Thursday, April 28, 2011

Gillmore Goodland: A Fourth Look









After returning to England on 30 November 1912, the transoceanic travels of Mr. & Mrs. Gillmore Goodland, Esq., were put on hold. Ekaterinberg, Siberia, was on Gillmore's metaphorical plate [it was recorded as an address of his in a 1913 listing of the Fellows of the London Zoological Society; the Reptile House is seen, left], so he still may not have been spending much quality time at home with the wife and kids.

Would his wife, Kathleen, have accompanied him into Russia during his time there? Possibly. I'm not sure if spending time in Ekaterinberg would have been as big an attraction as, say, a winter in subtropical Mexico, an autumn in Jamaica, or a stay at an opulent hotel in New York or Boston at any time of the year. Czar Nicholas II and his deposed royal family, however, were at Ipatiev House [below, right] in Ekaterinberg (in which they were executed), so the city must have had something going for it besides the borscht. Still, I'm not sure what appeal six months in isolated Batopilas just before the Pancho Villa era would have had, either.

By 1914, the couple's children would have been older: Kathleen, 14; Joan; 13; and young Desmond (Gillmore) 3-going-on-4. Mother Kathleen would have been about 37, and Gillmore himself 43. They were settled in Surrey at Hovingshaw, Woldingham, an upscale suburb in Surrey, just a short rail commute from Victoria in London. Still over a decade from the Great Depression, life presumably would have been fine for the affluent Goodlands. Would they—could they—finally settle down from a life of international travel and spend time with those children?

In the Gazettes, however, there arose a word with which Gillmore had begun to familiarize himself back in 1905: Bankruptcy.

On 17 August 1914, the Edinburgh Gazette featured the following item:

"RECEIVING ORDERS. Gillmore Goodland, late of Hoving Shaw, Woldingham, Surrey, but whose present residence and place of business the petitioning creditors are unable to ascertain."

The date of filing petitions against Goodland was 6 February 1914, and by the date above, Gillmore was nowhere to be found. (If I were a wagering man, I think the smart money would have been on Wales.)

Gillmore Goodland, of course, had a highly regarded barrister on his side—his brother, Joshua, recently out of Cambridge with a Master's Degree in Law that may largely have been paid for by Gillmore. Joshua Goodland's practice, situated on King's Bench Walk near the Temple was adjacent to those of many of London's most renowned legal minds.

Given Gillmore's sudden disappearance, how much Joshua could have done for him was apparently along the lines of: Not much.

Gillmore was likely compensated with stock in Batopilas Mining, Smelting and Refining Co., Ltd., at least in part, for services rendered as a mining consultant. If a bankruptcy of the corporation had occurred, would I have been wrong to believe that his stock would have been worthless, precipitating a personal financial collapse?

Yes, I would have. That was clearly not the case. My original assumption of the downfall of the company was completely incorrect.

An item from a 1915 edition of the Standard Corporation Service (Daily Revised) read:

"BATOPILAS MINING CO.: Operations in Mexico to Be Resumed.—On Aug. 28 1914, Secretary [Edgar W.A.] Jorgensen announced that the company's staff of Americans had left El Paso en route to the mines at Batopilas, Mexico [pictured, right], in charge of John R. Harbottle, who was appointed General Manager. More active operations will now be carried on, although the business has been operated on a small scale under two of its most trusted Mexican employees since the former American staff left the mines in September, 1913, on receipt of President [Woodrow] Wilson's warning for all Americans to leave the country."

Not only had the parent Batopilas corporation not bankrupted, it hadn't even fully shut down operations during that violent time!

Here's what a website called sparknotes.com had to say about President Woodrow Wilson of the United States and 1913's Mexican crisis:

"In 1913, Mexico fell into a bloody revolution when Mexican general Victoriano Huerta overthrew the nation's government and declared himself its military dictator. Wilson immediately denounced Huerta, declaring that the United States could not and should not recognize violent dictators who seized government in pursuit of their own agendas. The President attempted to initiate peaceful negotiations between Huerta and the usurped government, but both sides refused to submit to his proposal. Unsure how to proceed, Wilson permitted Huerta's enemies, the Constitutionalists, to purchase military equipment and arms in the U.S. in order to stage a counterrevolution.

When the dictator's army seized a small group of American sailors on shore leave in Mexico, Wilson demanded an apology. He also demanded that Huerta publicly salute the American flag in Mexico, which Huerta naturally refused to do. Wilson responded with force: in April 1914, he sent American Marines to take and occupy Veracruz, Mexico's primary seaport. Veracruz was taken, but eighteen Americans were killed in the battle. Not wanting to commit the U.S. to war, Wilson also requested the ABC powers–Argentina, Brazil, and Chile–to mediate the dispute. With their arbitration, the conflict was eventually resolved. Huerta fled the country, and a new government was established in 1915 under the leadership of Constitutionalist President Venustiano Carranza."


The Batopilas Mining, Smelting and Refing Co., Ltd., had been registered on 3 August 1909 and its London offices, and Gillmore Goodland's personal office as a free lance consulting engineer, were one and the same: 17, Gracechurch Street, London, E.C. Goodland was a Board Member, meaning he owned at least 100 shares of stock.

According to the 1912 edition of The Mexican Yearbook, as of 19 December 1911, the parent company, Batopilas Mining Co. of New York, had shown a profit of £3834 that year, and had £36,051 in cash at bankers, and £2443 in outstanding debts. Estimated operating expenses were £9000 a year, so it seems that the company should have been able to weather the storm of about a year operating on a skeleton crew from September 1913 to August 1914.

In 1912, Goodland is also listed as the Batopilas Mining Company's official "General Manager," according to that year's The Manual of Statistics: Stock Exchange Hand-book, Volume 34. His address in that text is given as "Batopilas, Mex." The rest of the board has New York adresses.

In Moody's Analyses of Earnings, Part 2 (1916), under an entry for the American-owned Batopilas Mining Company, it reads: "On March 10, 1914, the Batopilas Mining, Smelting and Refining Co., Ltd., of London, England (a company incorporated under the English Companies Act of 1908, with an authorized capital of £300,000 and controlled by the Batopilas Mining Co.) was dissolved [by liquidation]."

The same entry also lists the company's surplus (in Mexican currency) after each of the years ending 31 December: $160,093 in 1912, $120,137 in 1913, and $21,112 in 1914. Apparently, liquidation of the London part of the firm was seen as necessary, despite the surpluses, given the circumstances. It's doubtful that Gillmore agreed.

I'm no accountant, but the article delineates the assets and liabilities of the company in each of those three years as well, and in each one (1912 – 1914) both numbers are identical to the penny. Is that likley, or just smart bookkeeping?

I am also unsure if or how how any stock dividends may have been paid by the London Batopilas company, but Batopilas of New York City [pictured, left], as of 1916, had not paid investors a dividend since 1907—before the creation of the London company.

Now, am I correct in assuming that a liquidation of the London Batopilas company would not necessarily have made Gillmore Goodland unfit to be kept on as General Manager? I assume he could easily have been retained.

But would I be wrong in thinking that, when Batopilas of New York decided it needed a new General Manager after the initial phase of the Mexican Revolution in 1914, it may have been that Gillmore was not looked kindly upon due to his personal bankruptcy, his disappearance to avoid creditors, and the fact that he already had been jailed once in Batopilas because of a conflict with a local white collar employee?

Or could it be that, since Mexico was in a period of civil unrest and Civil War, Goodland had resigned as General Manager?

No matter, he was not named the new G.M., and he was apparently in serious trouble.

Via the Gazettes, we know creditors didn't know his whereabouts, and a 1915 issue of a journal called the Bulletin of the American Institute of Mining Engineers published a brief item trying to locate him as well: "Gillmore Goodland. There is held at this office considerable mail matter addressed to Mr. Goodland from London, England, and we would be pleased to get in touch with him and ascertain what to do with this mail."

To where had Goodland disappeared, and who went with him?

I suppose at the time—and perhaps even today—it might be wise to put an ocean or two between one's creditors and oneself, and that's exactly what Gillmore did.

On 17 July 1915, Goodland sailed out of Liverpool on the S.S. Philadelphia [left] and into New York on 25 July. On that manifest, his address is listed as "Hovingshaw, Woldingham," with his wife, "Mrs. K. Goodland" still in residence.

Interestingly, Gillmore's final destination is listed as "New York, N.Y.," specifically the "Hotel Belmont, 42nd Street, New York." Bankruptcy proceedings apparently did nothing to change Gillmore's tastes. He eschewed other destinations on the manifest such as the Richmond Hotel and the Hotel St. James.

What’s particularly interesting here is Gillmore's claim that his last visit to the United States had been in "1913." There is simply no record of him entering the United States during that year. Again, is this just a minor error, or has Goodland established a pattern of providing a variety of different information on immigration forms when entering the U.S.?

And could the fact that he had not actually been to Batopilas in a couple of years and was not what Americans would call a "hands on" manager?

Perhaps it was the rich mining areas of Mexico calling him to him once more, revolution or no; perhaps it was simply to escape creditors; nevertheless, Goodland was heading to the luxurious Hotel Belmont again.

This time he was alone.

Despite Goodland's ability to stay at the posh Belmont after his voyage, it seems probable that his family would have been unable to stay at Hovingshaw in Woldingham in perpetuity if this 1915 trip bore no fruit. What would happen next?

Gillmore, a "civil engineer" according to the manifest of the Philadelphia, was again in comfortable surroundings, perhaps ones in which he could repair the damage done to his life and career. Perhaps he was on his way to the New York offices of Batopilas Mining Company to make a plea for a job, or even to delineate exactly how he could help them turn even more of a profit in the future, now that the corporation found its surplus diminishing.

Could he manage it? He had clearly missed the annual board meeting held the third Tuesday of each April in the offices at 45 Broadway in New York City. He'd have to hope for good luck.

So would the rest of the world…




Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Gillmore Goodland: A Third Look










When we last left Joshua Goodland's brother, Gillmore, he was stepping off the steam ship Campania in the harbour of Fishguard in Wales in the company of his wife, Kathleen, in July 1911. They had departed the previous October, soon after the birth of their first son, Gillmore (Desmond), leaving the infant in Wales, where Goodland's younger sister, Grace, lived. The Goodlands' daughters, Kathleen and Joan, had likely been at boarding school since their parents' departure in 1910.

Had the Goodlands meant to stay in Batopilas, Chihuahua, Mexico, so long—missing the holidays with their children and possibly their son's first steps and first spoken word? There is no sure documentation of their intent, but we do know this about their lengthy stay, from this item entitled "The Mexican Penal Code" from Volume 34 of the journal Mining and Engineering World in 1911:

"Gillmore Goodland of 17 Gracechurch St., London, a well-known English mining engineer, with extensive experience in South Africa, Australia and other parts of the world, was imprisoned on February 15 in a Mexican jail, on the charge of libel, or what the Mexican law calls injurias, brought by an ex-bookkeeper of the Batopilas Mining Company, whom he had discharged. The Batopilas Mining Company, a New York corporation, capitalized at $9000000, in order to obtain working capital for its mining operations, formed in London in the year 1909, with the aid of Mr. Goodland's connections, an English company, called the Batopilas Mining, Smelting and Refining Company, capitalized at £300000."

Scoping out some photos of Batopilas today [upper left], I hesitate to think of what it might have been like spending time in a Mexican jail back in 1911 when the town wasn't as urbane and sophisticated.

On the other hand, when silver actually was flowing from the mines back then, as well as cyanide, and it might actually have been more cosmopolitan to gringos with large bankrolls.

Given that we know Gillmore was a giant of a man, likely towering over the local oficials de policía as he was led away to jail on the charge of injurias, it must have been quite a scene. Throw in Goodland's Irish wife, probably not in a great mood over her husband's arrest and incarceration, and the scene would have had all the makings of a classic farce—if the two Goodlands weren't so very far from home, as well as from any real city.

Presumably whatever problems existed among Goodland, the Batopilas Mining, Smelting and Refining Co., Ltd., and his unnamed bookkeeper were smoothed over, allowing the Goodlands free reign to return to England that summer. Or is it possible that Gillmore was found guilty and did an unexpected month or two in jail?

Young Desmond (Gillmore) Goodland was just about a year old when his parents returned from Mexico in early July. Having been away for most of his tiny life, did he even remember his father and mother?

Daughters Kathleen and Joan would have been 11 and 10 respectively upon their parents' return to Great Britain. One can only speculate on what treasures and tales the girls' parents must have brought home!

The family was back together once again—at least until 1912.

On 10 January 1912, Gillmore and Kathleen sailed out of Liverpool once again, bound for New York on the S.S. Olympia [above, right]. They steamed into the Big Apple on 18 January.

Still a "consulting engr.," Gillmore still stood 6' 2" tall, but his wife had grown seven inches since 1910, supposedly standing a robust 5' 9". Both had fair hair and blue eyes, and were bound for their destination: The posh Hotel Belmont [left] in New York City.

Gillmore's new organization, Batopilas Mining, Smelting and Refining Co., Ltd., held annual meetings every April in New York City. This January arrival would seem to predate that event by quite a bit.

Strangely, however, I can find no record of either of the couple returning to England via steamship. (However a Mr. & Mrs. George Goodland did sail into Liverpool on 17 February.)

Anyway, the trail goes cold until 11 September 1912, when 40-year-old "mining engineer" Gillmore Goodland and his wife, Kathleen, once more set sail for the United States from London aboard the S.S. Minnehaha.

This time they were bound, not for New Yrok City, but the lavish Hotel Touraine [seen in 1910, below, right] in Boston.

This time they claim never to have been to the United States before, and Kathleen's place of birth is recorded as "London," while his is listed as "Woldingham." Perhaps, as a couple of veteran sea travelers, they were just having a bit of innocent sport at the expense of the clerks at the desks. Still, it seems odd.

Just one month later, on 17 October 1912, the couple once again steamed into New York City aboard the S.S. Almirante, having sailed from Kingston, Jamaica, on 12 October. In the line at Immigration, the Goodlands—who are listed as "Touring"—were in a queue with a British Salvation Army family called Maidment, traveling to Canada, a Jamaican merchant named Egbert S. Baird, and Cyril Abraham, a Jamaican mine superintendent.

Perhaps it's just a coincidence that they were "touring" with a mine superintendent who was heading to New York on "Business of short duration." And perhaps it's just a coincidence that, even today, mining rests alongside tourism as Jamaica's "leading earners of foreign exchange," according to Wikipedia. Not only does Jamaica produce alumina, but it is the world's fifth leading exporter of bauxite [St. Ann, Jamaica, mining area seen below, left].

Need I remind you that it seems Gillmore rarely traveled to locales that he couldn't also mine? I don't believe very much in coincidences.

This time, Gillmore provides his correct birthplace—Exmouth, England—and Kathleen finally makes us aware of the village in which she was born: Labasheeda, located at the estuary of the River Shannon.

After a month there, the Gillmores sailed out of New York and into Liverpool aboard the R.M.S. Baltic of the White Star Line [below, right], arriving on 30 November.

At this point, from 5 November 1910 through 30 November 1912—just over two calendar years, it isn't possible for the couple to have spent more than 12 months at the very most (and it was likely less) in England with their young children. And if the Goodlands did, indeed, attend the April 1912 board meeting of Baltopilas in New York City, they couldn't have spent more than 9 total months with the kids during those busy years.

Daughters Kathleen and Joan, now 12 and 11, had probably spent most of their time in boarding school in Surrey. It's also possible that, during holidays, they were charged to their Uncle Joshua and his family, who were living in London by then, or even to their nearby governess Aunt Margaret. We simply can't account for young Desmond (Gillmore) Goodland, who would have been 28 months old in late November 1912, and would have seen his parents precious little during that short lifetime. Was he still being raised by his Aunt Grace in Glamorganshire? Or was he now being cared for by kin nearer to Surrey?

Can we say at this point that the nuclear family of Gillmore Goodland probably was not particularly "close" during much of this time—either emotionally or geographically?

As far as we know, no one traveled overseas for the following few years—not until 1915. But during that span of time, an event would occur that would leave this nuclear family divided, and would spread the brothers and sisters of Joshua Goodland even further around the world.

Stay tuned…



Monday, April 25, 2011

Gillmore Goodland: A Second Look










We've already taken one look at the early life of Gillmore Goodland, brother of Joshua Goodland of our interest here. We've found that the ambitious young Gillmore was working [or attempting to work] for companies that mined gold and silver. Now, I know there were also copper and cyanide on the table in Mexico, at the very least, but is it wrong to suspect he may have had a consulting 'hand,' no matter how temporarily, in the mining of diamonds in South Africa?

Looking at the 1913 list of Fellows of the Zoological Society of London, we find Goodland's interests extend not just west and south, but eastward as well. We find he gives "Ekaterineberg, Siberia," [left, in 1910] as one of his addresses.

We recently looked at how construction of a railway influenced the development of gold mining in the Gold Coast (now Ghana), and how Goodland soon found himself in that steamy locale.

Similarly, in Ekaterinberg, we find a railway system beginning in the mid-19th century in Russia that concluded with an Ekaterinberg – Chelyabinsk line in 1897 that "allowed Ekaterinberg to join the general railway network of the country." The value of the commercial interests in Ekaterinberg was estimated at 25 millions of rubles per year with the advent of rail transport and its position as a geographically intermediate city between Europe and Asia.

As early as 1807, Ekaterinberg had become the mining center of Russia. Of the city's history, the website ekaterinberg-ural.com writes: "Ekaterinburg of Russia took the leading position in cast iron and copper production, guns and cannon-balls casting, cold steel manufacture, and other spheres. In addition, metallurgical and metal mining plants of the Ural and Siberia had their Headquarters in Ekaterinburg. The Headquarters had different names in different periods of time. It was called Siberian Supreme Mining Command, Ober-Bergamt, Ural Mining Administration. It comprised several structures: mining courts, mining police, central mining drugstore and the city’s garrison submitted to the chief of the mining plants of the Ural Mountains."

Between 1807 and the revolution in 1917, the population had grown from 10,000 to almost 72,000 inhabitants.

Still, in June 1909, when Gillmore became a member of the Zoological Society, he wasn't traveling in the Siberian summer, a time when one might think it would be best to visit the mines.

No, on 13 June 1909, Gillmore was crossing the Rio Grande into sultry El Paso, Texas, from Mexico, presumably traveling from the mining area of Batopilas in the mountains near the Pacific.

Goodland, 37, stood at the end of a line of Mexicans, just ahead of a German lawyer named Herman Gans. Gillmore was listed as a "mining eng." in "transit," his last permanent residence having been Chihuahua, Mexico. His destination was "New Quay, England," and his wife "Catherine Goodland" (actually "Kathleen").

Paperwork filed with the Immigration Service at the Mexican Border District on behalf of the Department of Commerce and Labor give some details of the appearance of Gillmore Goodland, a man quite a bit different from his diminutive, 5 foot 9 inch brother Joshua.

Gillmore stood 6'3" tall (although other manifests record him as merely 6'2"), with light brown hair (although on some manifests, he is blonde), blue eyes, with a light complexion and a mole over his right eye. He must have been an impressive man at the turn of the 20th century, and a veritable Goliath among the Indians in the mountains of Chihuahua.

He was carrying $200 and had travelled in the United States for the first time while making a trip from New York City to El Paso, on his way south, in May of the same year. Under Rule 41e, there was no "head tax" on Gillmore, and when asked about his physical condition, the words "Dr. Says Good" are transcribed, although we don't know if the physician or Gillmore himself uttered those words.

Gillmore then proceeded home to Newquay [right] aboard the Lusitania of the Cunard Line, sailing out of New York and arriving in Liverpool on 26 July 1910 (at immigration, the person behind him in line this time was another British citizen named Alfred Hitchcock, which may be of interest to no one but me). Gillmore had spent just a month in Mexico, but was calling it a "permanent residence." Then he spent well over a month trying to get home to England. What was his rush?

By this time, Gillmore had two daughters, Kathleen, who was born in 1901, and Joan Lillis, born in 1902. In the late summer of 1910, the Goodlands would have a son, registered at the time (Jul-Aug-Sep) as "Gillmore," but known in most subsequent records as "Desmond." The birth was recorded in Godstone, Surrey, indicating that in the year after Gillmore's return from Chihuahua, the family had relocated from Cornwall to Surrey.

Would I be wrong in assuming that such a geographical move may have been prompted by economic success?

What's unclear is why Gillmore would have set sail for Mexico with a pregnant wife if he had intended to return for the birth. Perhaps he didn't know she was pregnant when he departed. A close to full-term late summer birth would imply a winter conception. Pegging travel from Cornwall to Chihuahua via New York and El Paso at about a month, and knowing Gillmore passed into Mexico in May, he must've left England in April.

It's conceivable that Gillmore was unaware of Kathleen's condition—but she was probably 5 to 7 months pregnant at that point. Is it likely she herself didn't know? Or is it possible there were unexpected medical complications that were wired to Goodland, who originally had left fully expecting to miss the birth entirely ?

Anyway, by this point, Joshua Goodland had earned his Master's Degree in Law from Cambridge and was beginning his career as a barrister in London. He and his wife, Florence, may have been a help to Kathleen during that summer.

In fact, the Gillmore Goodlands time spent with their infant son, Desmond, would be quite brief. On 5 November, the S.S. Arabic, sailing from Liverpool, steamed into New York City together. Goodland, 39, a "consulting eng.," and Kathleen, 29, provided the name and address of their nearest relative as "Brother J. Goodland, 9 King's Bench Walk, London," [left] near the Temple. Their own home was given as "Woldingham," and their destination was "Mex."

Incidentally, Gillmore is listed here as being 6' 2½ ", and Kathleen as 5' 2".

Why Kathleen would have traveled with him at this point, leaving behind a son who could have been no older than 4 months, is anyone's guess. I suppose she might have been ordered to recover and get some "sea air," convalescing after a dangerous birth. What is clear is that barrister Joshua Goodland is now Gillmore's closest relative, and not merely geographically.

By the 1911 census, taken on 2 April, the Goodlands had not yet returned to their new relatively new home in Woldingham. The girls, Kathleen and Joan, are in Godstone, Surrey, according to the count, but we don't know exactly where. There ages were 10 and 9, respectively, so they may have been at boarding school.

The infant Desmond ("Gillmore") is found in Cardiff, Galmorganshire, Wales, fast approaching one year of age, and likely with his aunt, Grace Goodland, who was also living in Cardiff at the time.

It would be 5 July 1910 before Gillmore and Kathleen Goodand would set foot in Great Britain again, sailing out of New York City on the Cunard Line's S.S. Campania [right]. They didn't sail all the way to Liverpool, however, disembarking at Fishguard in Wales.

The Goodlands would have been soon reunited with their baby, Desmond, and presumably set off immediately to see their daughters back in Surrey after some 10 months away.

How long would the Goodlands be home in England after their long winter and spring spent in the Sierra Madre Occidental in Mexico? And what, exactly, happened there in Mexico?

We'll look at that next time.




Sunday, April 24, 2011

Joshua Goodland, RIBA, and the ARB











I've been so wrapped up in documenting the extremely interesting lives of various members of the Goodland family—a task that is still incomplete pending the completion of the younger Gillmore Goodland's life story—that I neglected to impart some information regarding the Goodland of our primary interest: Joshua Goodland, future mentor of George Mills.

In wondering how Joshua's architectural career may have overlapped his time as a law student at Cambridge, I queried a couple of resources about him.

Here are their recent replies, the first one being from the Architects Registration Board, an organization that apparently uses their limited supply of on-hand punctuation marks quite sparingly:


RE: Goodland, Joshua
Jamie Bloxam [JamieB@arb.org.uk]
Sent: Tuesday, April 12, 2011 12:53 PM


Dear Sam

Thank you for your email and sorry for not getting back to you sooner. I can’t find any information on Joshua Goodland – I have looked in our archive Registers that go back to 1933 but can’t find any record of him. Have you tried the Library or the Royal Institute of British Architects [ RIBA] their number is 020 7580 5533 or you can visit their website http://www.architecure.com


Please do let me know if you need any further information

Kind regards
Jamie






Jamie Bloxam
Registration Administrator
Architects Registration Board



You'll actually find their website at: http://www.architecture.com/. Anyway, I had, indeed, already contacted the Royal Institute of British Architects [pictured below, right], and here's their reply:


RE: cm : Goodland, Joshua
Info [Info@inst.riba.org]
Sent: Wednesday, April 13, 2011 11:27 AM


I regret I cannot find anything on the above architect. I have checked to see if he is a member of the RIBA – but there is no record for him. Architects did not have to be members of the RIBA, nor would they have had to have formal architectural degrees. Most, during this time, would have been apprenticed to an architectural practice for their education.

Sorry I cannot help you further.

Kind Regards

Claudia Mernick
Riba Information Centre



Thanks, Claudia!

That's actually a great deal of help. We now know that, probably with a letter of reference from Cardiff's G. E. Halladay (his architectural master) in hand, Joshua Goodland could have done architectural work throughout England at the turn of the century without any sort of license or registration at all. Caveat emptor?

Now, I don't think that Goodland was designing any vast, multi-storied buildings or sprawling factories for major corporations between 1900 and 1908, but it would have been possible for him to have done minor commissions for local builders.

My only question about that would be: Is it reasonable to think he could have met with those builders, looked at sites, negotiated terms, drawn plans, and studied law at perhaps the most prestigious and presumably demanding law school in Britain—as well a serving as a law coach to others during that span of time—and still have had time to take the frequent long holidays away from Cambridge [left] that we know he took?

After all, Goodland at the very least spent months on a hunting excursion in North America, traveled throughout Sweden and Russia, took at least one trip around the world, and spent vacations golfing in Sussex. That's a pretty full plate for a man who is struggling to make ends meet.

Hence, it still seems probable that, despite income as a sometime law coach and a sometime architect, while paying tuition as a full time law student (We have no knowledge of any sort of scholarship allowing him a free education at Cambridge) and coming up with rent for a flat on Trinity Street, Joshua was receiving financial aid from another party.

That party must have been his brother Gillmore, a man, we'll find out, who was frequently in need of a good lawyer, and who may have bankrolled Joshua for just such a purpose.

More about the fascinating Gillmore Goodland next time…



Saturday, April 23, 2011

Railways, Rain Forest, and the Ashanti Goldfields




















Ashanti Goldfields Corporation was founded in 1897 by Edwin Cade. Late in the year, principals of the company "dragged and carried 40 tonnes of equipment nearly 200km from the coast to begin exploitation of their new property in Obuasi, in Ghana (formerly known as the Gold Coast)" according to a company website.

The fourth and final Anglo-Ashanti War had just been fought in 1895-1896. After its conclusion, the corporation began devising methods of extracting gold via mining, as opposed to prospecting and then panning for gold found amid the quartz in the rivers.

In 1900, a failed Ashanti Uprising finally solidified British Colonialism in what is now Ghana after the capture of the throne of King Kwaku Dua III [right], the Golden Stool. At the conclusion of those hostilities, the Gold Coast officially became a British protectorate as of 1 January 1902.

According to Wikipedia: "By 1901, all of the Gold Coast was a British colony with its kingdoms and tribes considered a single unit. The British exported a variety of natural resources such as gold, metal ores, diamonds, ivory, pepper, timber, grain, and cocoa. The British colonists built railways and the complex transport infrastructure which formed the basis for the transport infrastructure in modern-day Ghana. They also built Western-style hospitals and schools to provide modern amenities to the people of the empire."

Another website, Mike's Railway History: A Look at Railroads in 1935 and Before, contains the authoritative 1914 writing of F. A. Talbot, who tells the gritty story (well worth reading in its entirety, by the way) of the Gold Coast's first railroad: "It was the discovery of gold which prompted the construction of the first railway on the Gold Coast. Intrepid prospectors braved the pestilential forests and diligently panned the up-country streams. They discovered traces of colour, and, following up the clues, at last struck the main reef of yellow metal at Tarkwa, some 40 miles from the seaboard. The news of the discovery precipitated the inevitable rush, as well as an inflow of capital, but it was no easy matter to gain the alluring gold belt. There were no facilities for transporting the essential heavy and cumbersome machinery to the claims, while the conveyance of the yellow fruits of exhausting labour to the coast was just as laborious. Incoming vessels had to discharge into small boats which ran the gauntlet of the heavy surf and dodged the sand-bars which littered the waterway leading to the interior. They crept up the river with considerable difficulty to a point as near the mining area as possible and there unloaded. The material then had to be tugged, pushed, and carried over rude tracks through the jungle to the mines. By the time the mines were reached transport charges had run away with £40 per ton."

The allure of gold, of course, still drew many potential investors. But there were other difficulties.

"When a nude stick planted by the surveyor has grown into a fully-fledged tree by the time the railway builder arrives, identification is by no means easy," says Talbot of the region's effect on mere surveying. "As the Gold Coast, from its hot, moist climate, is virtually a gigantic greenhouse, the undergrowth thrives amazingly."

Describing the conditions at the end of the 19th century, Talbot writes: "The shore of the Gold Coast is hemmed in by a thick belt of jungle, 150 miles or more in width. To venture into this huge, un-trodden forest demanded no small amount of pluck and determination. The exotic vegetation presented a solid barrier, through which advance could be made only by hacking and cutting, since the jungle was intersected by very few, narrow, and tortuous paths, trodden down by the feet of the natives."

He continues: "Disease was more to be dreaded than any form of hostility or accident. The surface of the ground is carpeted with a thick layer of decaying vegetation—the putrefaction of centuries—and the rainfall, which is severe, has converted this bed of leaves, branches, and dead-fall into a spongy, sodden mass, freely interspersed with pools and swamps, where the mosquito and other pests multiply by the million. Accordingly, malaria is rife; in fact, at that time it held the country more securely against a white invasion than the most cunning and determined tactics of the unfriendly natives."

Talbot opines: "No industrial concern could work under such conditions and show a profit. Accordingly it was decided to drive a railway from a convenient point on the coast to Tarkwa. After scouring the shore line of the Gold Coast from end to end, it was decided to create a terminal port at what was virtually an unknown spot, which then was little more than a native village—Sekondi. It is not a harbour, but merely a small, open bay; but it was the only choice."

Besides the heat, humidity, constant rainfall, uneven terrain, lack of a a local workforce, and jungle diseases, to get the railway through, almost everything necessary had to be shipped from England: "A vessel laden with supplies put out from Liverpool once every month while work was in progress. The commissariat was a heavy responsibility, bearing in mind the large army of toilers that had to be fed. But the arrangements were laid so carefully that no apprehensions ever arose under this heading, although now and again everything went awry from some unforeseen mishap, such as the total wreck of a supply steamer off the West African coast. Losses in landing at Sekondi, owing to the absence of harbour facilities, were considerable."

Of the beginning of the venture, Talbot writes: "The first section comprised some 40 miles, but it was as hard a 40-mile stretch as any engineer could wish to tackle. There was the densely-matted jungle, a fearful climate, a fiendish rainfall, and a comparative absence of gravel with which to carry out the earthworks. Englishmen, of course, were in demand to superintend operations; but it proved to be no white man's land in those early days. The deadly climate mowed them down like flies, while some of stronger physique, although they outwitted the 'old man with the scythe,' went raving mad."

In 1900, due to the unrest and uprising, workers from the railway were commandeered to work as porters for the military. Importing new workers from nearby countries was forbidden as it was feared that the new workers might join the rebellion. Work on the railroad came to a standstill.

After the fall of the Ashanti king, construction soon resumed and in May 1901, Tarkwa in the interior finally was linked to the coast. Eighteen months later, in late 1902, the railway had been extended another 86 miles, connecting it with the goldfields of Obuasi. Finally, in September 1903, rails reached distant Coomassie deep in Ashanti country.

Talbot concludes: "The metamorphosis of West Africa constitutes one of the most remarkable incidents in railway history. In few other countries where maps were non-existent, where the rainfall averages as much in a month as during a year in Great Britain, where the forest was untrodden, and where malaria reigned supreme, has so sudden and complete a change been wrought in such a short space of time. In 1897 Sekondi was a handful of straggling mud huts dotting the shore. To-day it is a busy terminal port with sidings, substantial administration buildings, a hospital, and other attributes to a busy growing centre."

Due to the adverse conditions, prevalent disease, and the onset of insanity, at least 10 supervising engineers oversaw the construction of the railway.

Once they reached the interior, "transportation charges were [soon] reduced from £40 to £5 per ton, and the effect was felt immediately. The heaviest machinery now could be brought up with ease and installed… Then the development of the mines went forward with a rush."

Before the advent of the railway, Ashanti Goldfields Corporation itself says: "In the first few years [of operation], new discoveries were continually being announced and the erroneous impression arose that many fabulously rich reefs existed beneath the corporation's property. That this was not in fact the case only became clear later, when a systematic survey was made and a reliable picture of the occurrences was obtained."

After the railroad linked the mining fields with the coast, there was the "start of a period of disillusionment. By 1904-5, shareholders dissatisfied with diminishing dividends were becoming sceptical of [earlier] promises of higher output. Disappointment was made keener by the high hopes that had earlier prevailed."

In 1906, leadership in Ashanti Goldfields changed, and "output was checked for a time in order to allow a vigorous shaft sinking and development programme to be carried out. Henceforth attention was to be directed increasingly to deeper mining. Profits were sacrificed for the next few years and ploughed back into the business. With a rail link to the coastal town of Sekondi, it was now possible to import new improved machinery, including winding engines and headgear. Stores and workshops were built, tramlines in the mines were extended to connect the different workings, and the surface infra-structure was generally much improved. There was slower progress underground, and the capacity of the new stamp mills was not taxed until the discovery in 1908 of an important deposit that came to be known as Justice's Mine. A few months later, the rich Obuasi shoot was cut at level 3 of the Ashanti mine."

Those two years of assessing and improving the mines and mining techniques, and the discovery of new veins of gold must still have required an army of workers and quite a few engineers.

We find that, despite my speculation just yesterday, it is likely that consulting engineer Gillmore Goodland was not in Sekondi on the Gold Coast to visit his brother Theodore. He was probably one of the unnamed but extremely important experienced engineers that allowed the business—today known as AngloGold Ashanti, working not just the Ashanti's Obuasi Mine, but many others throughout sub-Saharan Africa—to thrive even today.

Did he meet Theodore there in 1906? It's hard to say. With mining connections in Australia, as well as family members settling there in 1907, Gillmore in some way must have tipped off his South Seas sailor sibling, Theodore, about the money to be made shipping in and out of Sekondi.

By 1928, Sekondi became a sister city to nearby Takoradi, which had just had a deep water port constructed [left], but the best of Theodore's career was behind him by then. We don't know what claimed the master mariner's life in 1932 at the age of 51, but could it have been a disease picked up on the Gold coast from which he was finally unable to recover?

In his prime, Theodore must have been a valuable captain, able to ship goods in and out of the difficult and at times quite dangerous waters of Sekondi's so-called harbour.

Had he learned of this lucrative opportunity from his brother, Gillmore, who may have been lured away from mining interests in South Africa to help retool the mines in the Gold Coast's interior?

We don't actually know who arrived in Sekondi first: Able seaman T.T. Goodland or consulting engineer G. Goodland. Nevertheless, Sekondi seems to be an unusual and far-too-specific a place for both of these brothers to have connected with it coincidentally.

In addition, it seems highly unlikely that Gillmore Goodland dropped by for a brief vacation. He must have been invited, or perhaps he decided to see if he could become part of what was appearing to be quite a lucrative adventure.

Either way, Gillmore seems even more likely at this point to have been the monetary benefactor of his mother, Frances, and his brother, Cambridge law student Joshua Goodland.




Tuesday, April 19, 2011

A First Look at Gillmore Goodland, the Younger












Joshua Goodland was an important figure in the life of George Mills, schoolmaster, author, paymaster, and gentleman. One big question we've run into as we've examined the life of Joshua is how he managed to pay for a Cambridge education from 1900 through 1908, a time during which members of his family were either unemployed, at sea as sailors, or working as governess of the children of a farmer. Joshua's mother, as far as we know, was living in London at Gresham House during that period of years, following the death of her husband, Joshua's father, Gillmore Goodland.

One family member we have not examined has been Gillmore Goodland, eldest son of Gillmore and Frances Mary Goodland of Exmouth, Devon [pictured above, left].

Records show that the junior Gillmore was born there in Withycombe Raleigh on 15 January 1871. As we know, his father was a local schoolmaster who would soon become a "certificated" elementary school teacher, most likely at Withycombe School.

That's a puzzling birth date, however. There was a U.K. census recorded on 2 April 1871, but the younger Gillmore fails to appear on it. We find his parents at home that day with a 16-year-old servant, Mary Hankin, but 10-week-old infant Gillmore was apparently not there. Quite unusual.

According to records, the elder Gillmore and Frances Mary Butland were married sometime in the first quarter of 1871 (Jan-Feb-Mar), seemingly calling into question young Gillmore's legitimacy. Why, though, he wouldn't have been with his mother (or anywhere else) on 2 April is puzzling.

The junior Gillmore appears on the 1881 census form with his parents and siblings as a 9-year-old, leading me to believe that he actually was born in 1872, which would legitimatize him fully. He is listed in that census as a "scholar," presumably at his father's school.

In 1891, we find him (with some difficulty I might add) boarding with a Miss Elizabeth Hams at 32 Kilcraig Street [right] in Roath, Cardiff, Glamorganshire, Wales, working as an "engineer's assistant (civil)." Another resident, Elizabeth's cousin Anthony Howell, is listed as being a "contractor," and Gillmore might have been assistant to him.

Within two years of that census, in 1893, the senior Gillmore would pass away and younger brother Joshua also would take up residence in Roath, almost immediately, as an assistant/apprentice to noted Welsh architect G. E. Halladay. Joshua would stay with Halladay at least until passing his architectural examination in 1898.

Brother Gillmore, however, would soon leave and go abroad.

In 1895, Gillmore and an Australian legislator and sportsman named Frank Cole Madden published a text called The Ormuz Optic, a 54-page illustrated text on the ocean-going steamship R.M.S. Ormuz's voyage across the Indian Ocean and Red and Mediterranean Seas that year. The acknowledged editors of the book, it was "published" aboard, Vol. 1 in the Indian Ocean, midway between Christmas Island and Diego Garcia (Lat 7.44 S., Long 90.24 E), Vol. 2 near Bab-el-Mandeb south of the Red Sea (Lat. 13.00 N., Long. 44.00 E), and Vol. 3 in the Mediterranean, midway between Malta and Benghazi, Libya (Lat. 36.26 N., Long 19.26 E).

The three 'volume' text was then published that same year in Bristol, England, by H. R. Clarke.

This text about the R.M.S. Ormuz [left] records the first of Gillmore Goodland's travels, likely from Australia/New Zealand to England, which we can find. Presumably the trip had something to do with his occupation in "engineering." We don't know how Goodland arrived down under, or where his final destination was.

In 1896, a "G. Goodland" steamed into Sydney, New South Wales, aboard the S.S. Alameda, having sailed out of San Francisco, California. He had booked a cabin, not steerage.

Later that same year, Goodland was elected an associate member of the North of England Institute of Mining and Mechanical Engineers during their General Meeting at the Mining School at Wigan on 14 July 1896. Goodland's entry reads: "Mr. Gillmore Goodland, Ravenswood, Queensland, Australia," but something was obviously of interest to Goodland in western North America.

Goodland was obviously abroad again by 1898: He becomes a Fellow of the Royal Geographic Society and his address is listed as "1, Army and Navy-mansions, S.W." These fashionable quarters for bachelors and couples were located on Victoria Street and in 1906 cost £70 - £100 per annum. By 1899, 1, Army and Navy-mansions, S.W., had been taken over by American Marvin Dana, editor, writer, poet, linguist, musician, raconteur, and enthusiastic lover of all sports, as well as being a fellow of the Royal Geographic Society, for use "when he is in town."

Goodland wasn't in town all that much, as we'll see.

His name is on the manifest of the S.S. Brittanic traveling from New York City and arriving in Liverpool on 11 November 1898. Goodland, described as an "engineer," was 31 years old and unmarried at the time. His name is found non-alphabetically amid others [right] of some interest: J. L. Deraismes, a 34-year-old married foreign "capitalist," Andrew Houston, a 26-year-old single English "merchant," G.L. Stephenson, a 46-year-old married English "engineer," Lyndon H. Stevens, a 55-year-old married foreign "merchant," and Charles C. Dickinson, a 27-year-old single English "banker."

That cadre of gentlemen, some traveling without their spouses, may simply have queued up together because some had been engaged in conversation. On the other hand, when you put merchants, a banker, a venture capitalist, and a couple of engineers together, my hunch is that someone is thinking of investing in a mine.

In fact, earlier that year, in September 1898, Gillmore Goodland was listed among new members of the American Institute of Mining Engineers that had been elected at their meeting in San Francisco, California.

A year later, Gillmore sailed from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to Liverpool aboard the Rhynland [below, left]. This time, however, the 32-year-old Goodland was not alone: He was traveling with his new wife, Kathleen, 23, of County Clare, Ireland on what was likely a honeymoon of sorts.

Interestingly, Gillmore listed his occupation on the manifest as "none." Goodland, as we shall see, was usually thinking about business first, especially at this point in his life, and it may have been a 'working' honeymoon.

According to the Transactions of the American Institute of Mining Engineers, vol. 32, in 1902, we find his address changed to "109 Victoria Street, Westminster, London, SW, England." Today, that upscale section of London near Buckingham Gate might be largely unrecognizable to him.

Goodland had taken on that new wife and moved freely around the world. We already have seen that Gillmore is listed in the 1912 London telephone directory, described as a "consulting engineer" with an office at 17 Gracechurch St.

During that span of time, however, we can also track him sailing on the R.M.S. Torquah (out of Forcados, Nigeria) after a stay in Sekondi on the Gold Coast of Africa, bound for Liverpool. His date of arrival in England was 8 February 1906. Had Gillmore simply sailed in to see his brother, Theodore, then a sailor, on his way home from a South Seas adventure? Or did he perhaps take the new railroad (built in the Gold Coast and Sekondi in 1903) from another part of Africa to catch up with his younger brother?

Gillmore soon became a Fellow of the Zoological Society of London. That was in 1909, and his addresses then were listed [below, right] as "17, Gracechurch-street, E.C.," "Hovingshaw, Woldingham, Surrey," and most interestingly "Ekaterineberg, Siberia."

Also in 1909, according to the American Chemical Society's journal Chemical Abstracts (Vol. 4, Part 3), Goodland published an article, "Kilierin," about the "recovery of the metallic contents of ores and the like by means of a woven fabric having a smooth back and a blanket-like face, and with ridges on said face" in Lavasheeda, County Clare, Ireland.

County Clare is the birthplace of Goodland's wife, Kathleen, although it is unclear whether he met her while tending to mining there, or was made aware of the local mines in her homeland after his marriage.

Also in 1909, the 25 December issue of Mining and Scientific Press, in an article entitled "Special Correspondence: Mexico," reported that a new company had been formed in England, with capital amounting to £300,000, to take over 1600 acres of titled mining property in Batopilas, Mexico, and "lease existing mines, mills, and haciendas." The area produces both silver and cyanide. The term of the contract between the old American-owned Batopilas Mining Co. and the new Baltopilas Mining, Smelting, and Refining Co., Ltd., of Great Britain was for 25 years.

The article adds: "Gillmore Goodland, an English mining engineer, has been making examinations and reports on the properties [a view from one silver mine is seen, left]."

Then, in 1911, this snippet appeared in Vol. 34 of a journal called Mining and Engineering World: "Gillmore Goodland of 17 Gracechurch St., London, a well-known English mining engineer, with extensive experience in South Africa, Australia and other parts of the world, was imprisoned on February 15 in a Mexican jail." It appears Goodland had his ups and his downs in Mexico!

With experience in South Africa, it becomes more likely that Gillmore dropped in on Theo in Sekondi because he was 'in the neighborhood,' and may have traveled there either by ship or train. There is no record of Gillmore entering the Gold Coast, today's Ghana, in 1906.

Now, according to historical abstracts from the British Department of Employment and Productivity (1981), the average engineer/surveyor made about £334 a year at the turn of the 20th century. That translates into about £20,000 today, which probably would pay the bills, but wouldn't necessarily allow one to keep a London office on Gracechurch, a residence called Hovingshaw in Surrey, and an address in eastern Russia. Goodland certainly was an atypical mining engineer/consultant.

Times change, but Woldingham is still just 30 minutes by train from Victoria and was recently named the 2nd most expensive suburb in Britain in 2007, with 17.1% of its real estate sales worth over £1,000,000.

Summing it up, we know that Gillmore Goodland, consulting engineer in the mining industry, was "well-known" with "extensive experience" in such far-flung locales as England, Ireland, Australia, South Africa, Mexico, and Siberia—at the very least. He'd traveled abroad, rubbing elbows with merchants, bankers, and capitalists, and his detailed reports guided major corporations and their investors.

From a humble career beginning in the early 1890s, while boarding at the home of a music teacher in Roath, Cardiff, we've seen Goodland seemingly reach the apex of his profession, traveling the world on behalf of industrialists, speculators, and financiers.

In Gillmore Goodland, we seem to have found a very possible backer of his widowed mother's care and his younger brother Joshua's advanced education.

In fact, although Joshua was training as an architect in Cardiff for at least some of the time that Gillmore was there as an "assistant engineer," it's easy to believe that the elder Gillmore soon believed that young Joshua may soon have been of far more use to him as a barrister than an architect. It's not difficult in the least for me to suppose that a legal representative whose education he'd bankrolled—and who was a blood relative to boot—would have been an invaluable asset to a "consulting" engineer who was likely working under contract for high-rollers with their own incredibly reliable attorneys under retainer.

Couple that with the fact that Gillmore, by 1900 a world traveler himself, might have actually encouraged his brother Joshua to take holidays abroad and become a 'man of the world' as well. Those urbane and worldly qualities Joshua could have been expected to develop while at Cambridge and abroad would certainly add to the nouveau riche brothers' gravitas in board rooms among fellows reeking of "old money."

It all adds up.

There's only one possible fly in my proverbial ointment here. From the London Gazette of 31 October 1905:

"In the High Court of Justice.—In Bankruptcy.

2752 of 1905

In the Matter of a Bankruptcy Notice, dated the 18th day of October, 1905.


To GILLMORE GOODLAND, late of 1 Army and Navy-mansions, Westminster, in the county of London, engineer.

TAKE notice that a bankruptcy notice has been issued against you in this Court at the at the instance of Portable Gaslight Limited, in Liquidation, by Finlay Cook Auld, the Liquidator, of 62, King William-street in the city of London, and the court has ordered that the publication of this notice in the London Gazette and the Daily Telegraph newspaper, shall be deemed to be service of the bankruptcy notice upon you. The Bankruptcy Notice can be inspected by you on application at this court—Dated 25th day of October 1905.

J.E. LINKLATER, Registrar. "


Gillmore Goodland was sued by Portable Gaslight, Ltd., for bankruptcy in 1905, amid all of the travel above.

Could it have been a "paperwork" sort of bankruptcy filing, with documents filed and a newspaper notice purchased merely to spur the Goodlands' payment, with no furniture being carted away or padlocks put on front doors? Was it simply a matter of Gillmore having been abroad and somehow the bills due Portable Gaslight became mightily overdue?

I can't rightly say. I do know that it appears that Gillmore Goodland ran in a very smart set and appears to have earned a very nice income for his international services in the first decade of the 20th century, this single bankruptcy notice notwithstanding.

In Gillmore, we have our most likely candidate for lending assistance to a widowed mother and scholarly brother. And, don't forget, his sister Grace ended up following him to Cardiff as well, and Gillmore appears to have left an infant son in her care in 1911. His brothers Ernest and Kenny sailed in Gillmore's wake to Australia in 1907 and lived there for the rest of their lives. Gillmore also traveled to Sekondi at least once during the time his brother, Theodore, would have been a simple "able seaman" in the South Seas and around Sekondi [right] on Dark Continent.

Despite a penchant for hobnobbing with the rich in his capacity as a consulting engineer, family does seem to have mattered to him.

It just wouldn't be right to leave Gillmore in 1912, representing his new company in Batopilas, Mexico, and not follow up on what was an interesting life. We'll pursue that soon, as well as finishing our examination of the life of Joshua Goodland, mentor to George Mills—a task it seems we started ages ago!

Stay tuned…



Saturday, April 16, 2011

Theodore Thomas Goodland, Master Mariner














Of anyone in the family, Theodore Thomas Goodland may be the most mysterious, looking back from the vantage point of 2011. He also was very likely the most interesting—the Goodland with whom I think I'd most like luncheon in Heaven.

So much of what anyone experienced 100 years ago is now shrouded in time. Unless details were meticulously recorded and carefully preserved, so much has been lost. That's particularly the case with young Theodore.

Theodore Goodland was born in the late spring (Apr-May-Jun) of 1881. He first appeared on a census form on 5 April 1891, listed as the 10-year-old son of Gillmore Goodland (meaning his birthday came before the 5th of April). Theodore is also listed as a "scholar." Again, it is likely he was studying his lessons at his father's school, which was probably then known as Withycombe School, and now known as Withycombe Raleigh Church of England Primary School.

Theodore would have been about 20 by the time of the 31 March 1901 census, but he doesn't appear in it. We pick up Theodore's adult life in much the same way we discovered his brother Ernest's: Theodore went to sea.

Australian archives record the Quathlamba of Auckland [pictured, right, and above, left] steaming into port at Sydney, New South Wales, from Kaipara, New Zealand, on 22 May 1903. Among crew members like 45-year-old book steward Choo Poo of China is recorded a Theodore T. Goodland, 22, out of Exmouth, Devonshire. His station is listed as "AB," Which I believe means "able seaman."

Later that year, the same ship departed Kaipara and sailed into Sydney on 10 August. Aboard was an "AB" named "Goodland, T.T."

And on 12 October, making the same run on the same ship from Kaipara to Sydney yet again, was T.T. Goodland, the 22-year-old from Exmouth.

Those are the only available records from the 20th century's first decade, but they are of great interest. First, they indicate a man working for a living, not seeing the world as a merchant seaman before finally coming ashore to make his mark on the world. While Kaipara to Sydney would be an exotic adventure to those gathered around the hearth back in England, making an identical run three times on 1903 smacks more of a mature seaman involved in his life's work, not a young cove looking for a bit of adventure before settling down.

Theodore, as of 1907, would have company near Kaipara [left] in the South Seas. His older brother Ernest and younger brother Kenny would arrive in Sydney aboard the HMS Miltiades. While we don't know much of Kenny's life before Australia, Ernest has already appeared on the 1901 census with his occupation listed as "sailor (mate)." In fact, we know that Ernest was working on the high seas as early as 1896, sailing as an apprentice aboard the Carnedd Llewelyn out of Liverpool. Both brothers settled down under, and Theodore suddenly might have had family nearby for the first time in years.

Interestingly, back on the 1891 census we found a widow, Emily Darling, boarding with the nuclear family of the senior Gillmore Goodland in Wythicombe, Exmouth. Darling was the wife, as we know, of the late Andrew H. Bromley, a London "Missionary to Foreign Sailors."

Is it merely a coincidence that Mrs. Darling found her way from London into the home of Gillmore Goodland? Ernest, Theodore, and Kenny were all attending school and living at the house with her. This is a 'chicken and the egg' puzzle: Did Mrs. Darling spin yarns of sailors weathering storms and battling pirates, inspiring the young trio of listening 'scholars,' or was it a family that had always lived near ports (Exmouth, Bristol, Cardiff) and that many relatives always had been seafarers—something that may have later led Mrs. Darling into their home?

As a matter of fact, there is a missing census record—1861—bearing the senior Gillmore Goodland's name. Let's rewind, though.

The 1851 census record shows us Gillmore as a young scholar himself, 9 years of age, dwelling in the home of his "accomplant" father and his mother, William and Elizabeth Goodland, 41 and 44 years old, in Tiverton, Tivert, Devonshire. He also lived with his sisters, Anna, 12, and Elizabeth, 5, as well as an 55-year-old aunt, Mary Goodland. Something, however, split the family.

By 1861, the dynamics changed for parents William and Elizabeth. The 1861 census records one of Gillmore's sisters, 22-year-old Anna, living with the family of an uncle, Alex B. Campbell, who was a vicar in Sittleham, Exmouth. His other sister, Elizabeth, 15, was living with her parents at Portsea, Hampshire, where her father, William Goodland, 54, is no longer an accountant, but a door-to-door "book hawker," and his spouse, 57 years old, is pointedly listed as a "book hawker's wife."

(The 1883 Year-book of the Church of England, published in Great Britain by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, descibes "book hawking" and the Book-Hawking Associations in England [pictured above, right]. Could this "educational" initiative taken up by Wiliam Goodland have been the younger Gillmore's foot-in-the-door into a career in education in a Devonshire Church of England school?)

Gillmore had disappeared from the U.K. census in 1861, at a time when he'd have been 19 years of age. In 1871, however, he was recorded as a young married man living in Withycombe Raleigh in Exmouth at the age of 29, with a brand new bride, Frances Mary Goodland (the wedding having been early in 1871) and a 16-year-old servant, Mary Hankin. His occupation is described as "schoolmaster."

In 1875, Goodland passed the Education Department's Christmas Examination (2nd Division) as a schoolmaster and went to work as a certified elementary school teacher at an unnamed "mixed" educational institution, undoubtedly Withycombe School in Exmouth [a composite image of the text appears, left]. By 1881, Gillmore and Frances had five young children, and Goodland was still working at the school.

Where the elder Goodland had been between 1851 at the age of 9, and when he reappeared on the census rolls at 29 in 1871, we do not know.

He surely was no longer with his parents at home in 1861, or at least not according to the census form. What's surprising, however, is that we don't find William and Elizabeth's 19-year-old son (and Theodore's future father), Gillmore Goodland, anywhere.

Is it possible—in fact, is it likely—that Gillmore Goodland, the elder, was at sea for at least some of those years? I can find no record corroborating it, but the only things we know for sure are that he was in school himself at 9, then teaching school at 29, and finally taking the certification examination at 33. That, and he somehow avoided being counted in the census in 1861.

I believe there's a very good chance he was aboard a ship in 1861, and that his adventures would have made him kindly disposed to the widow of a "Missionary to Foreign Sailors."

And while son Joshua Goodland would be inspired by his father to become an educator, his sons Ernest and Theodore would follow in his footsteps in a different way and put to sea themselves early in life.

In 1910, Theodore Goodland arrived in Southampton aboard the Kildonan Castle [pictured, right], bound from Durban, South Africa (via Madeira, Nadal, and the Cape ports) on 1 January 1910. He is listed as traveling from Cape Town to Southampton as a single English male "seaman."

This trip home to England originated on the continent of Africa, not Australia or somewhere in the South Seas. Perhaps he had sailed into Cape Town on a freighter and simply booked passage north from there instead of sailing the return voyage. There is no record, however, of Theodore subsequently sailing out of England.

The next records we have are not Theodore's records at all, but those of his wife, Marguerite. 1923 shows her steaming into Tilbury on 19 July 1923 aboard the Ormuz of the Orient Steam Navigation Co., whose voyage began in Brisbane.

Aboard we find Marguerite Goodland, 21 years old, along with Miss Mary Goodland, aged 10 ½ months [the manifest entry is seen below, left]. Having boarded the ship in "Port Suez," they gave their country of last permanent residence as "Egypt."

Their destination address was listed as "144 Ashley Gardens, Westminster, London." That is the address of Theodore's brother, Joshua Goodland, at the time, just before the latter bought into Warren Hill School in Eastbourne and became the "some time Head Master" of our interest here.

In 1925, Marguerite (listed on the manifest as "Goodland, Mrs. T.T.") disembarked from the Oxfordshire of the Bibby Line at Tilbury on 6 July. The ship had sailed from Rangoon, but she had once again boarded at Port Suez, and listed Egypt as her country of last permanent residence.

This time, however [a composite manifest entry id pictured, right], she was traveling with Miss Mary Goodland, then 2 ¾ years of age according to the manifest, as well as first-time traveler Miss Susan Goodland, aged 1 year. The family's destination was recorded as "Radfords Farm, Crawley, Sussex."

Interestingly, the family's "intended future residence" is checked off as "OTHER PARTS OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE."

On 7 November 1925, Theodore Goodland himself steamed into Liverpool aboard the Adda of the African S.S. Co., presumably to join his family in Sussex. His country of last permanent residence: "West Africa." Goodland was hailing from "Sekandi" on the Gold Coast of what is now Ghana. His address: "African Eastern Telegraph Co., Electra."

His occupation was: "Master Mariner."

In 1907, we met Theodore as a "seaman." By 1925, he is captaining his own merchant vessel(s) out of Sekondi on the Gold Coast [map, left].

His family called Egypt home and indicated their intent was still to live outside of England that year. Did Goodland marry the daughter of a British diplomat or expatriate in Egypt and "settle" there? Using the address of a telegraph company in Ghana indicates that the Gold Coast would not have been his permanent address.

Who owned Radfords Farm in 1925? Joshua Goodland?

If Radfords Farm belonged to Joshua, recently a high-end barrister from London, and he lived there, it would have been a 20-some-odd mile commute, one way, to Warren Hill. It would not seem too unusual for any spouses in the Goodland clan to have lived apart from each other, though, so why think Joshua would have been different? Perhaps Joshua's family lived in Crawley while he boarded at the school in Meads while it was in session. If he'd effectively banked his earnings as a barrister, that was certainly possible.

No matter who was residing at Radfords Farm in 1925, we don't have a record of any of Theodore's family leaving there. Howver, there is an interesting record in the 1926 telephone directory: "Horley.... 212   Goodland Miss Margaret   Radford's farm  Crawley."

We know about Mary and Susan Goodland, Theo's daughters, neither of whom could have ordered that phone. His wife was just 21 years old, as we've seen, in 1923. Could a 24-year-old Marguerite have used the name "Margaret" for this phone listing? And, even more strangely, why would she have called herself "Miss"?

This is obviously Theodore's sister, Margaret, who would have been 43 years old at the time and still unmarried. She had been a servant on a farm on the 1901 census, but by 1926 has her own phone at Radford's Farm [pictured today, left] and can host guests with young children from overseas. It seems to me that she is not merely a servant by 1926.

From 1929, Theodore Goodland himself has kept a phone at Sunoaks, Salthill, Chichester (Lavant 72), but given his proclivity to reside abroad, there's no reason to think he was sitting by it waiting for it to ring in that year. Perhaps his wife Marguerite has rethought the dcision to live in "other parts of the British empire" and has settled in Chichester with their daughters, full time.

On 10 August 1931, however, "Captain T.T. Goodland" sailed aboard the Gloucestershire of the Bibby Line [1931 brochure pictured below, left] and arrived in London. Its voyage originated in Rangoon, Burma, but Goodland is listed as traveling from "Sudan." That's likely Port Sudan on the Red Sea, south of Egypt.

He arrived as a passenger, listing his occupation again as "Master Mariner." This was undoubtedly his final ocean voyage.

Less than a year later, on 20 July 1932, Theodore Goodland passed away at the age of 51 at the Esperance Nursing Home while living at Sunoaks, Salthill, Chichester. Telephone records show that Marguerite kept a phone there through 1935 under the name "Goodland  Mrs. T.T.", although the number had changed to "Chichester 657."

Thoodore's estate was probated on 27 September 1932 to Marguerite Aimee Goodland, widow, Joshua Goodland, barrister, and Roland Carew, accountant at "£10096 6s. 11d." but resworn at "£11253 13s. 10d."

That's probably a very nice legacy, given the world at that point in time had plunged into a great economic depression, so we can assume that Captain Goodland had quite a bit of earning power. He clearly wasn't the master of some scow.

Marguerite Aimee Goodland may have been a woman Theodore met and fell in love with while in the South Seas. She later appears in voter records while living at 48 Gurnell Avenue in Hamilton, Waikato, New Zealand, in 1963. Born 7 June 1902, Marguerite passed away, however, in Watford, Hertfordshire, England, in 1990 at the age of 88.

We've looked at the relatively lucrative career of Theodore Goodland, however, to determine if he might have been the financial benefactor of his mother, Frances, in her home at Gresham House, London, and/or brother Joshua Goodland, who was able to travel the world and enjoy lengthy holidays while studying at Cambridge from 1900 to 1908.

Through 1910, however, Theodore was still an 'able seaman,' although bound someday to become a captain. The sights he must have seen—the people, the places, the cultures, the adventures—from the South Seas to Egypt to the Gold Coast of Africa would, I am certain, would be captivating. I wish I knew far more about him than I do!

It is unlikely, however, that Theodore was the economic force behind his widowed mother's care or his brother's elite Cambridge education [probate, left].

That only leaves one sibling: Gillmore Goodland's eldest son, Gillmore Goodland.

His tale is most interesting, and we'll take a look at it soon…