Ford Park Cemetery revisted

Plymouth

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

 

Ancestry

Also on this day, I hiked across town to the Ford Park Cemetery again. On the way I stopped at a grocery store to buy a banana. Cereal seemed a bargain at one to one & a half pounds a box. In Victoria they’d probably be $4.50 - $6. The banana cost only 17p!  

 

I was surprised when I submitted the form at the cemetery that the women did the search then and there. The result was also surprising. The vault of my great-great-great-grandparents, Thomas and Mary Maddick Stevens, is at the front of the property, close to the street.
 



It’s a double vault and there are two markers. I never would have found this on my own because I barely did when standing right in front of it. The office woman explained that these people would have been related or at least known one another but there are last names I’ve never heard of: Ambrose, Acford, Martin, Barker and Dingle. The one named Martin is Thomas' sister - Anne Stevens married to Solomon Martin. The print-out shows names of only people who are buried there. I wrote what I could see but some of it is unreadable. Interestingly, there is no mention of Robert White Stevens who, we thought, was supposed to be buried here.

It was also odd that Mary Maddick Stevens wasn’t mentioned but she was named on the stone so I reported that to the office. The woman there said I did them a favour because the info was on the computer; they just didn’t know where she belonged. Someone is in the process of transcribing this information.

They do tours of notable people so she was interested when I mentioned that Thomas had been mayor of Plymouth. She asked that if we ever figure out the reason for the double vault to please drop them a line. I don’t know how we could ever figure that out, unless we discover they’re family members - sisters who married and got different last names, for instance. One of the Pardews is named on the Stevens stone.

#7 on my list - Angelina Green Stevens (don't know where the name Green came from) is one I would have liked to have met. There she was, listed in censuses as living in Horrabridge, Devon, which, granted, is only 11 miles north-ish of Plymouth, but her life seemed quite different from the rest of the family. She boarded with a couple as a gardener and poultry keeper, then lived with the head of a private school, and later was in a cottage, living on her own means.

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On the internet I found a picture of a separate stone for Elizabeth's husband, George Acford, who died February 7, 1845 at age 40. 

Who are these people and how do they relate to our family? We may never know. I thought perhaps that Elizabeth was someone in our family but it seems not.

 

On the internet I found this:
George Acford, born about 1806 in Devon. Grocer. Married to Elizabeth Hutchens, November 25 (my Glenn's birthday), 1832, Stoke Damerel (now a suburb of Plymouth). There is a Mr. William Thomas Hutchens in the probate for their daughter Selina. Well, who the are the Hutchens? The plot thickens.

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In the vicinity of the vaults were stones with names that appear is my family, Hearder and Pepperell, though these might not be related. I took photos of them anyway, just in case. 

St. Andrew's Church

Plymouth

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

 

The eggs are really good at the Bowling Green Hotel, so I’ve been having either scrambled eggs or a cheese omelette, along with fruit, toast and sausages for breakfast.

When I set out in the morning, something was being set up on the Promenade. Maybe the Olympic torch was about to come through. I walked over to the Barbican. It turned out the historian fellow wasn’t much help at all, which was disappointing. Some of my family lived right on the Parade and/or the Quay. It’s hard to tell what’s what because the buildings don’t have numbers and the Parade, I think, runs on both sides of the water, in a V shape.

I wondered if that lackluster visit was going to set the tone for the day, but no. It changed when I decided to pop into the big church to see the windows. I was outside reading a sign when a bright young fellow came along and led me inside. ‘It’s really cool,’ he said enthusiastically.

'Is there a fee to go in?' I asked.

'Pffft, no. We're not like that.' (So I left a donation since they didn’t ask.)

Then I got talking to a pleasant, shaky old fellow. Everyone in there was genuinely friendly. 

 

I remember at the time, just eight months or so after losing my husband, focussing on the dagger through the heart in this window, because that's how I felt.

The church was bombed in the war. Roof was demolished and so were the walls down to 10 feet. Yesterday in the book store I saw a diagram of all the spots in Plymouth that were hit by bombs. It’s shocking to see, at least for me. The Barbican didn’t get it as bad as other areas. Germans apparently made a point of dropping bombs over Plymouth on their way over.

There must be countless stories… like the little boy I was told about who went some place to fetch his dad, but was told by the people in the room that he had just left. The boy ran out and up a staircase just as a bomb hit, killing everyone he’d been talking to moments before. (He and his Dad were okay.) Or another little boy who was under some sort of protective cover under the kitchen table that was flung 100 yards or so when a bomb hit. The boy was extracted but the rest of his family was killed.

So a lot of Plymouth has been rebuilt.

This saying always makes me think of Glenn. I wondered why it was in this church.

Another building was outside around the back.

* * * * *

I’ve been considering a coach trip. The one to Agatha Christie’s house on Friday is sold out. Also on Friday is a trip to the Devon Fair. I would enjoy that. What concerns me is that it makes for a long day. It would be ok in fine weather but the forecast apparently is for drizzle. On Saturday there is a trip Cardiff. But I’m not sure what there is to do there. Sunday - a trip to Longleat, which also includes a safari park, which I find a little off-putting. I’ve wanted to see Longleat for some time though. Actually, tomorrow I was going to bus over to Polperro, Cornwall. It requires a bus change. Went to the depot late afternoon to find the office had closed early due to a staffing problem! Maybe I’ll have a relaxing day in to write some postcards.

I wasn’t sure how to get to the bus station so I asked a man who was heading my way. He wasn’t like the regular sort you see in Plymouth. He was dressed in tweeds and couldn’t have looked more old-time English, unless he’d had a monocle or pith helmet. ‘Cross that road there. You see? Then cross that road, where that chap is now….’ And then he went over the instructions a second time.

A relaxing day - Tour of the Citadel

Plymouth
Tuesday May 15, 2012

 

Doc Martin viewers will know what I mean when I say that the guide of the Citadel tour sounded like Al, and a woman in Duttons restaurant reminded me of Mrs. Tishell.

 

A memorial for soldiers killed in Afghanistan is situated outside the gate.

Photographs cannot be taken of the inside the Citadel but are allowed to be taken looking out from it.

View of Tinside Pool from the Citadel.

Plymouth must have been a wild place at one time. A funny thing about the Citadel is that not only were cannons facing out to sea but in towards the city as well.

I soon got the impression that Sir Francis Drake was not always highly regarded in this town. His involvement in piracy and slave trading was often mentioned. The tour guide chuckled and said that he was 'a bit of a lad.'

The tour was interesting and I was glad I went.

* * * * *

Tuesday was bell ringing practice night so I looked forward to those evenings when I would open my hotel window wide and listen to the bells while emailing.

A relaxing day - back to the Barbican

Plymouth
Tuesday May 15, 2012

 

I walked back to the Barbican. 



 

You can always get ice cream from these vans parked along Madeira Road on the waterfront. I rarely did though; I saved my stomach space for scones.

This must have been the walkway that connects to the other side of the harbour known as Coxside.

It goes right by the large National Marine Aquarium over there which, oddly, I never visited even though I was later given a free pass. Marine life isn't a big draw for me but, in retrospect, I should have gone. It is the largest aquarium in the UK.

The large building is the aquarium

In between is a lock to Sutton Harbour. I understood that it is privately owned but there is a pedestrian footway which the public is allowed to use. Push a button, wait for an alarm to ring and the gates to open, then rush through - usually in a herd. The distinctive alarm is heard frequently so for me it was a cheery part of being in the Barbican.

I have no idea where I took this picture but no doubt ship disasters were a part of life in Plymouth, particularly before the breakwater was finished in 1841. 2½ miles out, it supposedly weighs nearly as much as the Great Pyramid.

Just a boat I liked.

A couple of pictures taken on my way back to the hotel.

 

The bowling green was just across and down the street a little from my hotel.



A relaxing day - in the Barbican

Plymouth
Tuesday May 15, 2012

 

Ancestry
I was glad to see it wasn't raining.

I went over to Barbican to talk to a local historian in a book store. He is only in on Wednesdays but I had a chat with a very nice and interesting man in there who adds colour in watercolour to the historian's drawings. I must have talked to him for a good hour.

 

According to the plymouthdata website Robert White Stevens (younger brother of my great-great-great-grandfather, Thomas Stevens, the mayor) was born in 1806 to John Stevens, landlord of the Maritime Inn on the Barbican, and the former Miss Sarah Lee. Is the current Maritime Inn the same one? Over the door is a date that doesn't match, something like the mid 1800's. When I later asked the historian about it, he didn't know anything; only said the date on the building could be wrong. The inn goes from the Parade side through to Southside Street.

I wonder if anywhere other than Plymouth has Opes.

I went down a charming street and smelled food. Got a Cornish pasty and ate it out of the bag. Two women sat beside me - only two tables in the place - and one turned out to be Canadian so I got talking to them. Most of the day was spent chatting to people, not getting much done. But I was starved for company and getting to like the slower pace.

Next, I went into a used book store where two people were behind the counter. The woman said:
'Can we help you?'
'Well, um, I'm looking for a book but don't quite know the name... something like 'The seven men of Plymouth.'
'The twelve men of Plymouth', she said, 'By Gerald Hamilton...'
'Edwards,' I added.

I was amazed she knew this. Then she said she knew him! Not personally but wherever it was that she worked, she would chat with him when he came in. She said he lived in Oxford (!) but didn't know where. (Gerald Hamilton Edwards was the son of Robert White Stevens mentioned above.)

Unfortunately their copy was sold last year but they ordered one in for me. I don't really expect there to be anyfamily info that we don't have already but would like to see it to be sure. It's a thin book apparently.

A picture of the Beatles at the Hoe can be found in several stores in Plymouth.

Plymouth fashion

The top picture shows an ad in Drake Circus Shopping Centre. It looks so nautical, so in keeping with Plymouth. Don't expect to see such a thing out on the streets though - this is hardly the Milan of England; it's a world away from London for that matter.

More likely you will see really bad hair, often in solid colours such as in the picture on the lower right. I saw it so frequently that I had to wonder if a craft store had a special on ink or dye. It seems that Plymouth is in desperate need of good hairdressers.

And the fashion... oh dear. Granted, bad or lack of fashion can be seen anywhere, but here, despite all the young university students, it usually missed the mark.

The Guildhall in Plymouth

Plymouth

May 14, 2012

 

Ancestry research

I went over to the Guildhall, which was mostly rebuilt after the war, but was dismayed to see the bunch from some tattoo event there cleaning up. Apparently they'd be there all day, so I had to tread carefully over floor cloths and around tables while burly guys toted equipment out.

 

I wasn't too sure what I was looking for. There is supposed to be a window there dedicated to my great-great-great-grandfather, Thomas Stevens the mayor. I found three in one room that were like stained glass church windows. In a main hall were windows with pictures painted on - quite amateurish. There was also supposed to be a coat of arms. A shield/crest is in that room but no one in the building could tell me what it was for. There was writing on the wall below it but it was all covered by portable walls. I asked when they might come down - thought about going back the next day but was informed that some do for the mayor was being set up when the tattoo people were finished so the Guildhall would be closed all week. Luckily a helpful, non-tattooed man came along and moved the walls away for me. Didn't see anything related to my family there.

 

 

These pictures appear to be stuck on the glass, like Mac Tac.

Carvings on the ceiling supposedly depict the labours of Hercules.

The shield and panels were all behind the movable walls before the nice man moved them aside. The top part of the design on the shield is like part of the town's coat of arms.

I would think the window was lost when the building was gutted in the war, but can't find any info to confirm. Somewhere was stated that the Arms was formerly in the guildhall, and was in the window. I would have liked to have seen it. Apparently it had (a?) chevron azure and two eagles. In searching on the internet I learned something about colours used in heraldry...

There are five colours and two metals that may be used in heraldry, called tinctures. They use French names and are:

• Or (gold)
• Argent (silver)
• Gules (red)
• Azure (blue)
• Vert (green)
• Sable (black)
• Purpure (purple)
  
  
• Less common tinctures include:
• Tenne (orange or light brown)
• Sanguine (dark red)
• Murrey (dark purple)
• Bleu Celeste (light blue)
• Carnation (flesh coloured)
• Cendree (grey)
  These are, however, much rarer than the seven above.

Not related as far as I know, but Tozer is a name in our family. This man, Clifford Tozer, was alderman in 1952.

Outside, not far from the Guildhall, sit the remains of Charles Church, shown here with the mall in behind.

Thomas Stevens, mentioned above, was born in Plymouth in 1799 and was baptized in Charles Church on January 3rd, 1800.