Another for the growing collection.
GEORGE SNOOK (1840-1923) and ELIZABETH (TOVEY) SNOOK (1848-1923)
Here is a portrait of George and Elizabeth Snook, with a third, so far unidentified gentleman. They are photographed in a romantic, craggy setting.
There is no doubt about the identification. On the rear of the photograph, in my mother's own writing, is "My Granny and Grandpa Snook". My mother knew them well. She lived with them for almost the first 20 years of her life.
The rear of the photograph also tells us that they are not somewhere in the remote Scottish Highlands but in the Isle of Man: either in the studio of John Waring Walton, a photographer whose premises are at 53 Athol Street, Douglas; or, perhaps more likely, at one of his "branches" which appear to be picturesque outdoor locations where he sets up his apparatus on sunny days. They are on holiday and apparently wearing their holiday - or is it Sunday? - best. There are even flowers in the gentlemen's button holes. Umbrellas are in evidence and so perhaps there is the threat of a shower. The best judgement in my family is that the photograph was taken in 1900/1901. It is very unlikely to vary from that by more than a year or two and so we'll assume that date to be correct.
Just a normal picture of its time, a respectable Victorian couple, on holiday and preserving the moment. Amongst so many similar, hardly worth a second glance. But some of us can look at this picture and think about the people in it. We know something about them and, on the basis of that, we can look into their faces and and think about their lives and characters and wonder about the things which they know but we don't. This is what I see; others will see different things.
At this moment, George is 60, Elizabeth 52. They both have a further 23 years of life to look forward to. Neither was born in Birmingham. They both left their original homes with their families at an early age, in around 1850, Elizabeth coming direct from Winchcombe in Gloucestershire, George by a more indirect route from his Salisbury birthplace, via Wolverhampton. As she sits there, Elizabeth will remember nothing other than life in Birmingham. George, perhaps, still has memories of an early childhood in a city very different from the one he now knows so well. But perhaps by now they are both true Brummies.
George looks directly at us, solid, respectable, dependable. He will have his memories, as we all do. In Birmingham, his father had been a coal dealer in Stone Yard, Deritend. George's trade was "Horse Hair Curler" and later, "Packer" and "General Haulier". He had married Mary Ann Tovey 38 years ago and they had lived in various addresses in the same area over the years, including Crawley Court, Alcester Street, William Edward Street, Leamington Terrace and finally back in Stone Yard. Six children appeared over about 14 years of whom one died in infancy, a tragedy no doubt faced by so many of his contemporaries.. But for George an even greater tragedy was about to occur. With the five surviving children at ages of between one and fourteen, Mary Ann had died of Typhoid and Exhaustion in May 1876, about 24 years before the photograph. But now, the years have passed and the pain has eased. As we look at George and his second wife, Elizabeth, his children are grown up - they are aged between 25 and 38. Have they all flown the family nest yet? As he looks back at us, is George wondering if his thimble factory in Floodgate Street is running satisfactorily in his absence.? And can George and Elizabeth see on the horizon a quiet and comfortable retirement in their family home - at this moment possibly "The Vale", Albert Road, Stechford or, in the near future, "Salisbury", Station Road, Knowle, the latter so far away from the bustle and soot of inner Birmingham. George must be thinking at this moment that, whatever trials and tribulations he has endured, he hasn't done at all badly.
And by his side is Elizabeth. A dour, Victorian lady in whose presence you would behave very carefully indeed. No question of using a swear word within her hearing, or, even less, tell a joke in doubtful taste. She too has her memories. Seeing her elder sister, Mary Ann - living just around the corner - suffering from and then dying of typhoid, leaving five young children motherless. And then coming to the aid of her widowed brother-in-law with support for him and her niece and nephews before, about a year later, marrying him and devoting her life to him, and to them. All now a quarter of a century ago.
And as we look at her, in all her respectability, and perhaps feel a little daunted by her gaze, we know, some of us, that she has a bit of a past, a secret, not that you could really believe it from her appearance today. How to describe it? A "moment of madness", perhaps? But possibly a bit more than that. Four years before her sister's illness and death she seems to have been living as a wife with a George Edward Thomas and have done him the honour of giving her son - born on 17th February 1871 - the father's name as forenames; but she declined to name him on the birth certificate and to use his surname for her son: and so the infant would always bear the full name of George Thomas Tovey. Only Elizabeth knows the full story and as we stare at her face, we know full well that she is not going to reveal anything about it to us.
But that is all in the past. Today she has other preoccupations, some joyful and some sad. George Thomas Tovey, now a thimble maker, her only child, is married to Rebecca Brown. Six years ago they presented her with a grandson, also called George Thomas; but two years later the little boy succumbed to acute pneumonia. Last year another child appeared, Elsie. Elizabeth doesn't know it yet, and we do, but even greater crises lie ahead. Next year, Elsie will be joined by another daughter, Clara. But again at the age of two, this child will also be lost, from shock following head injuries after having been run over by a cart. Meanwhile Beatrice has appeared, the year before the accident. Whether Elizabeth yet knows it or not, strains are developing in the marriage. Rebecca takes to the bottle - who can blame her? - the marriage breaks up and the destiny of the two surviving children is decided. The infant Beatrice goes with the mother. And Elsie goes to Elizabeth and George Snook.
Here is Elsie, a year or two after her move to Knowle:
But back to the present and the photograph. Who is the third person? He is close enough to be included within the group and must be a family member, or at least a very close friend. It isn't George Thomas Tovey. Could it be one of George Snook's sons, on holiday with them and, presumably, there as a single man? They are very smartly dressed. Just normal holiday wear, suitable for a promenade along the front with all the other respectable holidaymakers? Or another, more special occasion? An anniversary? And Elizabeth's remarkable gown. Is it truly black - or a nice shade of dark blue, or even red or green? And if it is really black, could it be mourning black - for a lost grandchild or another relative?
As George and Elizabeth sit there, neither can have any idea that they are about to start another phase of child rearing: to look after Elsie, now about four, and to give her care, protection and love, for the next 17 years until her marriage. Elsie's own mother is written out of the history books. "....Your mother is dead.....".
That is how it will stay, right up until Elsie's own death in 1995 at a time when family history research will prove otherwise. Elsie always knew that the official line was untrue - as did Elizabeth - and she maintained contact with Rebecca, secretly, and offered her little kindnesses for much of the next forty years. But the story presumably became more and more difficult to deny as the years passed and so the truth was never revealed to her three children.
And that's why I never had a grannie.
Chris
