To forget one's ancestors is to be a brook without a source, a tree without a root.

Genealogy and family ANDREW DESMOND SHEPPARD MY FATHER (26 September, 1922 - 20 May, 1991) An Appreciation written by Andrew’s seven children delivered at his Service of Thanksgiving by his brother-in-law, Harry St. Hill. A LOVER - He loved life; he loved people A FIGHTER – He fought for what he believed in A FRIEND – Nothing was too much for him to do for you A HUSBAND – Faithful, devoted A FATHER – We thank God for giving him to us Not a sportsman, not a wealthy entrepreneur, but an entertainer whose stage was life; an artist of living beings – brimming with love and sympathy. His presence brought warmth and the glow of sunshine. He made his influence felt. Andy was genial, positive, confident and the eternal optimist. As a handsome young officer of The Royal Engineer Corps of The British Army in Trinidad, Andy came to Barbados in 1942 on vacation. He was affectionately nicknamed “Tyrone” because he bore a striking resemblance to the movie idol of the day, Tyrone Power. On that occasion, he met 16 year old Betty St. Hill, who was rehearsing her tap-dance routine for a Sky High show. Love at first sight it was, not only for Betty and Andy, but for the entire St. Hill family who welcomed him warmly as both son and brother. It was the start of a life-long romance, for the following year they were married and their union of 48 years produced seven children and 17 grandchildren. As a father and husband, he could not possibly have provided a more secure and safe home for his children to grow up in. Never did we have to worry about Andy and Betty falling apart; the thought never crossed our minds. This was the cornerstone of the foundation of the house that Andrew built. A house of honesty. We have never known a more honest man. He respected the law and his integrity was unquestioned. He was a Christian in the truest sense as he was kind and generous to a fault. He always went over and above his call of duty to go the extra mile, often to the detriment of his health. In 1984 he was appointed the Honorary Consul for Peru – a post which he considered a great honour and accepted with much pride. Growing up as the tenth child in a family of twelve taught Andy many lessons about the value of family life. He held the greatest love and respect for “Mama” , his mother who was widowed when he was only eight, yet held her large family of six boys and six girls together with amazing fortitude. He adopted his mother’s philosophy which were words of wisdom from the Bible . . . “and it came to pass”. This meant “bear with it – things will get better”. Andy was a charmer – a gentleman in every sense of the word, and always the life of the party with his unforgettable repertoire of jokes. In his younger days and even at his 60th birthday party, Andy liked to perform his famous party trick. This was a handstand done on a chair which was balanced precariously on four Coca-Cola bottles. He went through life like that – always balancing and amazingly making it – despite the odds. Andy was a man of great emotion - very passionate. He felt things to the bottom of his soul. He passed that on to his children. He loved music and took pride in fostering his children’s and grandchildren’s abilities, talents and ambitions. His constant source of joy was to listen to his Bets play the piano. We will always think of him as “The Leader of the Band.” Andrew Sheppard was so brave, so positive – we never truly understood how serious was his condition and how deep his pain. He put on his best face and smiled as he left us – unsure of the future yet true to character, hoping for the best. He felt secure in the knowledge that he had a strong and united family. A family he loved so deeply and a family who loved him so very, very much. His passion for life will live on and he will be deeply missed by everyone upon whose life he touched. Andrew's Musings & Memoirs My father was the tenth child in the Sheppard family of twelve children. His father died when he was just 8 years old, so for the most part, he grew up being nurtured by his mother, older siblings and their beloved Bertha . The most important thing in his life was his family. Anyone who knew Andrew Sheppard would remember that he was quite the raconteur, and seemed to have an endless supply of jokes to tell, imitating all kinds of accents in the most amusing way. His effervescent personality and joie de vivre endeared him to everyone he met. What we didn't realize until after he was gone, was his gift for writing. We discovered a folder full of beautifully handwritten stories, penned between October 1986 and August 1990 - just nine months before his untimely passing. Daddy wrote as he lived - from the heart and with passion. His tributes to his mother and siblings overflow with love and respect. We are so grateful that he recorded his early life and background, as well as his thoughts and deep feelings on current affairs in his beloved islands of Trinidad and Barbados during those years. I, too, often write stories early in the morning. Like my father, I’m an early riser and love the peace and quiet before the day unfolds. Reflection time, a sacred time, a private space for appreciation while sipping my first cup of coffee. He called it “The Miracle of Morning” in a beautiful poem he wrote in the seventies. Dad wrote reams in the early morning. It was when he expressed his innermost feelings and recollections. When I transcribe his handwritten stories, I feel very close to him. His handwriting was as unique as he was. I remember his voice, the way he told jokes and lots of other little details. He would never leave the house unless his shoes were spotlessly clean, shone to brilliance with Nugget Shoe Polish. He liked to look smart and well dressed, his army training no doubt influenced that. Gobs of Brylcream kept every strand of his straight, fine black hair in place and shiny, the way movie stars of his day styled theirs. I don’t remember ever seeing him look disheveled or untidy, come to think of it. He always kept a little comb in his back pocket and a clean white handkerchief was a must. I still remember the way he stood in front of the sink, his face lathered white with shaving cream, and watching him shave with the silver Gillette razor, twisting his mouth from side to side as he got the cleanest shave he could. A few brisk pats with some Bay Rum or Limacol, or maybe some aftershave lotion given to him, and he would be all set. Sunday afternoon family drives were our weekend entertainment. We always had to dress in our Sunday Best and never knew where we were going. But Dad couldn’t just drive off when we were all ready and sitting in the car, having first had a mini-squabble on who would be getting the window seats in the back. We would sit and wait patiently as he polished the windscreen, and wiped the long iridescent green 50’s Chevy to its full glory. Cars weren’t air-conditioned back then, and since I was the one who could get carsick, I would whine to claim the window “in case”. I don’t remember having a radio in the car, because long drives were also occasions for singing together and games like “I spy spy with my little eye something beginning with a…..” Sometimes we would stop off for ice cream and always for freshly baked, hot loaves of bread. Some of those hot hops breads never made it home! Dad loved Extra Strongs, and would stop at the parlour (as little shops in Trinidad are called) to buy little brown paper bags full of them. To this day, the taste of peppermints remind me of Dad. Oh, another thought just crossed my mind - Daddy never used foul language, I never heard him utter a nasty curse word, and he didn't permit it either! As I write this, it is Father’s Day 2021. My childhood memories in Trinidad have been triggered. What would we be doing as a family? I'm remembering the time when there were only 3 of us, that later grew to 7. We children would have made our own cards for him, he would be playing the music he loved on his treasured Grundig radiogram while a nice Sunday lunch was being prepared, starting with callaloo and crab. Among his LP’s were Stanley Black's "Cuban Moonlight", Mantovani, James Last, Mario Lanza, Glen Miller & his Orchestra and every Broadway show that he could get his hands on, not to forget his favourite Trini Winnifred Atwell. Or perhaps after a long drive for a day at Maracas Bay he would be making us children proud to have the only father on the entire beach who did a perfect handstand, then walked all the way into the sea on his hands, ending with a flourish as he entered the shallow surf. This special man we were blessed to call our father, the one who made us feel safe and protected. He has coloured our world beyond measure. Between the lines of these yellow foolscap pages filled with his handwritten stories, we have the gift of a lifetime, and we are so grateful for this legacy. These are some of our treasured pages, and more will be added as I continue to transcribe them. My father labelled the folder of his writings: "TALES OF ANDREW" October 1986 Bertha, A Saint January 1988 Elsie Mabel, Our Mother January 1988 Look Out! February 1988 No. 30 Richmond Street, Port of Spain July 1988 "Morne Jaloux" - Grenada July 1988 Times of our Lives July 1988 "Belmont" - Barbados October 1988 Vin (In Memoriam - George Vincent Gonsalves) March 1989 Respect April 1989 Don Pedro de Roy - from Portugal to Trinidad April 1989 The Late Great Bridgetown July 1989 From Portugal to Trinidad - Part 1 August 1989 Boysie (In Memoriam -Joseph Alfred Sheppard) October 1989 June Stand By - October All Over? October 1989 Bertie (In Memoriam - Charles Albert Sheppard) January 1990 Hello, Look Who's Here - Welcome! August 1990 Lest We Forget - Trinidad Lt. Andrew D. Sheppard and Frances Elizabeth (Betty) St. Hill 31 July, 1943 - Barbados Betty and Andrew - newlyweds in Trinidad Andrew - my Father-giver On the entrance of St. Patricks Cathedral, Barbados 16 July, 1965 - Barbados Video memories of Andrew captured on Super 8 Film and digitized Maracas Bay, Trinidad - around 1964 Andrew about to walk into the sea on his hands to amaze and amuse his children (Photo by his son Peter Sheppard) My father's burial place is fittingly at the Military Cemetery, Barbados . See also: Frances Elizabeth (Betty) Sheppard née St. Hill "In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future." ~ Alex Haley

Some Childhood Memories Growing up in the British West Indies Valerie in Ursuline Convent school uniform at "Norgate" in Barbados - 1958 The first memory I have of my Bajan grandparents, Esmée and Garnet St. Hill, was when they lived in a three-bedroom bungalow called “Norgate” on Dayrells Road, just before the corner of Navy Gardens, in the southern parish of Christ Church, Barbados. They had already sold the family home "Ypres" at the corner of 1st Avenue and Pine Road in Belleville, where my mother and all her siblings were born and raised. When they bought their new home it was called "Mins Court". Why they renamed it "Norgate" I never knew. Cousins Helen St. Hill and David Mosher believe they did that that after their visit to Canada where they stayed in Norgate, the area in which their daughters Thelma and Clem lived with their Canadian husbands and families in the fifties. My grandparents' home "Norgate" was next door to the corner house, “Macneath”. Every home in Barbados seemed to have a name of particular significance to the family who owned it. Just before my 11th birthday in September of 1958, I came over from Trinidad with my mother, as I was going to start school at the Ursuline Convent in Barbados and stay with my grandparents during term time. New uniforms, new surroundings, and a totally new way of life from what I had been accustomed to at our home in San Fernando, Trinidad. Mummy went back to Trinidad, and I settled in with Granny and Pop. I had a nice bedroom, clean and neat as a pin, cream painted furniture, a washbasin in the corner. There was a little cream-painted desk by the windows where I did my homework and wrote weekly letters to my parents in Trinidad. I loved the lined writing pads that always had glamorous screen stars on the covers. Sometimes I used blue postage pre-paid aerograms. On my bed was a blue and white candlewick bedspread. Over the bed on the wall hung a print of an angel carrying a small child over a bridge on a stormy night, a turbulent river surging below. That always fascinated me and must have made an impression as 65 years later I still vividly remember it! My first impression when I arrived in Barbados was how clean and orderly everything was. The drive from Seawell Airport along the south coast was magical as the bright turquoise sea glistened alongside the road. With the windows rolled down (no airconditioned cars in those days) you could hear the waves and smell the ocean. I remember passing a sort of billboard of a huge, colourful macaw somewhere near Oistins, I believe it was an advertisement for Doorley's Rum. I was surprised that my grandparents never closed the windows at night, they stayed wide open with the breeze blowing in, and there were no burglar bars. Granny St. Hill was a housekeeper of note. She kept an exercise book with all of the maid’s daily duties and time-table written down in her clear, rounded handwriting. There were also pages that laid out weekly and monthly duties, such as cleaning the brass, silverware, windows, polishing the mahogany furniture etc. There was a strict routine, and their house rules were “A place for everything, and everything in its place.” I was told that I was to take off my school uniform as soon as I came home from school, hang it neatly on a hanger “to air” and that I could use 3 clean shirts and one tunic per week. Navy blue tunic, white shirt, brown laced up shoes, white socks turned down to the ankle, and a navy blue beret with the school badge bearing the motto "Serviam", to be worn while out on the road. There were penalties to be paid at school if you were seen not wearing your school beret on the road! To me, it was a completely different world from my Trinidad home. Everything was routine and scheduled at my Bajan grandparents' home. I had been accustomed to more spontaneous and rather chaotic home life with my siblings (there were just three of us at the time.) Unplanned drives with my parents and dropping in unexpectedly to visit friends was normal in Trinidad. "Stay and have something to eat, nah". . . grown-ups drank and chatted, the kids played and ran wild till late. We often went to the movies with our parents - "Matinee show", with hot channa in brown paper cones bought from a vendor outside the cinema. We sometimes stopped to buy rotis from East Indian roadside vendors, watching them flip the roti skins on to the hot coalpots. Best rotis ever! Fresh hops breads from the "parlours" and Charlie's black pudding - there was none of that in this totally different Barbados world. Two islands close to each other, yet so different. Unlike in Trinidad, maids were called by their surnames only. In Trinidad, our helper was Laura, in Barbados, Granny’s maid was called Scott. Back then, household helpers were called servants. I never knew Scott's first name. I remember that Scott turned up for work each day in her morning uniform, and had to wear a green cap and apron at all times. She lived nearby so would knock off for an hour or so after serving lunch and cleaning up the kitchen, then reappear in the afternoon donning her white cap and apron, perfectly starched and laundered. Scott called me “Miss Valerie” and my grandparents were addressed as Master and Mistress. To my young Trini ears, that sounded strange and somehow quaint. In Trinidad, Mummy was Madam and Daddy was "Suh" or "Mistah Sheppad". Bajan maids also had a peculiar habit of saying “yes please” or “no please” when asked a question. That also sounded very odd to me. Never yes or no without “please” added on. Granny St. Hill kept an exercise book in which she wrote her grocery lists. The telephone table with the black rotary-dial telephone, number 7224, was next to the window in the dining room, and a mahogany cane-bottomed chair ready. There she sat and called in her grocery order from Alleyne, Arthur & Co. and was told when to expect the delivery. On the appointed day, a horn would blow at the back entrance to the house which was in a narrow alley-way on the east side of the house that connected through to Navy Gardens. "Granny, the Alleyne Arthur van is here!" I loved to watch the delivery of groceries - something I had never seen before in Trinidad. You see, my grandparents did not own a car, so that was also a huge difference. I loved to take the Route 15 bus sometimes, what a thrill that was for a little Trini girl that had never been in a bus before. Sometimes I would catch the open-sided bus and go to the Museum by the Garrison, all by myself. The bus fare was 15 cents. In Trinidad, Daddy drove a sleek iridescent green Chevy in which he took us everywhere. My grandparents at their home with Helen St. Hill, their eldest granddaughter, 1954. Scott had just brought the evening cocktails to them in the verandah at "Norgate". On the back of the photo is a Christmas message to my parents in Trinidad, written by my grandfather. On grocery delivery day, the door set in the outside wall at "Norgate" would be opened, and the Alleyne Arthur boy would bring the cardboard box with goods and set it on the red formica kitchen counter. Right next to it was the red metal kitchen scale with the brass tray and iron weights arranged in a stack, the smallest on top. There he would unpack each item, and Granny would tick it off against the bill and her list. I think sometimes she would even check the weights of, say the potatoes or sugar that came in brown paper bags! She would do the same for drugstore items, and had accounts with Knights Ltd. and Collins Ltd. in Bridgetown. I don’t recall ever seeing her write a cheque, so I guess payments were made in cash. She kept her housekeeping money in a large cigar box that had compartments. Pop used to enjoy an after-dinner cigar. Granny kept all the groceries under lock and key in the kitchen cupboards, and had a rather large bunch of keys to everything in the house that had a lock on it. Each morning, she would “put out” the ingredients for Scott to cook lunch, and lock the cupboards again. All of this was like watching a movie to me, having come from Trinidad where I went to HiLo with my mother, and often to the San Fernando markets to buy vegetables, fruit, a live chicken with its feet tied together, and big, live blue crabs for the Sunday callaloo! It also struck me that I didn’t see East Indians, Chinese, Syrians and other mixtures of those people that I had become accustomed to in Trinidad. There, the vendors would always give a little “lagniappe” when Mum bought produce. I can still smell the freshness of the chadon beni, hot red peppers and other seasonings in the San Fernando market. Mum would carry a big handmade basket for market shopping - the same one that went on picnics to Mayaro when we were children. 

 Maracas Bay, Trinidad - about 1955 My family lived in Mon Repos, San Fernando at the time, so it was a big all-day Sunday outing when we drove to Maracas Bay. I remember my mother early in the morning cooking, then wrapping a big pot of pelau first in a few layers of newspaper to keep it warm, then tying the whole thing up in a big cloth like a ‘georgie bundle’. Food, drinks bathsuits and towels were packed in the trunk of the car. My dad would stop at a parlour along the way and buy some bananas, cold drinks and maybe some Crix to eat in the car. Oh, and Extra Strongs, he always liked those. The drive seemed sooooooo long and the excitement was great when we finally got a glimpse of the sea as we drove around the winding bends descending to the beach. We weren't allowed to go in the sea without our father right there with us. That cold bottle of Coca-Cola afterwards was a real treat! When we got back home it was already dark and we were tired, sunburned and sandy - no such thing as sunblock in those days. Memories of a simple family day . Sunday Lunch at home, 1954 - Hart Street, San Fernando, Trinidad. My parents Andrew, Betty and their children Stephen and Peter and Valerie. Another fascinating thing for me in Barbados were the hucksters that walked in the street outside selling their wares. The women who sold flying fish carried them in a wooden tray on their head, and the tray was covered with some kind of cloth to keep them clean, I suppose. Sometimes they would also be carrying a basket with fresh seasonings of thyme, marjoram, chives and hot peppers, and a small variety of vegetables. We would hear the cry “FLYING FEEEESH” - and the going price - “12 a bit” if they were plentiful. Granny would send me to run outside and stop the huckster, which I would do by clapping my hands and gesturing her that we wanted her to come to the house. She would come to the same back door, and Granny would send Scott out to buy the fish. She took an enamel bowl to place them in. Well, that was another whole new experience to watch! Unlike today when fish are bought ready to be cooked and Bajan green seasoning comes in a jar from the supermarket, these were flying fish fresh from the sea, complete with wings, scales guts and bones. Granny took great pride in preparing them herself and she had it down to a fine art. She set about scaling and boning each one with her special well-worn boning knife, and I was amazed at her dexterity as she transformed each fish into a perfectly filleted one. Not a single stray bone could dare hang around and worse yet, reach my grandfather’s plate! Next, she prepared the Bajan green seasoning from scratch, chop-chop-chopping fresh thyme, marjoram, onions and peppers on her board. The dipping in beaten eggs and home made breadcrumbs came next, then the moment in the frying pan when they became the sizzling golden brown delicacy that graced the meticulously set dinner table. She would always give me one to sample in the kitchen, piping hot, fresh out of the pan. I still think they were the best flying fish I’ve ever eaten. The "ground provisions man" came around every week in his donkey cart. We could hear the cart and donkey clanking along, and he would call out “Get ya sweet putaaatahs, eddas, yaaaams. . . “ My grandfather would open the front gate to Dayrells Road and allow him to drive his cart into the front yard. This was another thing I’d never experienced before, and had never been that close to a donkey in my life. He weighed everything on a scale that looked like the Scales of Justice on the back of his wooden cart, but smaller and rustier. He was a small, wizened fellow, and wore a felt cap and baggy clothes that were sort of khaki colored. He would hop down from the cart to sell and weigh everything, and he wore no shoes. I’ll never forget one day my grandfather said to him teasingly, “Tell me, are you a little old man or a little old woman?” He politely grinned, bowed his head and said “I'z a little ole man, please." Scott always came out to take part in the purchasing and to carry the good ‘ground provisions’ into the kitchen. That night there would be a big dish of hot mashed yam, with dollops of golden butter on it served with flying fish. Often there would be string beans and fried plantain on the side. Heaven! 
 In 1957 there was no television in Barbados yet. My grandparents had Rediffusion which broadcast daily soaps like "Portia Faces Life". My grandmother would sit in her rocking chair and listen. I loved the Saturday morning Children's Programme with Alfred Pragnell and Doris Provençal. When I was a little older I often sang on that programme. On weekends, I was allowed to walk alone through Navy Gardens, Marine Gardens to Hastings where my Lobo great-grandmother and great-aunts lived. Granny forbade me to wear shorts on the street, so I had to obey and wear a skirt. I would spend long hours on the beach and in the sea by the Ocean View hotel, sometimes with a friend. That independence and freedom at a young age was good. Nobody worried about safety back then. All I had to remember was Granny's heeding to keep to the side of the road and look up and down carefully before crossing. Granny made the best lemon-meringue pies and for special occasions she made a dessert called "Spanish Cream", also the best rum trifle. On ordinary nights, there would be red Jell-O with canned fruit set in it for dessert. I remember her making eats for the evenings she expected guests - they were little meat patties, egg sandwiches, rolled asparagus sandwiches, stuffed eggs, and prunes stuffed with peanut butter. A must were the cubes of yellow cheese with either a small cocktail onion or maraschino cherry on toothpicks stuck into a large grapefruit for serving. I don't know whether tins of peanuts were available then, but Granny would shell bags of peanuts and prepare her own delicious salted cocktail peanuts in the oven. 

 Granny St. Hill pampered and catered to her husband. When I lived with them to go to school, he was still working at Robert’s Manufacturing Co. as their Secretary/Accountant. He left early in the morning, and would be picked up and dropped by Maurice Foster who lived in nearby Rockley New Road and also worked at Roberts. Every morning, Granny would lay out his clothes on the bed. He wore white shirts with detachable collars, and those were kept in a circular tin that toffees or sweet biscuits had come in. The collars were starched stiff and sparkling white. The shirts didn’t have buttons, instead they were buttoned with little gold studs, which Granny would place in each button hole, just ready to be secured by him on the other side. She also placed his gold cuff links in the cuffs of the long sleeves. He always wore a gold fob pocket watch and suspenders. One of Scott’s duties was to clean his shoes. I also remember my grandmother making a large glass of eggnog topped with grated nutmeg, and had it ready for him when he came back home from work in the afternoon. I never remember seeing Pop do any washing up or housework - ever. He was a kite maker - he called himself a “kite-ologist” and Granny’s job was to cut and strip cloth into varying sizes for him to make the tapered tails for his kites. Pop loved plants and gardening and tending to that was his clearly established domain. They had a Cocker Spaniel dog named Freckles who had his own dog bed that looked like a miniature cradle, also painted cream like the bedroom furniture. During my time of staying with my Bajan grandparents I would fly back home by BWIA for school holidays. Mum and Dad were waiting for me at the old Piarco airport, and back home I would quickly have to adjust to not being the only child in the house! Looking back, I was very fortunate to have experienced childhood in the two very different Caribbean islands, and life with grandparents who were born in the 1890's. 
 Those were Colonial times and Barbados was decidedly more British in customs and culture than Trinidad was. The Ursuline Convent was run by nuns, many of whom were British. My early childhood upbringing taught me adaptability and gave me awareness of the importance of and respect for family, in particular for elders. Looking back, my solo visits to the Barbados Museum at 10 years old must have triggered my love for historical things, people and places. I would stare at the Penny-farthing and the huge mahogany four poster bed with the little steps. The story of the Tamarind Seed in the shape of a slave-man's head impressed me. Over the years my West Indian accent became a Trini-Baje one, and that's quite okay with me. These recollections show that children are like sponges, soaking in everything around them. Memories are subjective. These ramblings of mine are to recall a past era, one without television, smart phones or computers. To my grandchildren: I hope ValVal's memories amuse you! To be continued . . .
 May 2022

Welcome to my site Years ago I embarked on a journey of research and discovery in writing the stories of my family through the use of oral tradition and genealogical research. I consider myself a family historian, though I am not a professional genealogist nor am I an academic. I try to provide photographs to accompany the stories, helping to bring the humanity of our ancestors alive as I attempt to document their lives. My goal is to create a legacy for future generations, recognizing the importance of knowing the people we come from, and understanding their struggles and achievements in the context of their era. The menu above will lead you to seventy-four lovingly compiled pages of family stories, photos and videos. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy creating them. Each section contains the title story plus several others in the drop-down menu under the title. Just toggle and click. You may also use the Search tab to easily find the people or story of interest to you. Read More THE ENGLISH SHEPPARDS INTRODUCTION This is a tale of a two brothers who came from the large family of James and Elizabeth Shepherd in Sussex, England. Their family story has been pieced together by researching many official records, and with the help of photos and personal records in a family Bible. The lives of these brothers took completely different directions, and left many descendants who would become scattered far and wide. We have followed the family in censuses which were done every ten years. Interestingly, the earlier records show the family surname as Shepherd, but as we know for sure, the brothers Alfred and Charles wrote their name Sheppard. My great-great grandfather James Shepherd (Sheppard), born abt. 1823 in Chichester, Sussex, England The handwritten identification on the back of James' photo provided a vital clue in tracing the English Sheppard family line JAMES AND ELIZABETH SHEPHERD (SHEPPARD) Our story starts in 1851, during the reign of Queen Victoria, when a Census of England, Scotland and Wales was taken. James and Elizabeth Ann Shepherd née Cole were a young married couple, living with their family at St Pancras Street, in the parish of Saint Pancras, Chichester, Susex, England. James, born in Chichester and the head of the household, was 28 years old, and his occupation was listed as Gardener. Elizabeth, 25 years old, was also born in Chichester. They were already the parents of four children: Walter (6), Harriette (5), James (3) and one-year old William. In 1861, the Census records that the family had moved to St. Martins Court, St. Martin, Chichester, in the county of Sussex, England. Ten years had passed, and four more children had been born. They were Charles (7), Alfred (5), Edward (3) and the baby Harry (1). At the time of the Census, James and Elizabeth were 38 and 36 respectively, and lived at this address with their family of 8 children. By now, the oldest child, Walter, was 15 years old, and his occupation was "Best Of Shoe Paster Apprentice". What exactly that was, one can only guess. Harriett, now 14, was the only girl of the eight children. James, at only 12 years old, was also a Best of Shoe Apprentice. All of the children after James, with the exception of one year old Harry, were 'scholars' - what we would call 'students' nowadays. During this period, James Shepherd’s occupation as recorded in the Census was Gardener/Journeyman. The word journeyman comes from the French word journée, which means a period of one day. Essentially, that meant that he had finished his learning period or apprenticeship (most youngsters were apprenticed in those days to learn a trade) and had gone onto the stage of being relatively independent. He could travel around and offer his services for a daily rate; but he had not yet reached the stage of master or head gardener. Ten years later, in the 1871 Census, we discover that James Shepherd and his family were back at their original address – St. Pancras Street, Chichester. At the time of the census, James was 47 years old, and Elizabeth 44. Their family had grown even larger with the addition of two more children. There were two more boys - Ernest who was then 9 years old, and a new baby called Stephen - just 8 months old. Those were the only two children living at home with them. Although their older brothers Charles and Alfred were just 16 and 14, they were not listed in the household; however, so far, we are unable to find them listed at any other residence. Elizabeth Shepherd’s occupation is never mentioned, but it is clear that she was a housewife all her adult life. She would have had her first child when she was 21, and her last child when she was 46 - occupation enough! By 1881 we find the Shepherd family living at 6, Guilden Road, Oving, Sussex. James Shepherd, the gardener, was now 58 years old and his wife 55. The only child living with them was their youngest son Stephen, 10 years old - a scholar. I guess Stephen was what we would call in Trinidad their "lagniappe"! At their home at the time of this Census, there was also a lady called Jane Brenner, a widow of 55 years old, who was a 'lodger' or boarder. She was a ‘needlewoman’ from Hampshire. We don't know her connection, if any, with the family, but are curious to find out why she was living with them. The final Census in which we find James Shepherd and his wife Elizabeth, was recorded in 1891; James and his wife Elizabeth were living at 2 Kingshame Terrace, Basin Road, Chichester. James was still a Gardener. Their youngest son, twenty-year old Stephen, was ‘Drapers Assistant’ and was living at this address with his parents in their golden years. From notations on the back of a photo of the brothers Charles and Stephen, we believe that James and Elizabeth had thirteen children in all; but so far we have only been able to find ten of them. Left is Charles Sheppard born 1853 and his youngest brother Stephen, born in 1862. The handwriting on the back of the photo is that of Charles' daughter Nellie, born in 189 1. This story continues with only two of James' and Elizabeth’s offspring – the middle children: Charles , who remained in England, and the brother who came right after him, Alfred Sheppard . Alfred's life would take him to the island of Trinidad. There he would marry and make Trinidad his permanent home. He became my great-grandfather and that of all the Trinidad Sheppard/Mendes families of my generation.

I was pleased and honoured to have contributed this story to Simon Kreindler for inclusion in his book "The Sephardi Jews of Barbados (1627 to 1934)" published in November 2022. The Lobo & D'Azevedo Families Sephardic Jewish Ancestry In the winter of 1803 in Amsterdam, a Jewish couple from London registered their intention to marry. After the civil registration of the banns, their names and details provided by the couple were hung on the front of the town hall, called the Pui . There passers-by could read who wanted to get married and possibly object. If that objection was not made, the marriage could take place three weeks later. Moses Lobo was 28 years old and lived at 148 Rapenburgerstraat in the Jewish quarter of Amsterdam. He was accompanied by his father Daniel Lobo, a merchant and Public Notary, who was a witness to the registration. His bride-to-be was Sarah Azevedo, age 32, who lived at No. 3 Muidergracht over the busy Houtmarkt (wood market) situated on the canal, not far from where her bethrothed lived. Both of Sarah's parents had died, and her representative was her guardian, Moses Oliviera, who also lived at No. 3 Muideraght. On 9 December 1803, the young Jewish man signed his name Matthew Lobo in the Marriage Register. Moses (Matthew) Lobo's lineage went back six generations to Baruch Bento Osorio , of Lisbon, Portugal. Bento was among those Portuguese Jews who fled to Amsterdam during the time of the infamous Catholic Inquisition. Matthew's parents were cousins, Daniel Jessurun Lobo and Sipora Jessurun Lobo, children of two Dutch Jessurun Lobo brothers - David and Abraham. The story of our Sephardic Lobo ancestor Baruch Bento Osorio and the serendipitous way I learnt about him can be seen here . Moses (Matthew) and Sarah Lobo's first son Daniel Moses Lobo was born in Amsterdam on August 24, 1805. In 1806 the couple moved to Emden in Germany. From there the family emigrated to the Dutch colony of Suriname. On 15 December 1807 in Paramaribo, Suriname, their second son Isaac de Moses Lobo was born. Both sons would emigrate to Barbados in years to come. Daniel Moses eventually left Barbados and settled in Philadelphia, where his son Moses Finzi Lobo became a prominent citizen known for his journalism. Isaac Lobo made the island of Barbados his permanent home . From Suriname to Barbados Isaac de Moses Lobo Our family's Barbados story starts in the early nineteenth century with Isaac de Moses Lobo, born in Paramaribo, Suriname. Isaac married Abigail Cohen D'Azevedo on 26 March, 1834 in Barbados. Abigail was born in London on November 29 1808 where her parents Benjamin Cohen D'Azevedo and Judith de Abraham de Paz raised their family. Isaac and Abigail are my 3rd great-grandparents. Isaac Lobo's prayer book which he used at the Nidhe Israel Synagogue in Barbados. This family heirloom is written in Hebrew, Ladino and English. Ladino is Judaeo-Spanish language originally spoken by Sephardic Jews in parts of the Iberian Peninsula. It is derived from Castilian Old Spanish. Abigail's oldest brother was Moses Cohen d'Azevedo , also born in London. Moses and my 3rd great-grandmother Abigail (D'Azevedo) Lobo were both grandchildren of Haham Moses Cohen D'Azevedo of London. The Haham was born in Holland in 1720 and died in London in 1784. Moses was the creator and owner of the well-known Receipt Book, dated 1813-1837, in the collection of The American Jewish Historical Society. This intriguing receipt book mentions several of my family's ancestors and close connections. A description of the Receipt Book by The Centre for Jewish History: "Leather bound receipt book of approximately 200 pages, with 20 interleaved unbound sheets filled with signed transactions of voyage records in English of the commercial dealings of the brothers Moses and Isaac in the West Indies. Of note are vital statistics of the members of the family, and the record of a slave purchase. One of the interleaved sheets contains a record of the inscriptions on the monuments of the Battle of Waterloo. Among the merchants who signed the book are the following members of the Jewish community of Barbados: Abraham Rodrigues Brandon, Isaac Lopez Brandon, Hananel de Castra, Moses Mendes da Costa, Benjamin Elkin, Mozley Elkin, Abraham Finzi, David Lindo, Jacob Lindo, Raphael Lindo, D.M. Lobo, Isaac de Moses Lobo, Jacob Lobo, Hart Lyon, John Montefiore, Phin S. Nunes, Daniel Pass. Mention is made of S.E. Daniels, Sarah Finzi, Joseph Hart, Edward Aaron Moses and Sampson Shannon." This fascinating historical document can be viewed in two parts by clicking on the following links: Moses Cohen D'Azevedo Receipt Book 1 Moses Cohen D'Azevedo Receipt Book 2 Abigail and Moses Cohen D'Azevedo had a brother called Menessah. He was born in London and died in Barbados on 20 April 1836 when he was just 33 years old. I was touched to see his young age when I came across his grave a few years ago at the Nidhe Israel Cemetery in Barbados. I laid a stone. Recorded in "Monumental Inscriptions in the Burial Ground of the Jewish Synagogues at Bridgetown, Barbados" by Eustace Shilstone. Benjamin was my g-g-g grandmother Abigail's brother. The Barbados Lobo Family Daniel Lobo Our first Barbadian-born Lobo ancestor was Daniel Lobo, my great-great grandfather. He was born on 13 October 1840 to Isaac de Moses Lobo and Abigail Cohen D'Azevedo. Daniel was the fourth of Isaac and Abigail's five Barbadian children. His siblings were Moses, Benjamin, Miriam and Edward Burnett. It appears that the family lived in Swan Street, close to the Synagogue. On 28 August 1839, The Barbadian Newspaper announced the birth of Daniel's sister Miriam, born to Mrs. Isaac Lobo in Swan Street. Again, on 26 Sept 1849, The Barbadian Newspaper, carried this sad announcement: "Died. On Monday in Swan Street after an illness of only three days, Master Edward Burnett aged 6 years 3 months and 24 days, youngest son of Isaac Lobo." Four years earlier, a great tragedy had struck the residents of Swan Street who were mostly the Jewish merchant community. In 1845 when Daniel Lobo was just five years old, a disastrous fire ravaged Swan Street where they lived. The fire started at No. 20 Swan Street, the home and business place of his uncle Daniel Moses Lobo, father of Moses Finzi Lobo , Daniel's first cousin. Following in his father Isaac de Moses Lobo's footsteps, my great-great-grandfather Daniel Lobo became a merchant. We have been told that he officiated in the Nidhe Israel Synagogue. However, while he was most certainly a congregant there with his family, so far I have been unable to find out the full extent of his participation in the Barbados Jewish community. Records show that Daniel relinquished his Jewish faith when he was only 29 years old and was baptised on the day of his marriage. On 14 June 1870 Daniel Lobo was baptized at the Anglican St. Michael's Cathedral in Bridgetown. On that very same day, he married a Christian, Elizabeth Frances Ann Stoute, at St. Leonard's Chapel, St. Michael. As further records have shown, Miss Stoute was already six months pregnant with Daniel's child. Oral tradition tells us that for these reasons, Daniel was excommunicated from the congregation of the Nidhe Israel Synagogue and shunned by his people. Only his sister Miriam Lobo, whom he called Sissy, secretly befriended him and allowed him to visit her. One can only imagine the shame and scandal in the Jewish community! Daniel's wife Elizabeth had seen sad times as a young girl. Six years prior to her marriage to Daniel, both of her parents had died within six months of each other. It must have been a terribly difficult time for Elizabeth and her seven siblings. Their father Samuel Stoute, had been a clerk at the Bridgetown docks who worked for merchants importing goods to the West Indies and exporting colonial goods. Her mother Sarah Frances Moore, owned a small property, but the family wasn't very well off. Barbadian historian Pedro Welch and genealogist Patricia Stafford had researched the Stoute family for the TV network NBC, tracing American celebrity Gwenneth Paltrow to Elizabeth's youngest sister, Rosamund Stoute . They had also contacted me for information. A link to that story can be found at the foot of this page. At the time of their marriage, Daniel Lobo's mother Abigail had also died the previous year. The marriage register shows Daniel's occupation as Merchant, and young Elizabeth as Milliner. She was living in James Street, Bridgetown and he was also living in the city. On 2nd September 1870, just three months after their marriage, Elizabeth gave birth to their son at their home in Spry Street, Bridgetown. They baptized him Isaac Clement Milton Lobo, at St. Michael's Cathedral on 12 October 1870, the same year and place where his Jewish father Daniel had been baptised. This infant Isaac Lobo, who was given the name of his grandfather Isaac de Moses Lobo, would become my great-grandfather. Four years after their first child Isaac, Daniel and Elizabeth had a daughter, Edith Jane Rogers. It is here that oral tradition tells a very tragic story of my Jewish great-great grandfather. In 1976 his granddaughter Freida (Lobo) Jackson recorded the story in her hand-writing: "After his daughter Edith was born, he was a real downcast man, spurned by his people, rejected by his wife because after Edith’s birth she locked him out of her heart and bedroom. She said she already had to work at sewing and teaching dancing and did not intend to have more kids to work so hard. Poor Daniel, rejected by his wife and people, was a sad and forlorn man. He took to drink, got ill and was taken to the Poorhouse where he died to pneumonia and a broken heart." While I have no official documents to confirm this story, I do believe that like all oral family history, there must be kernels of truth in it. Daniel Lobo died on 27 December 1903, just 22 days after the birth of his sixth grandchild, Lillian Isabel. His wife Elizabeth died two years later and they were both laid to rest at the Westbury Cemetery. They didn't live long enough to know that they would become grandparents to several more children born in Barbados to their only son Isaac Clement Lobo through his marriage to Lillian Boyle. Nor would they know that their only daughter Edith would leave the shores of Barbados and settle into a new way of life in America. Isaac Clement Lobo When he was in his twenties, my great-grandfather Isaac Clement Lobo fell in love with Lillian Alicia Boyle, a beautiful brunette. Isaac was known by his second name, Clement. Lillian's parents were Thomas Graham Boyle and Elizabeth Frances (Amey) Tryhane and they lived in Hindsbury Road, St. Michael at the time of her birth. Lillian had a younger sister and brother, Millicent (Millie) and Milton Boyle. Clement and Lillian's romance blossomed into a Christmas wedding at St. Mary's Church in Bridgetown, on 22 December 1892, followed by the birth of a son two months later. On 26 February 1893 when Clarence Alfred D'Azevedo Lobo was born, Lillian was then 20 years old and Isaac Clement was 23. For the next two decades their family continued to grow, until their eleventh child, Freida, was born in September 1912. She arrived exactly nine months after her six-month old sister Daphne Freida passed away. That sad day was also Clement and Lillian's 19th Wedding Anniversary. Isaac Clement Milton Lobo (1870-1943) My great-grandfather Lillian Alicia Theodora Lobo née Boyle (1873-1962) My great-grandmother In December of 1942, Clement and Lillian celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary, but Clement passed away 18 days later on 9 January 1943. Lillian went on to live quietly in their home "Raeburn", in Hastings until she was 88, along with three of their children - Arthur, Hilda and Carmen. Arthur married late in life, after his mother had passed away, while Hilda and Carmen remained single all their lives. In a photo album belonging to his wife Lillian which has been passed down, I found the newspaper clipping of his obituary and funeral announcement published in the Barbados Advocate: MR. CLEMENT LOBO The death occurred on Saturday of Mr. Clement Lobo. formerly of the firm of Messrs. Laurie & Co. Mr. Lobo was one of those figures, all too few in life, whose heartiness and general bon homie made him a favourite with all this community. He was employed at Messrs. Laurie & Co., Steamship Agents, in the period before the Great War when Barbados was the chief coaling station in these parts. His was a geniality which attracted friendship and he always had a kind word for those in distress. His heartiness of manner which he has bequeathed to his family circle led him at times to jest even at himself when he had committed some error of judgment. A true friend, he was highly respected and it was a source of much pride to him to receive a fortnight ago a chorus of congratulations on the celebration of his Golden Wedding. Failing eyesight limited his activities in recent years but he never lost touch with the things around him, or his interest in life. To his sorrowing relatives the Advocate tenders deepest sympathy. DIED LOBO, - On Saturday morning 9th January, Isaac Clement, aged 72. His funeral took place yesterday morning in the Westbury Cemetery. LILIAN LOBO and children. 11.1.43. A graphic chart of these three generations of our Barbados Lobo family can be seen here. The Lobo Family home "Raeburn" where my great-grandparents lived and spent the last years of their life is the yellow house third left Esmée Ione D'Azevedo Lobo Clement and Lillian's eldest daughter was Esmée Ione D'Azevedo Lobo, my grandmother. She was the only one their eleven children to get married in Barbados and raise their family of five children there. Esmée Ione D'Azevedo (Lobo) St.Hill My Grandmother My grandparents Henry Garnet St. Hill and Esmee Ione d'Azevedo Lobo on their wedding day - 18th December 1913. They are at the Lobo residence "Moorehouse", 9th Avenue, Belleville, St. Michael. Esmee's parents Lillian and Clement Lobo are standing behind her at the right, while Garnet's parents are on the left of the picture, behind the bridesmaids. All of the bride's siblings are here, the youngest being the baby in the arms of her nanny. Various records show Isaac Clement Lobo's occupation as Merchant's Clerk and as Merchant. In any case, he made a very successful career in the shipping business, and by all accounts, was well respected in the community. He traveled with his wife and daughters to the U.S.A on more than one occasion to visit his family who had emigrated there. Certainly by 1907, he had bought their spacious family home called "Morehouse" in 9th Avenue Belleville. He later purchased "Raeburn" on the Hastings coast, where he and Lillian lived with their unmarried children, and where he died on 9 January 1943 when he was 72. According to my mother, when Isaac Clement died, he left Lillian a very comfortable estate which comprised several properties. These included "Calcachima" - a seaside property located on the south coast next door to where the Accra Hotel is now, "Raeburn" in Hastings, "Moorehouse" in Belleville, as well as another property at the corner of 10th Avenue Belleville and Pine Road called "Govan." There are many entertaining tales to be told about cocktail parties and family gatherings by all of us who knew our great-grandmother Lillian Lobo and our great aunts and uncles whom we met at "Raeburn". We all remember that trap door in the kitchen floor of "Raeburn" that led down a dark, dank staircase of worn stone steps, finally opening on to the beach, close to the Ocean View Hotel . It was exciting for all of us who experienced with trepidation feeling our way down, the odd red crab scurrying away, and finally seeing the strip of bright sunlight and sound of the ocean, indicating we'd reached the beach! Lobos and The Peddlers in Barbados For now, I shall recount just one small but significant memory told me by my mother, Betty (St. Hill) Sheppard. My mother fondly recalls her visits to her Lobo grandparents when they lived at "Raeburn", Hastings and would spend a lot of time with them. She loved all the fuss and attention showered on her by her grandmother and especially her spinster aunts, who had no children of their own. As a young child, she vividly remembers seeing a mahogany bookcase with shelves of several "special looking" leather-bound books which were written in Hebrew. Fascinated and curious about them, she asked what they were all about. She was told that they were her great-grandfather Daniel's Jewish books that he used at the Synagogue. Excited to think there was some precious heirloom somewhere in our family's possession, I asked my mother what ever became of the books. The story goes that nobody understood what they were about, and Judaism was not their faith. The old books were just sitting there, collecting dust. Around that time, there were Jewish peddlers who would come regularly to the Lobo's door in Hastings selling their goods. My great-aunts who lived there, thought it would be a nice thing to give away the books to these friendly Jewish itinerant salesmen. After all, the Lobos certainly had no use for them and they thought that one of these men might like to have them. Knowing my great-aunts Hilda and Carmen, I am sure they had struck up a friendly rapport with these gentlemen, and also purchased laces, ribbons and other notions from them, as Aunt Hilda was a gifted seamstress. She knitted, did fancy embroidery work and sewed most of my mother's clothes and various costumes when she was growing up. She even sewed her pretty organza wedding dress in 1943. Daniel Lobo's Sephardic Jewish books which he quite likely inherited from his father Isaac de Moses Lobo might very well have ended up in the homes of such gentlemen as Mr. Joe Kreindler or Mr. Henry Altman and are no doubt long gone. Now that I have learnt more about our family history, I rather love the idea of those Hebrew books belonging to my Sephardic Jewish ancestor being passed on to one or more of the first Ashkenazi Jewish settlers in Barbados. My dear, sweet old great-aunts would have been unaware of the significance of their gesture, but to me it was quite serendipitous. Ripe Old Age My great-grandparents Lillian and Clement Lobo at their home, "Raeburn", Hastings, Barbados The family at "Raeburn", Hastings, Barbados Above: l/r standing: Colin Lobo, Beryl (Toppin) Lobo, Arthur Lobo (aka Shortie), Marilyn Lobo, Richard Lobo Hilda Lobo, Evan Lobo l/r seated: Clarence Lobo, Lillian (Boyle) Lobo, Frank Lobo, Carmen Lobo The four Lobo brothers at "Raeburn", Hastings, Barbados - l/r Colin, Arthur, Clarence, Frank Colin married Barbadian Ivy Atkinson and Arthur married Barbadian Elene Bowen , both of whom lived to be centenarians. Neither couple had children. Clarence married Barbadian Beryl Edith Toppin and emigrated to the USA, they had a son and two daughters. Frank married Trinidadian Rita Stokes and moved to Trinidad, they had two sons and a daughter. Isaac Clement Lobo's widow Lillian (in black) with three of her children, l/r Hilda, Carmen and Arthur, mourn at his graveside, Westbury Cemetery, Barbados His resting place is beside that of his parents, Daniel and Elizabeth (Stoute) Lobo whose headstone bears the inscription "Father and Mother - dearly loved." On a visit to the Nide Israel Synagogue, Barbados - 2015 In the mikveh (usually called baño by the Sephardim) Nide Israel Synagogue Barbados - 2015 This was built in the mid-seventeenth century over a natural spring. When Sarah Massiah was fired from the Barbados mikveh in 1814, Mrs. Lobo became the bañadeira . The Mahamad did not record her first name, and I would dearly love to know it. She was probably a poor widow who was receiving a pension from the synagogue. As the bañadeira she would have been provided with a house of her own within the compound of the Synagogue. See also: BARUCH (BENTO) OSORIO MOSES FINZI LOBO My research was done through: Dutch genealogists in Amsterdam Genealogy internet sites and Facebook groups Visits to The Shilstone Library in the Barbados Museum, reference to "Monumental Inscriptions in the Burial Ground of the Jewish Synagogues at Bridgetown, Barbados" by Eustace Shilstone. Visits to the Nidhe Israel Cemetery and Museum in Barbados Visits to The Barbados Archives Visits to the Barbados Nidhe Israel Synagogue and graveyard Collecting and archiving family documents and photos, and interviews with family members The Amsterdam Archives Barbados Jewish Community A Review of the Jewish Colonists in Barbados by Wilfred S. Samuel Cohen D'Azevedo Family Chart The Occident and American Jewish Advocate: Meeting at Barbadoes Barbadoes—Progress of Education . News Items Barbados Synagogue Historic District Laura Leibman about Mikveh Rediscovering an Important Link to American Jewish History: Field Notes from the Nidhe Israel Synagogue Complex in Barbados: Laura Leibman interview with Karl Watson, November 4, 2021 SAMUEL, E. (2013). Marriages at the Nidhe Yisrael synagogue, Bridgetown, Barbados. Jewish Historical Studies, 45, 163–171. http://www.jstor.org/stable/23720251 Cohen, C. J. (1910). Moses Finzi Lobo. Publications of the American Jewish Historical Society, 19, 197–199. http://www.jstor.org/stable/43057861 Excellent Books about Barbados Jewish families: PEDDLERS ALL - Simon Kreindler THE SEPHARDI JEWS OF BARBADOS (1627 - 1934) - Simon Kreindler ONCE WE WERE SLAVES - Laura Arnold Leibman Watch author Simon Kreindler's video presentation THE SEPHARDIC JEWS OF BARBADOS As we get to know more details about the history of the Sephardim, this webpage will be updated and/or corrected.

Click here for my RELATIONSHIP CHART Click here for the story of my ancestors DANIEL LOBO and ELIZABETH STOUTE Click on the image to watch Gwenneth's Barbados story For more, click on this link: Barbados Nation Newspaper Article

June, too soon October, all over? Written on 25 October, 1989 by my father, Andrew D. Sheppard (Transcribed from personal family memorabilia) Hugo's path in the Caribbean - September 1989 We should not wait to give thanks to God for all of his blessings by going to church on Saturday or Sunday. We should do it now. Almighty God in His Divine Mercy has spared the inhabitants of this blessed land of Barbados, while our island neighbours have received the brunt of the powers of two of the most devastating hurricanes in known history - but Barbados has been spared. Can anyone really imagine where we would be today if Hugo had hit us like it did Montserrat ? Population 13,000 versus our 250,000, plus an undetermined number of visitors. Add to this our pretty little and big houses, hotels, smart condominiums, shopping centres and malls, our water and electricity supplies, telephones, fax, telex and our inadequate drainage - all of these things taken for granted. And in one fell swoop all could have disappeared. All of our top soil would have been washed away, putting an end to our sugar and other crops. Most of our tourist accommodations would have been flattened and casualties would have been enormous. Recovery would have cost billions of dollars and we could have lost our largest dollar-earner, the visitor or tourist, who might have gone elsewhere and liked it as well or better than Barbados. But what do we do? We complain and quarrel and bad-talk our neighbours. We have exhibited a total lack of care for those less fortunate than ourselves, with few exceptions. Apart from the traditional sources of organised charity, the general public of Barbados has not demonstrated real concern for our poor deprived and desolate fellow human beings. It was pathetic. Poor Doug Hoyte and his team of dedicated volunteer helpers and entertainers did their best. They set a goal of $200,000 and fell short of pledges by $85,000, less than the cost of a Crown or Mercedes car. So we ride off into the night in our air-conditioned chariots, numbed by the sounds of our stereos. Too bad for you, Montserrat, Antigua, St. Kitts, Nevis, St. Thomas. Instead of thanksgiving, our sense of gratitude has turned to our very considerable concern about the serious spate of automobile accidents on our roads and highways. This carnage has to stop. The police presence on our roads must increase and our drivers must be made to feel more responsible. All of this reflects a lack of care for other human beings. But then again, most vehicles being driven today are death traps. Their design and construction are deplorable and generally offer no protection for their occupants. And, their cost is prohibitive. Illegal drugs provide the media with endless information. This scourge on our society appears to be gaining ground despite the anti-drug propaganda and the efforts of our efficient police and security forces. The addicts, pushers and suppliers just do not care. The suppliers and traffickers beome richer and are not ashamed to exhibit their rapidly earned wealth with extravagance in housing and transportation. Lack of respect for authority has become obvious in all areas of human relationships, but particularly among the guardians of the law, who should set the example for others to follow. When policemen can boo their Deputy Prime Minister at a meeting to which he was invited. When the Governor General's mobile escort and mounted police refused to report for duty at the Independence Day Parade and get away scot-free because they reported "sick". When Magistrates' lives are threatened and resignation and retirement are the answers. When a school teacher can walk the streets of Bridgetown telling everyone what a horrible place Lodge School is because he feels peeved that his status as a teacher is unclear. And what about the behaviour of school children in the streets, buses and other public places? There was a time when school children wore their uniforms with pride and there was "Esprit de Corps". Not anymore. And now a 13 year old boy shoots a 14 year fellow student in his nose during school hours. Common courtesy is almost a thing of the past. Too much materialism, and now, too little money to keep up the life style. The prospect is frightening. Our unemployment is growing and will become worse with the recession in our economy. Let us be sensible and do not allow the obvious evils which have permeated our society to grow, but rather curb and stop the nefarious practices of the selfish few who are ruining our happy and prosperous future. This is an appeal to the heads of all religious bodies to get together now and arrange an Ecumenical Prayer Meeting at the Garrison or the Stadium and invite and exhort all Christians and other residents of different religious persuasions to come and pray together. To thank God for our precious lives and all the good things that we enjoy and take for granted. By the way, CNN news just showed us an angry storm and potential hurricane headed for Bermuda and its thriving tourist industry. And poor San Francisco is expecting another bad earth quake within two weeks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Wednesday 25th October 1989 - 7.00 a.m. Think. Andrew Sheppard

The Archer Family Barbados John Anthony Keith (Tony) Archer 23 March 1939 - 14 July 1984 Gertrude Louise (Sis) Mahon 1913 - 1996 Tony's parents Hubert Keith Archer 1912 - 2004 Introduction - John Anthony Keith (Tony) Archer Childhood and lineage I begin this story with Tony, as he was my husband and father of my five children. Tony Archer was the only child of Hubert Keith Archer and Gertrude Louise Mahon. Everyone knew his parents as Keith and Sis Archer. He was born on Thursday 23 March 1939 at their home built by Keith’s father Norman Archer. It was set back from the road at the end of a long driveway and had a spacious back yard where they grew fruit trees and kept a few animals. Their home was named “The Nook”, situated near Rockley beach on the far end of Dayrells Road in Barbados. Tony’s paternal grandparents were Norman Lidney Archer and his wife Eleanora Isabel De Rouvière Greaves. She was the daughter of Anthony Desse Greaves, a planter, and his wife Ellen Pembroke Spencer. Anthony Desse Greaves, known as Desse, was the son of Naboth Greaves, a planter who was also Magistrate for the Parish of St. Lucy. Ellen's mother Mary de Rouvière Agassiz was descended from the prominent Agassiz and de Rouvière families of Switzerland and France. Her father was Rev. Robert Agassiz, Rector of St. Patrick and St. David in St. Vincent, West Indies. Tony's grandfather, Norman Archer, was a well-known druggist and entrepreneur in Speightstown, St. Peter. He was 40 years old when he married 22 year old Eleanora Greaves, (known as Norah) at St. Mary's Church, St. Michael, Barbados, on 10 April, 1910. The couple lived at Mile-and-a-Quarter, St. Peter in a house called "Newstead", where their first child Norman Stanley was born. By the time their second child, Hubert Keith (Tony's dad ) was born on 25 April 1912, Norman and Norah had purchased and moved into a house on the seaside in Queen Street, just two doors down from the present Archers Hall building. They then purchased the large property at the corner of Queen Street and Godding Lane across the street in Speightstown. According to a handwritten note by my children's grandfather, Keith Archer, the house was called "Buckingham". It was there that their great-grandfather Norman established and ran the Archer Pharmacy situated on the ground floor of their family home. The Archer family also ran schooners, a chandlers and copper works from that property before establishing the pharmacy business. It was there that their only daughter Thalia Eleonora (Nell) was born on 1 July 1915, and in 1917 another son named David who died in infancy. Tony's father Keith followed in his father's footsteps and qualified as a Druggist when he was 23 years old. Father and son worked together at their pharmacy business in Speightstown. Keith fell in love with a red-haired beauty, Gertrude Louise Mahon. She was the only daughter of William Greaves Mahon and Gertrude (nee Thornton). The couple wed at All Saints Chapel, St. Peter on 26 February 1938. They are pictured below, Sis was 25 and her dashing groom Keith was 26 years old. Sometime after 1938 and before Tony's birth in March 1939, Norman Archer sold his property on Queen Street, Speightstown to his friend and fellow druggist Noel Roach, who opened his own pharmacy on the same premises as the Archer Pharmacy. Norman Archer purchased two houses on the Hastings coast. One was called "Charleston" where he relocated his family. The other was the property next door called "Camelot", where he established the Alpha Pharmacy. Norman and his son Keith continued to work together in their newly established enterprise on the south coast. Norman Archer subsequently built two houses - "The Nook" and the next door family home "Newstead", so called after the home of the same name where he had lived at Mile-and-a Quarter in St. Peter, prior to moving to his property in Queen Street, Speightstown. Keith, Sis and young Tony Archer lived at "The Nook" and Norman and Nora moved into "Newstead". Tony's grandparents lived at "Newstead" until Norman's death in 1956. After his death, his wife Nora moved back to "Charleston" on the coast with her two unmarried adult children and lived there until she passed away in 1975. Keith and "Sis" Archer celebrating their 50th Wedding Anniversary - 1988 Built in the early 18th Century. This is the property when Norman L. Archer, his wife Norah (nee Greaves) owned it and lived there with their family. The property occupied the corner of Queen Street and Godings Alley, Speightstown. Norman Archer and his son Keith Archer were druggists and operated the Archer Pharmacy on the street level. There were several outbuildings in the back yard. A horse and carriage can be seen in quiet Queen Street. Steps and a side entrance gate to the home in the wall surrounds the front yard and garden. The property included a seafront area across the road. The above photo belongs to the Archer Family. Other photographs of this well-known heritage home can be seen by clicking on this link . Norman Archer with his grandson Tony at his home "The Nook", Rockley, Christ Church, Barbados. The next door property "Newstead" can be seen on the right of the photo. Ten years after the death of Norman Archer, "Newstead" became the home of his grandson Tony and myself, our first home after we were married on 16 July 1966. Our first two children were born when we lived at "Newstead". Eleanora (Norah) Archer nee Greaves with her grandson Tony at their home "Newstead", Rockley, Barbados - 1939 I'm not sure where Tony first went to primary school, but it's quite likely that he attended one of the small private schools run by ladies at their homes, such as Miss Hart's, in Worthing. Later he attended Harrison College where he enjoyed his school days. Upon completing his Oxford & Cambridge examinations, he applied for and got a job as a Junior at Barclays Bank DCO, as many youngsters did in those days. Working Days and Marriage Around 1960 he went to London, where he spent a year working with the airline BOAC as a baggage loader at the airport. Tony returned to Barbados in 1962, and on 5 December 1963 he and his father registered the firm J.A.K. Archer & Company Ltd., manufacturers' representatives. Tony and his father worked together to build up their business which started off in premises rented from "Poor Bob" Parravicino in Coolridge Street, Bridgetown. As the business grew, they moved their offices to Speedbird House, Bridgetown, and later to Tweedside Road. Further development and expansion led them to purchase a property in Fontabelle, by which time the Trinidad firm of Angostura Bitters Ltd. had become significant shareholders. Tony was the Managing Director of the company, later also heading the holding company Archer and Company Limited as Managing Director. He was also a director on the boards of Arrow Developers Limited which owned a residential development at Waterhall, St. James. He also served as a Director of Aero Services Limited. I had not long moved from Trinidad to Barbados with my parents when I first met Tony. I had just turned 18, he was 27. Young and passionate love swiftly blossomed into marriage for us on 16 July 1966, just nine months after we first met. It was an exciting time of life, as we got to know each other's family and I was introduced to Tony's friends and his world of equestrian sports. The Archer family has a long and interesting history, originating from England to the northern part of Barbados, especially in Speightstown. The story is currently being researched and developed. This page will be updated from time to time. See also: J.A.K. (Tony) Archer - Barbados Turf Club J.A.K. (Tony) Archer - Barbados Polo Club

The Gomez Saga by Tom Bannerman Dr. George Robert Gomez, Nevis - circa 1930/31 (Photo colourized to show details more clearly) Tom Bannerman is a grandson of Dr. George Gomez. The following account is taken from a letter that Tom wrote to his mother Jessie on 15 March, 2014, describing his trip to the Caribbean, and in particular what he discovered about the lives of her parents, Dr. and Mrs. Gomez on the islands of St. Kitts and Nevis. Tom's mother was not quite three years old at the time of her father's death. Her brother Joseph was four and their older sister Euphemia was barely six. I had prepared myself with photocopies of every document concerning the West-Indies that I could find at Kincumber. As well, I read as much as I could find of the various documents kept in your boxes pertaining to that episode in Grandma’s life. Additionally, I had used this material to make searches on the internet of many subjects related to this. Also, you may remember, I left with you a memoir of the former Administrator and, later, Governor of the Leeward Islands, Sir Reginald St. Johnston, which included, among its chapters, matters about his commission in St Kitts and Nevis during the period Grandma and your father, Dr George Gomez, were living in those islands. So prepared, I immediately found several subjects in Basseterre that had come to my earlier attentions. One, the old ‘Treasury’ building – it appears in an interesting snap of a large patriotic group that includes Grandma and various dignitaries – was just across the road from my hotel! Over my time there I went on to find many more subjects that had been some part in my grand-parents’ lives. I have taken many photographs of them. ‘Stonehaven’, your home in St Kitts, was near the village of Molineux, on the central northern coast - more on this later. The grave of Dr Gomez and Audrey Gomez, was high on my search-list. It stands close to the center of Springfield Cemetery in Basseterre and was easily spotted from 100 yards, so distinct is the form of its tall, light-grey headstone. On close inspection, I found that a Glasgow firm, Gray & Co., had been responsible for its creation. Obviously, the headstone had been shipped across the Atlantic, suggesting to me that Grandma may never have seen it on site. Her memory of the grave would have been of the carpet of flowers left by a great many mourners. The stone’s lengthy leaden text showed signs of small collisions made, no doubt, by the catapulted debris of over eighty years of tropical tempest. Though the large, capitalized “GOMEZ” at its base was as clear as ever, its lead-infill letters had vanished. Just up the hill from this large block is Government House, where the doctor played tennis, no doubt, and Grandma attended meetings to do with things like the founding of the Girl Guides for the island. By the way, St. Johnston was a doctor himself, so it is quite likely he often sought the company of your father and his medical colleagues, the population of St Kitts being very small. Numerous newspaper announcements declaring the governor was “At Home” at certain hours suggests there would have been many opportunities for social exchanges with the regal representative. A letter written by Dr Gomez to Grandma when she had returned to Scotland in the autumn of 1927 to show her two children, Effie and Joe, to her parents in Clydebank, though posted from the Nevis address, clearly indicates that the doctor certainly played tennis at such a place. Also adjacent to the cemetery is the site of the former Cunningham Hospital, where your father was rushed to following the sudden onset of his subsequently fatal condition, dying there on the fourth day. Undoubtedly, he must have worked there as well as in other places, such as Stonehaven, which is the name given to the former estate around ‘Stonehaven’, the former residence of the planter. This residence is still leased to doctors, by the way. By chance, when I was shown it, the current medical officer emerged, about to leave on some errand. He was quite fascinated by what I had to say and show about the residence, and he encouraged the two of us to wanderer about, taking photographs. The old stone building needed a lot of attention to its outside. The doctor told us that he had had to replace the roof, so at least that was properly covered with a corrugated cover. Timberwork rot here and there, and long vines and other vegetation covered much of the walls. Zack, my guide for this day, saw it as a sign of poor management. The abundant fruit of various trees had been left unharvested, covering the fertile ground with rotting matter – an inexcusable waste as far as Zack was concerned. He reminded me that many poor people living about would have gladly made good use of it – he picked some oranges himself. Typically, a pair of enormous mango trees formed part of the small orchard next to the building. I recalled Grandma telling me her story about the locals being allowed to shake the tree to collect food. These trees were so big that it could hardly be possible to shake their trunks. Perhaps they included the very tree she spoke of so long ago. The back of the house was particularly decrepit, like a scene from Kipling’s jungle stories of ruined palaces of old. We had been told by the doctor - and surely it was the case - that the interior was in good order; I can’t imagine he wished to live in squalor, but it was impossible to peek through any window such was the confusion outside. A verandah was filled with various boxes, all higgledy-piggledy. The wall facing the distant Atlantic Ocean was quite high. At its base were cellar doors. This was a typical arrangement in the islands and supported Grandma’s claim that the locals sought protection in her house from tempests. About the place, numerous smaller and much more fragile timber dwellings - called chattel houses, I was told later in my trip - attested to the poverty and needs of the locals. In Grandma’s time, even these humble buildings, the size of an ordinary room in any Australian home, would have had thatched roofs, prone to instantaneous destruction in any hurricane. Returning to the Cunningham Hospital: this site had been transformed just after Uncle Joe’s visit in 1979, at which time he had seen another sad reminder of island impoverishment. A fire had gutted some of it. This may account for his disappointed judgement that the “front was too dilapidated to take” a photo. Today, it is a very nice-looking collection of institutions: a public library, a high school and a college. Had he seen it as I did, his opinion would have been quite different, I am sure. I used the library myself on two occasions. In the Government Headquarters building, I was given volumes of newspapers to study in which I found numerous articles that included references to the doctor, and several additional articles mentioning Grandma such as reviews of charity-concerts – with lists of songs - and articles on the newly formed Girl Guides. The material I found leaves no doubt that the doctor’s death was a huge blow to the island. With his demise, the islands lost their only surgeon. Additionally, it is clear that he was held in considerable esteem by a great many in St Kitts and nearby Nevis. He was considered a generous and excellent physician to all, especially the many poor. His funeral was a very big event indeed for that place. Because of his services as a soldier in the recent Great War, his funeral included some military references. Additionally, masonic elements formed part of the occasion. I didn’t know he was a freemason. I read many newspapers – editions close to two years in total. In none of these was anyone else allotted anything close to an equivalent column-space, such was the significance of this sad occasion. His illness, death and funeral took place over a week. Each day, some announcement appeared. The fourth day saw his death. This is given a full page. (He was operated-on by the Chief Medical Officer, by the way. This occurred on the second day, during which time Dr. Gomez is reputed to have been sufficiently cognizant to suggest procedures to the other three doctors attending him. I think this might explain the more than likely myth that he had “operated on himself.” Very interestingly, Grandma is included as one of the attending nurses, so she must have been a witness to at least some of the procedures. While on this self-operating point, I found an article in a newspaper Dr Gomez would have received that attested to a Berlin doctor, Dr. Forssmann, having operated on himself. The article was dated March 6, and placed in the April 18, 1931 edition of ‘The St. Kitts-Nevis Daily Bulletin’, less than half a year before the doctor’s death. It was quite an operation that saw the daring medico insert a two-foot tube from his elbow along an opened vein into his heart! Even more remarkably, with this in place, he walked up a flight of stairs to be x-rayed! “Later he was none the worse.” In this time of such daring experimentation, perhaps there is some truth to the claim that my grandfather had indeed “operated on himself.” He was the only surgeon on the island, after all. A lengthy obituary and consequent articles on shortcomings in medical staffing of the islands run for another three days. On other matters, I was shown a “blue book” – so called because of the colour of the paper used in its publication. Blue Books were a compilation of annual medical reports and similar items, all prepared by the islands’ (St. K & N) District Medical Officers. These included articles written by Dr. Gomez. The doctor’s “old chauffeur”, Edmund Matthew, who must have been sixteen when first employed as his driver, became the subject of some of my investigations while looking for ‘Stonehaven’. It transpired that Edmund had lived only a few houses away (if those others were there at the time) from ‘Stonehaven’. His home, now derelict, like so many buildings about the place – usually the result of hurricanes and absent tenants/owners – was still standing, though roofless and becoming dilapidated. There to see was his garage. In the nearby Holy Family Catholic Church’s lawns, close to the church-door, were the graves of the aged driver and his even older wife, Ellen. The graves were so close together – Edmund’s “above” Ellen’s - that they may have even touched, suggesting both the great strength of a former union and the hope of an eternal one. I had been directed to the churchyard by a neighbor who, as a child, referred to the old taxi driver as ‘El mundo’ – the world. This was his nickname, never said to his face; the polite form of address was “Uncle Edmund.” He drove his taxi for as long as he lived, I was told. The dates on the stones were: (Edmund) 2.2.1911 – 12.5.1989, seventy-eight years, and (Ellen) 8.12.1911 – 30.10.2001, eighty-nine years. I had been taken to ‘Stonehaven’ and introduced to this source of local knowledge - a successful grocery-store owner who had only recently expanded his business - by a delightfully eccentric historian, Winston (Zack) Nisbett of Basseterre. As our conversation became increasingly animated, it was revealed that a daughter of Edmund, Beulah Nicholls, was the wife of a proprietor who ran a retail business on the ground-floor of the same building as my hotel! Consequently, on my return later that afternoon, I introduced myself to him and arranged for Beulah to meet me later that evening in the hotel’s bar. We would have a marvelous talk. She was thrilled with the very vague and small photocopies of snaps of her late-father, taken by Uncle Joe back in 1979 when he had returned to the islands to seek his own history there. Her son, Randy, soon joined us, and took photos of my vague facsimiles of his grandfather. Evidently, my little stories of Edmund made very exciting news to both of them. Also at the Government Headquarters Building I was shown by the very efficient and patient Director of Archives there, Victoria O’Flaherty, micro-fiche copies of the registered births of all four children: Euphemia, Joseph, Jessie and Audrey. Curiously, Aunt Effie’s registration is supported by a William Gomez, an engineer of Charlestown, the capital of nearby Nevis. This, presumably, must be the “Uncle Bill” who Grandma identified in a photograph taken in Anguilla (28 June, 1926.) The recorded dates of birth are: 11 Dec, 1925; 14 March, 1927; 8 October, 1928; and 20 February, 1930, respectively. I attempted to obtain copies of birth certificates - and a death certificate of Audrey - from the nearby Health Centre (Connell St, Basseterre), but was fobbed-off by a clearly disinterested young person there claiming records existed only from 1950. Zack was very unimpressed by her attitude and suggested privately to me that it was all too typical of the poor regard so many in the islands have towards history. I should add that some time later in my stay in St Kitts, Zack introduced me to yet another of his countless “friends”, a hopeful candidate seeking office in the island’s next election, whom, when told of the incident, was adamant that this was nonsense. I intend to write to the Health Centre later in the hope something more positive comes of this. It might be helpful if you and Aunt Effie supported the plea. There are likely to be records, but these may well be in a poor state and difficult to source. Returning to William Gomez, the archivist suggested it was probable that William, if indeed an uncle to the children, had encouraged his brother (or cousin?) George Gomez to seek his medical practice in or near Nevis. Of course, it may be the other way around. I had expected to visit Nevis after three days on the bigger St Kitts, but such was my success in finding material in the latter island that I found I delayed the ferry-trip across to that pretty island to my last full day. I was up very early so I could take the first ferry, scheduled for 6am. My hotel being only a few hundred yards away from the pier meant I had the shortest of walks. Though the islands are merely a few miles apart, the distance between Basseterre and Charlestown is eleven miles, I think. The trip lasted fifty-five minutes. Along the straight passage, a spectacular sunrise announced Nevis’s tropical glory, silhouetting, by its glorious rays, the great volcanic form that dominates the landscape. Wonderful clouds drifting across the great orb created their own delightful and ever-changing diffusions. Once ashore, within minutes I found ‘Longstone House’, the temporary residence your parents had taken in Nevis while “waiting for Evelyn Villa”, according to Uncle Joe’s annotation on the back of a snap he had taken of the same building during his visit in October, 1979. I had researched this building some weeks before leaving for overseas, discovering that it was a landmark building in Charlestown. You may be interested to know that it appears to me that its previous residents included the family of Hastings Charles Huggins (1857 – 1923), a colossal figure in fin de siècle Nevis. Huggins was a remarkable fellow – a “mulatto man”, to use the accepted term in the Caribbean to denote mixed race - born into poverty, like so many in the islands, but by his death had accumulated staggering wealth by means of shrewd business-practices. His last residence was this once-fashionable building. Sadly, it has long since lost its glamour. Today, it houses unremarkable commercial businesses. Upstairs, where you would have been housed, is now a dull café. I bought refreshments there then took several photographs, both inside and outside the building, before leaving to look for a Wesleyan Mission church. The term, “Wesleyan Mission”, had been notated by you on the back of a photograph as the place where Uncle Joe had been christened on “Thursday, 31st March 1927”. This small slightly over-exposed snap features your smiling father holding his baby son sitting on his forearm. The pair is accompanied by Grandma, Reverend Fred and Mrs McKenzie Turner, and Mrs Sylvie Brown - your nurse/nanny – who stands next to Nurse Hendrickson. The group appears to be gathered at the bottom of a step in front an elevated entrance, presumably part of the Wesleyan Mission. The Reverend Fred, by the way, who had entered the mission in 1909, is not long for the world. He dies, in harness, the following year. On the next block west of ‘Longstone House’ was what must have been the church. I managed to get some interior shots taken through glass panes. It appeared to me that it may well have changed little in appearance since it was built. Being so close to your parents’ residence must surely have seen it as their church. I wandered about it for some time. As I often observed during my trip, next to this place of worship was what was believed to be the mustering place for the island’s slaves. The singers of hymns suffered the wails of its neighbours. A small, easy-to-miss sign announced this sad history. I had immersed myself in reading-material on the subject of slaves after purchasing several famous books on it while visiting San Francisco’s Museum of African Diaspora, earlier in the trip. One of the points continually made in these studies was the hypocritical actions of the good Christians, whose solemnity papered over their hideous odium. I stopped for breakfast in a modest café just a little along the road, closer to the pier. Attracted to it because inside I had spied an old lady serving behind a small counter, I hoped that someone of her age might have knowledge of the whereabouts of ‘Evelyn Villa’. Recognizing my Western appearance, she suggested I could get bacon and eggs a little up the road, but I replied that I’d prefer what she had on offer as I’d come to sample the local product, a spicy chicken leg and some rice or bread, I forget which. Later, paying my bill, I made my enquiry. She considered the question then suggested I cross the street to a pharmacy where I could find a Mr Evelyn, apparently an old man whose business it was. Sure enough, Mr Evelyn, the pharmacist, was quite old. He was born the same year as the snap, 1927, or perhaps it was a year or two later. He soon became absorbed by my story. ‘Evelyn Villa’ had been his own residence while his wife lived. Following her death, about twenty or so years previously, he had moved out. The building had then been leased to an American artist, but a few years later, with a hurricane ruining his business, the man left, leaving the home empty to this day. The merciless tropical climate took its usual toll, so the once grand mansion lost much of its earlier charm. However, I was welcome to inspect it. It was just up the road, in the direction of the cricket ground, which I had found myself in my earliest meandering. Before leaving, he suggested I visit various museums about the place. It was clear that he had considerable interest in the history of Nevis. I took his advice, spending the day walking all over the place, becoming a little affected by the sun despite wearing my +30 sunscreen and my wide-brimmed cricket hat. Reaching the old home in minutes, I found several workmen outside its big yard. Introducing myself, I discovered I was addressing Mr Evelyn’s brother. Among other things, he told me the old house once claimed an uninterrupted view of the nearby cricket ground – presently, a more contemporary dwelling sat between it and the ground. The name ‘Evelyn’ comes up in historical notes as the name of a planter. It is likely that the villa was once an estate home. As my trip progressed, a pattern formed: my grand-parents’ residences were comfortable homes likely built many years earlier as estate homes. Four days earlier, in St Kitts, I had been taken to dinner by an Australian man and his English wife. Having just stored their yacht in preparation for a return home to Brisbane the next day, they had decided to end their Caribbean sojourn at a very expensive restaurant in the former Ottley Plantation. I had been taxied near there that morning in my first attempt to find ‘Stonehaven’, but declined the driver’s suggestion that I see the old estate - time was getting on and I was already two hours beyond my schedule. Looking through the window as we passed it there, high up in the hills, I wondered if I had made a mistake as parts of its architecture reminded me of what I could barely discern from Uncle Joe’s snaps of ‘Stonehaven’, though, obviously, it was without the latter’s more modest scale. So, given this second opportunity, I heartily accepted the invitation from the couple when it was offered over drinks on the balcony back at ‘Seaview Inn’. Its beautifully gardened grounds were stunning. The three of us were rendered speechless as we slowly walked across wide, manicured lawns edged with spectacularly arranged tropical plants. Dusk’s pink heaven appeared through screens of huge trees usually found in aged botanical gardens. The air was perfumed. An avenue of tall coconut palms of great age took our gaze deep into the hills beyond. Re-modeled and renovated buildings also re-announced, for those who could hear, the glory of the former plantocracy, but behind their elegance and splendor crept the shameful shadow of slavery. Returning to the subject of Nevis, my pedestrian journey took me to several other places certainly part of my grandparents’ world. These included Government House, the nearby hot bath house and Alexandra Hospital. The governor’s residence was high up on a hill. It was here that the doctor definitely played tennis and, I assume, did a lot more. Nevis’s population during the mid to late ‘20s was a lot less than that of its neighbour so social life must have been particularly predictable and limited, I should think. I took the customary snaps. The nearby Nelson Museum was a little disappointing, but the small display must have been the best that could be cobbled together within the meager budget allotted by the Tourism Ministry. Also a short walk away was the famous hot spring and its remarkable bath-house. Apparently, this had been developed as part of the Caribbean’s first hotel, which is saying something given the age of the former colonies. The old bath-house, which must have been used by your family – it was not far away from ‘Longstone House’ and even closer to ‘Evelyn Villa’ – must have been quite an experience when it was maintained, but now it had become poor relic, a curious ruin of former grand times. Fortunately, a nearby modern pool is available for use. The water was quite hot indeed. I can’t imagine I could have stayed in it for very long at all. If I understood the geography and history of the place, the spring released as a narrow stream into the sea not far away, providing water for Drake, Raleigh, Nelson and so on. I followed it to its very small mouth, which opened at the head of a post-card beach. Not a soul was there. I found myself romanticizing about those Tudor explorers and other pirates, and Horatio, R.N., all of whom must have stood on the very spot. The climb to Alexandra Hospital, which I made when the sun was at its zenith, was rewarded with the knowledge that my grandfather had once been the District Medical Officer in charge of this important institution. It has changed, of course, but the old Georgian architectural forms still revealed themselves. I had hoped to get information about his residency there, but had to do with being given a name and an e-mail address. Something may yet come of this. I returned on that day’s penultimate ferry-ride to St Kitts, satisfied that I had covered even more than I could have hoped for. Tom Bannerman at Springfield Cemetery next to the Cunningham Hospital, Basseterre, St Kitts- 2014 See also: GEORGE ROBERT GOMEZ DR.GEORGE GOMEZ - PHOTOS

QUEEN VICTORIA'S DIAMOND JUBILEE In 1897 when Trinidad was a British colony, the Trinidad Police Force sent a contingent to London for the celebrations of Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee. This grand occasion marked the sovereign's 60 years on the throne in service to the people of the United Kingdom, the Realms and the Commonwealth. As a senior police officer in Trinidad, my English great-grandfather Alfred Sheppard was among the police chosen to represent the island and take part in the historic celebrations in his homeland. It must have been a proud and exciting occasion for the family. He was then forty years old and his Trinidad-born children Charles (my grandfather) and Amalia (Amy Mendes née Sheppard) were twelve and ten years old at the time. 1897 - Trinidad's colonial contingent for the Queen's Diamond Jubilee police officers on right (THE WESTERLY Issue 63, 2012) The full story of Alfred Sheppard can be seen here . "People are trapped in history and history is trapped in them." ~ James Baldwin

My father wrote this entertaining little story at his home in Barbados on 2nd April, 1989, roughly a decade before there was the internet and ways to do any serious genealogy research. Other than entries in family Bibles, family genealogies were passed down through the generations as oral history. Often the stories were only partly correct, yet gave important clues upon which to find out more. My father's story was written from the heart, in the early hours of the morning when his pen would flow with memories from his youth and family background of which he was very proud. He has woven a much-told family tale into this sweet, romantic story. The basic thread of immigrants arriving on the shores of Trinidad from Madeira is factual, as are some other parts of the story. Certain names and dates are accurate and I have provided links to to pages on this site about them; others I now know to be incorrect, and others are still being researched. However, I have chosen to leave his story unedited and authentic as written in his own handwriting. I feel that this, too, forms history for Andrew's family. To me it shows a generational striving for identity that exists in the psyche of immigrants who never wish to forget their roots. Historian Jo-Anne Ferreira has pointed out to me that Dom is Portuguese for Don, and do Rei for de Roy. I therefore consider the following story to be mostly fiction, combined with oral tradition. Warmly, Valerie In Lisbon, Portugal, during the early years of the 19th Century, there lived a very wealthy man who owned and resided in one of his large mansions with his wife and daughter. His name was Don Pedro de Roy; de Roy signified that he was a close relative of the King of Portugal. “Don” is the Portuguese equivalent of Lord or Sir. In any event, he was a Knight of the Court of the King. Don Pedro was a first cousin to the King. His wife gave birth to an attractive black haired, blue-eyed daughter who was educated in all the arts and graces appropriate for a lady of such high stature in the society. Her name was Antoinette and she was particularly keen on horticulture, spending a great deal of time in the beautiful gardens surrounding their palatial residence. These extensive gardens were superbly maintained and improved by the gardener who was a Scotsman who hailed from the highlands of Scotland. Religious persecution had driven his parents and himself as well as hundreds of other faithful subjects of the United Kingdom to seek refuge in nearby Europe. Many of these refuges sought residence and employment in Portugal and Spain. Alexander was one of these unfortunate people. Alexander was in his mid-twenties when he obtained employment with Don Pedro. He was tall, 6’3”, and possessed a fine physique. He was also ruggedly handsome, with dark curly hair and green eyes, sheltered by bushy eyebrows. The very moment that Antoinette and Alexander saw each other, it was a biological fusion of looks of love at first sight. Yes, the daughter of the King’s cousin had fallen in love with the family’s gardener. As expected, Don Pedro was horrified that his only child and daughter had chosen as her lover a person of such low degree - a gardener - and a Scotsman to boot. Her mother, Maria, was also very disappointed in Antoinette's choice. All the dreams of her daughter being married to a Duke of the Realm were now shattered. The social status of Don Pedro was now in the balance. Either Antoinette give up this "infatuation" or she would be placed in a convent in France, there to languish indefinitely, for her folly. Rather than face such a fate, Alexander and Antoinette eloped and stayed in Madeira. Alexander, who carried the family name of McClean, had his name changed to Perreira, which name was rare in Madeira and which indicated that he was of good stock. Alex and Antoinette soon became parents of a beautiful daughter, whom they named Virginia. At that time, many Portuguese were leaving to reside in distant Brazil which was encouraging the emigration of Portuguese families to develop that vast country. Interested parties pooled their resources and obtained small ships and their crews to convey these adventurous people to the new land of promise in the West. Among the adventurers were Alex and Antoinette McClean Perreira and their baby daughter Virginia. They were accompanied by Alex's brother Luis, who was part-owner of the brig, a three-masted schooner measuring 98 feet, 26 feet wide. The "Santa Lucia" had a crew of eleven, including the Captain, Vernal de Silva, an old seafarer of some 25 years. He knew where Brazil was and let it be known to all 132 passengers on this small, frail craft that they need not fear. He would get them there. The prevailing winds carried their tight little schooner at a fair clip, until they encountered their first tropical storm, of such intensity that it ripped the mainsail and broke the aft mast which crushed two young sailors and injured a pregnant passenger. When the storm subsided, the crew were able to repair the mainsail but they were sailing without the rear mast and sails. This slowed their progress, apart from the inevitable shortages of food and water which were becoming apparent. Despite their privations and the heat which was oppressive in their confined quarters (basic sanitation was a constant problem) the optimism and natural cheerfulness of these new-world aspirants sustained them. They were all very religious people and were victims of religious persecution. The were Presbyterians of the Scottish following, their ancestors having flown from the tyranny of Oliver Cromwell and his intolerant regime and settled in Portugal and Madeira. Sickness and shortages of food and water, combined with a crippled ship, influenced the Captain to alter his course and he steered his cramped vessel towards Trinidad where they landed after an arduous voyage from Madeira lasting 82 days. With great relief, passengers and crew praised God that they had arrived on "terra firma", although it was not Brazil. Fifty percent of the passengers opted to remain in Trinidad, the remainder would continue the voyage to Brazil after the necessary repairs were done to the Santa Lucia and she was revictualed So here they were in Port of Spain, which had not yet become the capital. St. Joseph, eight miles to the east, was the capital city of Trinidad. However, the settlers decided to make their home in Port of Spain. The British authorities were sympathetic to their plight and welcomed them and gave their full cooperation and support. Fortunately, among their members, there were many artisans. Excellent masons who were experienced in working with stone which was abundantly available, carpenters, joiners who would make beautiful furniture for their eventual wooden homes with substantial stone walls and steps and pathways. Trinidad was a lush country with extensive areas of swamps, rivers and forests. The new settlers soon discovered that there were deer, manicou, agouti, wild pigs, all types of birds, etc. Food was no problem. Every plant grew healthily. Water everywhere. And the sea and rivers, fish, lobsters, shrimp in great abundance. This was indeed Paradise on earth. The population mainly comprised English military and merchants and their families, descendants of Spanish and French settlers and, of course, Caribs who chose to live in the middle of Trinidad - i.e. Arima and Couva and the negro slaves who were brought from Africa to work in the sugar cane plantations. They were liberated in 1831 and by 1836 were becoming assimilated into the commercial world in the labouring field. This newly arrived group from Madeira were the first Portuguese to settle in Trinidad. Among the names of these new Trinidadians were Gomez, de Freitas, de Silva, Pereira, Ferreira, Gonzales, de Souza, Fernandes, etc. Their descendants mostly remained in Trinidad and inter-married, thus creating a fairly large Portuguese community. The majority of the men found themselves in the business of importing and distributing basic food supplies and became known as provision merchants. Salted cod-fish, pig-tails and other parts, rice, peas, garlic, onions, potatoes and a host of other food items were imported mainly from Madeira and Portugal and South America. These businesses thrived and their owners soon became owners of cocoa-bearing land. They also branched out into the production and for importation of rum and wines which were marketed through their own outlets known as rum-shops which proliferated. General shops offered for sale all other items of food and general merchandise for the home. This group of Portuguese settlers quickly identified themselves as very hard workers who possessed natural ability to run their own businesses. Their contribution to the development of Trinidad was considerable. They formed their own social clubs and organised several activities to assist in the charitable work for which they became well known. Within their own society they separated the shop-keepers and provision merchants from the business executives, doctors, lawyers and other professionals by creating their own social clubs. The Portuguese Association occupied an attractive and substantial building in Richmond Street in Port of Spain, whose members were the provision traders, etc. and the other group created the Portuguese Club in St. Vincent Street, which was larger and even more posh than their counterpart, with miniature golf course, tennis courts, etc. Bridge clubs abounded and occasional balls were held. Members of both clubs did not have automatic entry to the other's dances or other festivities. invitations or membership were the only passports. Codes of behaviour and dress had to be strictly adhered to. In all of this development the lives of young Alexander and Antoinette McClean Pereira and their daughter Virginia truly became involved with the development of their new home, Trinidad. Alexander was versatile and used his knowledge of gardening and stone-masonry to great effect. Plans were drawn for the building of a church out of concrete and stone and it was built on St. Ann's road, later known as Charlotte Street, the first Presbyterian Church, St. Ann's Church of Scotland. Alexander was the architect and builder. All of the stone work was quarried, transported and made into this magnificent building by the Portuguese community. The woodwork was all hewed and formed by their own carpenters and the benches and other accoutrements were all fashioned from local wood. The beautiful stained glass window was installed by Scottish experts. The pipe organ was imported and installed by Scottish engineers. It was truly a work of love and dedication and even today, nearly 200 years later, St. Ann's Church of Scotland stands beautiful and proud as a symbol of faith and courage. The members of the Church were mainly Portuguese, including families like Gomez, Perreira, Ferreira, de Silva, de Freitas, Jardine, Mendes, Govia, Viera. and incongruously, the name Sheppard appeared on the list of members. How this happened is because Virginia McClean Pereira fell in love with a British Army Officer of the Royal Sussex Regiment stationed in Trinidad, Alfred James Sheppard , whose rank was Sergeant Major. This interesting couple were joined in holy matrimony at the Free Church as St. Ann's was then known. The marriage took place on 25th June 1897. Children of this union were Charles Sebastian Theodore Sheppard, born 21st October 1885 and Amalia Elizabeth Sheppard , born 14th May, 1887. They were preceded by Alfred Sheppard born 8th January 1884 and followed by Arthur Wybrow de Freitas Sheppard, born 6th November 1888 and Albert Edward James Sheppard, born 6th April, 1890. Both Albert and his brother Arthur died 14 days apart on 11th June and 25th June 1873, both of acute dysentery. At that time their father Alfred James Sheppard was a Trinidad Police Inspector in charge of the San Fernando Station. This terrible grief sadly affected Alfred and Virginia. When the Royal Sussex Regiment left Trinidad to return to England, Alfred accepted a commission in the Police Force. The eldest son of Alfred and Virginia, Charles Sebastian Theodore Sheppard was married to another member of the Free Church - Elsie Mabel Gomez , whose father was Albert Gomez and her mother, the former Christine Pereira. The marriage took place at St. Ann's Free Church on 30th January, 1909. They were blessed by 13 children, the youngest of whom died a baby of 8 months, he was Arthur. The rest of the children, six boys and six girls were all married and have produced 58 children. Only one son died at 44, George. His son, Stanley, died at 38. Another sad loss was that of David Gibbon, whose mother was Sybil Sheppard and father Patrick Gibbon. David was killed while riding his racing bicycle on a highway, hit by a truck. Elsie Mabel's parents had a son George, who was a brilliant Trinidad scholar who graduated fron Edinburgh University in Scotland with highest honours. He volunteered for service with the Medical Corps and was sent to India with the British Army in 1915. He eventually went to Nevis as the solitary surgeon and died while directing his own operation (with the aid of mirrors) to have a highly infected appendix removed. He died on the operating theatre table of peritonitis in 1931. A large marble memorial was erected over his grave by public subscription because of his contributions to the public of Nevis and St. Kitts. Elsie's mother also had two brothers who had qualified as surgeons at Edinburgh University and who practised at Harley Street in London. The union of Alexander and Antoinette produced many talented Trinidadians who became famous doctors, surgeons, business executives, politicians, military officers, accountants, competent musicians and good citizens. Love conquered all. Don Pedro's loss was our gain. Long live Alexander and Antoinette. Virginia and Alfred are my great-grandparents, Sebastian is my great-great grandfather. The story as told by other family members Notes made by Andrew's sister Audrey Clarke, which were attached to his handwritten story Andrew's sister Sybil Gibbon wrote the following in an email to a niece in May 2012 "The tale about the gardener etc. is as follows given to me by my sister Jessie who got it from Aunt Ivy . Don Pedro du Roi was some sort of Royalty in Portugal and he had a beautiful daughter, Antoinette, who fell in love with the young gardener who came from Scotland to work on the palace grounds. The papa said he would disinherit her if the continued with the romance - she en mind -- and she and the gentleman, Alexander, eloped and went to Madeira and came down to Trinidad with the group of people who were running away from religious persecution - all protestants. In Trinidad they had a daughter - Antonia - who married John Pereira. They were the parents of Grandma Christine Pereira, Marikin who married Alfred Mendes and Dr. George Pereira who settled in England and did brilliantly. Christine got married to Joseph Gomez and they had Elsie Mabel and all her brothers and sisters. So I think that the family originally started from Portugal and then all the children married maybe offsprings from the families who came from Madeira. Now Grandpa Alfred Sheppard came from England to work in the Police Department in St.Joseph Trinidad. He settled in Trini and married Virginia de Freitas . They had Charles (my papa) and Amy who married Oswald Mendes. Dr. Pereira had a son who became a doctor in England and two daughters - so they must have some family still around. Family Bible passed on from Elsie Sheppard to her daughter Sybil Notes made by George Dornier Gomez and given to me when I visited him in Trinidad in 2009 Four generations - Trinidadian ancestors of Portuguese descent, circa 1911. l/r: My Great-great grandma Antonia Pereira née Alexander, great-grandma Christina Gomez née Pereira and standing is my grandmother Elsie Sheppard née Gomez. The girl Jessie is her first child of 12, my father's eldest sister.

The St. Hill Family - Barbados St. Hill/Sheppard Family Archives The earliest known photo of the St. Hill Family in Barbados - circa 1896 (Original image from my grandmother's photo album restored using AI) Seated centre are my maternal great-grandparents, Henry Graham St. Hill and Annie Bourne. Next to Annie is her father, John Bourne with his wife Augusta Matilda Mahon standing behind him. Next to her l/r are Florrie and Evy (Evelyn) Bourne (sisters of Annie Bourne). My grandfather, Henry Garnet St. Hill is standing next to his grandfather on the right, and his brother Eric is next to his father on the left. Seated in front are their twin sisters, Ruby and Beryl, and to the left is their aunt, May Bourne, another of Annie's sisters. Above: Marriage Register showing the marriage of my great-great grandparents John Bourne and Augusta Mathilda Mahon - 1859. Below: Marriage of my great-grandparents Henry Graham St. Hill and Annie Wall Bourne - 1887 Oral tradition tells us that our Sainthill family came from Devon, England, but it is a challenge to find documented proof of this. I do know that certainly in Barbados, the surname changed at some point to St. Hill . Our story starts on April 28, 1842 when 22 year old Benjamin St. Hill , my mother's great-grandfather, took as his bride Margaret Bourne. The Marriage Register shows that the couple's fathers, Samuel St. Hill and John Bourne were present to give their blessings and sign as witnesses. It is true to say that their marriage was fruitful, as between 1843 and 1863 they became parents of no less than ten children. They lived in St. Michael and baptised each of their children in the Anglican faith. Several of them were baptised at St. Stephen's Church, Black Rock. In the various registers, Benjamin's profession was sometimes listed as a merchant, and sometimes as a merchant's clerk. With such a large family to support he must have worked hard! The ninth child of Benjamin and Margaret's brood was my great-grandfather Henry Graham St. Hill . He was duly baptised on 4 Jul 1861 and was just a boy of 11 years old when his father Benjamin died. Benjamin was only 52 years old when he died on January 5, 1872, and Margaret died about six years later in Warwickshire, England. Left without parents, one wonders how all these children left behind were able to cope. Although he was a 'city' boy, he married a girl from the parish of St. Peter - that was fairly uncommon in those days. Annie also came from a family of 10 children, daughter of John Bourne and Augusta Matilda Mahon. Henry Graham and Annie made their home in Cheapside, St. Michael, and were living there when their first child Eric Graham was born. Cheapside in Bridgetown, where many of the Jewish settlers also lived, was close to the port (now the Careenage), which was the hub of shipping and trade in those days. It was a convenient location for merchants to reside, as it was near to where are most of their business was transacted. Within five years, they had five children - Eric, Edith, Henry Garnet, and twin daughters Ruby and Beryl. Of these, the only one who remained in Barbados was my grandfather, Henry Garnet St. Hill. Henry Graham and Annie eventually moved to Barbarees Hill, and owned their family home there. My mother Betty remembers visiting her grandparents at this house when she was a child. She describes the atmosphere in their home as "fascinating and quaint" and loved to go there. She says that her grandad taught her how to tell the time when she was 8, using an alarm clock that had two big bells either side. About her grandmother Annie she recalls: "She was a dear little soul. From the time you woke up in the morning, she was dressed in boots and a long skirt with an apron over it. She was a busy, busy little lady. She was olive-skinned, with a little round face. She was a Bourne. She was very musical - she could play the flute." She recalled that there was an Uncle Freddie St. Hill, (her grandad's brother) Aunt Bessie and Aunt Evie who lived with them in their Barbarees Hill home, but they all made themselves scarce and went into their own rooms when she visited. After they all died and her grandparents were left alone, their house in Barbarees Hill was sold and arrangements made for them to come and live with her parents at their home "Ypres" in Belleville sometime in the 30's. My mother was one of five children, so I can imagine that it must have been awkward and difficult for them and, according to Mum "It just didn't work out." My grandfather then bought a house for them in Tweedside Road, and had it renovated. They called it "Graham Cot", and since it was within walking distance, they could visit often. Garnet also hired a lady to live in and attend to his parents and he diligently looked after them until they passed away in 1940 and 1941. The first of their children to be married was their eldest child Eric, who was later to become somewhat of a family mystery for a long time. ERIC GRAHAM ST. HILL Eric Graham St. Hill and his wife Sarah Berinda Josephine Johnson Barbados, 8th November 1911 (Photo restoration of damaged original image) Eric was born on 18 August 1887, and was baptized in St. Mary’s Chapel, St. Michael on 1st October the same year. At that time, his parents were still living at Cheapside, Bridgetown, an area not too far away from that church. St. Mary's Anglican Church (called chapel in those days) was built in 1825 and is the second oldest consecrated ground on the island. Of Eric's early life we know that he attended the Combermere School in Barbados, where he showed a keen interest in and aptitude for languages. When he was 15 years old, he was awarded a prize for Latin, and the following year he won the Senior Prize for French and Spanish. The two handsome leather-bound classics are treasured by his family. Eric also studied Pitman's Shorthand, as evidenced by the textbook he kept and on which is inscribed "Eric St. Hill, 1905". His thirst for learning never stopped, as he continued to study Spanish after he left school, teaching himself to become fluent by listening to records. We don't know where they first met, but Eric fell in love with an attractive brunette named Sarah Berinda Josephine Johnson (called Berinda), daughter of James and Louisa Johnson née Weekes, who was to become his spouse for life. The couple took their wedding vows at St. Leonard's Anglican Church on 8 November 1911, when they were both 24 years old. The marriage records show that she was living in St. Philip at the time, and he in Belleville, St. Michael. His brother Garnet (my grandfather) is shown as a witness on their marriage certificate. As a matter of interest, St. Leonard's Church was where the St. Hill family worshipped, and the St. Hill Family burial site is located in the St. Leonard's churchyard. Eric joined the Machine Gun Volunteers of Barbados, but was not called to active duty during WWl. Seeking better job opportunities, he and Berinda decided to emigrate to Toronto, Canada sometime after their marriage in 1911. My grandmother, Esmée St. Hill in Barbados sent Eric a postcard in 1915, which indicates that they corresponded with each other during those first years after he left his home in Barbados. A postcard was also sent from Eric to them in 1916. Like Eric, my grandparents, Esmée and Garnet St. Hill also lived in Belleville, where their family home "Ypres" was situated at the corner of the 1st Avenue and Pine Road. Their property occupied two lots, extending into the 2nd Avenue, so they had a large back garden and orchard. In 1880s, Belleville was developed as an exclusive residential area in Barbados. By 1910, the 8th through 11th avenues were available for public access while up until about 1935, the 1st through 7th avenues catered to private residents only. An avenue in Belleville, Barbados I was curious to find out more about where Eric and Berinda lived in Canada, having left behind the beautiful palm-lined avenues of Belleville in Barbados. Thanks to my grandmother's familiar rounded handwriting on the postcard she sent to him in 1915 I had their exact address. With the help of Canadian friends, I discovered that they had moved into a new and very desirable residential area, designed as Tudor style apartments set in gardens and close to nature. The construction of the 260 units began in 1913 and continued on for another decade. They were designed to provide the working class with nice places to live. Eric and Berinda, with their toddler Josephene, would have been among the first tenants to move into the first of the finished units. Below are photos of the Aberdeen Club apartments at that time, and a picture of them now. Postcard sent in 1915 from 1st Ave. Belleville, Barbados to Eric at No. 1 Apartment, Aberdeen Club, Bain Ave. Toronto, Ont. Canada. Eric is in the front row among a detachment of Machine Gun Barbados Volunteers. August 3, 1914 -Postcard addressed to my grandmother, Mrs. H.G. St. Hill from her brother-in-law Eric. He and Berinda visited Niagra Falls, N.Y. Eric and Berinda's first child arrived in the summer of 1916, while they were living in their new Apartment on Bain Avenue, Toronto. By all accounts, Berinda loved life in Canada, but the same could not be said for Eric. Many Barbadians who have emigrated have found the long, harsh Canadian winters to be difficult - I wonder whether Eric longed for warmer weather year-long! Eric's daughter Helen remembers that her father always yearned to visit Spain, which is perhaps why he continued to learn Spanish after he left school. The fact that he spoke Spanish may well have been the reason he was sent from Canada to work in the Mexican branch of the Railway Light and Power Company. With this job opportunity, Eric, Berinda and little Josephine set off from Canada around 1918 to live in Monterrey, Mexico . There he was employed as Assistant Manager with Monterrey Railway Light and Power Company, which was a Canadian company. Two more children were born, Gloria in 1920 and Helen in 1922 - completing their family of three daughters. Eric loved life in Mexico and soon became actively involved in the community. He was founding member of the Rotary Club of Monterrey, which held its first meeting on October 27, 1922. He also served as President of the Rotary Club of Monterrey in 1925-1926. He and his family moved to Mexico City in 1930 where they settled permanently. Eric and Berinda were married for 41 years, until he died on January 22, 1953 when he was 65 years old. Berinda went on to live to the ripe old age of 92. It appears that Eric and Berinda never returned to Barbados, and after a while the St. Hill family completely lost contact with each other. His family in Barbados never knew what became of him, and sadly, his parents passed away not ever knowing what became of their eldest son. Fast-forward to May 2008 when, out of the proverbial blue, I was thrilled to receive a message on Facebook from a stranger with a Spanish sounding name. "My name is Emilia and I am the granddaughter of Eric St. Hill, your grandfather Garnet's brother. This makes us relatives, but I'm not sure what we are -second cousins? My mother, Helen St. Hill (sister of Josephine and Gloria) would love to contact your mother Betty... Until a few days ago she had no idea that she has a cousin in Barbados. My brother Marco has been trying to track down my mother's side of the family in Barbados and he found out about you on Internet. We live in Mexico City and would love to write to you." Our long-lost Eric, though long gone, was reunited with the family through his Mexican family! Through this contact with my Mexican family, we have been able to learn more about my great-uncle Eric, though we will probably never know why he and Berinda broke all ties with their families in Barbados after they settled down in Mexico. All we can say is that, as in many other families, "something " must have happened. After exchanging several emails, Emilia, her sister Helen and their mother Helen (now 98) took a trip to Barbados in 2010, and met her cousin Betty (St. Hill) Sheppard (my mother, now 95) and some other family members. The cousins exchanged letters and were happy to have found each other. So thanks to my family tree work on line and the wonders of the internet - we are thrilled to have discovered a delightful Mexican branch of the St. Hill Family, and they are happy to know more about their Barbadian roots. Above: l/r Eric's granddaughters Emilia Almazán, her sister Helen and their mother Helen Graham St. Hill Almazán Below: l/r my cousin Helen St. Hill, Helen Graham St. Hill Almazán, with my brother Peter Sheppard and his wife Neilsa nee Tasker, in Barbados - 2010 Cousins meet for the first and only time in Barbados, 2010 Betty (St. Hill) Sheppard (1925 - 2024), rt. Helen (St. Hill) Almazán (1922 - 1924) See also: ST. HILL & LOBO FAMILIES HENRY GARNET (HARRY) ST. HILL FRANCES ELIZABETH (BETTY) SHEPPARD née ST. HILL

Friendships~Partnerships~Family Ties U n ravelling the Connections - Part I In October 2022 Ford celebrated 100 years in Barbado s. I was pleased to have provided some historical information to ANSA's Marketing Manage r in Barbados for commemorative promotions . Chapter 1 TRINIDAD THE FORD DEALERSHIP Charles McEnearney and Robert de Sousa Just four months after the end of The Great War, and at the height of the popularity of the Ford Model T, the operation of the Trinidad Ford dealership commenced in the name of a young Irishman. On 19th March 1919, the Charles McEnearney Ford dealership was opened at No. 25 Richmond Street in Port of Spain, Trinidad. What is not widely known is that Charles McEnearney’s partner in business and the co-founder of the well-known automobile business was Robert (Bobby) de Sousa , a member of a long-established Portuguese family in Trinidad. He was an estate proprietor who had started his working life in San Fernando as a merchant. Several years after co-founding the company that bore his name, Charles McEnearney decided to leave Trinidad and return to the United States. He sold his interest in the business to Robert de Sousa who then ran the entity at No. 25 Richmond Street as sole owner. Newspaper advertisement - 1926 TRINIDAD THE DE SOUSA - SHEPPARD CONNECTION Leslie de Sousa and Ida Sheppard Joyce de Sousa and Bertie Sheppard During that time, the Sheppard family lived at No. 30 Richmond Street , directly opposite to the McEnearney dealership and showroom at No. 25 Richmond Street. My grandfather, Charles (Charlie) Sheppard , had bought the large residence where he lived with his wife Elsie Gomez and 12 children until his untimely death in 1931. It was at the McEnearney business across t he street that Robert de Sousa's son Leslie met and fell in love with my father’s sister, Ida Sheppard . A romance ensued and they were married on 22nd July 1933 at St. Ann's Church of Scotland , Port of Spain. Ida’s parents (my grandparents) were also of Portuguese roots. The family ties between de Sousa and Sheppard families became even stronger when Robert de Sousa’s daughter Joyce married my father's brother Charles Albert (Bertie) Sheppard, in 193 8. Thus, two de Sousa siblings wed two Sheppard siblings. Chapter 2 BARBADOS THE McENEARNEY - MACKENZIE CONNECTION Charles McEnearney and Charles MacKenzie The Ford Dealership Charles E dward McEnearney was born on 29 April, 1887 in Rathfriland, Ireland and grew up in County Down. He was a Naturalized American citizen, having immigrated to the USA as a mi nor with his parents. Records show that he traveled back and forth from his home in New York to Trinidad. He brought to Trinidad two American dealerships: the Singer Sewing Machine Company and the Ford Motorcar Company. He also represented an American company seeking to purchase copra and other coconut-based products. His USA World War I Draft Registration states that he was then 30 years old, working as the Manager of the Singer Sewing Machine Company in Trinidad in 1917. It appears that he was never called to serve in active duty. Charles McEnearney’s good friend was Barbadian businessman Charles Straghan MacKenzie. born on 12 February 1897. It was through selling Singer Sewing Machines that they first met, as Charles MacKenzie had the Singer Sewing Machine agency in Barbados. It was to be the start of their lifelong friendship and business relationship. In 1918, the two young men decided to go into business together starting with the Firestone Tyre agency, founding the Barbados partnership Charles McEnearney. In October 1922 they obtained the Ford agency for Barbados, selling the popular Model T. As Charles MacKenzie's youngest son Douglas quipped to me "It seems that they both decided that sewing machines were not for them and cars were much more fun!" It wasn't until ten years later in 1932 that their partnership was incorporated into Charles McEnearney & Co. Ltd., of which Charles MacKenzie became the Managing Director. Charles MacKenzie's son John David Straghan MacKenzie joined his father in the family business in 1951 when he was 18 years old, right out of his secondary education at The Lodge School. He was known as David, but his contemporaries called him "Beaver", a nickname he acquired as a school boy. David was sent for a one-year training course in Dealership Management Administration at the Ford Motor Company Training School at Dagenham, UK. Upon his return to Barbados, he rejoined the company in 1953. At that time, the business was owned 50/50 by the McEnearney and MacKenzie families. His younger brother Douglas joined the firm in 1966 after completing his university studies in Canada. Their three siblings Dr. Ronald MacKenzie , Neil MacKenzie and Bonnie (Montagu) MacKenzie were shareholders but never took an active role in the company . What started off as a simple partnership between the two friends Charles McEnearney and Charles MacKenzie in Barbados grew into a successful conglomerate and eventually became owned by the Trinidad ANSA McAL group. The McEnearney and MacKenzie and families sold their shareholdings and have moved on to other interests. l/r Charles MacKenzie, Charles McEnearney and his wife Esther (Burton) McEnearney Chapter 3 BARBADOS THE MACKENZIE - SHEPPARD CONNECTION John David Straghan MacKenzie and Valerie Anne Sheppard l/r Valerie Sheppard, David MacKenzie and John Bellamy at a corporate event on board a ship - Barbados, 1985. David was then Chairman of McEnearney Alstons (Barbados) Ltd. In 2004 John Bellamy became Chairman of the Board of ANSA McAL(Barbados) Ltd. The Barbados Advocate - Monday, 2 December 1985 At an ANSA McAL function in Trinidad, 1992 Dr. Anthony N. Sabga O.R.T.T., Chairman and Founder of the ANSA McAL Group of Companies, presents David MacKenzie's wife Valerie with a gift of "The Book of Trinidad". David, then Chairman and CEO of McEnearney Alstons (Barbados) Ltd ., looks on. David MacKenzie took over the reins of the Barbados Ford dealership Charles McEnearney from his father Charles Straghan MacKenzie. He was responsible for relocating the business from the Chapel Street, Bridgetown site to Wildey, St. Michael in 1968. In 1980 the holding company McEnearney Alstons (Barbados) Ltd. was established, in which McEnearney Alstons of Trinidad took an equity interest. David was appointed Chairman and CEO of McEnearney Alstons (Barbados) Ltd. and held that position until he retired at age 65 in April 1998. He was then invited to remain as Chairman for a further couple of years. Through an unexpected and tragic turn of events in my life in 1984, I became a part of the MacKenzie family when I married Charles MacKenzie's third son, David. I never knew my MacKenzie father-in-law as he and his wife Ella Winston (née Cole) had already passed away in the seventies. Author Simon Kreindler, childhood friend of Charles MacKenzie's younger son Douglas (Doug), describes Charles in his book "Peddlers All" as "a tall imposing man with a deep, booming voice, he was quite deaf and communicating with him was a challenge. He smoked a pipe an d kept a double-barrel 12-gauge shotgun in the corner of his bedroom. Even as kids we understood it was meant to warn the help that burglary would have serious repercussions." David always spoke fondly of his father. I gathered that he was a larger-than-life man with a wry sense of humour. He often recalled that when his father presided over a board meeting and an important matter was tabled he would declare, "All those in favour say 'aye', all those against say 'aye' resign!". Although it was said tongue-in-cheek, I believe David admired and emulated his father's management style. He spoke about the great friendship between "Mr. Mac", as Charles McEnearney was known, and his father who was also known in Barbados as "Mr. Mac." The two partners, he said “got on like a house on fire” and went on many business-cum-pleasure trips together. David had a meticulous eye for detail - oftentimes to a fault. He was measured, determined and decisive in both his business affairs and private life. Not surprisingly then, he proposed marriage to me just a couple of months after we first met. We were introduced at mutual friends' home on 24 February 1985. Nine months later, we were married at St. Dominic's Catholic Church, with a reception at the Barbados Yacht Club. It was 30 November 1985. There were fireworks and celebrations all over the island that night as it was Independence Day in Barbados - the 19th year of Independence. Apart from family members from both sides, many of the guests at our wedding were David's Barbadian business associates and several fellow directors who had flown in from Trinidad, including Conrad O'Brien, Chairman/CEO of the McEnearney Alstons group. Since David was a director of the daily newspaper, The Barbados Advocate published a photo of us on their front page with the headlines "MacKenzie Weds Again". It was a second marriage for both of us. His first wife D r. Anne Bayl ey had died on 15th December 1 984 after a short illness of cancer, and my husband J.A.K (Tony) Archer, a well-known Barbadian equestrian sportsman and businessman, had died suddenly of cardiac arrest during an asthma attack on 16 July of that same year. I was a 37 year old widow with a family of five children ages 7 to 18 and David was a 52 year old widower with two adult children studying abroad at university. We were brave and optimistic, both of us, to undertake this merger of families with very different family roots and backgrounds. In many ways, it was an unforgettable period of my life and the lives of our families and extended families on both sides. David and I separated in 2008 and divorced in 2009. The intention of this chapter , however, is not to write about the private life we shared during a span of 22 years, nor about the character of my former husband. Nevertheless , it was within those years that the Ford business David had taken over from his father expanded, becoming one the most well-known and successful conglomerates in Ba rbados. It was during this period that he reached the peak of his business career. As the Chairman's wife, I was by his side at all the countless corporate events and social occasions associated with such a position. He was unaware that I kept newspaper clippings of some of the more important ones - special milestones that may otherwise have been forgotten. In 2001, our friend Conrad O'Brien called me to say he wanted to nominate David for a national honour in acknowledgement of his contribution to business. David and I prepared a detailed CV which was submitted to the relevant authorities under Prime Minister Owen Arthur's government and I kept a copy of it among my memorabilia. For reasons unknown to me, that honour was not granted. "Friendships~Partnerships~Family Ties" - I muse on the twists and turns of life. In 1933 my father's sister Ida married Robert de Sousa, son of the owner and co-founder of Charles McEnearney in Trinidad. In 1985 I married David MacKenzie, son of the co-founder of Charles McEnearney in Barbados. Had I known my family history back then, it would have been fun to talk with Aunt Ida about how she met her husband Leslie de Sousa at the Ford dealership across their street in Trinidad. During a visit with David a few years ago, I told him about what I'd discovered. It was then that he handed me the book "The History of the ANSA McAL Group of Companies – 125 Years of Business in the Caribbean". I should have also reminded him that my Trinidadian Aunt Ida came to our wedding. It was she who played a piano duet with her sister Jessie (Sheppard) Brash at the family party held the night before that blew him away. He said he'd never before seen the likes of it. On my last trip to Barbados in April 2023, I visited David at his home, the same home we shared from 1985 to 2008. It was soon after his 90th birthday. When we said our goodbyes at the familiar front door, we both knew it would be the very last time. I had paid my respects and left feeling that he was already at peace. David passed away on 17th September, 2023 and was interred at his family plot at Westbury Cemetery, Barbados, after a private funeral service on 24 October, 2023. October 1995 at a gala to celebrate the 100th Anniversary of the founding of The Barbados Advocate Company officials and wives at the gala: l/r Mrs Minerva Sabga, Group Chairman Anthony Sabga, David MacKenzie and his wife Valerie, Monica and Douglas Maloney, Colin Murray Click here to see newspaper articles and more photos Click here to continue: Unravelling the Connections - Part II The Synchronicity of Life . . . I find that tracing the intertwining of famili es and events is fascinating. This story was first compiled by me on 17 October, 2021. On 4 November, following the death of my former husband David MacKenzie on 17 September 2023, I added Chapter 3. All of the newspaper articles are from my own collection. With thanks to:- Ryan de Sousa and family for providing family photos My cousins Joan (de Sousa) Bodu, Kathleen (Sheppard) Henry, and Bernie Henry for sharing oral family history J. David S. MacKenzie who gave me the book "The History of the ANSA McAL Group of Companies – 125 Years of Business" by historian Gerard A.Besson, published in 2006. ( David was a contributor of information and photos for the publication.) Douglas S. MacKenzie for providing information Genealogy sites on the internet for research My father Andrew Sheppard for his handwritten memoirs about the Portuguese in Trinidad. ""People are trapped in history and history is trapped in them" - James Baldwin