Showing posts with label Nobel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nobel. Show all posts

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Tracing a Military Man 1

My maternal great grandfather (that is, my mother’s mother’s father) was a shadowy character from the word go. According to an aunt, in one of her more lucid moments, he had been ‘a military man’. 

Apart from that vague snippet, alI we knew was that his first name was Finlay, thus bequeathing to me, the self-appointed family historian, an annoying selection of variant spellings of the forename which cropped up not only in documents pertaining to the man himself but also applied to several descendants. Great grandfather, his parents, the Census enumerators and the British Army, seemed to prefer Finlay but he also answered to Finley and Findlay. His only son was named William Finlay. is son was named William FinHis only son HisA later descendant sticks to Finley. Mercifully great grandpa’s surname was plain and simple: Gibson.

Finlay Gibson (1841-1924)
Neither forename nor surname marked him as being of obviously Scottish descent, though it was in Ayrshire, Scotland, that he spent the greater part of his life and he lies buried in that county, in the village of Stevenston.

Stevenston’s primary claim to fame is that towards the end of the 19th c Nobel’s Dynamite Factory was located there, cushioned amongst the sand dunes on the isolated beach in the hope of minimizing or at least containing the dangers of explosion inherent in producing such a volatile material.

Despite precautions, however, explosions occurred from time to time, causing maiming and fatalities among those inhabitants who were employed at the ‘dinnamit’, as it was called in local parlance.

Many years later, when the dynamite factory was no longer in existence, I visited the area and spoke to other great grandchildren whose ancestors, male and female, had worked at the dinnamit, by which colloquial term it was then still known. They seemed amazed and pleased that someone from as far distant as South Africa should mention the word and claim this odd sort of kinship.

Women workers at the dynamite factory.
Photo: Ayrshire Libraries Forum
One man told me about his great grandmother who had, like Finlay's daughters, been a cartridge maker at the dinnamit and had to wear her hair tied up in pigtails for safety. These girls began their risky work at an early age, 11 or twelve, some of them. Finlay, though he did a stint as foreman of the cartridge workers, became a ‘searcher’.

At first uncertain what duties were covered by this occupation, it became clear to me that Finlay would be positioned at the factory entrance to search everyone going in for any sign of matches or other inflammable material carried on their person, and to make sure such items were removed. It was a vital task carrying authority and responsibility. No doubt Finlay had a vested interest in carrying out his duties well, since several members of his family were among the factory’s workforce.

Workers being searched for matches before being admitted to the factory.
Photo: Ayrshire Libraries Forum





To be continued.






Monday, January 25, 2010

Diversity, dynamite and decisions


Because family history offers such a diversity of intriguing avenues to explore, it's often difficult to maintain focus. In the process of finding out more about my Hamilton and Gibson ancestors who had once lived in a small village called Stevenston in Ayrshire, Scotland, I discovered that several members of these families had worked at 'the dinnamit' – local parlance for Nobel's explosives factory at Ardeer (see photo right from Ayrshire Libraries Forum showing women workers queuing outside the factory).

UK Census entries reveal that the girls, some as young as twelve, were 'carteridge [sic] makers' at the dynamite works. They wore their hair in pigtails for safety. I spent hours in pursuit of this topic, visiting related websites and generating text files and photographs. Fascinating, yes, and it provided a glimpse into a vanished era, but sometimes it's necessary to tear ourselves away from sidetracks and get back to the main road. Tempus fugit.

Deciding from the outset what that main road is going to be, is helpful. Are you going to collect data on one specific line? Will it be your paternal or maternal line? Or both? What do you intend to do with the information: put together a simple family tree for the benefit of your children and grandchildren or produce a detailed illustrated narrative for circulation within the family? If you have a particularly unusual surname, you might want to work towards a One Name Study. This would involve all instances of the surname (and its accepted spelling variants) anywhere, at any date: a real challenge and clearly not an option if your surname is Smith – or Bell.