- Alfred Michael 1925 - 1985. He later changed his name to James Andrew Nicholls
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- Michael Woolf Morris 1944 -
- Selwyn Morris 1947 -
- Trevor Morris 1950 -
- Alan Morris 1954 -
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PROLOGUE
As I am the only survivor of the generation concerned,
certain of my family, including some grandchildren, have been urging me to have
the family's history recorded.
Quite recently, in response to a request of the MERRIS
family, who were keen to discover their origins and as they were aware that
they were descendants of my eldest sister, Sarah, whose personal history had
never been disclosed to them, I submitted to their reasonable request. However,
much of that history will have to be repeated in this much larger issue,
unfortunately.
There may be some eyebrows raised at the commencing date of
this saga, as I was born in 1909, but readers can be assured that what I have
written of the era between 1895 and my birth is definitely correct, as I will
explain.
THE COMMENCEMENT
The families of my parents resided in Dvinsk, in Eastern
Europe. My father, Abraham, son of Zalman Merris, was 18 years of age in 1895
and had been requested to join the Russian army by a certain date. His parents
urged him to abstain from the order and leave for England immediately, as so
many others had done. Before doing so he promised his fiancée Pessia Ginsberg
that he would send for her as soon as he found employment and accommodation in
London. As he had worked as a tailor for several years he soon found a job in
East London, and sent for my mother a short time later.
They married in the East London District Synagogue in the
middle of the 1890's (incidentally, my wife and I married in the same Shul in
1931). My parents lived in the East End of London, where there was a huge
number of our faith. My father then joined the Tailors' Union, eventually
becoming the secretary of the branch.
By the time of my arrival in 1909 the family had swollen to
five, as my four sisters had arrived earlier. Their names, in order of ages,
were Sarah, Esther, Jessie and Rose (or Rosalah, as my mother called her).
The first cognisance of my surroundings was that, at the
beginning of World War I in 1914, we were living in a very large house in
Stepney Green, my father using the top floor as his workshop. At that time all
my sisters attended a school named Senrab St, which I also joined at 5 years of
age. I distinctly remember my mother taking my hand and informing me that she
was taking me to school despite my protests, which included questioning
"what's the use of my going to school when I can't read or write?"
That became a standing joke in the family. However, it always puzzled me why we
all attended a school some distance from our home when we had a Jewish school
right opposite where we lived.
At about this period my parents were often visited by
several 'Landzlite' from their Shtetl (people from their original home) and
they were all friendly, but always spoke in Yiddish, which none of us
understood. However, my sisters often asked what our visitors had discussed and
we were all very impressed on hearing of our mother's exploits during her
growing up period in Dvinsk, that she swam in the River Dvina at least once per
week, and she eventually performed 3 mile swims every time. Incidentally, when
she took us individually or collectively to the Peoples Palace for our baths,
she often swam in their pool.
At this stage, at the beginning of World War I, our father
decided to close his workshop and accepted a position with a well-known firm in
Cheapside, City of London. He was very strict on behaviour at the table and
made it very clear to us that he would not accept any talking, especially at
breakfast before he left for work. I particularly remember one morning when he
had not yet arrived and Esther and Jessie seemed to have their own peculiar
language were rather noisy and did not notice father's arrival until he
frightened us all, banged the table with his hand, glared at the offenders
ominously and shouted 'bleib shtum' (be quiet)! Silence immediately reigned.
who
During the war the elder sisters, Sarah, Esther and Jessie,
all finished school at varying periods and all three became employees of
cigarette manufacturers, but Rose had different ideas. She joined the millinery
department of the famous Selfridges in Oxford Street, just after the conclusion
of the war, as an apprentice.
Certain incidents during the war I have never forgotten.
Firstly, in 1915, I was roused from my sleep by my mother, who wrapped me in a
blanket and hurriedly took me out in the street. It must have been around
midnight, and then I saw what the excitement was all about. Mother pointed to
the sky, where a German airship was on fire. She had panicked in fear of being
bombed. During the war the German planes often raided over London, mainly at
night. When a warning was sounded, many residents went to underground railway
stations, taking bedding with them. All of my sisters went when warnings were
sent but I was not permitted, as I was too young. I protested most vigorously,
until they relented one night, and allowed me to accompany them. But, much to
my disappointment, there were no air raids that night!
By the end of 1916 the war was going very badly for Britain.
As the foreign element were not called up to serve in the army at that stage, a
new Minister of War caused consternation in their ranks by an edict to the
effect that they were all now, under a certain age, given an option to the
effect that those affected were ordered to join up, or leave England for their
original homes. As a result of the edict, associations were formed by those
concerned in order to arrange for their return, and many left England in the
early part of 1917, the balance forming the second association, to which our
father joined. This decision caused our family great distress. However, our
mother, realising that she would be left with five children, took immediate
steps to resolve the situation by managing to obtain sufficient funds to
purchase a small confectionery and tobacco business. So we moved to Cressy
Houses, quite near to Stepney Green.
While our father was awaiting his turn to leave England he
continued to work in the City, and we became very worried when we heard that
many buildings near where he worked had been bombed by daytime raids. As the
day wore on, and he had not returned home at his usual time, we feared the
worst had happened, but much to our relief he turned up very late, but
unscathed. He informed us that he and his colleagues were fortunate to escape
the bombing, but the building next door had been bombed and destroyed.
In that year of 1917 I passed my 8th birthday and was very
proud of a smart suit which my sister Sarah bought for me, and here comes a
tale. I remember wearing that suit, and accompanied some older children to the
main road. After a time, realising that I should be going home, I spotted a
water cart turning into our street and jumped on the back, not knowing that I
was standing where the water usually sprayed, and I obtained the full force
when the driver did his duty. So, my beautiful birthday suit was soaked and
consternation reigned when I reached home. However, no harm occurred, either to
the suit or myself.
In October of that year my father left for Eastern Europe,
hoping to join his brother Mendel in Riga. Mendel met him at the docks and
informed him that the Bolshevik Revolution had taken place, and chaos abounded.
Mendel employed about a dozen people with varying talents in tailoring. The
Bolsheviks considered him and my father were 'bourgeois' and arrested both of
them. They bound their hands and dumped them in an open area, advising them
that they and many others were scheduled to be shot on the following morning.
During the night two guards were sent to supervise the prisoners, and shone
their torches on them. They arrived at where the brothers were lying and walked
on, but one of the guards stopped and returned to them. He shone his torch on
my father's face and asked in astonishment (in Yiddish, of course) 'Abram, is
that you?' It turned out that this guard had been his greatest friend in
London, who had joined the first batch of returnees. However, he furtively cut
the bonds off the brothers and told them to 'run for their lives', which they
promptly did.
While Mendel returned to his home in Riga, he strongly urged
Abram to find his way to a place in Siberia, where a sister lived and to which
the Bolsheviks had not yet infiltrated. And so my father commenced his trip to
the far distant home of his sister in the depths of a Russian winter, with only
the clothes he wore and no food. However, after a most horrendous journey he
eventually arrived at his sister's home, where she sheltered him into a
reasonable human condition. After a few weeks, however, they heard that the
Bolsheviks were commencing operations in Siberia. His sister urged him to leave
without delay and to get over the border into China, where he joined a
tailoring establishment in Shanghai, the proprietor of which was a Chinaman (I
had a photograph of him outside the shop). My father had been recruited as the
manager.
He was only able to communicate with my mother at the end of
World War I. She and all the family had thought he was a casualty of the
Bolsheviks. However, she sent him sufficient money to pay his fare back to the
United Kingdom early in 1919, arriving, to our great joy, on a Japanese ship
named the "Mishima Maru".
During the past year Sarah was courting Wolfe (Mick)
Michaels and I can remember, after Mick's discharge from the army, their
engagement party, which took place at his parents' home. Mick had unfortunately
been badly wounded during the war. After they married, in due course their
daughter Cecilia was born and her brother followed sometime later.
When our mother took over the shop in 1917, our three elder
sisters had left school and were working. Rose and I changed schools to Redmans
Road, which almost adjoined Cressy Houses, but we both had to wake early before
school in order to obtain the morning newspapers for the shop. That was a
rather gruesome task in the English winter, but most necessary for Mother's
customers.
I can also recall most vividly that, as Rose and I set off
for the newspapers wholesaler one morning, we were startled by a cacophony of
hooters, but the whole country was relieved to discover that it denoted that
armistice had been declared. That date was 11 November 1918.
Sarah and Mick (Wolfe Michaels) met during that period but
Mick was sent to France with his regiment, and that was when he incurred many
dangerous wounds. Esther, similarly, met Abe Kesner, whose family also lived in
Cressy Houses, but he also got involved in the warfare in France. I recall that
his father died during that period and Abe obtained compassionate leave in
order to attend the funeral. Jessie had met Joe All three sisters married the
Raphael, who managed to escape army duty. aforementioned soon after the war
ended.
The three sisters all married the names mentioned above.
Sarah and Mick married during one of Mick's leave periods before leaving for
France. Subsequently, Cecilia (Cissie) and her brother were born. Esther and
Abe produced Louis and Betty, Jessie and Joe produced Phyllis, Sylvia and
Alfie.
When our father returned home he was most surprised - and
happy to discover that Sarah had married, and Esther and Jessie were engaged.
Esther and Jessie also married their courtship boyfriends, and produced
families. Strangely, Jessie became the first mother, Phyllis becoming the
eldest grandchild. Sylvia and Alfie followed. Sarah gave birth to Cecilia
(Cissie) and, later, Alfred. Esther contributed Louis and Elizabeth (Betty).
The last named was born in Cressy Houses, and I can still remember her tiny body
in her cot.
However, to revert to the post WWI era, Mick and Abe, having
served in the army during the same period, became very friendly, with similar
pastimes, particularly sport. I have a most vivid recollection of the first
English football final played at Wembley Stadium in 1923 between Westham United
and Bolton Wanderers. They bought a ticket for me and I accompanied them in
great anticipation of viewing a glorious game of football, but that did not
eventuate. It soon became obvious that the ground could not cope with the huge
crowd, and we only got as far as the steps leading to the stands, and there we
stuck. Many of those spectators flooded the playing field and it took mounted
police to eventually clear them to sit on the grass near the touchlines. The
kick-off took place 45 minutes late, and we on the steps had no possible chance
of seeing the game, so we left the scene, as disappointed as many scores of
others who had paid for tickets or entrance to the grounds. We learned
subsequently that, although the ground was built for 80-90,000 spectators, the
police reckoned that those in the ground totalled approximately 150,000. As for
us, all we saw of the game was when the ball was kicked in the air, so we
joined the many disappointed and disgruntled - people who left the ground.
During the few years after WWI the wounds that had been
inflicted on Mick during the war were causing him very much pain, and anxiety
all round. Several doctors who had attended to him strongly advised him to find
a much better climate in which to live and perhaps alleviate the pain. Our
mother then suggested South Africa, where two of her sisters resided, Mary in
Johannesburg and Tilly in Cape Town. They were communicated with, Sarah, Mick
and the children went to Jo'burg, which seemed the most affluent area to them.
Mick obtained a fairly comfortable job in the office of a gold firm. However,
fierce conflicts between the workers on strike and the army caused them much
concern and they decided, as these conflicts continued and became dangerous,
that Sarah and the children should return to London, with Mick to follow as
soon as possible thereafter. This was carried out, and Mick did follow a few
months later, but unfortunately, during the trip, Mick succumbed to his
horrible wounds, and died, and was buried at sea.
Sarah was compensated by the British army sufficiently to be
able to take over a shop, helped by our mother, in the Kings Cross area, and
this is where the family tragedies continued.
At this stage I find it necessary to revert to the events
which occurred during the period when our father returned. For some unknown
reasoning our mother firstly sold the shop and purchased another in the Kings
Cross area. At that stage my sister Esther, who was married to Abe Kesner by
then, had some difficulty in finding necessary accommodation at that time and
decided to live with us for the time being, as there was plenty of room for all
of us. Although Rose had left school by then, and was apprenticed to the
Millinery department of Selfridges, I was still attending school and had quite
a 'schlep' to get daily to my school at Morpeth Central, and to return in late
afternoon.
However, it was quite a relief when Mother decided to sell
that shop too, and purchase another in Bethnal Green, just returning to the
East End. By that time I had left school and Rose had completed her
apprenticeship at Selfridges, and had been invited to a partnership with a
relative who had a millinery shop in Southsea, near Portsmouth on the south
coast. But she was not very happy there and arranged to return to London. I am
positive that the main reason for her decision was that she had become very friendly
with a young man named George Raymond, who lived in London. By that time we
were living in Bethnal Green, where Mother had taken over a restaurant in an
area consisting mainly of furniture factories run by Jewish owners. She had
built up a fairly affluent business until tragedy again struck the family.
Our father, of course, had returned to tailoring and seemed
to be quite happy in his work. At that stage we were approaching Armistice Day,
which was always celebrated in various areas like Trafalgar Square, etc. That
November 11th 1924 was a very rainy one and I decided that I would not attend
the usual functions, particularly as there was a nice stage show at a theatre
nearby, which I attended and enjoyed (here I must advise that I was apprenticed
as a barber). On my return home, at about 10.30 pm, I was surprised to see my
father working on an overcoat. When I asked him why he was working so late at
night, he advised that he was finishing the overcoat for a friend, to be ready
for the weekend. After a few minutes he seemed to finish the job, and I was preparing
for bed. Father also went to his bedroom and I heard him reading to Mother,
which he did every night, as he was very proud of his English reading.
Much to my astonishment and alarm at about 2 am I was awoken
by Mother, who impressed on me to get out of bed, to get dressed and find a
doctor to attend to Father, as the latter had become very ill, suddenly. When I
asked why me - and not Rose - she had advised me that Rose was having a bad
bout of flu. So I did as I was told, dressed and went into a heavy downpour of
rain to find a doctor. I eventually found one in the main road of Bethnal Green
and persuaded him to accompany me to our home. Mother escorted him to the
bedroom, where he made a most shattering observation, turning to us with the
remark "this man is dead, and has obviously died through a haemorrhage",
as we then noted the body was smothered in blood, to our consternation.
Naturally, the death had to be reported and the funeral had
to be postponed, according to legalities. Eventually he was buried after
several days. He was only 47 years of age. So, we were again faced with a
tragedy. However, life goes on and Mother stoically continued with her life,
but it was only about two years later that we were again involved in a tragedy.
I must now revert to my sister, Sarah, who had taken over a
shop in the Kings Cross area and doing reasonably well, but, being lonely after
Mick's death, had become involved with a man who was a real loafer, we
discovered subsequently. They married, he never worked nor looked for a job,
relying completely on Sarah's income. She had obviously realised her mistake
and eventually discovered, to her distress, that she was pregnant. We
discovered afterwards, when she had committed suicide, the horrible life she
had been living with this rubbish of a husband. She left a message for us,
advising us of her reasoning, particularly for the creature she had
unfortunately married. She apologised for her action and appealed to the family
to look after her two children, Cissie (Cecilia) and Alfred. At this stage I
have to report that Esther's husband, Abe Kesner, searched London for the
husband, fortunately with no result, because Abe had vowed to make a real mess
of him if he caught him. Anyway, Sarah was buried in the same cemetery as her
father, the graves being quite near each other.
So, our mother, not only having lost her husband two years
earlier, had now buried her eldest daughter, and her grief was obvious.
Subsequently, my sister Rose and George Raymond had become
serious and George often lived in our house after escorting Rose home. As I,
for some unknown reason, slept in a double bed, he kept me company, as it was a
long 'schlep' to where his family resided. At that time I was still
apprenticed, and used George's head to practice hair cutting on. We had a lot
of fun at those times.
As time went on, I had joined a Jewish Boys Club, which had
been founded some years earlier under the sponsorship of the Rothschild family,
as I was keen on their various sports and even their indoor activities. At
closing time one evening one of our members called me over and introduced me to
his sister, whose name was Yetta Bernbaum. Somehow or other, we clicked, and
were never separated afterwards. Her family resided near the club, and in no
time I was a regular visitor to their home. Her father and two brothers ran a
ladies tailoring workshop on the premises, her eldest sister was seriously
involved with a man who ran a butcher shop, her younger brother and sister were
still in school. During the period between 1924 and 1931 I had finished my
apprenticeship and my mother decided to again change her shop ownership by
disposing of the Bethnal Green shop and purchasing a Ladies & Gents
Hairdressing, plus a front shop, which we both ran for a time. This business
was situated very near to the Westham United Football Club and Jessie took over
a Ladies Hairdressing establishment situated adjoining the above football club.
Rose was married to George Raymond and they lived in a flat
next to the Middlesex Hospital in the West End of London. Rose took over a
millinery establishment near to their flat, and George continued in the
tailoring business. After a reasonable time Rose gave birth to Sydney, who was
born in the Middlesex Hospital, where the Brith Milah was held. As I worked in
the West End at this time it was convenient for me to attend the Brith. Not
long after Sydney's birth the Raymonds rented a house in Tooting, and George
took over a tailoring establishment in South East London. Incidentally, there
were no further births in the Raymond family.
As time wore on, Mother had disposed of the hairdressing
business and had reverted to a tobacco and sweetshop near to Stepney Green
station.
During this period Yetta and I had become engaged and were
considering possible wedding factors, which needed much thought. The Bernbaum
family mainly relied on their tailoring income, which varied according to the
amount of work they managed to obtain and which was most inconstant. The only
other member of the family who was working was Yetta, who was a noted fur
machinist. She helped considerably in the slack tailoring periods by handing
over to her mother most of the wages she earned, and did so for some years. She
even earned extra money by working overtime. However, as the time approached
for our wedding it was obvious that it could only be furnished by Yetta and me
paying for the forthcoming celebration, and for a reasonable time we arranged
to set aside certain sums for that purpose, having made the necessary
arrangements with our respective parents. As the time neared to our wedding my
mother advised the family that, as she would be living alone after my wedding,
she had decided to sell the shop and to visit her sisters in South Africa, whom
she had not seen for many years. We all thought it an excellent idea, that she
would be taking a well-earned holiday. However, none of us could foresee how
this would transpire for all of our family.
Meanwhile, Yetta and I had moved to the flat which we
rented, a long way from the East End but a reasonable distance from the West
End, where we both worked. It was most convenient and we settled down quite
happily, naturally meeting with our respective families whenever possible. But,
after my mother had been in South Africa for a month or two we learned to our
astonishment that she had met a widower friend of the Chapman family, and had
decided to agree to his request for marriage. It seemed that he was in a
reasonable financial situation, which we were only informed subsequently. At
first we were happy for her, as she had then been widowed for seven years, but
began to worry, as she was unable to communicate for some time. Nevertheless,
my sister Esther, who did write to her, without response, for a time but
eventually she did obtain someone who responded to Esther's letters.
At that time Esther's husband Abe was experiencing a
difficult period and when my mother heard of their poor financial position
things did really begin to happen. It seemed that mother's husband owned a
factory, and he was soon persuaded to offer Abe a job, and paid for the Kesner
family to arrange for transport to Cape Town. They rented a house in
Observatory and settled down quite satisfactorily. As my mother lived in
Rosebank, they saw quite a lot of each other. Esther's two children were in
school in Observatory and mother's sister, Tilly Chapman, also lived in
Observatory, so they were not short of company.
Meanwhile, to revert to the London situation, Yetta had
decided, after less than a year of our marriage, that it was time for a baby,
so, just about a year after our marriage she gave birth to Allan, who was born
in the City of London Hospital. I occasionally remember, humorously, when she
woke me in the middle of the night, complaining of pain and when I asked her
whether it was the baby that caused her pain she answered very irritably
"How do I know, I have never had a baby before!"
So, as we had arranged with her sister Lily, who was the
only one in the Bernbaum family to own a motor car at that time, to take her to
hospital when needed, I phoned her and she eventually arrived and took her to
the hospital. By that time we had moved to Finsbury Park, as we needed an extra
room for the forthcoming baby.
This had all happened on a Friday night and I spent much of
the Saturday following on the phone to the hospital. As I worked late on
Saturday, I became quite anxious about the situation, so I left earlier than
usual, went from the West End to the East End to fetch Yetta's mother and went
to the hospital. When I rang the bell the time being about 11 pm a nurse opened
the door and when I asked about Yetta she smiled and said "Oh, yes, she
gave birth about ten minutes ago, everything's fine and you now have a son."
We were not allowed to visit her, naturally, and we only managed to see her and
the baby at visiting time on the Sunday afternoon. Yetta was quite happy, but
the only problem was the baby's weight, or the lack of same. He only weighed
just over 5 pounds, so the Brith Milah could not take place until he had
reached 6 pounds.
Anyway, Yetta's mother, visiting her the following evening,
stepped into the road in front of a bus and suffered a broken leg. I can still
remember, at the Brith, which occurred about a month after Allan's birth, she
was still laid up with her leg plastered. Thank goodness there were no problems
with our baby, but Yetta was adamant that he should not be spoilt. I can recall
someone ringing our bell, the caller asking Yetta to take in the baby, as it
was snowing. He was lying in the beautiful large pram, and very well covered,
and Yetta scorned the visitor's protest, telling her that the baby was
adequately covered and that there was no need for the pram to be removed indoors.
At this stage it would be necessary to change the subject to
what was happening to the rest of the family. Esther was communicating with
Rose, Jessie and myself, her views being that she and her family were quite
happy and settling down. Also that Mother had no problems. She also revealed
that Mother wished to know what was happening to the rest of the family.
It so happened that the Raymonds were experiencing
considerable difficulties financially-wise. George had given up his tailorship,
and they had eventually moved from Tooting to Epsom (where the English Derby is
run), then to Manchester in Lancashire, about 200 miles from London, where
George worked for a time.
Obviously Rose had communicated their problems to Mother
(through Esther). So, after several months, the Raymonds having moved again to
Brighton, on the south coast only 50 miles from London, it was eventually
agreed to accept Mother's invitation to visit her in South Africa and, if she
liked it, George would follow on. Incidentally, of course, Rose took Sydney
with her. Yetta and I visited them in Brighton on a farewell visit. When Rose
and Sydney sailed from Southampton to South Africa, George moved back to
London, taking a tailoring job in a shop near where Jessie lived. He often
visited Jessie, Joe and children while there, eventually taking ship to South
Africa to rejoin Rose and Sydney. Their first home in Cape Town was in a flat
in Mowbray, and George soon found a job in the tailoring trade.
This saga must now return to London. The Raphael family,
communicating regularly through Esther, were being urged to think of leaving
England for South Africa, and eventually Jessie and family, without Joe at that
stage, sailed for Cape Town.
So now the only remnants of the Merris family, etc, left
were Joe Raphael and Yetta, myself and Allan, in London. At that stage, while I
still worked in the West End, but we had moved to Edgware. Our friends Jack
Marcus and his wife, the latter who had been a colleague of Yetta's in the fur
trade, had purchased a house in the newly built section of Edgware and advised
us to take over the first floor. Incidentally, the Marcuses had met in our flat
in Clapton NE and married soon afterwards.
Having inspected the flat, we were quite impressed and moved
in, continuing a happy friendship. Allan enjoyed the nice garden he played in
with some little friends, and we were quite happy for a time. However, we were
on the verge of experiencing a rather nasty shock. I had been playing tennis
with a few neighbours in a nearby park on Thursday afternoons and Sundays. On
the latter day I left as usual, noting that Allan was playing quite happily
with some friends. Having had a satisfying doubles game, I left the park for
home, but when I got there Yetta was waiting for me and I was quite shocked to
see that she was upset. She then told me that Allan had become quite sick not
long after I had left. He had suddenly become feverish, and crying. She had put
him to bed and he seemed to be in some pain, so she decided to wait till I got
home in order that I would obtain the services of a doctor. We then realised
that he had come down with flu, as for several weeks a severe epidemic of
influenza had caused very much trouble in London and Southern England, many
deaths resulting from pneumonia.
So I immediately rushed off to find a doctor, whom I knew, but when I got there his wife advised that he had been called out to attend to a patient. He eventually arrived, and I had to beseech him to see the child, as he told me that he had not slept for three nights, being very busy with influenza patients. However, I did persuade him to see Allan and when he took his temperature he told us that he had probably caught the flu. I insisted that an ambulance be called. Fortunately, the nearest hospital was only about a mile away from our flat.