Terror in Town Hill, Part 1: Grisly murder of teen girl in 1972 sends Montserrat into state of anxiety

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September 27, 2022

peeblesgraphic — Photo credit: Kenyatta Liburd / Facebook
The body of Sarah "Mon" Meade was found just off Peebles Street (photo facing south) on September 27, 1972.

Part 1 of 4 in a series: A Senseless Crime.

Former residents of Town Hill in Montserrat still proudly refer to themselves as the “Over the Bridge” crew. Town Hill, now relegated to remnants due to the destructive Soufriere Hills volcano, was located slightly southeast of Plymouth – near the southern end of the Fort Ghaut Bridge that connected downtown to several villages on the outskirts.

Montserrat’s real estate boom in the 1960s and ’70s introduced ritzy communities such as Old Towne, Isles Bay and Richmond Hill. Before that, Town Hill was Montserrat’s Beverly Hills – home to Government House, the Coconut Hill Hotel and business families such as the Walls and Osbornes. Policemen, doctors and attorneys lived there. It was where soca legend Alphonsus “Arrow” Cassell grew up. And in 1978 it became home to the American University of the Caribbean School of Medicine (AUC). The street names – Peebles, Howes, Mercer, Meade, Taylor – honored the luminaries who resided there.

Town Hill was not just a haven for the affluent, however. It featured residents of all rungs on the socio-economic ladder. The greater Town Hill area included Amersham, Jubilee Town, Fort Barrington, Tom Beth and Parsons.

Another section was Victoria Village, located in the southwestern flank of Town Hill. In 1972, it was the home of a petite 16-year-old named Sarah Meade. Everyone called her “Mon” – a once-popular “pet” name in Montserrat. “Mon” is normally reserved for women named Mary but is sometimes a “jumbie” name – a traditional practice of naming a child after a deceased person for protection. Sarah “Mon” Meade lived with her mother and stepfather – Sarah and John Dyett – and her 10-year-old sister Rachael.

Mon first attended the St. Augustine Catholic School in George Street, then Plymouth Primary – a school also known as “Maple Leaf” because it was built by the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA). Mon was a talented runner who was especially strong in the distance events – 400 meters, 800 meters and mile.

In April of 1972, Montserrat sent a contingent of athletes to St. Kitts for the inaugural Leeward Islands Track and Field Championships. Among them were two runners from the Montserrat Secondary School – Franklyn Dyer, who would later be known as calypso singer “Mighty Falcon” – and Magdalene O’Brien. Mon also competed at the meet, which was held at Basseterre High School. Running barefoot, she outclassed her rivals to win the junior mile race. Montserrat finished third at the event, behind Antigua and St. Kitts but ahead of Nevis.

Photo credit: Montserrat Mirror
*Sarah “Mon” Meade*

FATEFUL DAY

By September of 1972, Mon was now out of school. She was not working, however she was taking typing lessons and she would also assist her stepfather each morning by accompanying him to the hills of Amersham, where he would milk his cows. Mon would carry the milk back down to the home as Mr. Dyett continued his farm work.

On the evening of Sunday, September 24, 1972, Mon walked from Victoria Village to attend choir practice at the Roman Catholic Church on George Street. The 1.5-mile walk took about a half-hour. Afterward, she went to the home of her great-aunt, Charlotte Lynch, who lived near the church. Mon often slept there, then walked back to Victoria Village in the morning to help her stepfather. George Street was almost a second home to Mon because her mother also worked there as a domestic for Miss Alma Ryan, a well-known woman in the community who owned a shop on Old Chapel Street.

The following morning – Monday, September 25 – Mon left her great-aunt’s home and began her customary commute back home. She never arrived. When her parents awoke around 6 a.m. and didn’t see Mon, they weren’t alarmed. They figured she was simply running late. Mr. Dyett left for the mountain, and Mrs. Dyett made breakfast for Mon and went to work at Miss Alma.

When Mrs. Dyett returned home in the early afternoon, she was stunned to see the breakfast she left for Mon was untouched. Mr. Dyett was also surprised that Mon didn’t meet him at the mountain to pick up the milk, which she always did even if she returned home after he left. Something was amiss. Mon’s parents contacted the family in George Street and questioned neighbors in Town Hill. No one had seen Mon. At around 6 p.m., they decided to file a police report.

On their way to the police station in Plymouth, they saw Joe-Joe Buffonge, who lived in Tom Beth near Victoria Village. Buffonge – a well-known stone mason who went by the nickname “Look and Laugh” – was small in stature, bow-legged and rode a donkey.

“He asked me where I was going,” said Sarah Dyett, now 84 and still living in Montserrat. “I told him I’m going to the station to file a report because my daughter never came home. He said to me, ‘She a go come home man, she a go come home.’ ”

That brief exchange would replay in the mind of Sarah Dyett as the sad events unfolded.

GRUESOME DISCOVERY

Police searched in vain for the missing teen from Monday evening through Tuesday. As is customary in Montserrat, news spread quickly by word of mouth. Reticent to assume the worst, locals began conjuring theories. Some jokingly speculated that Mon had run away from home to join a boyfriend.

Early Wednesday, a girl from the neighborhood – 13-year-old Glendora King – visited the Dyett home to inform that a shoe was found near the junction of Wall and Osborne streets in Town Hill. John Dyett visited the area and saw a left-foot navy blue leather slipper, which he identified as belonging to his stepdaughter. He took the shoe to the police, who commenced a search of the area.

At around 10 a.m., in a bushy area off Peebles Street between the Coconut Hill Hotel and the home of the Wall family, the lifeless body of Sarah “Mon” Meade was found.

*The yellow trail shows the route Sarah Meade often took from George Street to her home in Victoria Village. Other points of reference are shown, including where her body was found.*

In short time, the scene became a mini-spectacle. An ambulance arrived. Police took photos of the corpse and surroundings. Folks from the area began to converge as word of the grim discovery made the rounds. At 10:30 a.m., Philip W. Bailey, a Medical Practitioner with the Ministry of Health, arrived and conducted an investigation of the scene.

At 11 a.m., the body was transported to Glendon Hospital, where Bailey conducted a postmortem at 1 p.m. The report was brutal. Sarah Meade’s internal organs were partly decomposed. Rigor mortis had set in. Maggots and grubs were present under and atop her skin. In her mouth was a clump of grass that had pushed her tongue to the side. Her skull and left eye socket were fractured, likely from being struck with a rock. She was wearing a mini-dress that was pulled up to her chest, and she was naked from the waist down. “The state of undress and the attitude of the body suggested that sexual interference had occurred,” the report said.

Due to the state of decomposition, Mon’s body was prepared for burial immediately following the postmortem. “They wouldn’t let me see the body,” Sarah Dyett said.

At the time, Montserrat did not have facilities for long-term storage of the dead. Most funerals took place within one or two days after death, with some held the same day. After a short service, Mon was interred at the public cemetery just below St. Anthony’s Church.

STATE OF SHOCK

Before the death of Sarah “Mon” Meade, murders in Montserrat were few and far between, and those incidents were not particularly a mystery. They were mostly committed during angry disputes, and the perpetrators were summarily arrested and punished.

The island had never experienced anything this heinous. Montserrat has endured more death from natural disasters than homicides: the devastating hurricanes of 1924 and 1928, Hugo in 1989, and the transformational volcanic eruption of 1997. Like the terrifying earthquakes of 1934 and ’35, the murder of Sarah Meade rocked Montserrat to its core.

“Everyone was scared. When we walked home from school we would avoid passing by the area where the body was found . . . even though it was high day.”
Myrle Roach, author and former Town Hill resident

The ripple effect was felt island-wide. Young girls were now afraid to walk alone at night. At the time, the Shamrock Cinema in Plymouth was the hot spot. Young ladies who once spurned offers from young men to escort them home now happily obliged.

Myrle Roach, who was 12 years old at the time and lived in Town Hill, recalls the anxiety that permeated the otherwise tranquil Emerald Isle.

“Everyone was scared,” she says. “When we walked home from school we would avoid passing by the area where the body was found . . . even though it was high day.”

Carlton “Funkyman” Allen, whose annual awards show was once a staple of Montserrat Festival, lived in Boston Village near Parsons at the time. He says walking home from Plymouth at night presented a quandary.

“It was scary because I didn’t want to go down Peebles Street [where the body was found], I didn’t want to go up Wall Street because the Masonic Lodge was there and a lot of people were scared of that place, and I didn’t want to pass through Jubilee because it was dark.”

Montserrat, like much of the Caribbean, has an abundance of ghost stories. Tales of the occult – along with the “jumbie dance” and “jumbie table” – are tethered to the culture. In the easygoing and safe Emerald Isle, it was even said that locals are more afraid of the dead than the living. But in 1972, there was a killer in their midst.

Now, they were afraid of both.

CLICK HERE TO READ PART 2: Investigations and Arrests.

CLICK HERE TO READ PART 3: A Trial of Tribulations.

CLICK HERE TO READ PART 4: Reflections and Redemption.

Montserrat tragedies in September

Date	Event
Sept. 12, 1928	42 people killed in hurricane
Sept. 17, 1965	Pan Am crash kills 30
Sept. 27, 1972	Body of Sarah "Mon" Meade found
Sept. 3, 1981	Flood kills two
Sept. 17, 1989	Hurricane Hugo kills 10
Sept. 15, 2010	Death of Alphonsus "Arrow" Cassell

Little Drummer Boy: The talented and turbulent life of Montserrat music star Lord Alfredo

By

EDWIN L. MARTIN

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September 13, 2022

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lordalfredopic — Photo courtesy Randy Greenaway
Alfred Archibald, better known as Saltfish or Lord Alfredo, won the Road March title four times in Montserrat.

On an overcast Tuesday in October of 2015, Alfred Archibald was laid to rest at Northern Cemetery in Nottingham, England. It was a sparse gathering, the mourners mostly locals who befriended Archibald after he relocated from Montserrat in 1998. Resting atop his coffin were a snare drum, four drumsticks and a black cowboy hat. The coffin was inexplicably draped with the national flags of Uruguay and Argentina – two countries Archibald had never visited.

Archibald – the Montserrat music star better known as “Lord Alfredo” or “Saltfish” – died of respiratory failure on August 31, 2015. He was a resident at the Framework Housing Association, which provides shelter – plus clinical and health services – to people battling addiction or mental illness. The Nottingham City Council spent weeks trying to locate Archibald’s next of kin and even published his name in the local newspaper. When no one stepped forward, the Council paid for his funeral, which took place 36 days after his death.

Only about a dozen of Alfredo’s countrymen attended the service. Alfredo had become somewhat forgotten in a city that not many Montserratians reside. The man whose Road March songs once lured hundreds to the streets was sent off with a modest procession. It was hardly a turnout befitting his contribution to Montserrat and to music but it followed a theme in what was a life equally rife with talent and turmoil.

Alfredo spent his final years wandering the streets of Nottingham and beating on a drum. Since he was a boy, he yearned to visit England, where his mother migrated during the Windrush era. But he never envisioned the manner in which he would finally get there, whisked from Montserrat along with other mental health patients during the height of the volcanic crisis.

Alfredo’s time in Montserrat was partly defined by odd behavior, but there was a method to his madness. He was a musical mystic who marched to the beat of his own drum, a master of melody, improvisation and profound simplicity. He was obsessed with music, the military, and, at one time, bodybuilding. But sadly, physical and mental fitness are not mutually inclusive.

Photo credit: Facebook / My Montserrat
*Lord Alfredo was once an avid body-builder, starting in the late 1960s.*

HAILING FROM KINSALE

Alfred John Henry Archibald was born on September 22, 1949 and grew up in Kinsale, about a mile south of Plymouth, the capital. He was raised by his grandfather, John Mills, after his mother, Mary Mills-Archibald, migrated. Mr. Mills, who had emigrated from St. Kitts, was a tall, slender man with a bushy handlebar moustache. He operated a shop on Parliament Street in Plymouth and sold the popular “menthol” – a hard, sugar-coated candy that delivered the cooling sensation of a lozenge.

Former neighbors say Mr. Mills loved Alfred, and even sent him to private school Piper’s Prep in Plymouth. Alfred also attended nearby Wesley School. Rupert Pond, a musician who would later collaborate with Alfred, was his classmate at Wesley, a Methodist school.

“He would come to school with his pockets full of menthol and share with his friends,” Pond says. “I would say he was an average student, but even back then you could tell there was something a little off with him.”

During the 1960s, movies were shown at the Roman Catholic compound on George Street. Many of these films were Westerns, and boys would play “Cowboys and Indians”. Pond recalls some of Alfredo’s daring and dangerous tactics.

“Saltfish would go on top of the building, and someone would pretend to shoot him, and he would just fall off the roof to the ground,” says Pond, still marveling at how Alfredo never sustained a serious injury . . . or worse.

The nickname “Lord Alfredo” was obviously a takeoff of his given name, Alfred. A former classmate explained that the “Saltfish” moniker came about because Alfredo would beg shopkeepers for the bones and tails that were left over after the saltfish was cut. He would take the scraps home, boil them and add the water to rice.

Alfredo showed interest in music early, and he especially fancied percussion instruments. Neighbors say there was always some sound emanating from the residence, even the simple “shack-shack” – a long, slender seed pod from the Flamboyant tree that makes a rattling sound when shaken.

MELODY MAKER

As a teenager, Alfredo joined the Melody Makers, a band owned by fellow Kinsale resident Charles Mulcare. On December 28, 1967, the Melody Makers were the backing band for the Festival calypso show at the Montserrat Secondary School. It was the calypso finals debut of Alphonsus “Arrow” Cassell, who arrived with his own band, ostensibly because he didn’t feel the Melody Makers could play up to his standard. Arrow finished first runner-up and refused his consolation prize. Alfred “Mighty Warrior” Christopher won the crown.

“The Melody Makers played their hearts out for me that night,” says Christopher, now 84 and living in Florida. “It was almost as if they wanted to send a message to Arrow. When I walked on stage to sing, Saltfish said to me, ‘Christo, ley awi go!’ I can remember seeing him sweating away on the drums.”

During this period in the late 1960s, Alfredo joined a trend that many young men in Kinsale adopted: bodybuilding. Wilford “Moose” Meade, who later became a gym owner, restaurateur and political contender, was among them. In the early days, without access to proper weights, the men pumped iron using vehicle engine parts, such as a flywheel.

In an interview from the early 1990s, Alfredo said his body “dropped” in 1969 when he took a hiatus from bodybuilding. So in the early 1970s he decided to focus on music.

Photo credit: The Montserrat Reporter
*Lord Alfredo belts out a tune in this undated photo.*

A WAKE-UP CALL

Alfredo made his big splash as a solo artist in 1973 with the song Jump Up Girl, also called Wake Up Girl. The only recording of the song is a live version, captured at Sturge Park during the ’73 calypso eliminations. The backing band was Aquarius, which featured Pond – Alfredo’s former Wesley classmate – and the versatile Michael “Dasha” Underwood. Christopher, who by this time had retired from the calypso arena, was the show’s MC.

“Saltfish never used to go to the bandhouse for practice,” Christopher says. “On the night of the show, Dasha told [the Festival Committee] they wouldn’t play for Saltfish because they didn’t know his song. Saltfish asked them to let him play the guitar, and he told the band, ‘Just follow me.’ “

The band members were reluctant at first but finally agreed. Alfredo strummed the rhythm, and with Pond playing a classic bass line, the song was an instant hit and earned the Road March title. Jump Up Girl is considered by many to be Montserrat’s first official, consensus Road March.

LISTEN TO ‘JUMP UP GIRL’ (1973)

The following year, Alfredo won the Road March again, this time with It’s Morning Light, which had a similar theme to Jump Up Girl, with the lyrics, It’s morning light, wake up honey pie. In 1975, he made it a trifecta with The Sound of Music. A year later, Arrow – now an international recording star – used Alfredo’s song A Time For Everything on his album Positively Jumpy.

MILITARY MAN

During his musical journey, Alfredo also fulfilled one of his childhood dreams by joining the Montserrat Defense Force. It was the best of both worlds for him because the Defense Force featured a band . . . and in a marching band, the drummer plays an integral role.

Ozie Carty, a former trumpeter with the band Hammah International, served with Alfredo in the Defense Force.

“I remember he carved a big gun from wood and he would walk around town with it,” Carty says. “He would always dress in some kind of military color, usually brown or khaki.”

Alfredo took his role in the Defense Force seriously. He was once placed on guard duty during camp. The soldiers were issued a strict curfew. Major Fred Barzey was commanding officer at the time. Barzey – apparently believing the rule didn’t apply to him – returned to camp after curfew, and Alfredo refused to allow him entry. Barzey would later expel Alfredo from the Defense Force for being unkempt, and friends say that dismissal broke Alfredo’s heart.

Carty says Alfredo had an uncanny knack for creating songs.

“He always had his drumsticks with him. He wasn’t like most drummers. His drumming would make a rattling sound, like in the military. When [Hammah International] used to play for him, he was very easy to work with. He knew the melody and chord structure. He would take the guitar and strum it and tell our guitarist [Silas Carty], ‘This is the kind of strumming I want.’ ”

Alfredo also displayed a wealth of knowledge that belied his lack of a secondary education. During a 1992 interview, he spoke about being inspired by the movie The Sound of Music – notably actor Christopher Plummer’s rendition of Edelweiss – and classic instrumentals such as Peanut Vendor.

Photo courtesy Randy Greenaway
*Lord Alfredo in December of 1993.*

TOUGH TIMES

In December of 1979, Alfredo’s beloved grandfather John Mills passed away in Glendon Hospital at age 82. Sadly, the recipe for the classic “menthol” also died with him. Mr. Mills’ son continued the business, but many say the menthol never tasted the same.

As for Alfredo, he eventually ended up living alone in the family home in Kinsale. By all accounts he never held a steady job.

“I remember he used to make boats out of coconut shell and sell them,” says Meade, the former bodybuilder. “Other than that, I don’t remember him working.”

Instead, Alfredo sometimes panhandled, usually for a quarter or 50 cents at a time. He once accumulated about $500 in coins. When he went to Barclays Bank to exchange the coins for paper currency, the bank contacted the police, believing the coins were stolen. Thankfully, a police officer who also resided in Kinsale vouched for Alfredo.

Alfredo’s peculiar behavior, reclusiveness and appearance caused many to wonder about his mental state. Others wrote it off as him simply being eccentric.

In recent years, studies about mental health have evolved, and so have the diagnoses and treatment. In the 1970s and ’80s, Montserrat was still entrenched in an era in which people who behaved oddly were simply branded as crazy. Alfredo became a patient of the mental health unit. Although never known to be violent, he would sometimes receive sedative injections that would turn him into a virtual “zombie” – according to several witnesses.

In 1980, Alfredo made a brief return to local musical stardom when he captured his fourth Road March. But this time, the song – while jumpy and catchy – was rooted in trauma. Socialism Jam featured the lyrics, Jam to the left, Wail to the right, Wine in the center. In Jonathan Skinner’s publication When Calypso Goes Too Far (2001), Alfredo stated that the song described a sexual assault he suffered. Another line in the song possibly alluded to his mental struggles: I couldn’t come ’79 because my head was too high.

LISTEN TO ‘SOCIALISM JAM’ (1980)

FINALLY, ENGLAND

In the 1980s and ’90s, Alfredo released songs sporadically, such as Global Jam, J’ouvert ’89 and People’s Tune. Like most residents in Montserrat, he was displaced when the volcanic crisis began in 1995. During the tumultuous years of massive migration to England, he finally made it to the UK and was placed in Nottingham, first at Alexandra Court, then later at the Framework Housing Association. He was not in touch with many Montserratians, including family members. He made new friends who addressed him as “John” – his middle name – and he sang karaoke on Friday nights at a pub on Mansfield Road. There were even rumors that he became a dentist.

Sharon Hoey, an Occupational Therapist, was Alfredo’s support worker at Framework. Speaking in October of 2022, she detailed her memories of “John”.

“During the last year of his life, John went with me to a drumming club where he met with local people from the Nottingham Community and joined a drumming circle. Sometimes this was outside in community gardens and sometimes in a community center. The drummers were all sorry to hear of his passing.

“When John was hospitalized at the end of his life I visited him as much as I could and he made me smile with his demands. He wanted me to bring him Caribbean food, mango and ‘good ginger beer’. He made me write a list. We once arranged a Caribbean night where he played the drums and guitar and sang. I remember him singing Edelweiss, Que Sera Sera and he also did some yodeling. I got him a Montserrat flag and put it on the wall.

“John talked to me occasionally about being a musician in Montserrat and he told me someone had stolen his music. I wasn’t sure how much of it was true with his mental health. He was generally very quiet with people at Framework but it was lovely to hear him open up at times.”

Asked about the South American flags on Alfredo’s coffin, Hoey could not explain the mystery. “I wondered if they came from his room or if the Council got wrong flags,” she says. “I know he had kept the Montserrat flag I gave him.”

Photo courtesy Sharon Hoey
*Lord Alfredo plays the drums during his time in Nottingham.*

Beatrice Fenton, a fellow Montserratian who lived in Nottingham, bumped into Alfredo every now and then.

“Whenever I would see him we would chat about Montserrat, and in his quiet way he would smile,” Fenton says. “In 2012, I asked him if he was going to join the many people celebrating 50 years of Festival in Montserrat. He told me he needed documentation and financial aid.”

That trip home never transpired. Three years later, Alfredo was gone, just three weeks shy of his 66th birthday. He made specific requests for his sendoff. Among them, he wanted a traditional Methodist service, he asked to be buried in Nottingham, and he requested two hymns: O God, Our Help in Ages Past and Onward Christian Soldiers. He also asked to be buried in military attire.

His death certificate listed several respiratory and cardiac ailments that led to his demise. It also finally revealed his diagnosed mental affliction: Schizophrenia.

The Nottingham City Council teamed with the Co-op Funeral Home to arrange Alfredo’s service. They chose the “Simple Plan” – the cheapest non-cremation package – but it was hardly a pauper’s burial. Alfredo’s coffin arrived in a Mercedes-Benz mini-van, and several members of the funeral home bowed in reverence before its removal for interment. The drum, drumsticks, cowboy hat and flags also provided an aura of dignity.

In a cold, six-foot grave, 4,100 miles from home, dressed in a uniform of war, Alfred Archibald was finally at peace.

Photo credit: Michael Sweeney / Facebook
*Lord Alfredo’s coffin is draped with the flags of Uruguay and Argentina on October 6, 2015.*

Photo credit: Beatrice Fenton / Facebook

LORD ALFREDO SINGS ‘MUSIC SENSATION’

Video courtesy Sharon Hoey
Lord Alfredo performs at the Framework Housing Association on May 1, 2015. He died August 31, 2015.

At 104, Montserrat’s John ‘Cannon’ Fenton is still sharp and sharing stories about his intriguing life

By

EDWIN L. MARTIN

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August 3, 2022

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mrcannon — "I'm not really a religious man but I'm not one of the bad ones," says John "Cannon" Fenton, who turned 104 in March.

It is 5:30 p.m. on a balmy Tuesday in July. Dusk beckons over Salem, a village whose name literally means “peaceful and complete.” John Fenton is seated on a sturdy gray plastic chair on his verandah. He is facing the Salem Park Road, one of the main arteries in the ever-flowing village in central Montserrat. As each vehicle passes, the drivers honk their horns or yell out the name by which Fenton is best known.

“Cannon! How you doing?” shouts Salem native Julian Romeo, who slows his Jeep to exchange pleasantries. Seconds later, a stentorian voice emanates from across the street. “John Cannon!” bellows Danny Sweeney, another area resident.

Each greeting is laced with unmistakable reverence for Fenton, Montserrat’s second-oldest resident at 104. While most of his contemporaries are infirm or interred, Fenton lives alone and still cooks his own meals. He enjoys a cold beer each evening. Heineken and Amstel are the most popular brands on Montserrat but Fenton prefers Carib Lager.

Fenton enjoys recounting stories, of which he has countless. He rattles off anecdotes about growing up in St. John’s Village, becoming a successful businessman at 15 after dropping out of school, his eventful two decades in England and subsequent return to Montserrat.

A father of nine and grandfather of 13, Fenton remains a legend in St. John’s, where the locals once urged him to enter politics (he politely declined). These days he has ample time to relax and reflect on a journey that is truly one for the ages.

GREETINGS FROM ST. JOHN’S

“I was born on the 12^th of March, 1918,” says Fenton, who hails from Dick Hill, St. John’s, in the north. He is the only child of his mother, who died when Fenton was 4 years old. His father later remarried and sired “seven or eight” children, Fenton says.

Fenton attended St. John’s School, which was an appendage of the Anglican church. He dropped out in Standard 3. “They refused to pass me to Standard 4 so I got fed up and left,” says Fenton, who at age 14 became known as “Cannon” – an alias he gave himself. “I gave all my friends their nicknames too,” he says with a tinge of pride.

Unlike some dropouts, Fenton was no delinquent or loafer. He was willing to work.

“I wasn’t a scholar but I survived. Where the airport is right now [in Gerald’s], back then you could go down there and Task,” he says, a term in which workers were assigned a parcel of land to cultivate and manage.

Photo credit: eBay
*Sea Island cotton was once such as staple on Montserrat that it was featured on this stamp from the early 1950s.*

During the 1930s, cotton was king in Montserrat. The pear-shaped island produced Sea Island cotton, which was in high demand because its long fibers yielded luxurious fabric that was silky and soft. St. John’s flourished with cotton, and Fenton says he once managed about eight acres. He hired workers and teamed with legendary Plymouth businessman M.S. Osborne, who shipped the cotton to England. Still a teenager, Fenton invested his earnings wisely and purchased a property on Challenger Road in St. John’s.

“I bought a shop for 9 pounds and the land for 3 pounds,” he says. “I was the first person to live on Challenger Road. Back then it was called Cart Range. That was around 1933.”

Challenger Road, a glorified alley that runs north-south, serves as an avenue for two main roads in St. John’s. The northern end is near the current site of Glendon Hospital. Fenton explained how the road got its name.

“At one time the road was just wide enough for a cart,” he says. “Then they widened it. There was a bus called Challenger [owned by the Howe family]. It was the first bus to drive through there. That’s why they call it Challenger Road.”

Challenger Road remains quite narrow. Due to lax enforcement of zoning laws, homes were built on either side of the road, making it virtually impossible to widen the strip without infringing on property. However, it is still a two-way street, making for awkward maneuvering when vehicles heading in opposite directions cross paths.

Fenton says he once owned three shops in the area – two in St. John’s and one in Davy Hill. He sold food, liquor, cigarettes . . . “Everything!” he says with a smile.

A look at Challenger Road in St. John’s, where “Cannon” Fenton once lived and owned a shop.

FAMILY MAN

In 1941, Fenton married Sarah “Bertie” Ryan of nearby Drummonds. They had seven children: five boys, two girls. In 1943, eldest son Joseph sadly died at age 4. “One day I heard him snoring . . . but he wasn’t sleeping,” Fenton says. “We took him to the doctor and then the hospital. When they told me my son was going to die, I fainted.”

In 1954, Fenton was still enjoying business success but saw many of his friends leaving for England during the Windrush era that followed World War II. Fenton became intrigued about the Mother Country.

“I used to lend people money when they were going to England,” he says. “I thought that in England you could just go up there and walk on money.”

Fenton closed his shops and sailed off to Britain. But when he arrived he was taken aback. “It was cold . . . and foggy. For days you didn’t even see the sun.” Fenton wanted to return to Montserrat right away but knew he would look somewhat foolish after closing his shops.

In 1956, Fenton sent for his wife. During the weeks-long voyage to England, the ships often made stops in other European ports. When they docked in Italy, Bertie Fenton was not wearing the proper attire for the frigid weather and developed a serious illness. She died shortly after arriving in England and was interred in the UK.

With his children now motherless and grieving in Montserrat, Fenton returned home. He purchased a bus. “Marse Gen [M.S. Osborne] ordered it for me,” he says. One day in 1958, he was transporting passengers when the bus got a flat tire at the top of Fogarthy Hill in St. Peter’s near the famous “S” corner. Fenton tried to change the tire, but the spare was also flat, and he didn’t have a pump. The passengers got on another bus and Fenton got a ride from a friend. When he returned to fix the tire, vandals had burned down the bus.

“Bad mind,” he simply says when asked the motive. “I had that bus for less than a year.”

Distressed by the incident, Fenton returned to England and eventually sent for all his children. He later remarried and also adopted a new profession in the UK: house painter. He remained in England until 1974, when he decided to give America a try. He moved to New York, but, now in his 50s, he could not find consistent work. He bought his current home in Salem and came home in 1978.

His most lucrative days as a house painter came in the subsequent years. He teamed with contractor Noel “Fenty” Fenton (a distant relative) and got steady painting jobs. “I would sometimes paint a whole house by myself,” he says. “I remember one job I got $10,000.”

In 1994, “Cannon” stopped painting on the advice of his doctor. The years of inhaling toxic paint fumes had taken a toll. “They said it was affecting my lungs.”

That didn’t curtail his work ethic. He worked in the fields, harvesting crops, notably cassava. He was omnipresent, spending time between Salem and St. John’s.

In 2018, he celebrated his 100th birthday with a lavish bash at Tropical Mansion Suites Hotel. “We had 100 guests, white and black. That party cost $15,000 . . . and breeze.”

*A program from John “Cannon” Fenton’s 100th birthday celebration in 2018.*

HE’S STILL BATTING

With any long existence, adversity is always hovering. Losing his young son and his wife still stings more than six decades later. But Fenton says overall he has had a happy life. He’s still lucid and active and could pass for a man in his 70s. He’s grizzled but not gaunt. He drove vehicles until he turned 100, then stopped at his own discretion. He endures chronic pain and has lost some feeling in his left arm, yet he still heads to his garden on his good days and harvests his trademark cassava. He says he didn’t expect to reach a century. However, there was family precedent.

“My aunt Hannah Fenton lived to be 108,” he says, before quickly adding, “I don’t think I’m going to reach there. Not with all these pains I have.”

Nonetheless, Fenton continues to stick to his winning formula: “I have my soup every day and a beer in the evening.” He is constantly surrounded by family and friends who keep his mind and intellect engaged. As of early August 2022, the only person in Montserrat older than Fenton was 105-year-old Sarah Piper, a native of Frith’s Village who was residing in the Golden Years Home For The Elderly.

It is now 6:30 p.m. Dusk has officially taken center stage but Fenton is still holding court. Some of his tales are humorous, such as the days when men would migrate to England and then send for their wives – and their “side chicks” as well. One story segues into another as Fenton exhibits the memory of a man half his age. His life story is not just his own. It’s also the story of a people, straddling several generations of Montserrat’s colonial, cultural and complicated history.

It’s almost time for Fenton’s evening beer but another story is always brewing from the centenarian.

They never get old.

WATCH A BRIEF INTERVIEW WITH ‘CANNON’

John “Cannon” Fenton addresses several topics during an interview July 26, 2022.

Editor’s note: John “Cannon” Fenton died on September 22, 2023.

Marjorie Joseph – ‘Montserrat’s Mother Teresa’ – leaves legacy of grace, generosity and goodwill

By

EDWIN L. MARTIN

-

July 21, 2022

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share-a-ride — Photos courtesy Joseph family
Nurse Marjorie Joseph, pictured behind the wheel in Montserrat, gave a lift to friends and strangers alike.

When Marjorie Joseph migrated from Montserrat to the United States in 1998, her children – who were already living in America – knew she had to make some lifestyle adjustments. One of their primary goals was to discourage her from obtaining a driver’s license. It wasn’t because they felt she was incapable of operating a vehicle. It was due to her penchant for giving rides to strangers.

“Picking up strangers in the United States is not the same as picking up strangers in Montserrat,” they stressed to her.

Nurse Joseph did not attempt to get a license and she never drove while in the U.S., so her children won that battle. Well, sort of.

“We would be driving and Mom would say, ‘Ask that person if they need a ride,’ ” Shaun Joseph says. “I remember in Montserrat our car would be full and she would still stop and pick up people . . . and they would end up sitting on our lap.”

That spirit of altruism was a tenet for Marjorie Joseph until she was called home to the Lord on Wednesday, June 1, 2022. Joseph, who died of natural causes, lived her final years in California.

A memorial service was held Saturday, July 9, 2022 at the Azure Hills Seventh Day Adventist Church, Nurse Joseph’s place of worship. During the hour-and-a-half service, church members spoke of her with a profound reverence despite her fairly brief association with the church. They shared stories about her outreach, generosity and sense of humor.

Marjorie Joseph was known mainly as a nurse, but she played many other roles during her 92 years: She was a mother, philanthropist, dramatist, author, church organist and event organizer. She was a sister and church sister, a wife and midwife. She was a staunch Adventist who was principled but never pompous. She practiced what she preached . . . and preached what she practiced. She had a sweet disposition and she handed out sweets, literally, often placing candies in the pockets of unsuspecting recipients, no occasion required.

In early 1988, Nurse Joseph received an MBE award (Member of the Order of the British Empire) and earned a spot on Queen Elizabeth’s prestigious New Year’s Honors list. She was voted Mother of the Year in 2004 by the Montserrat Progressive Society of New York. In 2007, she published a biography titled God Has Brought Me This Far that chronicled her journey of faith, family and fellowship.

Dozens of tributes poured in after her passing. On the Azure Hills church website, family members, friends, parishioners, fellow nurses, former patients and others shared stories about Nurse Joseph and how they were touched by her kindness.

It was the culmination of a life-long crusade of caring and compassion.

*Nurse Marjorie Joseph, the earlier years.*

FAITH AND FAMILY

Marjorie Joseph, also known as Nurse Joseph and Aunt Sis, was born on October 5, 1929. She was the second of eight children born to William and Rosanna Bramble of Delvins Village, just west of Cork Hill in central Montserrat. Marjorie’s siblings were Thomas, Cerise, Mary, Arthur, Melvin, Donald, Eunice and Josephine. Their father worked at the Depot near Water Lane in Plymouth. Cottonseed oil – referred colloquially as “sweet oil” – was produced there.

Marjorie’s parents were also devout Adventists. At that time, the closest Adventist Church was in Jubilee Town, almost three miles south of Delvins. Mr. Bramble – better known as “Willie Bootie” – would often ride a bicycle to evening service.

After completing school, Marjorie joined the nurse’s training program at Glendon Hospital. Mary Cooper, who would become a close friend and colleague for more than 70 years, explained the process of becoming a district nurse.

“You had to sit an entrance exam,” said Cooper, who became a nurse in 1950 – about three years after Joseph. “You were trained on the job. You also had to train to be a midwife. In those days most babies were delivered in the districts. Only people with [severe complications] were sent to the hospital.”

In the early 1950s, Marjorie married Alfred “Brother Joe” Joseph of Gages. The couple would have three daughters – Rosanna, Theresa and Judith – and also legally adopt Marjorie’s nephews Arthur and Shaun.

The 1950s saw thousands of Montserratians migrate to England amid the Windrush era, and the Josephs were among them. However, their stay in the UK would prove short. Longing for the simplicity of island life, they returned by boat to Montserrat in 1962 and lived in Molyneaux Village. Later on, they built a house in Dyers.

*Nurse Joseph is pictured at her home in Montserrat.*

A NURSE’S LIFE

During the early years of Marjorie Joseph’s career, nurses were a vital part of the community. Their presence and pristine white uniforms garnered respect. They attended to an array of health issues and were always on call, visiting homes, delivering babies and even patiently washing the feet of patients with reeking sores.

“I remember my mom having to stitch up someone who had just been injured by a cutlass during a fight,” Judith says. “And she would just calmly do the sutures like a surgeon.”

Nurse Joseph also made a tremendous impact by improving standards in nutrition and sanitation in Montserrat. She frequently appeared on Radio Montserrat and promoted healthy practices that helped garner the aforementioned award from the Queen.

Over time, the dynamics of nursing in Montserrat evolved, bringing an end to the era of the traditional district nurse. What made Nurse Joseph stand out during her time was how she meshed her personality and religion into her work.

“She loved people, and she would always make them feel comfortable with her jokes,” said Cooper, who participated with Joseph in the annual Nurses Concerts that became legendary. Nurse Joseph amused audiences with her stage antics and self-deprecating humor.

“She would do things like remove her dentures,” Cooper says. “One time we did a skit where she hid a Johnny cake under her wig, and in the skit I accidentally remove the wig and the Johnny cake falls out.”

Rosamund Meade, a veteran school teacher who grew up in Delvins, recalls Joseph’s hilarious skits.

“If you were half-dead she would make you laugh and bring you back to life,” Meade says. “If she wasn’t part of the show you’d probably want your money back.”

*Nurse Mary Cooper, above, was a friend and colleague to Nurse Joseph and also a co-star during skits at the Nurses concerts.*

The Nurses Concerts were held in conjunction with Nurses Week, which was part fund-raiser but mostly geared toward community fellowship. Joseph and Cooper also hosted the Golden Years Program on Radio Montserrat for several years before Joseph migrated.

Arthur Bramble, Nurse Joseph’s adopted son, recalled one instance that demonstrated the respect the venerable nurse commanded.

“I used to do construction work, and some of the guys would give me a hard time,” he says. “I told her about it. She showed up at my job the next day to bring me lunch, and all of the guys were like, ‘Nurse Joseph, that’s your son?’ She said, ‘Yes he is.’ They never bothered me again.”

Basil Chambers, the popular morning host on Radio Montserrat, grew up in Lees Village near Nurse Joseph’s home. They attended the same Adventist church in Dyers. In a tribute following her passing, he referred to her as “Montserrat’s Mother Teresa.”

“Nurse Joseph was my other grandmother,” Chambers says. “I knew her since I was 3 years old. She involved me in everything from Pathfinders to her choral group to her many short skits and concerts. I was one of the stars doing the very popular, I Just Got to Heaven and I Can’t Sit Down. My humanitarian ways and kindness comes directly from her lessons and training.”

*Playing the ukulele was one of the ways Nurse Marjorie Joseph brought good cheer to those around her.*

LATER YEARS

Nurse Joseph was extremely generous to her community but never forgot the credo, “Charity begins at home.” She and “Brother Joe” wanted to assure that their children got the best education.

Joining their elder sister Rosanna in careers in healthcare, Judith and Theresa graduated from Loma Linda University, considered in Adventist circles as their flagship for healthcare education.

“My mom worked tirelessly to pay for those tuitions,” Judith says. “My parents made a lot of sacrifices for us. It was easy for us to get decent grades because we didn’t want to disappoint them.”

In the late 1990s, Nurse Joseph’s husband “Brother Joe” became ill. The family decided it was best that he and Nurse Joseph move to America so he could receive advanced care. “Brother Joe” passed away in 2000.

Nurse Joseph joined the Azure Hills church in the early 2000s. The church has a diverse membership, including Hispanics, Filipinos, African-Americans and Caucasians. Nurse Joseph fit in with ease and became as beloved there as she was in Montserrat, proving that humanity trumps ethnicity.

*Nurse Joseph served as a counselor for the Pathfinders at the Azure Hills church.*

At the Azure Hills church she served as a counselor for the Pathfinders, a traditional Adventist program designed to mentor young church members. They went on hikes and other retreats, and Nurse Joseph accompanied them even at an advanced age. As a Masters Guide for the Pathfinders in Montserrat, she was known to sit in a chair between the boys’ and girls’ living quarters during retreats to assure there would be no “hanky panky” on her watch.

During her time as a member of the Azure Hills church, Nurse Joseph suffered a fall that became further debilitating over time. Despite her limited mobility, she continued to be active in the church, even playing her ukulele during Thanksgiving functions.

*Nurse Joseph takes a selfie with fellow church members.*

LIVING AND GIVING

Nurse Joseph’s son Shaun was asked how much of his mother’s kindness was motivated by her deep faith and how much was simply her personality.

“I would say it was 30 percent religion, 70 percent her,” he said. “She was always sharing. If it was the last piece of bread she had, she would share it.”

Of the countless tributes that were submitted, one was particularly poignant. It came from Adina Lee of Montserrat, who wrote in part:

“I am alive because of Nurse Joseph. My Mom says she went into labor at home and had to send Dad to get Nurse. She was already dressed for church but took the time to come and deliver me. I was breech with my umbilical cord around my neck and not breathing. Nurse breathed into my mouth, and I began to breathe and what babies do at birth: cry. Thank you so much Nurse Joseph. It was your breath that has me alive today. I will always cherish this knowledge of my birth. Enjoy your time in heaven.”

The woman who gave that baby her first breath has now taken her last.

But her legacy is alive and kicking.

Nurse Joseph is featured in a report during the aftermath of the Montserrat volcanic crisis.

Montserrat native Diana Galloway celebrates her 100th: ‘I thank God for life. I thank Him for everything’

By

EDWIN L. MARTIN

-

May 17, 2022

1

IMG-20220517-WA0009 — Diana Galloway holds a birthday card from Queen Elizabeth II after a service at St. Peter's Episcopal Church in Queens, N.Y.

Diana Galloway’s outfit on her 100^th birthday gave immediate notice that she was ready to paint the town red – her favorite color. She wore a red pant suit with gold trim and a gold church hat adorned with swirling red-and-gold bows. The ensemble was created by Jeweline Roberts-Riley, dress designer for many Festival queens in Montserrat. She ensured that Diana also got the royal treatment, and the centenarian looked her Sunday best . . . even on a Tuesday.

May 17, 2022, was a red-letter day in the Rosedale section of Queens, New York, as Diana officially reached her milestone. She was celebrated by family, friends and even strangers. During a service at St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, Reverend Steve Foster lauded Diana’s journey to “five score” – well surpassing the Biblical benchmark of “three score and 10.” Diana received a birthday card from Queen Elizabeth II and letters of congratulations from Queens Borough President Donovan Richards Jr. and Montserrat Premier Joseph Farrell, who also delivered well-wishes via Zoom on behalf of the people of Montserrat.

Diana’s journey to 100 has taken her from the tiny enclaves of Cotton Ground and Jack Sweeney in northern Montserrat to the beaches and coves of Curacao and the bright lights of New York City. She has been the beneficiary of great fortune and amazing genes. Diana has earned the label of senior citizen, but she’s still a junior member of her family. Her sister Mathilda is 101, and her aunt, Margaret “Liz” Piper, is 102.

Diana still enjoys a mean game of dominoes and occasional shot of brandy. She used to toil in her garden for hours, but she’s no wallflower. She is proud and feisty, even in her advanced age. When she returned home from the hospital in early 2020 she noticed that an elevated toilet seat with side grips had been installed in her bathroom. “What is this sh–?” she asked, the irony not lost amid her candor. “I don’t need it!”

Diana once played in a women’s cricket league, and her life in many ways has paralleled the sport. She is an all-rounder. She has patiently built her innings, avoiding reckless choices. She navigated through her nervous nineties, including a serious illness at 97 that required the aforementioned hospitalization. “We thought we were going to lose her,” admits her niece and caretaker Cherolyn Galloway.

But Diana persevered to reach her glorious century. Instead of raising a bat she raised a glass to toast what has been an amazing odyssey.

*“I thank God for life. I thank Him for everything.”*

HUMBLE BEGINNINGS

The area of Jack Sweeney in St. John’s is one of the final visuals for airline passengers before landing at John A. Osborne Airport. At the western end of the airstrip is Montserrat’s only tunnel. During Diana’s childhood there was no airport, no tunnel, and most of the roads were still dirt paths.

Diana Ann Lucinda Galloway made her debut May 17, 1922. She was the fourth of 10 children born to John Galloway and wife Sarah (nee’ Ponteen). Diana first lived in Cotton Ground near Drummonds Village on the slopes of the Silver Hills. Later on she moved to Jack Sweeney, about a mile and a quarter south.

“We had to tie out sheep and goat,” Diana says. “Me and my sisters had to carry cow milk from Cotton Ground to Jack Sweeney.”

The Ponteen and Galloway families have a long legacy in Montserrat. Many became luminaries, such as Farrell, Montserrat’s premier; Sir Howard Fergus, historian, former Speaker of the House, Acting Governor and educator; Jim Galloway, famous masquerader; Margaret “Teacher Ann” Browne, longtime educator; and J. Emmanuel Galloway, managing director of the Galloway Group Inc., which owns Tropical Mansion Suites and Galloway Hardware.

Diana attended St. John’s Anglican Church School. In those days all primary schools in Montserrat were parochial-based. Diana did not attend secondary school. St. John’s, due to its distance from Plymouth, was a virtual entity at the time. Very few students from the north attended the coveted “grammar school” in town – and for many young women, a life of blue-collar work was the expectation. However, at age 25, Diana received a tremendous opportunity.

THE CURACAO YEARS

When Diana traveled to Curacao in 1947, she followed the lead of elder sister Mathilda, who arrived two years earlier. The Curacao rush in the 1940s and ’50s was sparked due to employment opportunities created by oil refineries. Curacao did not produce oil. But nearby Venezuela did. When oil is unearthed it is in the form of crude and needs to be refined into gasoline and diesel. Shell Oil had a refinery in Curacao; Esso had one in Aruba.

Young men from around the Caribbean – many just out of school – were recruited to work in the refineries. There was also a phosphate mining company in the southern town of Newport that employed many immigrant men, including Montserratians. Young immigrant women were brought in to work as live-in housekeepers, mostly for the Dutch (“Makamba”) big-wigs in the oil companies. Diana and Mathilda were among them. Two other Galloway sisters – Mary (aka “Sister”) and Susan – would also work in Curacao. Mathilda says she earned 50 guilders a month, about U.S. $27. It seems like a pittance, but cost of living was relative, and a live-in job meant no lodging and utility expenses.

Many people in Curacao spoke four languages: English, Dutch, Papiamento and Spanish. Diana doesn’t speak Dutch or Papiamento but still utters a few words in Spanish, with “caliente” one of her favorites. By the way, the mentholated lotion Alcolado Glacial – which became a staple in Montserrat households – originates from Curacao.

Neither Diana nor Mathilda has children. A major reason is the fact that unmarried immigrant women who became pregnant were deported from Curacao. Working there was a privilege, and many were careful not to jeopardize the opportunity. Being expelled and sent back to Montserrat was a source of embarrassment and social disgrace. Diana says she doesn’t regret not having children, and even implied that it was worth the sacrifice.

“Those days we knew that we needed to make a living for ourselves and help the others back home,” she says.

And that she did. Although Diana was not the eldest of her siblings, she became the unofficial matriarch. Her relatives were overjoyed whenever she returned to Montserrat.

Icilda Stanley, Diana’s niece, says she couldn’t wait for Diana to open her valise: “Whether it was a doll that we couldn’t get in Montserrat or dresses that nobody else had, we wanted whatever was in [the suitcase] for us.”

Diana supported the family in ways that transcended gifts. She played a crucial role in the upbringing of several nieces and nephews and is grateful they in turn have attended to her well-being. “If it wasn’t for them I would probably be in a nursing home,” Diana says.

*Diana Galloway (indicated by arrow) played in a women’s cricket league while living in Curacao.*

During their time in Curacao, Diana and her sisters spent their off days together, going to the movies, visiting the island’s renowned beaches, and going to church. In fact Diana was confirmed in Curacao in 1953. Another pastime they participated in was cricket. Diana and Mathilda played for the Curacao women’s team against squads from Aruba and St. Maarten. Diana traveled to Aruba with the team but says she has never visited Bonaire, the third of the “A-B-C” islands.

In the late 1950s and early 1960s the Caribbean exodus to Curacao tailed off. For one, many Montserratians were now opting for England as their place of migration. Also, due to technology and other factors, the Curacao oil refineries saw a reduction in the work force.

ON TO NEW YORK

Diana spent two decades in Curacao, then migrated to New York in 1968 when her employers returned to Holland. Diana’s younger sister Irene (Beth) was living in New York and filed Diana’s immigration paperwork. Mathilda remained in Curacao and still lives there.

Upon arrival to the Big Apple, Diana roomed with her cousin, Eleanor “Lucy” O’Garro, in the Bronx. Later on she rented an apartment in the same building in Harlem – 153 West 139th Street – where her sister Beth resided. The New York winter was a rough welcome for Diana, who had enjoyed tropical temperatures her entire life.

“I knew it was going to be cold but not that cold,” she says of the frigid weather, which was especially punishing while waiting for the bus. “I had to go buy a coat. We used to go to Alexander’s and Macy’s.”

Diana got a job at Mount Sinai Hospital in Manhattan working in the laundry department. She would end up working there until 1987. While at Mount Sinai she was a member of Labor Union 1199. In the summer of 1982, the union held a strike, demanding a 10 percent pay raise. Diana was on the picket line. They chanted: “Hey, hey, what do you say? 1199 all the way. Hey, hey, what do you want? 10 percent. And what do you want it for? To pay the rent. And when do you want it? Now!”

The strike lasted only three days as the union prevailed.

*Diana, pictured in 1998, became close with her neighbor’s son Jason Heron, who suffers from autism.*

Diana’s half-century in New York has been eventful. She has had many close friends, including Mary Daniel-Galloway, her sister-in-law. Mary was married to Diana’s younger brother Nicky. Mary and Nicky lived in Queens, and they were the ones who convinced Diana to purchase her current home in Rosedale.

Diana and Mary were inseparable, especially when it came to shopping. Their trips would take up most of the day. Armed with a bevy of coupons, they would visit stores such as Pergament, Alexander’s, Macy’s, Crazy Eddie and Key Food. They would seek out the best bargains and were not shy about requesting rain checks when an item was out of stock.

Diana’s cousin Henrietta Browne was also a close confidante. Boston Carnival, held the weekend before Labor Day, was a customary retreat for Diana. She would begin preparation weeks in advance, stocking up on saltfish (to make her signature saltfish cake) and assorted spirits. Henrietta, who lived in Boston, always looked forward to Diana’s visits and the goodies she brought. The trip to Boston was part revelry but mostly reunion as Diana would reconnect with many Montserratians.

*Diana Galloway’s sister Mathilda, who still lives in Curacao, turns 102 in June of 2022.*

TIME FOR REFLECTION

Having an abundance of family and friends means love . . . and loss. Living a long life means outliving loved ones. In 1971, Diana’s sister Beth died at 45. In 1981, Diana’s mother Sarah passed away in Montserrat at age 86. Her father John died seven years later. Of Diana’s nine siblings, only two remain: Mathilda and Jane (Cherolyn’s mother). Diana’s dear cousin Henrietta has also passed on. Diana also lost two close relatives – grand-nephew Herman and nephew Arthur, who were both only in their 40s.

“She always wears black or dark-colored clothes when someone close to her dies,” Cherolyn says of her aunt.

Diana’s home has been a sanctuary for many, as she has allowed many migrating Montserratians – family, friends and strangers alike – to stay there until they found a place of their own. Diana grew close to her neighbor Jacinth Heron, who entrusted Diana to take care of her son Jason, who has autism. “She’s one of a kind,” Jacinth says of Diana.

James “Blue Boy” Silcott, a fellow Queens resident and former taxi driver in Montserrat, has known Diana for almost 40 years. He helped her relocate from Harlem to Queens and was one of the regular attendees at her annual Memorial Day weekend parties to celebrate her birthday.

“She always had a lot of food, a lot of drinks,” he says. “She didn’t really dance too much but she made sure everybody was OK. She’s a family-oriented person. She’s very patient, very kind-hearted. Her parties were jam-packed. And Christmas was always great. She used to set up everything just like in Montserrat. Jumbie table, everything.”

Diana, who has spent a lifetime attending to the welfare of others, is now able to sit back and be the recipient of well-deserved reverence. Her 100th birthday abounded with phone calls, visits and messages on social media. Family and friends shared humorous stories about the woman of the century. She received many cards and presents. But the gifts she will most cherish aren’t wrapped with bows, ribbons and decorative paper.

The gift of gratitude. The gift of family.

The gift of life.

*Diana Galloway at different stages in her life.*

Lewis Magruder Jr. recalls how father’s fatal crash in Montserrat forever changed his family

By

EDWIN L. MARTIN

-

March 28, 2022

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magruderlewisnew — All photos courtesy Magruder family
Lewis Magruder Jr. became a pilot just like his father and was also a helicopter crew chief with the National Guard.

Editor’s note: This is a follow-up to our story published March 21, 2022 on Lewis Magruder’s 1957 plane crash, the first aircraft fatality in Montserrat history.

Lewis “Butch” Magruder Jr. knew something was wrong. As he stepped off the school bus on May 13, 1957 and approached his home in the Obrero section of Santurce, Puerto Rico, he saw several family members standing on the porch. A few others were inside the house. Butch was puzzled. It was a Monday afternoon. It wasn’t a holiday. Why were so many relatives there? They weren’t exchanging pleasantries or engaged in animated conversation. It was quite jarring, even for a 10-year-old.

“Everybody was looking sad,” he says. “I went in the house and saw my mom sitting there with her eyes red. She said to me, ‘Butch . . . your dad.’ That’s all she said. She didn’t have to say any more. I just went to my room and cried.”

Butch’s dad was Lewis Magruder, the pilot who crashed in Montserrat earlier that day. Magruder was flying low over Waterwork Estate in a single-engine Beechcraft Bonanza when he clipped a palm tree. He had a routine of waving good-bye to the Hollender family before heading back home to Puerto Rico.

Magruder had been visiting Montserrat since 1953. The aviation expert was brought to the Emerald Isle by Frank Delisle, who wanted to establish Montserrat’s first air-transit service. Magruder helped Delisle launch Leeward Islands Air Transport (LIAT) three years later. He also played a crucial role in the selection of Trant’s Estate as the site of Blackburne Airport, which also opened in 1956. “Mac” made many friends in Montserrat and became a beloved figure. Locals would shout his name when he flew overhead.

Magruder was born in Maryland and moved to Puerto Rico in 1942 while in the United States Navy. He married Puerto Rico native Camelia Davila in 1945 and the couple had two sons: Lewis Jr. – whom they nicknamed “Butch” – and Joseph.

*Lewis “Butch” Magruder Jr. poses on an airplane wing, circa 1956.*

Butch and his dad were very close. Magruder and business partner H.G. Wolff operated West Indies Airways, a small air taxi service, and Butch would sometimes accompany his father when he delivered mail and cargo around the region.

“He would show me how to fly,” Butch says. “He told me how to keep a certain altitude and things like that. One time we flew over St. Croix to take some [aerial] photos. He opened the window and told me to guide the plane to the left while he took pictures.”

When Puerto Rico International Airport (now Luis Muñoz Marín Airport) was inaugurated on May 22, 1955, Butch and his dad flew there from nearby Isla Grande – formerly Puerto Rico’s main airport. “We flew in a Mooney Mite plane,” Butch says of the light single-engine craft. “It only had one seat so I had to sit on his lap.”

PAYING TRIBUTE

Following the crash in Montserrat, Magruder’s body was flown to Puerto Rico that afternoon. Two days after, on Wednesday, May 15, 1957, he was buried at Puerto Rico National Cemetery in Bayamón.

“I remember the funeral,” Butch says. “They had the flag on his coffin and they folded it up and gave it to us. They had a 21-gun salute. Some of the pilots who worked for my dad did a flyover.”

Butch says his mother grieved for her husband and was never the same. Butch, his mother and brother Joe – who was 5 years old – eventually moved in with Camelia’s mother.

“Life changed totally for my mom,” he says. “She dedicated her life to taking care of us.”

As for West Indies Airways, Butch says a family friend took over management for a while, and eventually the business was gone. There was no family settlement that he knows of.

“I was a kid so I’m not sure what happened,” he says. “My mom never got involved with the business after my dad died. I don’t think she wanted anything to do with airplanes because it would remind her about what happened to him.”

Butch had developed an interest in flying due to his experiences with his dad. He thought he might at least inherit one of his dad’s planes, but it never came to pass. As he entered his late teens he wanted to pursue a career in aviation but knew it would worry his mother, so he didn’t. Camelia never remarried after her husband’s death. In fact, Butch says his mother never even had a boyfriend.

On November 17, 1968, following a brief hospitalization, Camelia Magruder died at age 46. She had endured several health issues, but the underlying cause of her death could not be diagnosed medically: a broken heart.

“My mom was in the same funeral home where my dad was,” Butch says. “Before they closed the coffin I kissed her on the forehead. She was so cold. When I think of my mother I think of someone warm. At my dad’s funeral, when I saw him in the coffin he had a bump on his forehead [from the crash]. To this day, I can’t go to a funeral if there’s an open coffin. I stay outside. I don’t want to remember anyone else like that.”

*Lewis Magruder is shown with one of the cameras he used to take aerial photos.*

THE SON ALSO RISES

After losing both parents at a young age, Butch and Joe persevered with the help of their extended family. In 1966, Butch enlisted in the U.S. Army and served until 1972. Around the same time he earned his pilot’s license. But unlike his dad he didn’t fly for a living. He flew for fun, mostly fishing trips. On weekends he would rent a Cessna, and he, Joe and a couple friends would fly to Mona island – between Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic.

For his main job, Butch worked for the Puerto Rico Electric Power Authority for 33 years. In 1978 he joined the National Guard aviation unit. The following year, Hurricane David battered the Dominican Republic. A helicopter team featuring a pilot, co-pilot and Butch as crew chief delivered food and supplies to villages that were inaccessible due to mudslides.

The team also airlifted patients and assisted in repairing power lines. In 1998 when Hurricane Georges caused $3 billion in damages in Puerto Rico, the crew delivered electrical poles to the mountains of central Puerto Rico near Arecibo. As the helicopter hovered, Butch – while strapped to a monkey harness – would look downward from the open side door and instruct the pilot, who could not see directly below, where to place the poles. It was an extremely dangerous undertaking that required precision.

Butch’s brother Joe took a different career route. For more than 30 years he has worked for a food distribution company and is now one of the “head honchos” there, Butch says. Joe and wife Nery have been married for more than 40 years. Their daughter Kathy is a physician.

THE ‘CYCLE’ CONTINUES

Sixty-five years after the crash, Butch still has fond memories of his father, such as family outings and hanging out at Isla Grande Airport, where his dad’s aviation business was based. Joe has only faint memories of his dad. Once a month the family visits the gravesite of Lewis and Camelia, who were both interred in the same plot.

“It was hard growing up without my dad,” Butch says. “You feel more secure when you have your dad. And it was hard seeing other kids with their dads. But I had my grandmother and my uncles. I also became very close with my wife’s dad.”

In his personal life, Butch enjoys riding motorcycles and is a member of the Latin American Motorcycle Association (LAMA). He has not piloted a Cessna in more than two decades. Joe also likes motorcycles, and the brothers still get together for weekend rides.

*Lewis Magruder, above, was mainly a pilot but also liked motorcycles. His sons Butch, below left, and Joe (pictured with wife Nery) still enjoy riding, mostly on the weekends.*

Butch has never visited Montserrat. In the process of working and raising a family he never got around to seeing the island that became a second home to his father.

“I might still go there one day,” he says. “One of my daughters loves to travel and she suggested that we make it a family trip.”

Now retired, Butch’s main joy comes from his family. Butch and wife Maggie celebrated their 52nd anniversary in January. They have three children and three grandchildren (Sophia, Evan and Isabella). Their eldest daughter Yadira is a Certified Public Accountant, and their other daughter Jessica is an Emergency Room doctor. Their son is a musician and music producer who holds a master’s degree in communications.

He has a familiar name.

Lewis Magruder III.

1957: Plane crash at Waterwork Estate stuns Montserrat and claims the life of an aviation stalwart

By

EDWIN L. MARTIN

-

March 21, 2022

2

magruderplanewithinset — Photo courtesy Randy Greenaway
Locals surround Lewis Magruder's plane following a crash at Waterworks Estate. Magruder is pictured at upper right.

On Monday, May 13, 1957 at 8:30 a.m., Lewis Magruder took off from a dusty airstrip in Olveston village near Montserrat’s west coast. His single-engine Beechcraft Bonanza was a six-seater but Magruder was flying solo. His destination was Puerto Rico but he first headed in the opposite direction toward Waterwork Estate – about three miles southeast of Olveston. Magruder had a routine of “buzzing” the estate, which was home to the Hollender family. He would fly low, wave good-bye and sometimes snap photos from his lofty perch.

Since arriving on Montserrat four years earlier, Magruder had earned somewhat of a cult following and locals would shout his name as he zipped overhead. In those days a passing airplane was rare for the tiny British colony and attracted rapt attention. Magruder was an experienced pilot and United States Navy veteran. But even the most skilled aviators are not immune to errors or the whims of Mother Nature. Also, Magruder had only one functioning eye due to an injury he sustained some years earlier.

On this particular morning, Magruder faced another adversary: wind gusts typical of the Belham Valley that cradled the estate. As he made his customary jaunt over Waterwork, the plane clipped a palm tree. The light aircraft careened, grazed the estate house, slammed to the turf and flipped, losing one of its wings.

Kate Hollender, wife of estate owner Paul Hollender, heard the racket and rushed outside. Estate workers also ran toward the scene. Some children who were on their way to Cork Hill School – located about a mile south – heard the crash and raced to the site, crossing Belham River in the process. Police and first responders arrived as news spread throughout the 39-square-mile island.

Photo source: Wikipedia
*Map of central Montserrat shows areas of reference regarding Lewis Magruder’s crash.*
*Note: Areas below dashed red line are in exclusion zone today but were open in 1957.*

Photo courtesy Randy Greenaway
*Waterwork Estate circa 2010 shows the main house and signature palm trees.*

Magruder was pronounced dead and his body was transported to Glendon Hospital for postmortem. Cause of death was listed simply as “hemorrhage from lung and multiple injuries.” That afternoon Magruder’s body was flown to Puerto Rico, his residence at the time. The ace pilot’s life was over at age 40.

Many Montserratians mourned, even those who never met him personally. Some wept openly. They grieved his loss but also felt a semblance of guilt that his demise occurred on their island. They had heard stories on the radio about plane crashes around the world. But this one hit home. Magruder’s last flight was Montserrat’s first air fatality.

Five days after Magruder’s death, the Montserrat Observer published a tribute by Reverend C.L. Carty, an Anguilla-born Methodist minister who spent several years in Montserrat and knew Magruder well. Carty helped explain how Magruder arrived on the Emerald Isle.

WHO WAS LEWIS MAGRUDER?

Lewis Wallace Magruder was born March 1, 1917 in Landover, Maryland, U.S.A. He joined the Navy after high school and in 1942 during the midst of World War II he went to Puerto Rico as an aviation engineer. In 1945 he married Camelia Davila of San Germán, a community in southwest Puerto Rico. The couple had two boys, Lewis Jr. and Joseph.

Magruder also ran a flight school and in 1947 he formed West Indies Airways, a small air taxi service that transported mail, cargo and passengers. As a side job he snapped aerial photos for prospectors, estates and government agencies.

Photo courtesy John & Joan Castillo
*A young Lewis Magruder.*

DELISLE MEETS MAGRUDER

Frank Delisle – who eventually started Leeward Islands Air Transport (LIAT) – arrived in Montserrat in 1945 from his native St. Kitts and worked for Montserrat Company managing a fruit plantation in Olveston.

In 1948, Delisle’s wife experienced severe complications while in labor with the couple’s third child. She required a C-section. Delisle wanted to take her to Antigua for the delicate procedure, but travel to and from Montserrat was solely by sea. A 27-mile boat trip to Antigua would take hours. Delisle’s wife eventually delivered a healthy baby girl but Delisle decided at that point he would do everything to ensure Montserrat added an airline service.

Jeanne Delisle-Briggs, another of Delisle’s daughters, says her father traveled to White Plains, N.Y., to take flying lessons and obtain his pilot’s license. An airstrip was cut in Olveston but it was reportedly only about 800 feet long and featured an awkward decline at the takeoff end. Planes would moreso “fall off” the strip rather than take off, according to one witness. The unpaved strip also generated a cloud of dust during takeoffs and landings. Delisle needed an aviation adviser. A mutual friend highly recommended Magruder.

ARRIVING IN STYLE

In 1953, Magruder touched down in Olveston in a Cessna 170. He helped Delisle launch a limited flight service in 1954 but they realized the Olveston strip was not sustainable, especially after a botched takeoff destroyed the engine of one of the planes.

The Olveston strip was eventually closed for commercial flying and a search began for an ideal airfield. When choosing an airport site, many factors are considered, including wind, obstructions, visibility, soil and drainage. Montserrat’s hilly terrain made this a challenge.

A British firm of engineers began surveying Trant’s Estate in the east but reportedly quit after their demand for more money was turned down. According to Reverend Carty, Magruder stepped in and conducted extensive aerial and ground work at no cost to the government. In late 1954 the site was approved as the home of Montserrat’s new airport.

The airfield was named in honor of Sir Kenneth Blackburne, then governor of the Leeward Islands. When Mr. Blackburne flew in for the official opening in October of 1956, Magruder was his pilot. That year also marked the official opening of LIAT – with Magruder as lead pilot the first few weeks. The Olveston strip remained open but only as a private airfield, thus the reason Magruder took off from there that fateful morning in 1957.

Archive photo
*Frank Delisle launched LIAT Airlines in 1956.*

GETTING ACQUAINTED

Due to his association with Delisle, “Mac” made many friends in Montserrat, including a family close to the Delisles: the Hollenders. Other than Paul Hollender and wife Kate, he met their children Basil, Brian and Betty. While in Montserrat, Magruder often stayed with the Delisle family but also lodged with the Hollenders.

Waterwork Estate, nestled on the southern slopes of Montserrat’s Centre Hills, is a prominent and unique plantation that goes back to the 17th century. A flowing spring ran through the estate, yielding natural irrigation. Waterwork was a fertile harvesting spot for ground provisions – especially dasheen and sweet potatoes – and rare local crops such as watercress. Even rice was cultivated at one time. In earlier years the estate grew sugar cane and produced sugar, molasses, syrup and alcohol.

Folks who lived and worked in the area said Magruder would always fly over the estate and wave good-bye to the Hollenders when leaving the island. Delisle’s daughter Jeanne says Magruder would also fly over their home in Olveston and bid farewell.

Brian Hollender was 10 years old on the tragic day but remembers it well.

“I was at school when it happened,” he says. “A few days earlier my mother told Mac she had a bad dream and that he should not fly [low] over the estate. He actually died in my mother’s arms.”

Photo courtesy Brian Hollender
*Brian Hollender was 10 years old when Lewis Magruder crashed at Waterwork*.

MEMORIES OF ‘MAC’

Sixty-five years after the tragedy, many still recall Magruder fondly.

Delisle’s daughter Jeanne says Magruder always brought treats when he arrived from Puerto Rico, including dozens of bottles of Coca-Cola, hot dogs, American bread and other novelty items that were not available in Montserrat.

“Coca-Cola was only in the glass bottle at that time,” she says. “He would bring them to Montserrat and share with all his friends. After we drank them he would take the bottles back to Puerto Rico. When he crashed, a bunch of those empty Coke bottles were on the plane and they shattered and [caused some of his injuries].”

Johnny Howes, a mere lad at the time of the crash, says Magruder attended his birthday party the day before the incident.

“The party was at Carr’s Bay,” says Howes, a longtime boat captain and tour guide. “We roasted marshmallows. He hugged me and told me it was the best birthday party he had ever been to. Could you imagine as a child hearing that and then the next day you hear he’s dead?”

The Right Honourable Austin Bramble, Montserrat’s Chief Minister from 1970 to 1978, met Magruder in 1956. Bramble, who was working for an oil refinery in Curacao, returned to Montserrat briefly that year. He took a flight from Willemstad to St. Kitts, and Magruder then flew him to Montserrat.

“It was just me and him on the plane,” says Bramble, now 91. “He seemed like a nice fellow. We landed at Blackburne. At that time it was just a grass strip.”

Ironically, in 1995 Blackburne Airport was renamed to honor William H. Bramble, Austin Bramble’s father and Montserrat’s first Chief Minister.

Photo courtesy of El Mundo (Puerto Rico)
*Lewis Magruder and wife Camelia.*

‘HE LOVED THIS ISLAND’

About eight hours after Magruder’s crash, a 16-seater, four-engine Heron De Havilland aircraft landed safely at Blackburne to the cheers of spectators. It was the largest aircraft at that point in time to land in Montserrat. It was a seminal moment that Magruder helped bring to fruition but one he sadly missed.

“Montserrat owes him a tremendous debt,” Carty wrote in his tribute. “He loved this island and its people.”

Magruder’s death devastated Frank Delisle, who not only lost his best pilot and business partner but a close friend.

“He was heartbroken,” Jeanne says of her father, who eventually forged on and transformed LIAT into the leading air carrier in the Caribbean. Delisle passed away in 2002.

On Wednesday, May 15, 1957, Magruder was buried at Puerto Rico National Cemetery in Bayamón with full military honors. Eleven years later his wife Camelia died at age 46 and was laid to rest next to him.

Photo from MyHeritage.com
*Lewis Magruder’s grave in Puerto Rico National Cemetery.*

Magruder’s damaged plane was stored in an old shed in Olveston for a while, then dumped into a nearby ravine that is now rife with volcanic ash.

On September 17, 1965 a Pan Am jet crashed at Chances Peak in southern Montserrat, claiming 30 lives. Due to its magnitude, that incident relegated the Magruder crash to a virtual footnote locally.

A monument was erected in the Plymouth public cemetery to honor the Pan Am victims.

Sadly, there is no memorial on Montserrat for Lewis Magruder.

Click here to read Part 2 about how the tragedy affected Magruder’s family in Puerto Rico.

Aircraft fatalities on Montserrat

Date	Craft	Site	Victim(s)
5/13/57	Bonanza	Waterwork	Lewis Magruder
9/17/65	Boeing 707	Chances Peak	30 (Click for story and list)
3/7/78	Cessna	Blackburne	Denise Apperley, Jose Chovino, M. Paul Canavy
5/31/81	Piper Aztec	Blackburne	Orel Payne
5/3/86	Cessna	Bottomless Ghaut	Len Kocen, Pat Kocen, Bradley King

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Reversal of fortune: Montserrat legend Errol Eid’s fascinating life is now defined by struggle

By

EDWIN L. MARTIN

-

March 7, 2022

19

Errol Briggs Eid — Photo courtesy ZJB Radio Spirit of Montserrat
Errol Eid is pictured during "Rhythm Night" as part of St. Patrick's celebrations in Montserrat in March of 2019.

Errol Eid grimaces as he slowly reclines his aching and aging body onto a sofa. The simple process of lying down has become a chore. These days Eid feels every bit of his 75 years – plus a few more – as he struggles with mobility, propped up by two aluminum crutches and an abundance of pride.

“I take about five different medications and I’m still in pain,” says Eid, who suffers from rheumatoid arthritis, scoliosis and poor circulation in his legs.

His current residence – a “jungle” cabin in Woodlands, Montserrat – was provided as a temporary favor so he can have a roof over his head. The place, once owned by John Wall of the Plymouth business family, is a stone’s throw from the home of Cedric and Carol Osborne, Eid’s longtime friends. Eid visits the Osbornes daily to watch TV and enjoy good company. The couple has served as Eid’s unofficial caretakers as he awaits a Warden Assisted apartment in Lookout Village.

It is quite a downturn for the diminutive Eid, who once lived large. He was gifted with musical and artistic skill and a powerful family of business owners. But he squandered the fortune bequeathed to him by a doting mother. Today, health has superseded wealth as priority in Eid’s life as he tries – in more ways than one – to get back on his feet.

Talk to those who know him best and they say Eid is a virtual dichotomy – prodigal but personable, a flawed genius. Like a boy who never grew up Eid has been a benevolent beatnik, a happy hippie, a local legend. Even in his current fragile state a tinge of arrogance surfaces. Asked if he ever held a job in Montserrat, he retorts: “Why would I work for somebody when I have more money than them?”

Other times he shows a vulnerable side. He bemoans the fact that none of his family members across the Caribbean have phoned to check on his well-being.

Asked if it’s hurtful, he responds, “Well, naturally,” as he fights back tears.

It’s a far cry from a time when Eid and his family earned legendary status in Montserrat.

Annie Eid photo courtesy “The Watts Collection”
*From left: Annie Eid; an ad for the Eid family business in the Montserrat Standard newspaper March 19, 1952; and Lindy Eid.*

‘WE ARE NOT SYRIAN’

The Eid family story and its migration to Montserrat must begin with a clarification.

“We are not Syrian,” Errol says. “We are Lebanese. People confuse Syria and Lebanon all the time.” The confusion is understandable. The two countries were one nation until 1943. Errol’s paternal grandfather was the first member of the family to reach Montserrat.

Says Errol: “I was told that he was just passing through but the people were so friendly that he decided to stay. His English was not very good. Our family name is actually ‘Aide’ [pronounced Ah-Yeed]. When he told them his name they thought he said, ‘I Eid’ and they registered him that way. He sent for his children and they were also registered as Eid.”

One of those children was George Eid, Errol’s father. George’s brothers were John, Anthony (better known as “Hashie”), Emmanuel, Solomon and Faiz. Errol’s mother, Annie, was born in St. Kitts. She was a member of the Coury family that owns several businesses there. One of those businessmen – the late Leroy Coury – was also a well-known cricket player (spin bowler) for St. Kitts and Leeward Islands.

Annie moved to Montserrat and married George Eid. Their first child, Lindy Anthony Eid, was born in 1930. Errol says his mother then lost at least five children – some in childbirth, others shortly after birth. So when Errol was born in 1947 and survived, it was a profound blessing. And it explains why he was a child of immense privilege.

Photo courtesy Randy Greenaway
*The variety store run by Annie Eid, located on Parliament Street in Plymouth, is pictured during the 1960s.*

A BUSINESS FAMILY

At one point at least five members of the Eid family operated businesses in Plymouth. One of their first shops, run by George and John Eid, was located on Parliament Street at the future home of Royal Bank of Canada, across from the “Mary G. Pond” shop. The brothers were dubbed “Mooshay George” and “Mooshay John” (Mooshay means “Mister” or “Sir”).

The Eids were not just business owners. They were pioneers. Emmanuel opened the Rialto Theater, Montserrat’s first cinema. Lindy introduced Montserrat to the juke box in the 1950s. He imported dozens of them and placed them in bars and other establishments around the island, splitting the proceeds with the proprietors. Lindy also ran the “New York Store” on Strand Street. “Hashie” owned a variety store that was the main depot for fowl feed, notably “Grow-inna” and “Lay-inna” – the names literally explaining their purpose. Hashie’s son, Joseph Eid, also became synonymous with the store.

In the early years several members of the family shared a home in Plymouth. The Eids were devoutly Catholic and would fill up the first two rows during service at St. Patrick’s Church in George Street.

In 1949, George Eid passed away. Says Errol: “Even though I was only two and a half years old I still remember seeing him lying in the coffin in our house.” After George Eid died, Annie married George’s brother John. Explained Errol: “The priest told my mother it was not proper for her to live in a house with a man and they’re not married.”

Annie and John ran a variety store at the intersection of Parliament and Harney streets. They sold flour, sugar and other dry goods plus a wide array of textiles. The store was downstairs and the residence upstairs. It was close to the old police station and across from Esso gas station and the public market. That is the home where Errol grew up and started his first business.

Photo courtesy John Perkins
Errol Eid, far right on guitar, is pictured in the 1960s with the band Blue Rhythms. Members included, from left, Nigel Thomas, Lorenzo Cassell, Joseph “Lamdam” Edwards, Otwell Maloney and John Perkins (behind Eid).

THE BOY WONDER

Errol admits he was a pampered child.

“My mother spoiled me,” he says candidly. “Anything I wanted I got.”

But he was also profoundly talented. By his early teens Errol could play several musical instruments, including the drums, guitar, piano and ukulele. He was self-taught.

There is a funny story about Errol’s mother once hiring calypsonian James “Tangler” Lee to teach Errol to play the guitar. Lee arrived at the Eid home for the lesson, but just minutes later he was seen walking off. Annie Eid asked Lee if the lesson was over so quickly. Lee replied: “Di li boy know more than me.”

One of Errol’s first bands was Blue Rhythms, formed around 1963. His fellow members included Justin and Lorenzo Cassell, both former calypso monarchs and the brothers of soca legend Alphonsus “Arrow” Cassell.

“We were a very good band,” says Lorenzo Cassell, who played trumpet. “I remember one year Laviscount Brass came down from Antigua and a lot of Antiguans came down for their show. When they heard our band they came to see us instead.”

Cassell not only recalls Errol’s talent with the guitar but also his frivolity with money.

“One day he said to me, ‘Let’s go to Trinidad to buy some instruments,’ ” Cassell says. “He went to his mother and she gave him about $15,000. When we got to Trinidad, Errol was walking around with the cash in his hand. I said, ‘Man, put that away!’ “

To illustrate how much $15,000 was worth in the mid-1960s consider that William H. Bramble, Montserrat’s Chief Minister at the time, earned $9,600 . . . a year.

Errol is asked if Cassell’s recollection is truly accurate – that his mom gave him a whopping $15,000 all at once. He quickly issues a correction: “I think it was more.”

Errol, who later formed a steel band called The Flaming Recoils, was also artistic. He designed winning costumes for several Festival queens, including Rose Willock (1965), Florence Allen (1966), Daisy Kirnon (1967) and Leona Tuitt (1968).

“I won Best Costume about six times,” he says. “My mother told me to drop out and give someone else a chance. Designing came natural to me.”

By the way, Errol is also known as “Briggs” – a nickname he got from his friend Desmond Taylor. “One day I was at his garage and I was walking all around the shop. He said to me, ‘Who are you, Mr. Briggs?’ ” Errol says it was likely a reference to Briggs & Stratton, the company that produces engines for power equipment.

Photo courtesy Randy Greenaway
*Errol Eid receives an award for his matador costume and performance at Sturge Park on Boxing Day 1966.*

ERROL’S DISCO

In the mid-1960s Errol converted a storage room at the back of his mother’s store into a nightclub he called Errol’s Disco. He traveled to New York and Puerto Rico to purchase the lighting and sound equipment. The club also featured a live band. The entire venture was bankrolled by his mother.

Already possessing a knack for decoration, Errol turned the disco into a hot spot that drew patrons from around the region. It featured a popular section called “The Dungeon” in which light was projected only up to knee level, leaving the rest of the room dark. “The Dungeon” became a den of hedonism. “A lot of craziness went on in there,” Errol says.

John Wilson, who grew up in the Plymouth area and was a longtime proprietor in town, recalls the disco.

“It was amazing,” Wilson says. “Errol used ordinary things like egg cartons to decorate. He had strobe lights. His disco was comparable to anything in the region.”

Errol was creative. For instance, when the DJ played the hit song Dizzy by Tommy Roe, the strobe lights would create an effect that actually made the patrons dizzy.

*Errol Eid plays the drums in an undated photo. Eid taught himself to play several musical instruments.*

Errol’s club was lucrative but he lacked financial discipline and prudence. Like a typical young man he treated himself with toys.

“At one time I had about six or seven cars,” says Errol, who also fancied motorcycles. “I had a speedboat. I went to Trinidad and had it specially built. I bought the hull and they fixed it up. I used to drive the boat from Montserrat to Antigua in 50 minutes. I used to drive it to other places like Guadeloupe and St. Kitts.”

As for his schooling, Errol attended St. Augustine Catholic School and then the Montserrat Secondary School. In 1964 he attended Marathon High School in the Florida Keys while residing with a family friend. During his senior year at Marathon he visited Montserrat for Christmas and never went back. That marked the end of his formal education.

Change came about in the early 1970s. Errol rented out the disco, and when Lindy opened a nightclub in Gingoes called Jerry’s Drive-In (later Maximus), Errol sold all his musical instruments to Lindy, allowing his brother to have a live band. It was the era of local bands such as Calibre Nine, Aquarius, Libra One and Livewires.

“A lot of the instruments the bands used in the 1970s were my old instruments,” says Errol, who has also been generous in sponsoring instruments to local musicians over the years.

*Errol Eid and mother Annie, circa 1970s.*

ERROL LOSES HIS ‘ANGEL’

During the 1980s Errol continued his life of luxury and privilege. He sported a ponytail and a six-pack. He hung out at Air Studios, the beach and other popular spots, hobnobbing with expatriates and locals alike.

“I never worked,” he admits. “Anything I wanted I would go to my mother, even for food.”

In 1993, Annie Eid suffered a leg injury and was placed in traction at Glendon Hospital. Her situation took a turn for the worse when she fell off her bed one day. She developed gangrene and passed away April 14, 1993. The matriarch was 86 years old.

“My mom was an angel,” Errol says. “She used to go to church seven days a week. She almost lived there. She was kind to everybody.”

Years earlier, Annie bought houses in Old Towne for Errol and Lindy.

“My mother had the first two houses in Old Towne,” Errol says. “I sold one to a Canadian. I got about $500,000 for it. I got way more than I expected.”

That half-million is now history, as is the speedboat and other items Errol acquired during the height of his wealth. The volcanic eruption in the mid-1990s also destroyed what was left of the Eid businesses and properties in the Plymouth area.

In the late 1990s Errol relocated to Jost Van Dyke in the British Virgin Islands. He teamed with local club owner Foxy Callwood, touring and playing music. “I was there for 15 years,” Errol says. Foxy played the guitar and sang, and Errol played keyboards. They played many yacht clubs, including Nantucket and Marblehead in Massachusetts.

Errol later spent time in London and could often be found at Ridley Market with fellow Montserratians.

Photo courtesy Randy Greenaway
*Errol Eid, right, and Gus White travel to Cuba for Carifesta in July of 1979 as part of The Mighty Arrow’s contingent. Eid played drums for Arrow at the event.*

EMBARRASSMENT OF RICHES

Errol has lived a carefree lifestyle for decades. He raced cars, raced motorcycles. He has been married twice. The first union – to a Canadian expat in the late 1970s – lasted only three weeks. “She started talking some nonsense so I divorced her,” he says casually. His second marriage is still ongoing – technically. His wife and step-children reside in Birmingham, UK. Asked why they are apart, Errol – who has no biological children – simply says: “Well, they don’t need me now.”

Despite Errol’s capricious existence, his friends say there has been one constant. He has always been down to earth.

“Even when I was rich I would hang out with poor people on the streets,” Errol says.

He also has a wry sense of humor. Errol was once busted in Montserrat for planting marijuana on his property and fined $2,000. Livid, he paid the entire fine in coins.

“I paid them in ha’pennies and pennies,” he says. “They wanted work to do . . . so I gave them work. I used to be disgusting like that. If you did something to me I would react.”

Errol is the last surviving member of the Eid business dynasty from Plymouth. Lindy died in 2017 in a nursing home in the UK. Much of the family wealth is gone. It is a sad realization for a once-affluent clan.

Now pained and penniless, Errol relies on the charity of old friends for survival. He also depends on government assistance. Due to his physical condition driving is not recommended. His derelict car is up for sale.

He is asked if he has any regrets.

He utters a defiant chuckle.

“None,” he says.

*Errol Eid is interviewed on February 17, 2022. In center photo he winces in pain.*

Editor’s note: This story was published March 7, 2022. Errol Eid died June 11, 2023.

Bata Shoe Store became a staple in Montserrat and vital part of culture

By

EDWIN L. MARTIN

-

February 20, 2022

4

batastoremontserrat — Photo courtesy Randy Greenaway
Bata Shoe Store was located on Parliament Street in the heart of Plymouth. Above is a photo circa 1950s.

During the first half of the 20th century Montserratians were limited in footwear options. The variety stores in Plymouth offered very little variety in shoes, which were secondary items. For the less fortunate, there were cobblers who made shoes from scratch. But whether retail or rustic, the designs were basic and the styles were static.

That changed when Bata Shoe Store opened its doors in Plymouth in 1947. For almost four decades the store at the intersection of Parliament and Houston streets was a favorite destination. The trendy shoes, friendly staff, affordable prices and welcoming aroma of leather, rubber and suede solidified Bata’s place in Montserrat society.

Bata, a family business, began in 1894 in Czechoslovakia. In 1939 the company relocated to Canada upon learning that Hitler and the Nazis planned to invade Czechoslovakia. For decades to come, Bata’s main headquarters would be in Ontario.

Bata reached the West Indies in the early 1930s, with branches opening in Jamaica and Trinidad. Bata then made its way to the smaller islands, including Montserrat. The company needed a local agent, and M.S. Osborne was the island’s leading businessman. He added Bata to his expanding business portfolio. Montserrat was now “in tings” – boasting an international franchise in the heart of its capital.

Photo courtesy The Montserrat Reporter
*Cedric Osborne managed Bata from 1954 to 1967.*

BIG SHOES TO FILL

Two notable figures during the early days of Bata in Montserrat were manager Moses “Brother” Tuitt, who hailed from Farms but lived in George Street, and “Bata” Ben White of Fort Barrington. In 1954, Cedric Osborne – son of M.S. Osborne – became manager at 18 years old when Tuitt migrated. He remembers some of the duties of being an agent for the global giant.

“We used to get the shoes from England but Bata’s regional office was in Jamaica,” Osborne says. “We had to send reports by cable to them regularly regarding which products were selling well and which ones were not.”

Added Osborne, chuckling: “They would also send cables to us requesting information. If we didn’t answer in a timely manner they made us pay for the cable.”

*A Bata ad appears in the Montserrat Observer newspaper on September 1, 1956.*

When M.S. Osborne died in 1967, Cedric Osborne left Bata and became manager at the Vue Pointe Hotel, which was built by his father in 1961. Before he left he hired a young man who would become synonymous with Bata in the 1970s and ’80s: Carlisle Duberry.

“When I hired Carlisle he was a cleaner and he would also stack the shoe boxes,” Osborne says. “When I left to go to Vue Pointe they brought in someone from St. Kitts to run the place and then Carlisle later became manager.”

Photo courtesy Ursula Petula Barzey
*Carlisle Duberry managed Bata for more than a decade. When the company left he continued the business under the name Carlisle’s Shoe Center.*

POPULAR SHOES

Bata earned fame for its popular “soft-walker” shoes, Jelly’s – which were dubbed “Sh*t Mashers” – and flip-flops (rubber slippers). Sales were especially brisk in late August as children prepared for the new school year.

Gracelyn Williams-Carty worked at Bata from 1978 to 1983. She recalls the flurry of activity as parents flocked for shoes.

“The black loafers and Speed-Rite sneakers were popular,” she says. “Bata was the place to be in those days. I didn’t think of the people as customers. It was like family.”

Owning shoes from Bata was prestigious for the underprivileged, and some took steps to make sure they lasted. Some boys would wear their “soft-walkers” to school, then take them off after school and walk home barefooted.

Tony Maloney’s family lived on the second floor of the building in which Bata was located. He recalls the impact of Bata and how it changed the paradigm in Montserrat.

“People were happy that they could go to one place and get their shoes,” says Maloney, who worked for many years in the Department of Agriculture. “To sit in a chair and have someone attend to you, it meant something. It was something that was cherished.”

*“Bata Bullets” were some of the “soft-walker” shoes that became popular.*

*Jelly’s (“Sunflash”) were also common at Bata.*

*The omnipresent flip-flops (rubber slippers).*

As its popularity grew, the Bata brand gained local prestige. Bata sponsored a local cricket team – the Bata Falcons – in the early 1970s. Bata ads were prominent on Radio Montserrat as listeners eagerly awaited the latest sale. Another popular feature at Bata: each year during the Christmas Festival, photos of the Queen Show contestants were displayed in the main window. Bata often sponsored a pair of shoes to the winner.

As for the daily operations, Williams-Carty says the store had to follow guidelines mandated by Bata, mainly a focus on customer service. The staff would cater to patrons, seating them, assisting them in trying on shoes and even patiently lacing up their sneakers.

“There was a Bata handbook,” Williams-Carty says. “We were told to measure the customers’ feet but we got to know some of them so well that we already knew their size. We also sold other items like socks, panty hose, pocket books, shoe polish and shoe dye.”

*Former Bata employee Gracelyn Williams-Carty*

NOVELTY WEARS OFF

The Bata phenomenon hit a snag in the 1980s. As with any company, the bottom line – profit margin – takes top priority. A combination of factors led to Bata closing its stores in the Caribbean, including the Montserrat branch in 1985. Competition and production costs hampered the company. Also, the rise of Nike, Reebok, adidas and Puma usurped Bata’s slow-evolving catalog. In Montserrat, stores such as Arrow’s Man Shop and Johnnie’s Mecca Fashions sold shoes, further weakening Bata’s once-stranglehold on the local shoe market.

When Bata left, Duberry renamed the store Carlisle’s Shoe Center and took over ownership. “Bata used to still send shoes to me,” he says. “And I started selling other items like women’s clothes.”

Carlisle’s Shoe Center remained open in Plymouth until the volcanic crisis in 1995. The store relocated to Cork Hill – Duberry’s home village – and later to Sweeney’s, across from Tropical Mansion Suites. It closed for good after Duberry migrated to England in 2005.

Although Bata does not wield the international clout it once commanded, it remains popular in markets such as India and Pacific Rim countries that provide cheap labor. Bata’s time in Montserrat is now merely a memory, but for many they are fond memories.

Says Duberry, the longtime manager: “The salary was good and I got to do a lot of traveling to places like Trinidad and Barbados.”

Williams-Carty enjoyed the entire experience: “Sometimes people used to stop by the store and hang out even if they weren’t buying shoes. They would stop by to just chat and relax in the [comfortable] chairs. I liked my co-workers, I liked the customers, we got paid commission and Carlisle was a good manager. I have pleasant memories that I will always cherish.”

*Bata sponsored its own local cricket team, the Bata Falcons, pictured circa 1974 with manager Carlisle Duberry, far left.*

Montserrat’s Daisy Nanton turns 100: ‘I’m not lucky. I’m blessed.’

By

EDWIN L. MARTIN

-

February 7, 2022

3

missdaisyphotoinred — Daisy Nanton says her faith is the main reason for her long life. "I'm a staunch Roman Catholic. God has been good to me."

On her 100^th birthday Daisy Nanton participated in a Zoom call with 45 friends and family members who tuned in from Montserrat, Canada, England, St. Kitts and several other places. Donning a spiffy red blazer, pearl earrings and sleek sunglasses, she sat in a gold-trimmed chair that resembled a throne.

“You look great, Miss Daisy,” one Zoom participant declared. “You look like a queen!”

“I do?” she asked semi-bashfully. “Well, I try. It’s the makeup. I don’t go anywhere without my lipstick.”

Miss Daisy’s cousin Claudina Piper-Drayton – on a video call from Trinidad – thanked her for being a mentor. “After my mother passed away when I was 13 you taught me to sew, you taught me to cook. You were a great role model,” said Claudina, now 92.

For more than an hour Miss Daisy held court from her Baltimore home, cracking jokes and exchanging stories. No one could have ever guessed she was recovering from COVID-19. She tested positive four days before her birthday. It was ironic that fate dealt her one final hurdle on the way to her prestigious centennial.

“I was scared because my cousin in Antigua recently passed away from COVID,” she says. “I said, ‘Lord, my birthday is coming up.’ But I’m feeling much better.”

Centenarians are often asked about their secret to long life. Some cite healthy living. Miss Daisy says she eats “whatever I like” and admits to a weakness for chocolate. She “loves” champagne and enjoys an occasional Guinness.

It’s her devout faith, she says, that’s her main sustenance. “I’m a staunch Roman Catholic.”

Miss Daisy has survived two major hurricanes (1924 and 1928), a near-death experience in 1953 and a serious car accident decades later. She has met Queen Elizabeth and shared cocktails with cricket legend Sir Garfield Sobers. She has run her own business and worked for others. She raised five children, adopted a goddaughter, and had a 58-year marriage that ended when her husband passed away in 1999. She has outlived her six siblings even though she was the eldest.

Her fascinating journey has been defined by resilience, humor, gratitude and – as she proudly proclaims – divine providence.

EARLY YEARS

Miss Daisy was born Daisy Cynthia Dyer on January 28, 1922 in Montserrat. She was the first of seven children born to Patrick and Josephine “Josie” Dyer (nee’ Browne). Her siblings (in order) were Fred, Alice, Josie, Halmond, Edna and Ruby.

“I was a breech baby,” Miss Daisy says. “My mother told me I would be lucky.”

The family lived across from Glendon Hospital in Upper George Street in an area that was once part of Dagenham Estate. Mr. Dyer was a manager at the estate – which produced Sea Island cotton – and also a preacher. Mrs. Dyer was a housewife.

On September 12, 1928, Montserrat was struck by a Category 4 hurricane that killed 42 people on the island (1,100 perished in Guadeloupe, according to reports). Although she was only 6 years old Miss Daisy remembers the storm vividly.

“A lot of the houses in Ryner’s Village got blown away and many people came to our house for shelter. My sister Edna was only 6 months old, and they had to tie her to my mother so she would not get blown away. My father believed we were all going to die and he started preaching the funeral [rites].”

The family survived, then relocated to St. Kitts in 1933 when Miss Daisy’s father was reassigned there to oversee a sugar plantation. The following year Miss Daisy injured her shoulder in a fall and was taken by boat from St. Kitts to Dominica, the closest island that had an X-ray machine. She eventually healed. The Dyers returned to Montserrat in 1938 when Miss Daisy was 16. She had completed secondary school in St. Kitts.

*Jim and Daisy Nanton pose with their families on their wedding day in December of 1940 at St. Patrick’s Roman Catholic Church on George Street in Montserrat.*

At age 18 she married James “Jim” Nanton, a sales clerk at M.S. Osborne Ltd. The couple had five children – all girls: Cynthia (aka Patty), Pamela, Joy, Carol (aka Toni) and Kathy.

Asked if she was a strict mother, Miss Daisy said only in certain areas. “I believe in manners and etiquette,” she says. “Also they had to say their prayers and do well in school.”

In 1953, Miss Daisy was a member of the Netball Association. A regional tournament was held in Montserrat and she was assigned to take care of the squad from Grenada. One day she visited the team at its quarters near Jubilee Town. She requested a cup of coffee. After she drank it she began feeling unwell and eventually passed out. A doctor was summoned. When he checked Miss Daisy’s vital signs she had no pulse. He gave her an injection and she regurgitated and improved but still felt sick for some time.

“I had to go to Barbados to see another doctor. It took me a year to catch myself. To this day I have no idea what was in that coffee,” says Miss Daisy, who believes whatever happened was purely accidental. “It must have been something I was allergic to.”

ROYAL VISIT

Around 1952 Miss Daisy opened a small business on George Street in which she sold mostly women’s garments. She also dabbled in making hats – a craft she saw one of her aunts perform – but didn’t take it seriously at first. However in 1955 during a visit to New York she took a class in hat design at the Traphagen School of Fashion in Manhattan. Her visitor’s visa expired before she could complete the course, so she returned to Montserrat. But by that time she had learned the basics and eventually became proficient.

On January 6, 1966, a fire on George Street destroyed several businesses, including Miss Daisy’s shop. Making matters worse she had no insurance. But she caught a big break just a month later when Queen Elizabeth visited Montserrat. “They had luncheons and different events and the women were always required to wear hats,” Miss Daisy explains.

She ended up making many of those hats, and the financial boost allowed her to re-open her shop. She also got to meet the Queen during an exhibition fair at Hyde Park in Harris Village.

“I was part of the YWCA and we had a booth at the fair,” she says. “The Queen walked by, then turned around and came straight over to me. I was dumbfounded. She asked me a few questions about the YWCA. She was very pretty and her skin was so beautiful.”

CHANGE OF SCENERY

In the late 1960s Miss Daisy was hired as a manager at Olveston House, a guest inn that also featured a gourmet restaurant. Olveston House later gained fame as the residence of renowned Beatles producer and Air Studios founder Sir George Martin. “I worked there for 10 years,” she says. “Then one day I found out the place was sold. I left and went to Connecticut in early 1979 and spent time with my daughter Patty.”

While in Connecticut, Miss Daisy applied for permanent residency and was stunned when her visa application was approved in a mere few months. On a whim she visited a local department store in Hartford and asked for an application.

“I had never filled out an application in my life,” she says. “They hired me on the spot, trained me for about two weeks and paid me. The store was called G. Fox.”

A year later Miss Daisy moved to Baltimore, where her daughter Joy resided. She got a job at a department store called Lexington Lady and also worked for a time as an in-home caretaker.

Her husband eventually joined her in Baltimore, where he died at age 94. In recent years Miss Daisy has split time with her daughters, including Pam, who operated Carib World Travel in Montserrat starting in 1973, then relocated to Antigua following the volcanic eruption in the 1990s.

*Daisy Nanton is pictured during a Zoom call for her 100th birthday January 28, 2022.*

IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE

In 2021, a study revealed that of the 7.8 billion people on earth, only about 316,000 were centenarians. Miss Daisy says she never thought she would reach the milestone, but she is eternally grateful. Best of all she is still lucid with a great memory.

Miss Daisy has also been a study in resourcefulness. She made wedding dresses for her daughters Pam and Joy – “I used peau de soie fabric [matte satin]” – and also designed the evening gown Pam wore in 1963 when she was crowned Montserrat’s Festival Queen. She also chaperoned 1965 Festival queen Rose Willock, who calls Miss Daisy “my second mother.”

Once an avid traveler, Miss Daisy lives a quiet life these days. She has seven grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren. She has a Facebook account and speaks daily via What’s App. She has made countless friends due to her congenial personality and positive attitude.

“I don’t let much worry me,” says Miss Daisy, who concedes that like all God’s children she has her faults, the biggest being the art of forgiveness.

“If someone does me a kindness, I never forget,” she says. “But if they do me something bad I don’t forget either, especially if it’s very hurtful. I have to work on that.”

She says one of the worst aspects of getting older is losing loved ones. Of the 18 people in her wedding photo only she and her cousin Claudina are still around.

Asked if luck has played a role in her longevity, Miss Daisy said:

“I think we create our own luck. I plan my life through the Holy Spirit. This might sound strange but if I have something bothering me I hear a voice – not an actual voice but a [spiritual message] – telling me what to do. God has been good to me.”

“I’m not lucky,” she says. “I’m blessed.”

Montserrat tragedies in September

Aircraft fatalities on Montserrat

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