A Visit to Lucky Hill

While in Jamaica for the funeral (Uncle Bullion) I took the opportunity to make one last trip up to Lucky Hill. This trip was extra special because I had the company of my sister. Since we have grown up I think this is the first time I have had her to myself for almost a whole day alone!

Also special was that I had the chance to see Bernice (Sue) who I have not seen since I was a teenager I think.

Here are some pictures from
Lucky Hill:

Lucky Hill has not changed, if anything it has gotten smaller it seems. Areas that I thought was miles away turns out to be not so far after all, and houses that I thought were so big were really tiny. It was revelation to me how a child’s eye view and that of a grown up cold be so different. Take for example walking to school in the morning. I remember this as a grueling huge distance with corners and turns and the road going on forever. It turns out that the actual distance was about a mile, if so long!

Jeffery Town school (My First Fight) was still there but it looked so small and not at all like I remembered it. Besides the bright yellow and green colors, the building is half as big as I remembered it and the playground was almost nonexistent. The same play ground I remembered at recess you would full games of cricket, football, chevy-chase, jump-rope, gig and marbles going on all at the same time.

My visit to Luck Hill was an eye-opening experience of how a child’s view of spatial things and a grown-up’s view is so much different!

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Uncle Bullion's Funeral

It has been over a month since my uncle’s (Uncle Bullion) funeral but I have not had a chance to update my blog. Below are links to some of the pictures taken during the visit to Jamaica.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/27040491@N06/sets/72157616733145438/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/27040491@N06/sets/72157616643537681/

It is unfortunate that the reason for the trip was his passing. But just like spring follow winter so does rejuvenation follows death. His death, while sad, was a vehicle for enlivening the family bond; re-energizing old linkages and building new ones. His passing while sad was a vehicle for making the Davis family bond stronger, bigger and deeper. Were he able to see it, I know he would have felt as happy and proud as I was of this special family.

The funeral itself was sad as funnerals are but it was also a joyous occasion. The service was packed, standing room only. His brothers officiated; Dixon lead us in prayers and Hugh did the eulogy. His burial was at his beloved New Hope, next to his wife. Driving up that very steep, curvy, rocky and unpaved country road up to New Hope was an adventure. But having arrived; the good food, happy gathering, superb vista and the opportunity to touch and re-connect with family that you have not seen in so long and be introduced to ones that you have never seen made the evening an unforgettable joy!

How fitting…, as he did in life so he did in passing, bringing happiness to all!

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Why I love my Uncle Bullion (Charles Davis).

He is in the back row on the left above and next to him is my father.

I heard today that my favorite uncle died. He died at the advance age of 97 years. I would say he had not only a long life but a good life too. While I did expect his passage I will miss him. I will miss his touch, the way he cocks his head when he talks to you, that forever smile that says ‘everything is going to be alright’ and that long lanky gait he had when he was younger, tackling those hills going up from Parry Town up to his house. I was secretly hoping to have one more chance to sit with him and hear from his own mouth some more of the family history. Now that will never happen and all that knowledge and family history died with him. I will miss the knowledge but I will miss him more!

From earlier conversations here is what I gather about his history. He was born in Lucky Hill on April 20, 1912 and started school there but finished up in Kingston where he was living with his sister, Sister Lou (Louise Davis). He started working in Kingston too, first as electrician then driving but with the end of WW II (1945) he gave up driving and was never behind the wheel of a car again. I never heard the full story of why. But what was surprising about his youth was that he was politically very active. To do this in a family that was so astutely Jehovah’s Witnesses would have taken some doing. But I have heard from other sources that as a youth he was very active in the Jamaica Labour Party (JLP); that he traveled the island extensively canvassing votes and was very prominent in party gathering. He said however that he himself never voted.

In 1945 he dedicated himself to Jehovah and has been a ardent Witness ever since. As a young man he left Kingston and came to Ocho Rios (Kellington) where he married Violet. They set up residence in Parry Town where he has lived ever since. While there he became a tradesman; a skilled masonry, carpenter and builder in the Ocho Rios community. Together they had six children: Lillian, Rudley, Sonia, Robert, Sutcliff and Yann.

My uncle was not rich but I have never known him to ask for a dollar. He was always self supporting and a good provider for his family. But what he might have lacked in material wealth me more than made up for in kind thoughts, a happy disposition and a giving personality. I have never known him to be mean, have envy for anyone or curse at someone.

For me, he was the balancing act to my father’s anger. He was the one who could calm my father down from his fits of rage and get him to see reason and become rational again. I cannot tell you how many times I hoped for Uncle Bullion to stop by (as he often did on his way home from work or meetings). You know, those days when you got into too much trouble for your mother to handle and she gave you that ultimate warning ‘You just wait until your father comes home….’ Secretly I would then pray for my Uncle Bullion to show up. I know he was the only one who could reason with my father and get him to forget or at least bring the punishment down a notch. He was my savior many times. My mother, I think uses a similar tactic when she had a difficult confrontation with my father. You see Uncle Bullion and my father were both very close. He was my father sounding board and I know much of my father’s endeavors would not have happened if he did not have my uncle’s advice and support.

The first dollar (pound) I ever earned was from Uncle Bullion. I was home on vacation from high school and he had a masonry job in the kitchen area at Tower Isle hotel. Against my mothers strong objection he go my father to allow me to come and help him on that job. It was the first dollar I earned but more than that it shows how my uncle operates. My father undoubtedly was complaining of how lazy I was sitting home all day and doing nothing. He was probably bent out of shape agonizing about it and talked to Uncle Bullion about it. But Uncle Bullion saw it for what it was; that I was not particularly lazy but just a young man bored out of his whit’s and was really looking for something new to do.

That was my Uncle Bullion. He always seems to look beyond the obvious. He was a thinking man, my type of guy. He will always be special to me.

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Aunt's Children

This is an excerpt from Bernice (Sue). She probably lived with Aunt the longest and has the best knowledge of all of Aunt’s ‘children’. I have left it almost verbatim as it not only describe the children but gives a good perspective of how Aunt was viewed in the district.
….now, with regards to your request. As you have said it is a tall order. However, I’ll make a try at it and as comprehensive as possible.
Growing up with Aunt was quite SOME experience. But that is another story which was not all negative. You may not know this, but my surname is really McDermott. My parents were Mr. & Mrs. Zachariah McDermott living in the same district of Retirement. Aunt was a Nanny/Nurse so she delivered many babies including those of my mother. I was told that she liked me very much at birth and got to adopt me. That is how I got the name Taylor. I was taken to her home when I was weaned at about nine months old. Your mother and Cliffie’s mother-Evelyn Burrell who is Aunt’s niece by a brother were at home when I joined the family. Then there was Siddie (Hector Bonito) who is Jackie’s uncle. After that another girl in her early teens –Delphis White spent a few years. She came from Ocho Rios (church connection) her father (Mr. White) took her back home.
While Cliffie, Bill and Winston and I were all there together, you came for a little time. When I was in my late teens Jackie’s mother, Elaine Russell came and spent a year. After that a young girl (about 9 years old) from the district also spent about 2 years, her name was Cinderella McDonald. Her parents were Mr. & Mrs. George McDonald. She eventually went back home. The last person I remember was Eartha Allen, a little girl about 4 years old. She was one of Aunts church brother’s child. Her parents were Mr. & Mrs. Allen from the area. She also spent a very short time and went back home.
…It should interest you to know that Aunt was regarded as a very significant person in the district. She played the role of Advisor/counselor, attended the sick, embalmed dead bodies (a process which lasted 3 days until the burial) as you know in those days there were no funeral homes. As I have said previously she delivered many babies. As far as I know majority if not all services without charge, she was fairly well read and had a good knowledge in house-keeping, dressmaking etiquette and of course nursing skills. She sometimes spoke about some study course in which she was involved. I recall seeing at least two of her books at home. In addition she was a landowner and farmer in her own rights, and a very strict disciplinarian workaholic.

I added a schematic above showing Aunt's ‘children’, their sequence and approximate time line of when they were with her in Lucky Hill.

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Our Second House – Part I

From Grove we moved to a little house just on the outskirts of Ocho Rios’ bay area. It was a three room house on what is now Main Street out towards the western end of the town. It was directly across from Our Lady of Fatima, a Catholic Church and school. The house is now demolished and a commercial building occupies the space.

I don’t recall entirely the circumstance surrounding why my father left Shaw Park Hotel but I felt that my mother had a pivotal role in the decision. Being a people person I can see how she would have hated the isolation of Grove. In any event my father left Shaw Park Estates and started working at a hotel out towards White River; it could have even been Tower Isle Hotel. He was commuting on his bicycle and it was during one of these commute that he almost lost his life. He was hit by a car that knocked him off his bicycle and down a steep rocky precipice. He ended up in St Anns Bay Hospital with severe head injuries. It was the result of these injuries that some felt caused the memory lapses in the latter part of his life.

I think I must have been about four or five when we started living there. I estimate that because I was still riding ‘under bar’ and I was not yet in primary school. But I was attending the Seventh Day Adventist’s school in Milford. This in itself was a remarkable accomplishment by my mother, for she must have been brilliant in applying the necessary pressure and persistence on my father for him to agree to this. You see, for him it meant going against his entire side of the family (his father, his brothers and sisters) plus the entire Jehovah’s Witness congregation in Ocho Rios; a gut wrenching, conscience strewn and unnerving decision. Or maybe it was just love for his wife, but allowing his child to get any education in a religious house other than a Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witness I know did not come easy to my father. But my mother’s mantra for me was education, education, education and she would have traded with the devil to make that happen. It was not the last time too that she pulled that off.

Our house was one of two that that was located on that property. In the other which was bigger but older lived the Greens (I think that was their name) and they had a son called Cutie who was about my age and a daughter whose name slips me. Both houses faced out onto a common yard with a big almond tree in the western corner of the property. Under the tree was the communal stand pipe. It was not that we did not have running water in the houses for I distinctly remember a kitchen area and an outside shower area behind our house. But Cutie and myself seem to have spent a lot of time together under that almond tree, all our games and activities happened there. I remember it as a happy place and not just for the almonds; which you stoned off when they were ripe to get the fruit and when dry you broke open for the nut inside, and the leaves, when you really bored or destitute, you could make a poor kite out of it. On our side of the property was a breadfruit tree. I mention this because thinking about it now I realize that every house that we ever lived in my father always seem to manage a breadfruit tree. I guess it was his way of ensuring that there was always food.

I will bring you Part II soon but first I want to go Back to Lucky Hill. Until then...

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Back to Lucky Hill

I thought I had closed this chapter but new information keeps drawing me back here. A recent encounter (Harry’s 50th. Birthday Party) brought new information and a whole new perspective to Aunt and Grand Mumaa, my paternal grand mother and great grand mother respectively. Thanks Jacqui, I can now fill in most of my mother’s family tree. Above is a look at it so far.

First, I found out Grand Mumaa’s real name. She was Sarah Dalling. Secondly, Aunt was not an only child but had at least three siblings. And third, while it cannot be documented as yet, some says that Grand Mumaa's maiden name was Taylor. If that turns out to be true it would be something, she being a Taylor and her daughter Aunt, also marrying a Taylor. But even more intriguing is the fact that she must have married or had relationship with a Davis for Aunt, her first child, was named Davis. This suggests very strongly that my mother and father were related, they were probably cousins!

This was all happening in the small community of Lucky Hill, where the total population was probably less than a thousand people. It was mentioned that Lucky Hill was originally settled by three families two of which were Davis and Taylor. Given the information I have today it does not seem that far fetched.

There was also a lot more information on Aunt, my grand mother. I found out that she had three siblings. There was Aunt Jane whom I vaguely remembered as living very close to Aunt (I think just down the road where the road bends as it leaves Retirement and heads towards Jeffery Town). Then there were Arnold and Lucille. These two I don’t recall.

But what is more intriguing than the siblings is the new perspective I get of Aunt. I always had this picture of her as a strict disciplinarian, not mean, but a tough, dictatorial, no-nonsense type of a woman. But hearing from other who lived with her much longer than I, there was a softer side. It turns out that Aunt was actually a midwife for the district and that is where much of the respect and high esteem she was given in the district comes from. It was also one reason why she always taking care of so many other people’s children. It was because the attachment from having helped to bring them into the world. This information is interesting and gives me a whole new perspective of her. But it’s still a tough one for me to picture, probably because of the many heavy licks that I remembered those hands delivering to my rear end. I just can’t imagine them as tender enough to deliver babies. She was one great woman! I wish I could get back time to get to know her allover again.

There was new information on Daddy too. It turns out that he had children before he married Aunt, giving my mother two siblings. His first child was Aunt Zill. I do not think I ever met her as she lived in Kingston but she was always talked about and I grew up with Winston who was her son. Daddy’s second child was Uncle Sonney. I have heard the name and I think he lived close by or at least in Lucky Hill but he must not have remained close to the rest of the family for I cannot recall him. My mother was his third child. Having lived with Daddy for a year or so and witness first hand his calming influence I can see how much he contributed to my mother's childhood. While he did not intervene when Aunt was threatening you with fire and brimstone he also did not escalate it. He was that quiet person, soft spoken, caring and thoughtful. He was always in the background, but without him Aunt would never have the presence nor commanded the respect that she had. I can see now where she was the initiator but he was her support and together they were a strong team.

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Dadda

My paternal grand father ‘Dadda’ was the Davis of the Davis’. You only have to look at him to know where we all came from; medium height, lithe frame, spindly legs, high forehead with deep furrows, bushy eyebrows, straight nose, big ears and light complexion. These were the physical attributes he passed on to all of us, some more than others, but we all share some of it to some degree. In a family gathering I was always fascinated by all the hues of colors and mixtures of features. But select an individual and you will see some of these tell tale Davis features in some degree; he or she might not be fair but will have those skinny calves, another might not have as straight a nose but notice those big ears and deep furrows in the forehead, and so it would go that you can always tell a Davis.

Dadda was obviously of caucasian ancestry and the name Davis suggest Scottish or Welsh heritage. Beyond that I have not been able to unearth his family history. He was born Theophilous Dixon Davis in February of 1881 in the village of Endeavour in the parish of St. Mary, Jamaica West Indies. We know that he had a brother, Alfred and a sister, Florence; and that he grew up in the Endeavour/Lodge/Cascade area of St. Mary. Beyond that little is known about the family history. I keep digging but as yet, I have not been able to find anything about his parents or where they came from.
His first marriage was to Alberta Adina Goldsmith of St. Elizabeth. Not much is also know about Alberta’s family. It seems she was considered illegitimate and not considered a full Goldsmith. She had three siblings, John, George and Lena. Little is known of how she grew up or how she met Dadda but they got married sometime before Frank (the first child) was born and they first lived in Rose Street (Hall) in St Elizabeth. Then they moved back to St. Mary and most of the children were born in Lucky Hill, St. Mary. For him she bore 13 children plus 2 miscarriages:

‘Dadda’ Theophilous Dixon Davis (1881 - 1965) - Alberta Adina Goldsmith (1890 - 1942):

Frank
Louise
TT
Joyce
Charles (Bullion)
Violet
Vivian
John
Leslie
Lilla
Harold
Archie
Florence (Little)

She died in 1942 at the early age of 52. Unfortunately she became blind (probably from diabetes) before she died.

Dadda started out working in the schools (as a teacher or headmaster) and he was also a deacon in a local church. Later he teamed up with the Pottinger family and became a cultivator but gave that up for a job as a Head Man on a property in Three Hills, St. Mary. Later he became the ‘Busha’ of Shaw Park Estate. He apparently started in some other position at Shaw Park but the prior ‘Busha’ had to leave Jamaica unexpectedly and he got the position which came with the house in Kellington.

At Shaw Park he married Mertella Beckford in 1945. She was 22 and he was 65. Mertella (Sista Mert) was originally from Lucky Hill and had known Dadda there but she grew up in Three Hills, St Mary. Not much is known about Sista Mert’s parents too as she was raised by her grandmother. In fact, when Dadda wanted to marry her he had to get the consent from her grandmother as there were no parents to go to. Apparently Sista Mert was already working at Shaw Park Hotel when Dadda asked her to marry him. Her memory was that he was pretty lonely at that time as his first wife had been dead for a while and most of his children had married and moved away. Together they had seven children:

Dadda - Murtella Beckford (1923 - ) Married in 1945:
Lloyd (Dixon)
Hugh
Annette
Lee
Fred
Hayden
Micah

With such a populous beginning it is no wonder the Davis family became so large. But, however many generations removed we are, Dadda is still the focal point of our lineage and for now the oldest source of our Davis lineage. Dadda died in 1965.

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