Allan Proctor Gray from Round Rock Texas:- seeking information on his relations.

A friend of mine, one Hugh Sutherland of Sarnia, Ontario, Canada, is descended from forebears in Ardersier some of whom left for Canada around 1905. Some appear in the census of 1891 for Ardersier, the oldest being, Thomas Matheson Sutherland and his wife Isabella (nee Cameron). This couple had at least seven children most of them with the middle name of Matheson for mysterious reasons - the first two it seems were born in Inverness and the rest in Petty Parish the last in 1872. I don't know if they actually moved from Petty to Ardersier after that or they simply attended a different church. The second youngest child, another Thomas Matheson Sutherland was born in 1869 in Petty and he said that he was born in Gollanfield which I guess is in Ardersier. The old couple, Thomas M. and Isabella lived into this century and a Canadian grandson is said to have visited the Grandmother in Ardersier during the first world war.
My question is (of course) - is there anyone in those parts who is expert on such matters as local old-timers or who knows where someone might be buried etc. etc.
In other words the genealogical thing.

Allan Proctor Gray ( who by the way is related rather distantly to the Gray of Skiboll who is mentioned in the Reverend John Matheson's History Section of your very fine web site.

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Maurice Horsburg Recalls some old cronies:-

"My most vivid memories of Ardersier are of the colourful characters and the nick names of the real Cronies. Being so close to Fort George there was always the military involvement. Early in WW11 a very large contingent of infantry leaving for France marched from the Fort to the Railway Station. The army had erected a dais outside the police station and a General and some "top Brass" were to take the salute. Just as the parade headed by the full military band arrived, one of the old Cronies called the Buckie Plumber joined the General and also took the salute, much to the embarrassment of the army and the mirth of the locals, especially as he had rather much of the hard stuff and managed to fall off the dais.
After Dunkirk there was not a lot to cheer about, but one lady did her bit for morale. Her name was Maggie Loft and lived above the Barbers Shop opposite the Alma Hotel. Maggie like everyone else was very frustrated at the course of events and the way Hitler was calling the shots. Being somewhat eccentric she decided to copy Churchill and make a regular Thursday night broadcast direct to Hitler. We never found out what effect it had on Adolph but it did wonders for the locals! The "microphone" - supplied by the Barber - was the horn from an old HMV gramophone and it was connected to the rainwater downpipe. Maggie would sit at her upstairs window, and, in front of quite a large audience, would bellow into the horn and I can tell you she had a few interesting things to say to Mr A.H.!
At the bottom of the School Brae opposite Geordie Johnstone the Bakers, there was a little wooden shack and in it lived an old crony called Jimmock the Mason; he did not have a lot to occupy his time so any funeral was an excuse for old Jim to dress up with top hat and tail coat. On the same street lived Thomas the Tailor who passed away. However the family decided to have a private funeral which was not very common in the village. That did not deter Jim from attending, the problem was after the coffin was placed in the hearse. Jim, as was the custom, fell in and with reverently bowed head proceeded slowly to follow; he went quite some way before he realised that the hearse had sped off and he was left in total amazement in the middle of the road.
Next to the Bakers was Jock Snock the Blacksmith and when the Prince of Wales was going to become King, Jock made a pair of beautiful wrought iron gates with King Edward VII ? etc. and sent them to Buckingham Palace as a Coronation gift. The ungrateful Royals refused the gift and returned them. When I left the village in 1956 the gates were still on the garden at the bottom of the School Brae next to old Jim's Hut.
The army also turned up its share of characters and one which springs to mind was a Polish soldier called Schuback. It seems he believed that bicycles were for communal use and to save him walking the three miles to the Fort used to help himself, but he would return them. The local Bobby - Mr Allan or Mr Weir - told him this was not done in the best of society, so a collection of old cycle bits were gathered and Schuback was then quite happy, despite the fact that it only had one handlebar and one pedal. On more than one occasion he passed through the village in the early hours singing in a very loud voice some rousing Polish Folk Song, and still not fall off the bike.
Before D-Day there was a massive build up of military personnel from many Nations and most people did not even lock their doors, assaults on the locals were practically unheard of, as were break-ins, which makes me wonder if today we have lost the plot.
At the outbreak of the Korean war Dalcross opened up once more as No. 8 A.F.T.S. (Advanced Flying Training School). It gave me an opportunity to gather together some fine musicians and form an RAF Dance Band. We performed in practically every dance hall in the north. We also managed to be the first Dance Band with our own insignia to be officially recognised by the Air Ministry, as opposed to Dance Bands being part of a Military Band. This set me on a career which has taken me round the world many times.
Something that I will always be grateful for is the education I received at Ardersier Public School. I never made it to high school because, at the age of eleven, I was carted off to the R.N.I. and spent one and a half years in hospital and that was the end of schooling for me. Mr MacKintosh was the Headmaster, and Miss Sinclair, Miss Cowan and Miss Starke were the teachers. Yes, I got the strap, but I reckon I got a better education than many pupils get in any school today.
The "Old Camallias", as the very old Cambelltonians called themselves, went through some very hard times but never lost their great sense of humour.

Thank you, Ardersier."

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Joseph Younger recalls Ardersier School some 60 years ago:-

The Headmaster was Mr. McIntosh, known in the community as Speccy, and in the far corners of the playground as Speccy Eyeballs. Years later I found him to be kind and considerate but at school he was a real Tartar. He demanded a high standard of work and Woe Betide any children who were not producing their best work, or were caught misbehaving. His aim when throwing was uncanny and for such a slight man the strength of his right arm was remarkable. Occasionally he was hit by a snowball or a wee rubber ball when crossing the playground from the schoolhouse to his classroom.
Miss Stark was referred to by all and sundry as Meg, because every child had to learn and repeat constantly the poem "Old Meg she was a gypsy and lived upon the moor" She cycled from Gollanfield every day, and did not like any children around when she dismounted. Every Friday, after loading us up with homework, she read or told us a story, both of which she did beautifully.
I was not in Miss Bain's class, but the stories about her were legion, usually about her fixation with cleaning your teeth. I can recall her pupils clustering around the outside water-pump scrubbing away with brushes and paste which she had supplied. Some of the girls did hilarious impersonations of her - "Holding your brush like this, start brushing round and round, etc. etc. I thought of her twenty years later, when the New Zealand Government introduced, later to be world-acclaimed,a programme for all children based essentially on her ideas.
The regime was harsh, undoubtedly, but it was based on the ideas held about schooling in those days. For me, anyway, it was not a traumatic experience. On the contrary, I recall many good times, and funny episodes. I have always been grateful for the fine grounding I received in the formal subjects. It held me in very good stead in future years.

FAMOUS VISITORS:-

There was a young soldier stationed at the Fort in the 1930s who became slightly notorious in the area as a very likeable rogue, but, who, a few years later became one of the most famous men in the world, and remained so for over half a century.
Naturally, as his fame grew so did the local stories about him. A few were true, some gained a lot in the telling, and others merely deserved to be true.
I can vouch for the truth of two of them because my family were directly involved.
This young soldier liked the spotlight even in those days, and when my father did well at athletics both at the fort, and in Inverness, he usually tagged along, despite the discrepancy in their ranks.
On those occasions my mother dressed me and my twin brother in spotless whites. On at least three occasions he waited until my mother"s attention was diverted, and gave us a bar of chocolate each.
Although from a different regiment, my father was on the parade ground when he turned up for morning parade in Evening Dress. This resulted in him and the Army parting company shall we say by mutual agreement.
One tale which probably grew in the telling had it that he was so far in debt when time came to go that he used his old car as a taxi, mainly to collect and deliver laundry.
In any event when he did depart there was a huge sigh of relief in the Fort, groans of disappointment from the proprietors of dance-halls and inns in Inverness, and not a few moist eyes among the bonnie braw lassies.
Later when he appeared on the silver screen playing the part of what was then known as a cad and a bounder, but would be referred to now as a hell-raiser the consensus was that he was earning an awful lot of money just for being himself. In time he became a very accomplished actor lauded and applauded all over the world as one of Hollywood's truly greats.

He always retained his birth-name, which was David Niven.

There was great excitement in the village when it was announced that the Duchess of Gloucester would be opening the new British Clubrooms which she duly did with a great deal of style and charm. This of course, resulted in great prestige for the district. I, like most of the other boys was much more impressed with the fact that, to mark the occasion, the adjoining football field was to be given a face lift. The teams from the Village and the Crook could now knock lumps off each other a little more easily.

Then there was the time that we were all turned out to greet General Montgomery, later Montgomery of Alamein. Unfortunately, it later transpired that we had been cheering one of his decoys. (The village did not seem to mind.)

Many young show business performers later to become well-known took part in the ENSA concerts held at the Fort, far too many to mention, but the most notable one was Vera Lynn, who was very popular but who received a decidedly mixed reception when she sang "There'll always be an England" Many of the audience sang along with "As long as Scotland's here" I have come across a surprising number of people frae a" the airts who remember these events with a great deal of affection for the area.

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William Johnstone at the age of 75 years, recalls memories of Ardersier. (19^th September 1956)

"I am the son of a fisherman and I can take you back 65 years when the village was a busy little place with fishing and farming. The farmer depended mostly on the fishermen and his family to do quite a lot of work on the farm. We used to get 1/6d. per day for hoeing and dipping 10 hours a day. At the harvest we got 17/- to 18/- per week. For gathering potatoes we received 1/6 and a bucket of tatties to take home every day.
We got our milk from the farmer at 2d. a quart, in the morning and 1d. at night. We got all the skimmed milk which made girdle scones, for free and if they killed a sheep, or one died during a snow storm, those who worked on the farm got a share. The brotherhood of man was very close in the village. One helped the other among the fisher folk, they all helped one another and I often think of those days 65 to 70 years ago.
There was a fine fleet of herring boats, 8 all told. The leading boat was called the 'Fisher', owned by the Main's family, five brothers and David Main. Honeyman was the skipper, one of the finest seamen in the Moray Firth and a very prosperous fisherman.
When the herring boats came home and got all their nets dried and stored, then they pulled up the boats onto the beach. That was a day of great excitement. They were hauled up at the bottom of the village Where Peter Young's house stands. It was not there then. The steam mill or tractor engine would come from Croy to pull them up. The leading man for getting the boats up was crippled Jock Cameron, he had a wonderful command. The whole of the fishermen looked to Jock and his staff and he did a wonderful job. Where Magillivary's shop is now, they used to pull up some of the boats there.
Then the young men of the village went to the farms to take in the harvest and the line fishing would get into full swing. At that time there were always two or three line boats which were worked by the older fishermen.The fishing was a very slavish life for the village and they never tried to make it easier for themselves. The fishermen started between midnight and four a.m. and leave the shore with the tide on half the ebb. They got down to the fishing ground at slack tide, set their lines and came home with the flood tide, taking advantage of the tide both ways. then the women and their families went to the back shore to try to dig for sand worms - they called them lug -and it was very hard work. They tried to get home to give the men-folk a hand to bring the fish ashore. Then the lines had to be sorted and baited, that took four five or six hours - so it was a long day. The womenfolk took their turn to go and sell the fish in Inverness. We had a man in the village, not a fisherman, but a Carter, he was a rough diamond, the stone that was never polished, but would have been a wonderful stone if polished. He was at the beck and call of the fisher-folk any hour of the day and night. I lift my bonnet too him. His name was Rod Norrie, he was a wonderful man.
This was before the railway line came to the village and before the Jetty was built. Some of the older fisher-folk still alive will remember all I write. Madge Smith, then a young girl, looked after her father and brothers and she was very good at the lug spade. We had to make our own enjoyments then, especially in the winter nights. The principle places were Johnie Main the tailor, Lawson shoemakers and Willie MacGillivray's blacksmith shop on Windie Hill - that was MacLennan's blacksmith shop. There were two fires in that shop.
In the spring of the year, the shop never closed till 9 p.m. or after.
Joe Mackintosh was the smith with MacGillvary. They were experts at fitting tyres on wheels. Often as a boy I would watch them. They would time the red hot iron so that just enough water was required. Never did two men work so well together. They were good men and very good to us boys. We used to get turns at blowing the bellows. Joe Macintosh had a brother, his name was Dunk and he was a gardener. He was the man with green fingers, anything that he put in the ground came up. He also nursed the flowers as a mother would care for her child. He could put on a good show. We had another good gardener, George Grant, he looked after Miss Gardner's garden. Geordie Grant was a wonderful man with the children.
There was a meeting once a week above Lawson's shop for the I.O.G.T. (Independent Order of Grand Templars). Mr. Grant led the meeting. He was a wonderful old gentleman. I can sit down and see all these things now, just the same as when I was a boy. What a wonderful time we had. There was some great worthies in the Village. Now there is not one fishing yawl in the village. All is so changed. I often wonder if I would ever find that trail of long ago. If I did all would have changed. From the shattered dreams I'll find that only ghosts remain to link me with that cherished era I will never know again.
I have met some of the village boys in America, in Canada, Newfoundland and Australia and though I have never met one in New Guinea, I know that there is one there. I was a rolling stone and had a wonderful life, but I am very often at home - whenever I sit down with my wife and think things over, my mind goes back to boyhood days in that lovely place in the Highlands of Scotland."
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