Help needed: do you recognise these WWII servicemen?

 

The Auckland Museum has just digitized and released a whole bunch of photographs taken during WWII by a local photographer, Tudor Collins. They all show American servicemen posted to the small town of Warkworth, New Zealand, prior to their deployment in the Pacific.

These are wonderful portraits of young men enjoying a few weeks of rest and Kiwi hospitality before being hurled into prolonged and ferocious fighting from which many did not return.

None of the photos were captioned, so the identity of the soldiers is unknown. The Museum has loaded them onto its website and is asking anyone whose relatives served in the Pacific, and who spent (or might have spent) time in New Zealand, to help identify these men.

I know a number of people who read this blog have family who served in WWII, and it would be great if you could visit the website to look at these images. There are a lot of them; but who knows, maybe one of those smiling young men belongs to your family, and you can bring their memory home for Christmas.

Ngā mihi o te Kirihimete me te Tau Hou

– Season’s greetings for Christmas and the New Year

 

Advertisements

Faces from an unexplored past

eft: Jessie Susan Harris, born 21 March 1868 Christchurch, died 13 June 1923, Hororata aged 55 right: Alice Margaret Wright, born 12 October 1872 Kaiapoi, died 10 August 1930 Washdyke photo by Eden George, Christchurch. From This photograph album was owned by Jack Thomas Frederick Baker until his death in 2003. It was previously owned by his mother Clara Elizabeth Harris (1873-1945).

Great grandmother, Jessie Susan Harris (left), and sister in law (?) Alice Margaret Wright. Photo by Eden George, Christchurch. From photograph album owned by Jack Thomas Frederick Baker, son of Clara Elizabeth Harris (1873-1945). With grateful thanks to Belinda Lansley for sending me the link to Clara’s album (canterburyphotography.blogspot.co.nz), and others.

We can’t help ourselves. We look at family photos and can’t help trying to find some resemblance between those we know and love, and the the faces in pictures.

The hallway in my house has become a rogues gallery of family photos and there is much pleasure to be had watching visitors scrutinize them, trying to establish who’s who. My son is regularly mistaken for his father in one photo, and an older cousin in another; while I increasingly see myself in the faces of my maternal aunts.

For family historians, photographs are the ultimate treasure. We spend so long trying to put flesh on the bones of our ancestors, that to see the faces of these long-dead men and women is a sweet pleasure indeed.

My partner is fortunate to share in a large collection of photos (now digitised) from his mother’s side of the family, but until very recently we had virtually none from his father’s side.

Roger Andrew Gray with his parents, Merle Matilda Wright and Wallace Oliver Gray. c. 1956. Photo: Gray-Dove family archive.

Paternal line. Roger Andrew Gray with his parents, Merle Matilda Wright and Wallace Oliver Gray. c. 1956. Photo: Gray-Dove family archive.

This changed when a fellow blogger (Belinda Lansley, at Great Grandma’s Wicker Basket) recognised the Big T’s paternal grandmother, Merle Matilda Laura Wright as a friend of her own great grandmother, Dorothy Lord. In Belinda’s collection of family photos were several of Merle, her sister Clara and other members of the Wright family. These she generously shared with me.

Dorothy Lord, Clara Wright, May Lord, Merle Wright early 1920s. With grateful thanks to Belinda Lansley for allowing me to reproduce this image.

Dorothy Lord, Clara Wright, May Lord, Merle Wright early 1920s. With grateful thanks to Belinda Lansley for allowing me to reproduce this image.

Belinda also sent me the link to a photograph album belonging to another member of Merle’s extended family (Early New Zealand Photographers), and it is through these sources that we have begun to learn a little about this branch of the family.

Merle was born in Christchurch, New Zealand, in 1904, to Jessie Susan Harris and Sidney Robert Wright. The couple married in Timaru in 1890, and had eight children; Harry, Margaret, Fred, Alice, Sidney, Merle, Clara and Frank (Source: Births, Deaths and Marriages NZ)

Jessie Harris (shown in the first photo with Alice Margaret Wright) was born on March 21st, 1868, in Christchurch, twin sister of Henry Richard Harris.

The photo below is Jessie’s brother Henry, with Sidney Wright — Jessie’s husband. It appears that both families lived in Ohoka, a small rural settlement near Christchurch, and would presumably have known each other. Did Jessie marry her twin’s best friend?

Jack Baker's album page 5

Henry Richard Harris (left) with Sidney Robert Wright. Photo by Eden George – Christchurch. With grateful thanks to Belinda Lansley for sending me the link to Clara’s album (canterburyphotography.blogspot.co.nz).

Sidney was born three weeks after the Harris twins, on 9 April 1868. He was the third of six children born to Robert Marshall Wright and Matilda Ann Baker (married 1859: source BDM New Zealand).

Another photo in the same album shows Jessie and Henry as small children with their mother, Sarah Ann Duffull. A note with the photograph indicates that Sarah was born in Croyden, England. Her marriage, to Nathaniel Harris, took place in New Zealand in 1867. The couple appears to have had 10 children, including two sets of twins (source: BDM, NZ).

I haven’t been able to find New Zealand birth records for Nathaniel Harris, Robert Wright or Matilda Baker, so it would appear that all four of Merle Wright’s grandparents were born outside of New Zealand, and immigrated either as children, or young adults, making the Big T a fourth generation Kiwi.

Sarah Anne Duffull with her children Jessie Susan and Henry Richard Harris. c. 1871

Sarah Anne Duffull with her children Jessie Susan and Henry Richard Harris. c. 1871. Photo by Eden George – Christchurch. Grateful thanks to Belinda Lansley for sending me the link to this photo.

Far left, Jessie Harris, middle seated, May Lord. Other's unknown. Image courtesy of Belinda Lansley.

Far left, Jessie Harris, middle seated, May Lord, family friend and great grand aunt of Belinda Lansley, who has kindly shared this photo with me. The identity of the other women and the children is unknown.

One of the great joys of genealogy blogging is meeting distant relatives and others with shared connections to the past. When Belinda generously shared photos with me, she gave my family the chance to see the faces of men and women who helped shape the people that my partner and son are today. For that, I am extremely grateful.

This post was written for Ailsa’s Travel Theme at Where’s My Backpack.

 

The point of hats

The Big T's great grandmother, Veronika Klukofsly. Photo undated. From Dove family archive.

The Big T’s great grandmother, Veronika Klukofsky. Photo undated. From Dove family archive.

Hats make people feel good. That’s the point of them.

Philip Treacy, hat designer

I love hats; cloches, fedoras, boaters — the bigger and more extravagant the better. But beyond shoving on a fairly battered straw number while I’m gardening, or donning a oversized fluffy beret at early morning soccer games, my lifestyle isn’t what you might call hat-friendly.

I suspect I was born out of my time; too late to be part of a culture that embraced millinery as a day-to-day necessity.  Even in my mother’s generation, it was at least considered normal to wear hats to weddings. Here in New Zealand — a country famous for it’s informality — current wedding attire is more likely to include a baseball cap or beanie than any of the elaborate confections favoured by earlier generations.

Celebrations of marriage (weddings and anniversaries) seem to have brought the millinery out of the closet in our family. My great grandmother donned this rather frilly, and very “sixties” hat for the party to celebrate her sixty years of marriage to my great grandfather.

Sixtieth wedding anniversary: Alexander Cruden and Catherine Black, 1968. Photo: Ramsay family archive.

Sixtieth wedding anniversary: Alexander Cruden and Catherine Black, 1968. Photo: Ramsay family archive.

For my mother, her hat-wearing heyday seems to have been the late 1950s. I guess this is probably a function of her age and life stage; she could afford to dress well (married, no kids) and was probably going to lots of her friends’ weddings.

Elizabeth Ramsay, 1956.

Elizabeth Ramsay, 1956. Unknown wedding. Photo: Leslie Ramsay family archive.

Elizabeth Ramsay, 1958. Unknown wedding. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

Elizabeth Ramsay, 1958. Unknown wedding. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

I love the photo below of my mother and aunt. I don’t know where they were going, but they look happy — and very glamourous.

My aunt Cathie, cousin Rob and my mum, Kirkcaldy, 1958.

Catherine Ramsay, her son Robert Guthrie, and his aunt Elizabeth Ramsay. Kirkcaldy, c. 1957-58.

A street photographer captured this shot of the Big T’s aunt Hazel and a friend. They look as though they are out for a day’s shopping, or off to see a movie — but both made hats a part of their outfit.

Image-1-6

Hazel Dove and friend Doreen Kier, c. 1940. Photo: Dove Gray family archive.

Perhaps a favourite hat for my mum. She’s wearing it in the shot with her sister, and its very similar in style to another shown above.

Elizabeth Ramsay, Beveridge Park, Kirkcaldy, Scotland. c. 1959. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

Elizabeth Ramsay, Beveridge Park, Kirkcaldy, Scotland. c. 1959. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

This image of my mother reminds me of one I found of the Big T’s great aunt Alice. The shots are separated by about 30 years, but the look is the same; a young woman,  posed for the camera in special clothes.

photo 333

Alice Lietze. Date unknown, but probably late 1920s. Photo: Dove Gray family archive.

The Big T’s grandmother, Isabella Lietze, also seems to have been a hat wearer. I love her wedding photo; Isabella and her new husband Arthur Dove, surrounded by family, including sister Alice shown above.

iad03b 20's

Marriage of Arthur Dove to Isabella Lietze. Back row (l-f): William Lietze, Arthur Dove, August Lietze, John Lietze. Front row: Mabel Dove, Mary Maria Dove (nee Simons), Isabella Lietze, Alice Lietze. c. 1920, Southland NZ. Photo: Dove Gray family archive.

One of the things I admire about Isabella’s hat-wearing is how she experimented with different styles. I’d love to know what colours they were, but most of our photos are in black & white.

photo 222

Isabella Lietze, with daughter Mary Dove and Mary’s daughter Kathleen Lynch. c. 1947. Photo: Dove Gray family archive.

photo111

Isabella Lietze. Studio portrait c. 1950s. Photo: Dove Gray family archive.

Image-1-5

Isabella Lietze (right) with unknown companion. c. 1950s. Photo: Dove Gray family archive.

Image-1-4

Alice and Isabella Lietze. Date and place unknown. Photo: Dove Gray family archive.

The Big T’s great aunt Alice was by all accounts an amazing woman who lived life to the full (and well into her 90s). She certainly wasn’t afraid to wear a bold hat!

Image-1-7

Wedding of Isabella Lietze’s grandson Max Dove, to Marion (surname unknown). Pictured, Marion’s grandmother, Marion and Isabella. Bold hat honours to Marion’s grandma. Photo: Dove Gray family archive.

iad161

Isabella Lietze, at the wedding of John Duncan (nephew), 26 July 1973. Auckland, New Zealand. Photo: Dove Gray family archive.

And the last time I wore a hat just to feel good …. our friends Chris and Nolene’s wedding in 1989. Can’t believe how much younger than me the Big T looked!

small tony gray su leslie 1989 chris mcmaster wedding auckland

The Big T and I; Chris and Nole’s wedding, Auckland, NZ. 1989. Photo: Gray Leslie family archive.

This post was written for the “Hats” photo challenge at Where’s my Backpack. You can see Ailsa’s photos, and find out more here.

A force of nature

The boy-child holding court with his great grandmother.

The boy-child holding court with his great grandmother.

Yesterday would have been my gran’s 107th birthday. There was a time when I could almost have believed she would live to 107; she seemed for so long to have such energy and strength. But she died a few days short of her 98th birthday — having moved from her own house into a care home a year or so before.

Margaret Simpson Bissett Cruden (11 May 1908 – 1 May 2006) was the eldest child and only daughter of Alexander Cruden and Catherine Simpson Bisset Black. My great grandparents were very young when she was born; Great Gran was 18, Great Grandad still 17. Margaret had four younger brothers; Stewart, Alexander, James and George, the youngest of whom was born just a few months before my gran herself became a mother.

Gran was born and raised in Dysart, Scotland and lived all her life in Dysart and Kirkcaldy. She married my grandad (David Skinner Ramsay) in 1927, when Grandad was 25 and she was 18. They raised six children; a son David, and five daughters – Catherine, May, Margaret, Elizabeth (my mum) and Sandra.

Ramsay family portrait. Standing (l-r): Elizabeth, Sandra, Margaret, May, David, Cathy. Seated Margaret Cruden and David Ramsay. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

Ramsay family portrait. Standing (l-r): Elizabeth, Sandra, Margaret, May, David and Cathy. Seated Margaret Cruden and David Ramsay. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

Grandad was a coal miner, who, in later life, suffered from diabetes. Because of that he had both legs amputated at the knee after small wounds turned gangrenous. My gran was relatively young when she found herself nursing an invalid husband; a role she took on without hesitation and carried out with great love and care until my grandad’s death in 1973.

my maternal grandparents; Margaret Cruden and David Ramsay, Dunnikier Park Kirkcaldy, Fife, Scotland. Photo: Ramsay family archive.

Margaret Cruden and David Ramsay, Dunnikier Park Kirkcaldy, Fife, Scotland. Photo: Ramsay family archive.

After his death, my grandmother left the UK for the first (but not the last) time. She travelled to New Zealand to visit my family and to Australia to stay with her brother Alexander and his family. During the next thirty years she travelled again to Australia, to Zimbabwe while it was still Rhodesia and in the midst of civil war, and to Switzerland to visit one of my cousins. She also traveled extensively around the UK visiting family.

Margaret and Alexander Cruden, Australia c. 1974. Photo: Ramsay family archive.

Siblings, Margaret and Alexander Cruden, Australia c. 1974. Photo: Ramsay family archive.

I only really got to know my gran in my late twenties and thirties while I was living in the UK. We spent hours together drinking tea, eating meringues (her favourite sweet) and gossiping. She was a lovely little barrel of a woman; about 4′ 10″ (1.47 metres), and solid (I definitely take after her). She was quick-witted,  a good story teller and could be very funny, although she also possessed a very sharp tongue — as anyone on the receiving end of it would tell you.

Four generations: My christening, with my mother Elizabeth Ramsay, her mother Margaret Cruden and Margaret's mother Catherine Black, with

Four generations: My christening, with my mother Elizabeth Ramsay, grandmother Margaret Cruden and great grandmother Catherine Black. c. 1961. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

She really was a force of nature; a matriarch who spend almost 80 years looking after her family. She is remembered with great love by a global tribe consisting of not only myself, my siblings and cousins, but our children and the children and grandchildren of Gran’s brothers — who still speak fondly of their “Auntie Maggie.” She had 17 grandchildren, 28 great grandchildren and was great, great grandmother to two newborns by the time she died.

David Ramsay and Margaret Cruden with grandchildren Margaret Ladyka (back), Ian and Sandra Ladyka (front left and centre) and Robert Guthrie. The baby is me. c. 1961. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

David Ramsay and Margaret Cruden with grandchildren Margaret Ladyka (back), Ian and Sandra Ladyka (front left and centre) and Robert Guthrie. The baby is me. c. 1961. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

My son only got to meet his great gran once; he was very young, but claims to remember her (she told him off, so I’m not surprised it stayed in his mind).  I’m sad that she died two months before we were due to go back to the UK for a visit. My son was eight by then and would  have enjoyed another encounter with that feisty, four foot ten force of nature.

This week’s Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge theme is forces of nature.  I think my gran qualifies. You can find out more and see other bloggers’ interpretation of the theme here.

Pictures of youth

The boy-child, aged 8. Cambridge, England, 2006.

The boy-child, aged 8. Cambridge, England, 2006. Photo: Tony Gray

Years ago in a cafe, my young son and I were sitting near two women who were having a heated discussion. Eventually one leaned over to me and asked if I carried a photo of my son with me. As it happened, I did have a picture of him. The woman looked at her friend triumphantly and said “see, everyone does.”

Aside from the obvious problem of generalizing from a sample of one, my possession of an image on that day was a consequence of my son having just had an particularly flattering passport photo taken. In fact, I didn’t normally carry his picture — I had never thought to cut one up small enough to fit in my wallet.

But it got me thinking about the abundance of photos I DID possess of my son —  and how normal is seems for parents to turn the camera lens on their offspring.

Thomas Alexander Gray, one day old.

The big T with our boy-child; the morning after his birth. Photo: Su Leslie, 1998.

These days, with smart phones and social media, it’s only a matter of personal taste how quickly after (or during) birth, photos of our children can be spread around the globe. Seventeen years ago, when the boy-child came into the world, the Big T did have his camera at the birth, and we have several slightly out of focus shots of me in the delivery suite holding our newborn. But in those pre-digital, pre-FaceBook days, the photos were taken on film, and weren’t available for anyone to see until all 24 shots on the roll of film had been exposed and developed. As both sets of grandparents lived in other countries, it would have been at least a week or more until they saw images of their new grandchild.

A generation earlier, when the boy-child’s grandparents were becoming parents, the processes of capturing and sharing images of their children would have taken even longer. For a start, although both my father and father in law were keen photographers, neither were present at the births of their children. The earliest photos of me that I’m aware of were taken at my christening.

su in christening gown mod

Christening, November 1961. Photo: Ron Leslie, Leslie family archive.

Go back another generation, and camera ownership was less widespread. We are fortunate to have photos of both my parents as children, and of the Big T’s mother, but we have none of his father.

Joy Dove (the Big T's mother), her sister Dorothy and friend. Brighton Beach  Photo: Gray Dove family archive.

Joy Dove (the Big T’s mother), her sister Dorothy and friend. Brighton Beach, Christchurch, NZ, c. 1943 or 1944. Photo: Dove Gray family archive.

Margaret Ramsay (nee Cruden) and daughters at the beach, Kirkcaldy, Scotland. c 1941. Photo: Leslie Ramsay archive.

Margaret Ramsay (nee Cruden) and daughters at the beach, Kirkcaldy, Scotland. c 1941. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

20140615-222011-80411435.jpg

Fragment of a photo: Ron and David Leslie. Beach on Fife coast, Scotland. c. 1934-36 Photo: Leslie family archive.

Although the Box Brownie (1) was first released in 1900 — revolutionizing photography by making it affordable to ordinary people  — amateur photos don’t appear before the 1920s in either the Big T’s or my family (2),  making our parents’ generation the first whose childhood was captured by enthusiastic family members, rather than professional photographers.

James and George Cruden (back row), with their niece and nephew; David and May Ramsay. Photo probably take in Dysart, Scotland, c. early 1930s. From Ramsay family archive.

Little rascals? James and George Cruden (back row), with their niece and nephew; David and May Ramsay. c. early 1930s. Milton of Balgonie, Fife, Scotland, . Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

By contrast, I have a collection of studio portraits of my grandmother Margaret Cruden, and her younger brother Stewart, as small children.

Stewart and Margaret Cruden, c. 1911. Studio portrait, probably Fife, Scotland. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

Stewart and Margaret Cruden, c. 1911. Studio portrait, probably Fife, Scotland. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

I’m not sure why there are so many portraits of my grandmother. She and her brother Stewart were the eldest children of Alexander Cruden and Catherine Black. On my grandmother’s birth certificate, her father’s occupation is shown as coal miner, and it’s unlikely the family was particularly wealthy. However, my great grandparents (or possibly their parents) took the children to several different studios for sittings during their early childhood.

Margaret and Stewart Cruden, c. 1910. Studio portrait probably taken in Fife, Scotland. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

Margaret and Stewart Cruden, c. 1910. Studio portrait probably taken in Fife, Scotland. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

Stewart and Margaret Cruden, c. 1914. Studio portrait, Kirkcaldy, Scotland. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

Stewart and Margaret Cruden, c. 1915. Studio portrait, R. Milliken, Kirkcaldy, Scotland. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

Stewart Cameron Cruden, c. 1914. Studio portrait, Colin Campbell Studio, Kirkcaldy, Scotland. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

Stewart Cameron Cruden, c. 1914-15. Studio portrait, Colin Campbell Studio, Kirkcaldy, Scotland. Photo: Ramsay Leslie family archive.

While I love these glimpses into the childhoods of my grandmother and great uncle, the last image saddens me, as all photographs of little boys dressed up as soldiers sadden me. The photo was taken probably during World War I, and I wonder if my great grandfather had already signed up. My great uncle has such a sad, slightly lost expression on his face.

This post was written for Ailsa’s weekly photo theme at Where’s my Backpack. You can see more here.

 

(1) ‘The Most Important Cardboard Box Ever.’ BBC Magazine 5 January 2015 http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-30530268

(2) With the possible exception of the Dove family, of whom we have a few images thought to be c. 1913-16.