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The Scanlon Story
James ’Jim’ Scanlon was born in Canning
Town, London on the 4th April 1932. He
died at Sobell House Hospice Oxfordshire
on 19 March 2000.
He had known for some time that he had a
terminal heart condition, but he bravely
decided to pass his time in a positive
manner.
He purchased a computer,
engaged me to teach him how to use it,
and set about writing this family
history. It had been agreed that he
should put the basic text together in
Microsoft Word and scan the pictures. I
would then have taught him to use a
publishing program to prepare the final
document
Unfortunately he was taken into hospital
on Friday 17th of March 2000 and.
Realizing that he was unlikely to live,
asked Dawn Bull, his daughter-in-law to
ensure that it was finished form him. I
have used his original text, a copy of
which can be seen in the appendix, He
has written it as he would have said it
which gives it an endearing quality, and
will make it an instantly recognisable
to his relatives and those who knew him
well, (I have omitted it from this copy)
As I have prepared this work it has
struck me that we do not realize how
interesting our lives can be to other
people.
Jim has dealt with many matters
in a summary fashion, but I constantly
find myself wanting to ask for more
details about the places and events he
mentions.
With his wish in mind Dawn kindly put me
in touch with Jim’s brother George and
his wife, a lovely couple still living
in Carterton.
They have provided
George’s version of events and I have
added this as the second part of the
book.
I hope this book brings pleasure to
those who remember the Scanlon boys.
Patrick Wilmore
Stonesfield
June 2000
We will start this biography two
genera¬tions earlier with my
grandparents:
About the pictures on another page.
I am forced to say "believe to be"
because I'm pretty sure neither of my
parents are actually in the pictures and
for whatever reason the originals were
never authenticated during My parents
lifetime. Also there's the old taboo of
those times, illegitimacy. I'm certain
my old Dad was although I've no evidence
that my Mum was. I estimate the photo's
date from around the turn of the
century. Dad's parents were either.
Irish or London born Irish. At one point
he was-a dock¬worker in the Albert docks
and , possibly under the influence, he
had a serious accident in falling into a
ships hold and was subsequently awarded
the large sum for those days, about
1910, of £300. With this windfall he
bought a horse and cart and set up as a
travelling greengrocer till He was
forced to sell off his assets to support
his alcoholic lifestyle.
My mothers mother died in 1907 when she
was only thirty five and my mother was
only seven years old. Her father lived
for another thirty two years dying three
days after the out-break of world war
two. He never re-married and between the
ages of seven and fourteen my mother was
brought up by an aunt. Her other sister
and two brothers were all some years
older and it seems likely they remained
in the family home. Incidentally, as an
indication of the cost of living; or in
this case, the cost of dying, her
fathers funeral with two carriages four
horses and elm casket came to the grand
total of twelve pounds ten shillings
which in 1940 is a lot more expensive
than at first it appears.
I recall my dad telling me he first saw
mum sitting on a bench , reading a book,
in the local park. This was very much in
keeping with her nature as she was an
avid reader of the Mills and Boon type
romances 'til the end of her days.
They
were married in 1925 and it wasn't for
another 15 months before the arrival of
their first born.
I know that dad, who
had been out of work, was expecting to
start a new job the week following their
wedding. This probably accounts for them
going on 'honeymoon' the week before
their the wedding and, due to a lack of
cash, then couldn't even spend their
time under the same roof. At least I
presume that was the reason, it could
have been old fashioned propriety that
they were still unmarried. At all events
mum was staying in a seaside hostel in
Ramsgate for women only, arranged
through a Women's Holi¬day Fund scheme.
There were very strict conditions
imposed as may be seen in the copy of
`Rules For Women' reproduced on another
page
Dad was staying in a cheap B& B in the
area and they returned home to share a
house with her father until he died
fifteen years later in 1940.
They lived the typically hard-up life of
East End slum dwellers and I suppose
their one bright star in those
depression years was that dad was
fortunate enough to have regular full
time work, especially at Spratts Dog
Biscuit Company, still going strong
today,
As a young lad my dad broke his left arm
and it was set in such a slip shod
fashion that he was never able to
properly straighten it again. This was a
blessing in disguise perhaps, because in
1916 he was enlisted into the
Northumberland Fusiliers when the great
war was at its height. After training
and serving about six months he was
medically downgraded and discharged,
thus avoiding the full horrors of the
war.
During the late twenties and early
thirties, they had their family of three
sons, Patrick, George and Jim. My hazy
memories of the later thirties are of
the weekly treat of fruit slab-cake, a
wonderful Xmas present from merchant
seaman Uncle Aff of a`magic lantern'
which allowed us to have our very own slide
Shows on a sheet on the bedroom wall,
and, bed bugs!; almost unpleasant aspect
of slum life - an so smelly{
The outbreak of World War Two in 1939
caused great upheaval in everyone's
lives, and resulted in a great exodus of
children from the vulnerable towns and
cities to the relative peace of the
countryside.
Many of these evacuees, our family
included, never returned to the 'big
smoke' again. We young Scanlans aged
7,10 and 12, were put on a train by our
parents and despatched to foster parents
in the countryside.
I settled very well into my new, rather
posh (to us) suroundings as did George
in the farmhouse next door.
Not so
however, my eldest brother Pat, who was
soon off home again. He returned about a
Year later when the bombing started in
earnest. My parents stayed in London
until the summer of 1941 when their
house received some bomb damage an, with
shattered nerves they joined us in
Alvescot.They were in the first
in¬stance, given temporary lodgings with
a retired hurdle maker, one of the last
in a disappearing breed of rural
tradesmen (Probable the Mitchels) and
then, a few months later were able to
rent a small Cottage.
The family were
then re-united under one roof although
it was a bit traumatic for me as I had
formed a strong attachment with my
foster mother.
However things righted
themselves over a period of time
although I think the trauma affected me
for the rest of my life.
During the war years, indeed for the
rest of his working life, dad was
employed as a la¬bourer on Brize Norton
Aerodrome and, for the period 1941 to
1945 he was a very happy member of the
Home Guard , and I think our local
Clanfield Company had a great deal in
common with the characters as portrayed
in Dads Army on the telly.
Just befoe the end of the war my
brother Pat wscalled up for his military
service in the RASC and served in
Palestine during the traumatic period of
setting up the state of Israel.
George
was next and also joined he RASC and
spent his time in Germany working on the
Berlin Airlift.
I completed the treble
by also choosing the RASC and spent my
time in Egypt during the time of King
Farouk's abdication and the military
regimes of General Neguib and Colonel
Nasser.
Unlike my brothers, I didn't learn my
lesson and three years after my
compulsory spell of military service, I
was once again back in uniform this time
as a volunteer. I had spotted an
advertisement in the Daily Mirror
calling for ex-servicemen to enlist in
the Royal New Zealand Air Force and I
signed on the dotted line binding myself
to a five year contract of service until
1960
The five years I spent in New Zealand
began, and also ended, in reverse
direction, with a five week holiday
aboard the Shaw Savill Cruise liner S.S.
Southern Cross , see picture on another
page.
It
was the ships maiden voy¬age with
welcoming brass bands, steel band and
South Sea Island guitar and banjo band
at the various ports of call en route.
It really was the holiday of a lifetime
calling at Trinidad, Curacao, Panama,
Tahiti and Fiji with banquets of
delicious meals and parties without end.
Too much perhaps!.
We've now got to return to the early
fifties to keep this account of the
"Eastenders" on track, although in fact
by this time such a term is hardly
descriptive of the family. Apart from
Mum and Dad, who did more or less retain
their east end accent, we three lads
spoke less and less like Londoners as we
grew older. We even lost our affinity to
think and feel like townies and
harboured no desire to return 'home'
ever again.
In the fifties my brothers did a variety
of driving jobs from lorries to taxis
whilst I did mainly shop or office work.
George was the first to have a serious
courtship and subsequently he and Gwynne
were Married whilst I was still in
Egypt. In 1955 just before I left for
New Zealand, Pat had met and married Jean.
During the late fifties and early
sixties my brothers each fathered two
children whilst I remained, not by
choice, a bachelor and spent many years
looking after my ageing parents. It was
to be the start of many years of
suffering from mental illness. George
spent 25 years until retirement as a bus
driver, whilst Pat worked as a driver
for RAF Brize Norton until his
retirement. My work was split between
storekeeping jobs, interspersed with a
couple of years running the village
stores and Post Office in Alvescot.
My father had enjoyed ten happy years of
retire¬ment before he had the first of
three major strokes which then produced
a very miserable period of ill health.
He succumbed 3 years later in 1977 to a
final stroke aged 77. Mother contin¬ued
to enjoy good health for a further eight
years before sustaining a stroke in 1985
at the age of 84.
In 1989 I purchased my council bungalow
under the government right to buy
scheme. The purchase was coincidental
with meeting Gwen, as a result of a
lonely hearts ad in a local newspaper. I
was in a quandary as to whether to
proceed in the new circumstances, but
did go ahead and managed to produce a
reasonable profit upon selling on three
years later.
After setting up home with Gwen I found
myself developing into quite a gardener,
by choice, I actually enjoyed my
gardening. To this day I find it
incredible how a non-gardener of sixty
years standing could change so much.
Proof, I suppose if any were needed,
that this eastender had finally become
Countrified.
This garden, and a few years later, a
camper caravan were to afford both Gwen
and I great pleasure during our final
couple of years together.
Sadly in the autumn of 1994, Gwen was
diagnosed with cancer of the liver, and
practical as ever, she suggested we get
married to protect my right to inherit
the tenancy of our council house.
We married in September, see photo, had
a weeks honeymoon split between the New
Forest and lee on Solent and after just
one night in Sobell House she died on
November 10th 1994 at the age of 58.
My eldest brother Pat, died of a heart
attack in July 1996.
Owing to the death of Jim before he had
completed his book, as his only
surviving brother, George has written
down a few of the things that he can
remember about the early years to add a
bit of local flavour
On the 1 st of September 1939, at the
outbreak of World War Two, we three boys
were evacuated together to Alvescot in
Oxfordshire. Jim was seven, I was ten
and Pat twelve.
We travelled by train
from London to Witney, with our few
belongings, our gas masks and with a
label round our necks.
On arrival at
Witney, we assembled on the Lees, We
were sorted out and given a few rations
to tide us over for a few days, and a
large bar of Cadbury's chocolate, which
needless to say was soon eaten.
We travelled on to Alvescot on the
Oxford City double-decker buses. Little
did I know then that I would spend
thirty years of my adult life driving
them for a living.
We were taken to
Alvescot vicarage where prospective
foster parents had gathered; to choose
which children they would take. It was
decided that Jim would have to stay with
Pat, as he was the eldest So it was that
Jim went to Mr and Mrs Trinder and me to
the farm next door with Mr and Mrs
Edmonds.
Jim went as an only child
whereas I made up a family of seven. I
was very happy. They treated me as one
of their own.
I always said I had the
best billet in the village. It was such
a different life to the East End.
I was so innocent. I had not been living
there long when Mr Edmonds thought I
needed to be taught a few of the facts
of farm life. He took me out to the barn
one night, where an old sow was
farrowIng. I had to hold the torch. I
had a shock when all these little
piglets came popping out. I really
believed they came out of the teats.
We went to school at St peters, Alvescot
and then on to St Christopher's,
Langford. The same schools my two sons
and my grandchildren have gone to in
their lives.
Several of our London
teachers came to Alvescot with us. The
schools were very crowded. We were each
child given a bicycle by the county
council.
It was some times very dark when we rode
home from school because they had what
was called British Summer Time during
the war, to give the farmers longer
daylight hours.
Mr Wadesone, our teacher
had the only set of bicycle lights, so
he rode in front with the very dim front
light and we all followed in single
file. The last one had the back red one.
We grew our own vegetables at the
school, mended our shoes and did book
binding and mending for all of the local
schools and libraries. Perhaps that's
where brother Pat got his great love of
printing?
Mother and Pop (as we called our Dad)
followed us to Alvescot after about two
years. They were bombed so badly and Pop
was thrown across the yard by the blast.
They fled from London, with their nerves
in a terrible state, in the clothes they
stood up in. They got temporary lodgings
with Miss Mitchel, the local
schoolteacher, and her brother.
The
local people were very kind to Mum and
Pop.
Fred Neville, the village
shopkeeper, let them have groceries and
said, `Pay me when you get a job." Fred
remained a good friend of ours until he
died a few years ago.
Pat was the only
one of us to return to London for a
short while but none of us ever wanted
to live in town again.
I was very popular with the other
evacuees for miles around and they
visited me often because we had apples
and pears growing on trees which they
head never seen before.
All of the local kids used to come and
take the fruit freely but Mr Edmunds
used to turn a blind eye as there was
plenty of it. He was one of the best men
you Could wish to meet.
Jim and me joined the scouts as you can
see from the earlier photograph that Jim
put in. We used to have idyllic summers,
camping in Old Court field and cooking
meals over campfires. We used to make
rafts and swim in the old mill strewn,
which seemed to be much deeper than it u
today. We used to catch trout, and take
the odd Moorhens egg to cook.
I remember on amusing thing that
happened. The local policeman, PC
Golding, who lived at Kencot, which was
half way to school knew almost
everything that we got up to. He knew
all of our names. One day I gave a boy a
lift home from school on the crossbar of
my bike, which was illegal. As we cycled
past his house, he spotted us and
shouted for us to stop, but I dropped
the boy off and pedalled like mad up the
road. I looked round and was terrified
to see he had got his bike and was
following after me. I rode miles out of
my way to lose him, but I did
eventually.
I was very frightened next morning when
I got to school as I knew he would be
waiting to grab me; sure enough, he
was! He shouted to stop and grabbed my
brother Pat, by the scruff of the neck
and gave him a good old cuffing. Pat was
not amused. It was some time before I
told him what it was about. I can't
remember what he did to me.
Mum and Pop got a cottage in the middle
of Alvescot, with no tap water or
electricity, and there were sometimes
cows and horses in the field. You can
imagine what it was like coming from the
East End of London. They had probably
never seen a cow before, no wonder
mother never went out very much.
After about two and a half years the
council gave them a cottage down Lower
End, Alvescot. After some of the
happiest days of my childhood with the
lovely Edmonds family I went back to
live with Mum and Pop.
I have had a very happy and contented
life. I retired at the age of sixty-five
and moved with my wife to Carterton.
My
family are all living nearby. I feel I
have done my bit to carry on the name of
Scanlan. It is not a very common name,
except in Ireland, which is where the
East-Ender Scanlans originated from. If
you went to county Wicklow
cemeteries you would probably find a
good few grave stones with that name on
them.
I shall finish by saying a few words
about my brother Pat.
After leaving school Pat worked as an
M.O.D. driver for the R.A.F. In his
spare time he was busy at his printing
which had been his hobby since an early
age. He was a great collector of
anything to do with printing. After
retirement he took it up as a business,
working from his garden shed and spent
all his spare time there.
He had a HEIDELBERG press which
weighed
over a ton and on delivery it had to be
lowered by crane into the shed after the
roof had been removed. He did a lot of
work for local businesses and charities.
Three days after returning from holiday
he died suddenly in 1996 after living in
Carterton for over thirty years.
His beloved printing press, made in the
1930's has been donated to the Cheshire
Community print Centre in Ellesmere
Port. This is something he would have
been happy about. It left his work shop
the same way as it went in-through the
-roof.
This was the write up in the parish Pump
after George's death
GEORGE SCANLON 1sT FEBRUARY 1929 TO
11T`-' MARCH 2O06 Resident of Alvescot
for fifty-seven years.
George began life in February 1929, the
second son of Patrick and Annie. The
family lived in Canning Town, in the
East End of London, and were real
cockneys. When war broke out George and
his two brothers Pat and Jim were
evacuated to Alvescot.
Like all evacuees they travelled by
train with their few belongings, a gas
mask and a luggage label around their
necks. The train brought them to Witney
Station where they were met, sorted out
and transferred to Alvescot by an Oxford
City double decker bus (little did
George think that he was to spend 33
years of his later life driving such a
bus). The children were given a few
rations and a bar of Cadbury's chocolate
soon to be eaten.
They were taken to Alvescot Vicarage
where prospective foster-parents had
gathered to choose which child they
would take. George went to the farm with
Mr. and Mrs. Edmunds, Pat and Jim next
door to the Trinders. George was part of
a family of seven; he was very happy and
treated like one of the family - he
always said he had the best billet in
the village! It is hard to imagine how
different life would have been for
George, a cockney city child coming into
the country and seeing fruit growing on
trees and piglets being born.
George schooled at St. Peter's Alvescot.
On a Sunday he used to pump the organ in
the church (he was in the choir for a
while but was asked to leave as his
voice was so awful). He went on to St.
Christopher's, Langford, cycling there
on his brand new bicycle provided by the
council - he had never envisaged such
wealth!
After two years of heavy bombing,
George's parents also came out to
Alvescot and they set up home as a
family, first in quite an isolated
cottage then in Pemscott Close. His
parents would have had an equal culture
shock with such frightening beasts as
cows!
George's young life was a good one, he
learnt to mend his shoes, he grew
vegetables, he camped in Old Court field
in summer cooking on camp fires and
building rafts and swimming in the Mill
Stream (pursuits sadly not enjoyed by
the youth of today).
Leaving school George went to Oakey &
Sons, then on into the army, where he
served in the Berlin airlift for two
years. He enjoyed the army, especially
marching and the uniform. He was always
very smart. After the army George worked
at Smiths for a while, Backs Coaches and
taxi driving, before his long spell
driving for the Oxford Bus Co from the
Witney depot. After he retired from that
he worked for Alpha taxis taking
handicapped children to local schools
(which he loved).
Gwyn was on a coach outing from South
Leigh to Alvescot and she first met
George in the Red Lion. Shortly after
that another meeting was manufactured in
South Leigh when Gwyn spotted George's
motor bike outside the Masons Arms.
George was inside with his friend Les
and Gwyn outside with Hazell. That state
of affairs soon changed and they were
married in St. Leonard's Church Eynsham
in 1952.
Richard and Mark were born in 1953 and
1957.They married two sisters, Carol and
Jo. George was immensely proud of his
family and loved going out walking with
his four grandchildren. He was always
happy making things in his shed and made
them all different sized walking sticks!
George and Gwyn moved to Carterton some
eight years ago when his health began to
cause him problems. Gwyn has looked
after George over the latter years with
home dialysis and enabled him to have a
good quality of life.
He was a friendly man, a good neighbour,
he enjoyed the garden although more with
a watching brief while Gwyn worked in
it. He was a member of the British
Legion.The family always enjoyed their
holidays, in the early years camping in
Cornwall then trips to Canada and
Europe.
He never went to sleep without a`God
Bless' to Gwyn.
Much to remember with love and
thankfulness, a life with so much change
in it but one lived well.
Pam Barling
Pat Scanlon’s write up after his death
in the Carterton Community magazine
PAT SCANLAN - PRINTER
Pat Scanlan was evacuated from London,
with his brother, to live in Alvescot
where his parents came to live later. He
worked as a MOD driver for the RAF and
in his spare time was busy at his
printing, which had been his hobby from
an early age. He was a great collector
of anything to do with printing. After
retirement he took it up as a business,
working from his garden workshop and
spending all his spare time there. He
had a Heidelburg Press which weighed
over a ton and on delivery had to be
lowered by crane into the workshop -
after the roof had been removed!
He did a lot of work for local
businesses and charities. Three days
after returning from a holiday he died
suddenly in July 1996. He had lived in
Carterton for over 30 years. His beloved
printing press - made in the 1930's -
has been donated to the Cheshire
Community Print Centre, a charity in
Ellesmere Port. This is something he
would have been very happy about. It
left his workshop the same way it went
in - through the roof.
His wife, Jean, came to Carterton in
1939 when her father, Mr Jellyman, took
over as manager of the Co-op. At that
time the shop was small with staff
serving at counters and the family lived
upstairs. The house is still there but
with the fruit and vegetables section
where the shop was and staff rooms where
the family lived. There were laurel
hedges surrounding the shop with a gate
at the entrance. Jean went to Carterton
Primary school when it was just two
classrooms in the original building -
still to be seen - and two teachers,
Miss Huggart and Miss Sellwood the
infant teacher. She later went to
Burford School leaving at 15 years old
and later worked at the Co-op with her
father, by which time the shop had
become self¬service, one of the first to
do so. This was in the 1950's and the
Americans then occupied the airfield.
Jean met Pat who was a Taxi driver at
the base, and brought customers to the
Co-op, they married at Black Bourton
church on February 19th 1955. They had a
son and daughter and two grandchildren,
all who still live in Carterton.
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