not even always have been one to drink, but the people around him did that. And, even, with all the deaths from cholera abounding, alcohol was believed to offer protection against this, for which Bartholomew may have encouraged his wife, Catherine, to drink too. There are maybe three other sons they had, who had died when little, which needs checking out: Bartholomew junior and his twin Daniel, and maybe a Michael, being a twin of Edmund. When I feel the grief of losing my sister and how deep that is, then how must it have been for the ancestors who tended to lose at least one child. As such, grief is a normal human experience. For all such troubles, with the ancestors being so poor and but subsistence living, they had not the time nor space to contemplate and self heal from such pain and grief. Their quick solutions were, one, the church, and two, alcohol. Rents needed paying and hungry mouths feeding, for which one had to work, work, work. Parish relief could sometimes be called upon, maybe a medicine for ones ailments or shoes for children's bare feet. I find myself understanding more Bartholomew's years in the Poplar workhouse, as times were changing. When it is illegal to beg for ones needs, and naturally stealing is not an option, and yet there is no work available, one has to turn to parish aid. There were indeed times of sickness and lack of work when the Sugrue's resorted to asking for help, and not least when son Edmund was dying from pleuritis, in which instance the workhouse officials took a full day to get to the lad, despite it being an emergency, as I have now seen. And Edmund was in the care of the workhouse for the last four days of his life and still died. I wonder if there was that old equivalent to our concern that if you send vulnerable souls into a hospital or old peoples home they'll likely not come out again. Bartholomew was certainly quick to get his other children out of the workhouse, despite the struggles facing him as a lone father, as if they were safer with him than under such a regime. Well, fast forward, and the time had come when Bartholomew was so in need of parish relief, but no longer was there any out-help on offer, for there had arisen the Poplar experiment. Any money to help out the family now had to be earned at Poplar workhouse in a prison like situation, with hard labour, and a fare of only bread and water. However strong a constitution Bartholomew may have had, years of this wore him down, and close association with the sickest of society contaminated his health with tuberculosis. The Poplar experiment was a terrible one, a destroyer of families, a punishment for being poor. The new way was a response to greater and greater numbers of people needing assistance, for which those in need were not now individuals, but one mass of unruly poor. To weed out those taking advantage of potential freebies, the real destitute had to pay the consequences. I sense the unheard frustrations of my ancestors, due to their being misunderstood, accused and judged. Beneath all struggle and external perception, there was the heart of a family, who loved and cared about one another, their genuine humanity, their joy and playfulness, their innocence. I guess that's what I'd like to portray in a book, though I don't know if I am able. Maybe I should first try writing short stories or children's books, to kind of warm up to the big task. A compendium of ancestral tales could inspire children to find an interest in genealogy. AuthorAuthor Susie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. A druid friend was messaging me that he'd like me to look at the genealogy of a 'bardic angel', and so I connected with her; Angel Grace, what a lovely name. I discovered that although she is one for light and liberation, and often sings in Britain's ancient holy places, her family ancestry has been one of crime, controversy and violence. Granted that her musical spiritual self is inherited from her mother, her fathers lineage has quite some darkness. Sometimes that passion in them was turned to political purpose, defending the oppressed, in which she herself is motivated. Her grandfather was an anarchist, getting involved in strikes, assaulting a policeman and getting arrested. His own father was a bigamist, illegally scoring for himself a much younger second wife. At least as far back as this, Angel knew of such things. What Angel did not know, but which I discovered, was that the bigamists own father, Frederick Grace, who at the age of 18 was a printers apprentice, had obsessively stalked a girl to the point of trying to murder her in the street with a flick knife. When she screamed people came to her aid and he did not achieve his goal, though even while under arrest he kept repeating he would indeed kill her if she would not agree to be his companion, or if she should dare to walk or talk with another. One newspaper called his the way of the 'lion's wooing'. A spell in prison was in order for Frederick Grace. He had lived with his grandfather, Thomas Grace, since falling out with his own father. Thomas was a tripeman, a seller of animals giblets and innards, till he became the first in a line of printers, working for the Satirist, an early family link to challenging the system. He was simply the copper printer, a worker, not involved with any writing, but that atmosphere of political reckoning was around him anyway. AuthorAuthor Susie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. |
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