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Brief Biographical Note about
JNK Henderson Esq. MA (Glasgow) (1908-1989)
 James Nicoll Kerr Henderson was born
in Mill Row, Dunblane on the 3rd of March, 1908. He was nurtured by loving
parents as a rural station-master's son and by the legendary 'Jock' Neish as
a Tannadice Scout in Forfarshire. He grew into maturity at Harris Academy,
Forfar Academy, the old High School of Stirling and Glasgow University, and
was further invigorated by hill walking, the hurly burly of Bridge of Allan
Rugby Club and Vale of Bannock soccer. Little wonder as a young man he was
soon displaying the flair for inspirational teaching and leadership which
became the hallmark of his life in the service of others.
He captained the 3rd and then the 6th
Stirling Boys' Brigade Companies and left his unique mark on the educational
and recreational lives of the youth there. His pupils in the primary
department of the High School of Stirling also found his enthusiasm and
authority convincing. His standards were high, but for most young people,
working with Mr Henderson seemed to bring the apparently unattainable well
within reach.
As a deacon in St. Andrew's Church,
Stirling, he further confirmed his commitment to life as a Christian voyage
- a faith which thereafter called him as a lay preacher and primary school
head-teacher to take his robust gospel to many parts of Scotland, and, in
particular to undertake increasingly demanding roles within the rural
communities of Banknock, Cambusbarron, Bannockburn and the town of Kilsyth.
JNK was an initiator as well as a
consolidator. His interest in youth work, in the countryside, in gardening,
in amateur dramatics, in Robert Burns, in Gala Days, in cricket, in bowls,
to mention just a few, all at some time led him into innovative
organisational and management responsibilities.
But perhaps his foundation of
Cambusbarron Community Association, his lengthy, distinguished service as
President of the Stirling and District Battalion of the Boys' Brigade, The
Boys' Brigade Executive nationally, and his faithful Eldership in the Allan
Parish Church, Bannockburn and the Burns & Old Parish Church, Kilsyth, will
remain as his most outstanding contributions to the welfare of the people of
all ages whom he felt called to serve.
He was loved deeply by his family,
despite the incredible amount of time he spent giving his all for the people
of the communities in which he lived and worked. These folks were his
'extended family', and, wherever he and his wife Nancy set up house across
Stirlingshire, gathering people around them was their life-blood - in the
school, or the village hall, or in their own home - there to share mutual
joys and sorrows. This they both viewed as a God-given privilege throughout
their lives of service together and something for which they undoubtedly
remained unfailingly grateful.
JNK tells the story of
his growing-up years in Stirlingshire and Forfarshire at the Probus Club,
Kilsyth in 1982. This talk was
given in his presence at the Club, but via a tape-recorder due to his
increasing physical infirmity and loss of fluency in spontaneous speech.
In the words of the Queen of
Sheeba, I can say, ' the half has not been told'!
"With advancing years, and
lowering horizons, it's a great comfort, and ever-increasing source of
wonder, to look back and count ones blessings over these seventy odd years.
I myself am no Cockney born within hearing of London's Bow Bells, although
the cathedral chimes still toll beautifully in the Scottish city Dunblane
where I was born. Close by my birthplace, the river flowed over lovely
waterfalls, in sight and sound of which express trains thundered down the
main line to the South, chugged their way up to the tunnel leading to the
North, to say nothing of the local trains that lumbered past while others
were shunted amidst much clattering and rattling in the goods yard or
sidings.
1908 is seventy four years
ago and my father was a railwayman in these days when the railway companies
were four in number, all privately owned of course - The Caledonian Company,
The North British Company, The Highland Company and The GWRE. My father was
employed by The Caledonian Company and in these days trade unions were in
their infancy and wages were anything but generous. A railway clerk dealt
with all kinds of traffic - passenger, freight, goods and parcels. He worked
a ten hour day, six days a week and had one week's holiday leave, without
pay, each year. Practically everything in these days was conveyed by rail
because there were so few lorries, no buses and overall, traffic on the
roads was very light.
Four years later in 1912,
having passed most of our time since 1908 living in Doune, we moved to
Stirling, taking up our residence at 4 William Place in the Burghmuir area
of the town. My early characteristics, as commented on by my parents when we
were living in Doune, didn't show any great promise of true greatness in the
future - unlike so many opinions I heard about the countless mothers'
darlings I dealt with in my professional teaching life! According to my
mother, I had lovely hair and with hair like that I might have made a bonny
girl. Considering that I am a twin, and my twin, who died in infancy, was a
girl, perhaps there could have been some confusion! I am also told that, as
a three year old in Doune, I was sent across the Square to the grocer's to
buy a tin of Brasso, only to return in tears without it. When asked why I
hadn't brought it, I am quoted as having said,'But Mum, I can't say Brasso!'
My first school was the
Craigs Primary School in George Street, Stirling and my first teacher's name
was a Miss Nisbet - all spinsters in these days - while the Headmaster was a
Mr Yuill whose son had a chemist's shop in the town for many years. I went
to 'the Craigs' in the August of nineteen hundred and thirteen, just one
year before the First World War began, and three things stand out in my mind
concerning these times. First, I was smacked on my first day at school for
standing on a desk! Second, I was forbidden to write with my left hand, the
one I had always used naturally for that purpose, and I was obliged to use
my right hand instead! Third, there was a medal in the class which the best
scholar for the week wore round his or her neck until it was won by someone
else. My mother declared that every time she renewed the ribbon with a
lovely new one, I always lost the medal. My chief rival for the honour week
by week was a Willie Brisbane, who lived in the same street, and whose two
clever sons became pupils of mine when I arrived in Cambusbarron much later
in my life as headmaster of the local primary school there in 1949.
This particular sojourn in
Stirling was short lived, at this point, as my father soon received
promotion to Longforgan, between Perth and Dundee in the Carse of Gowrie, to
be railway stationmaster there, only five miles from Dundee. I spent an
ideal childhood in Longforgan, growing up in a truly rural environment,
learning so much of the lore of nature amongst the fields, the trees, the
flowers, the burn running into the silvery Tay a quarter of a mile away, the
birds, the poultry, animals of all kinds, to say nothing of the elements in
their seasons.
The Great War must have been
never very far from the front of my parents' minds in these perilous years,
but I was initially too young to be conscious of the great tragedy of war. I
can recall however some of the rather exciting sides of things - for
instance, my first sight of a German Zeppelin trying to cripple the use of
the Forth and Tay Bridges as my father and I stood and watched from the
station platform railway bridge about midnight one night, listening for it
and looking towards Dundee in the distance, blacked out completely and
looking like a 'dead' town. The 'Alerts' could last for many hours, and
trains of any kind had to be stopped in their tracks and completely blacked
out until the 'All Clear' was again declared. I vividly remember my mother
making tea for dozens of passengers from a London to Dundee train stopped in
our station at four o'clock in the morning.
However as my own years
advanced, I did become aware of adult stress and anguish and of the
bereavement that prevailed over these four years. But I can remember too
that on the 11th of November 1918 every ship on the Tay that had a hooter
seemed to blow it throughout the whole day. I can remember too that my
mother was ill, very ill, with that 'flu from which hundreds died in
Scotland in that epidemic. I also remember how people flocked to church
services to express their relief and thanksgiving. I can recall Rationing
and Ration Books and the types of food that were affected, including the
so-called white bread! I can also vaguely remember talk at school of 'U
Boats'- and also of boys, as well girls, knitting woollen scarves and
sending them to the trenches, enclosing cakes of soap and senders' names and
addresses. The feelings of sacrifice and doing without was heightened by the
male population being taken away from our village, as from so many others,
to what was called at that time 'Doing their bit'. I can remember our
Headmaster at Longforgan Primary School, Mr A.H. Finlay, being taken away to
serve - also clerks, porters, signalmen, postmen and others were all called
away.
Right on the station platform
were all the station offices - the General Waiting Room, the First Class
Waiting Room complete with running water, wash-hand basins and toilet, the
Gentleman's and further still along the platform, the Goods Shed. There was
also the familiar bridge over the railway to take you to the platform on the
southern side. Behind all the platform buildings there was a grand courtyard
where the coaches, bikes etc. spilled their passengers or owners before they
approached the platform. Beyond all this was the goods siding with the high
loading bank and the complicated points system for changing the wagons from
one place to another. The Station House itself was a nobly constructed seven
room stone building, but with alas no cold water, no hot water, no WC or
bathroom, no gas or electricity but a big coal range in the kitchen and
paraffin lamps everywhere. All our washing water was provided by an enormous
rain barrel at the back door supplied by a ronepipe from the roof of the
house. Our other source of supply of water for cooking and drinking came
from a spring which ran into the burn across the road, sometimes filling up
very slowly into the white enamel pail that we kept there for that purpose.
The burn was called the Pow and flowed into the Tay further down the plain.
For toilet facilities we would use the station Waiting Room - First Class of
course. When we had guests or relatives staying with us for holidays the
daily Timetable for trains stopping at the station was always on display on
the main corridor wall of our house. Indeed many a time I had to 'run the
cutter' to make sure the way was all clear!
The village was one and a
half miles away from the station, up-hill and all those who worked or wanted
to shop in Dundee had to use the frequent trains that ran from Perth to
Dundee. I of course knew all the drivers, the firemen and guards on the line
and usually travelled in the Guard's Van on my regular excursions for the
day by day messages to be purchased in Dundee - the Baker's, the Butcher's
and the Fishmongers, who also bought the fresh eggs that my mother supplied
each week - and Coopers the Grocer's - I can still see in my mind's eye the
delicious tins of Westfield Syrup that adorned Coopers window display.
Along with quite a variety of
children from about our neighbourhood, my sister Neta and I walked that mile
and a half to school each day - rain or shine or snow or frost or whatever,
with our 'Coates of Paisley' schoolbags of paper mache - presented by that
firm to all Scottish school children in those days - mine on my back and
Neta's in her hand, these bags contained all the books we needed, a big
'piece' and a penny for a ticket for a bowl of soup at the school 'Soupy'.
Of course my piece was never big enough, but we survived. Somehow we were
content with simple things in these days and looking back we seemed to have
great times together despite the fact that we had no school meals or any
school buses.
Every season brought its own
diversions, games and pursuits - nowadays so many of these things seem to be
connected with money and expensive toys - wireless far less radio or
television were never parts of our lives, giving us all the greater
opportunity to do our own thing. As boys we of course played 'bools' and the
girls played at 'skippin', while 'chessies' in season always had to provide
a daily champion. We boys played football too, but most often the ball was a
tin can. What a thrill it was to be taken to Dundee to La Scala Picture
House once in a while to see a film - silent of course -and the likes of
Charlie Chaplin. I remember buying my first War Certificate from a real army
tank which was on display in Dundee. We attended Sunday School in the
village presided over by the village postmaster. The Band of Hope meeting on
a Friday night used to be one of the highlights of the week. To give you an
idea of what was thought to be a modern invention - to us, battery torches
became all the rage then and a great favourite in your stocking hung up for
Santa Claus to fill. School concerts were always a feature of the end of the
school session. I, myself remember reciting at eleven year old, 'He's no
born yet', all five verses of it! Then the Sunday School picnic was always a
Saturday afternoon in June, when we travelled in hay-carts to a suitable
meadow in another village some miles away, the carts decorated in bunting
and the children waving flags.
Being war-time of course we
had other things to think about and do as well. This was a good excuse to
employ children to gather in the potato harvest. The custom was to close the
rural schools for the whole month of October. I joined my school pals to
work daily in the fields from seven in the morning until five o'clock at
night for the handsome sum of one shilling and sixpence per day. We had an
hour off at lunch which was invariably 'pieces and cheese'. It was
back-breaking work and at the end of a month's toil I was taken to Dundee to
visit Birrell's shoe-shop in the Overgate where I was able to buy a pair of
boots with my earnings. There were many sore bones and muscles at the 'tatties',
but never a dull moment. We got to know the ploughmen and the horses' names,
sometimes getting to help to yoke them to the cart that went up and down the
drills after the digger to empty the creels that we had filled with
potatoes. We also used to get to help at the mill - I can still feel the
chaff tick, tick, tickling me down the back of my neck - the harvest fields,
the hay making, milking the cows in the byre and slicing the turnips for the
cattle; of course we also liked chasing the rabbits disturbed by the binder
as well as enjoying many of the hundred and one other things that could be
experienced about a farm. Then of course there was no milk left on our
doorstep each morning. Instead we had to go to the farm and collect it in
the milk-can kept for that purpose and the milk often still warm from the
byre.
From the village school at
twelve year old I went on to the Harris Academy in Dundee where for two
years I learned to live and study and enjoy a completely different
environment - that of a large city and a large school. Moreover I travelled
the five miles there and back by train every day - another new experience in
its regularity. On the sporting front, I not only showed promise as a
footballer winning my way into the Under 14 representative team for the
whole of Dundee, but also taught myself to swim in the lovely saltwater
indoor pool down at the docks,. On the academic front I managed to do some
studying in between all my other recreations - enough indeed to pick up the
second year English, History and Geography prizes at the Academy!
Then at the end of my second
year at the Harris Neta and I went on to Forfar Academy due to our father
being promoted to the post of Stationmaster at Justinhaugh, a station
between Forfar and Brechin. We thus travelled, together this time, daily by
train to the Academy for the next two years. There I enjoyed school but my
lasting memories of that period in my life are of joining the Tannadice
Troop of Boy Scouts led by a young laird, 'Jock' Neish, who seemed to think
of scouting, and practising scouting as the guiding principle of his
life. He, more than any other person, shaped and influenced my teenage
years, and I pay tribute to him as a great Scout. He was very much in the
mould of the late Sir Ian Bolton (Bart.) and the late Major F. Crum, both of
whom I was proud to be associated with when my father brought the family
back to Stirling in 1923 and a new home in due course at 11 Abbotsford
Place, Riverside. By that time the Ten Scout Laws were woven into my system
as a way of life and it was only the cry, 'Come over into Macedonia and help
us', from the Holy Rude Church in Stirling, of which my father was an Elder,
and I a Sunday School teacher, that wooed me off to become the Captain of a
Boys' Brigade Company, thirty strong, in that Church. The three Scoutmasters
that I have mentioned, and the many other magnetic personalities that I have
met over the years, have contributed greatly to the quality and enjoyment of
a full life for me. The kind of training I received has taught me, I hope,
the true meaning of sportsmanship, the ability to lose with grace and much
more besides. Then again, thanks mostly to the influence of my parents, I
have always chosen my friends carefully, but, besides these, I also have
also had plenty of acquaintances.
As a teenager I was never
deprived of the necessities of life but, on the other hand I was always,
encouraged to provide any extras by my own efforts. For example, as a
student during the long summer holidays, I used to work an eight hour day as
a Porter at Stirling Railway Station for two pounds and six shillings per
week. At other times, for example, I picked berries at Blairgowrie, and, in
the wintertime I would tutor in the evenings for three shillings an hour,
and of course, such earnings certainly helped to augment our small family
income.
As you can gather from these
brief reminiscences from my early life, it is no surprise really that I now
look back in wonder at one long line of helping hands, happy friendships and
loyal comradeship, not forgetting the many other supportive people along the
way who guided my development. looking back it is clear to me now just how
much more I owed them than they owed me."
I have said nothing of my
professional life this morning; after all I have covered only the first
twenty odd years of my life and, in the words of the Queen of Sheeba, I can
say, ' the half has not been told' !
Click here to read an account of
a walk he did in 1932 |
