In Search Of Beatrice Garvie (1872-1959) Part 2

 

Researched and written by guest blogger Fiona Sanderson:

Last year I wrote a first blog for the Archive: ‘In Search of Doctor Garvie’. Since then, that initial biographical research has grown into a much bigger story. 

 I’ve discovered that Beatrice Garvie has family, and made contact with them. I’ve tracked down the kind of camera she used, and found one that’s still in working condition. Together with Beatrice Thomson, an island elder, I’ve worked to catalogue and caption all of the more than 500 photographs that are in the Orkney Archive. I’ve also continued to find creative ways to return her story to North Ronaldsay. 

I feel as if I’ve obtained a much better idea of what Beatrice Garvie was like as a person, as well as establishing a great deal of her biography. 

 As I wondered what to do next, I felt that the answer to that question lay in the ethical way Dr Garvie had worked, with her photographs. That is, to return them to the people who were in them. Taking her story back to the island of North Ronaldsay felt increasingly important. Alongside this, I also wanted to spread the word about the legacy of her work; an archive that may possibly be unique.

 A special birthday May 9th 2022 found me heading for North Ronaldsay with a rucksack filled with a medical case, containing everything an early twentieth century peripatetic medic might have needed, from smelling salts to umbilical snips, to baby weighing scales. I was also carrying an old medium format camera with plenty of film, and a very large birthday cake.

 I had been in touch with Helga Scott, teacher at the school on North Ronaldsay, who had sounded interested in finding out more about Dr. Garvie, and linking it with a school project, on ‘Change’. We had discussed a special event day, a birthday party for Dr Garvie on May 9th, the 150th anniversary of her birth, and I began to think of what I might take along in order to bring her story to life.

 Of course, Dr Garvie’s photographs were a great place to start. Helga had shown the schoolchildren some of Dr Garvie’s island photos, of people at work, of babies that she had delivered, of the bicycle she used to get around the island, and of the bungalow that Dr Garvie had shared with Charlotte Tulloch.

Dr Garvie with her housekeeper Charlotte Tulloch

 Charlotte worked as her housekeeper, and I have been told that they were a couple. Certainly they lived together for the whole 16 years that Beatrice Garvie was the doctor on the island, and I gather that they both left the island, when Dr Garvie retired. 

 Although we don’t need to know the details of their private lives, when I see photographs of them together, I do read companionship there. I also admit to feeling happy that, after many years of struggle in her career, Beatrice Garvie had found a place where she felt contentment.

 Dr Garvie may also have had a sweet tooth! On a previous visit to the island, by chance, I had come across a book she had owned; a recipe book called ‘Sweets and Chocolates’.  For the birthday party, the children had made some sweets; cinder toffee and marshmallows from recipes in the book. 

The book of recipes, found at Trebb, with Dr Garvie’s bookplate alongside.

Birthday tea on May 9th, at the school

  There was a lot of interest in drawing and investigating the contents of the medical chest. The birthday party was a great means of introducing a broad range of learning about life on the island in the 1930s, and the work of the doctor at that time.  

Investigating the equipment in the medical case


 

Some older islanders had offered the little brass ornaments that Dr Garvie had given them when they were children, for us to see on the day. These were a great subject to photograph with the old camera I had taken along too.

Edie Craigie and Isabella Scott, with one of the brass ornament

 At the end of the day, Helga and I chatted over a cup of tea, with Edie Craigie. Helga said ‘wouldn’t it be great to reconstruct some of those photos with the children’. ‘How can I help?’ I replied. 

To be continued...

French Knittin' In the USA, French Knittin' in the USA-hey!

Last week the archive staff had one of our legendary nights out. We chugged cups of tea, slammed  some veggie burgers and nailed a bunch of  homebakes before staggering home way, way, way, past nine o'clock. Say, tennish?


We talked shop, we talked Bake Off, we set the world of carrot cakes to rights (walnuts or no? Discuss...) until, as it invariably does when one is 'partying hard', the conversation ended up at the topic of French knitting.


It turned out every one of us had spent vast swathes of our youth bent over a wooden doll with a tube through her middle and four pins in her head, tongues firmly between our teeth as we 'knitted' great big worms of wool which protruded from the dolly's nether regions and coiled down to the floor. For what and for why we asked ourselves? What was the purpose of this bizarre pursuit? Who needs boxes of woollen worms and what could anyone ever do with such things?


The Orcadian (as usual) came to the rescue:

Taken from a 1926 copy of the Orcadian. Ten years of looking through these things and the casual use of a word like 'cripple' is still really jarring.

The next week's issue offered readers the opportunity to make a fabric version of a cat who's just remembered that he's not done something really, really important:

Late Night Opening

Guess what? We asked and asked and asked and FINALLY we have been allowed to stay up late.

From Thursday 28th January 2016 the Archive (and Library) will be staying open until 9 o'clock! At night! That allows for 4 hours of research time - after 5pm! Before you begin your celebratory dance, please note this is a trial change for 6 months on 1 day per month, i.e. the last Thursday of the month.

Ok, you now have permission to sharpen your pencils, pack your satchel and dance like you just don't care...

Hoorah For Alison and Her Archive!

Pictured above is the latest edition of the New Orkney Antiquarian Journal. This particular edition is a very special one to all of us here at the Orkney Library and Archive as it was written as a tribute to our former Principal Archivist, Alison Fraser, who retired last October and is a very big miss.

The journal begins with a tribute to Alison written by former Assistant Archivist Phil Astley. His piece is then followed by essays by archive staff members (both current and those who have moved on) and users of the archive.

The book is an excellent overview of the history of the service and of Alison's career in Orkney.

There was a small presentation on Monday night which is pictured below. A few speeches were made and chit chat was had. There was also a delightful buffet comprising of sandwiches, home bakes and a platter of fruit. That last detail may seem irrelevant, but we do like a good buffet here.

Alison receives her copy of the journal from Leslie Burgher of the Orkney Heritage Society as library and archive staff and journal contributors look on. (Photo: Orkney Media Group.)

The Aftermath...

Orkney Library and Archive was a shameful sight yesterday morning. The corridors were strewn with burst balloon skins, torn streamers and empty wine bottles, two members of staff were discovered passed out amongst the Mills and Boons and a sad pair of underpants swung slowly from a light fitting.

At least that would be the case if we were not nerdy librarian/archivists who did most of their tidying up on Saturday night. It was Alison's leaving do and the staff gathered to eat, drink and make merry. Homebakes were produced, speeches were made and gifts were presented.

It was a very pleasant, if emotional, evening. Anyone who claims they didn't feel a little moist around the eyes during Alison's speech was either crying a river inside, has a heart of cold, cold steel or is a liar.

Plenty of pictures were taken on the night but it is yet to be established whether they can ever be shown in public. Instead, this post is illustrated with two photos of a staff leaving do which took place just after the Second World War. These pictures were taken when the catering facilities at Lyness were closing so it was a leaving do for all of the staff.

It looks pretty similar to Saturday night's do except we didn't have any hats and they don't seem to have limbo dancing dogs as waiters.

Photographed by: J.W. Sinclair.

The exquisite rendering that is at the top of this post is an artist's impression of the wonderful cake that was the centrepiece of our table last night. We initially all thought that the congratulatory cake was iced to look like a giant doughnut. Imagine the gasps of wonder, therefore, when we cut into it and realised that it actually was a giant doughnut. Life does not get much better than this, I think you will agree.

There has been a little too much discussion of food of late, but there is no food and drink allowed in an archive so we do get peckish.

The main job for today is scanning Mary Chute's letters to Frances Ligonier Balfour (See this post) to send to a customer. The letters date from the early 1800s and have no envelope, they are just folded upon themselves, sealed with wax and stamped with a postmark. The writing is scratchy and quite hard to read but becomes quite big and exaggerated when Mary is feeling emotional: "I in one kingdom, you in another - the child in a third!"

The Munch Bunch Booze Again

We are partying again at the Orkney Library and Archive. Other members of staff have been setting up and it has just been whispered to me that both the magical cheese scones and a CAKE have been delivered.

And, although this will be a very sedate and sophisticated affair, I think that it is only pertinent to mention that all the leftover wine from our 'Gone With the Wine' promotion simply must be finished tonight as it has been open for a couple of days.

This isn't just wanton eating and drinking though. It's a celebration of Discovery Week. So it's work.

Christmas do, come on and do the conga...

Here you go. As promised, photos from our Friday night shindig. I think you'll agree that it was a glitzy, sophisticated and surprisingly star-studded event. Leo brought some lovely home-made mince pies and Oprah was a right laugh.

Christ-mas do do do, push pineapple, shake a tree...

It's the Library and Archive festive drinks tonight.

Yes. Tonight we shall drink, dance and be merry. Booze shall be downed, congas will be led and morals shall be cast loosely aside as we spill wine, straddle photocopiers and make inappropriate passes at each other. Our office party will make Sodom and Gomorrah look like an episode of Sesame Street.

Photographs of the debauchery* will be posted on Monday.















*Which, of course, will actually be photos of a perfectly pleasant, civilised and tastefully lit soiree ending no later than 7pm. Don't worry tax payers!