Fr. John Basil Lee Jellicoe, Part 2

When I was a boy, my parents used to drag my brother and me on family holidays to camp in a caravan at various scenic locales in the eastern portion of the United States. Almost invariably, my father would strike up a conversation with some fellow around a campfire and inform him we were from Pennsylvania.

That chap, no matter where he himself was from, would typically say something to my father along the lines of, "Oh! Pennsylvania! Do you know our friends, the Smiths?"

After politely assuring him that the Smiths (or whomever) that we knew were very unlikely the same Smiths that he knew, Dad would still grumble later about the fact that a couple of million people lived in The Keystone State, and about people's stupidity in general.



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Sometimes I wonder if my father wouldn't have a good long rant about me and what I'm doing here, in essence asking the entire U.K., "Say, do you happen to know a bloke named Mills?"

I mean, sure, George Mills was an officer's reserve military paymaster (in WWII) and went to Oxford (Christ Church) and was concerned about the Anglican Church and Roman Catholicism. And Father J. B. L. Jelliocoe was an officer's reserve paymaster in the military (in WWI; perhaps this is where Mills got the "reserve officer" idea) and went to Oxford (Magdalen College) and was concerned about the church as well. And A. B. H. Bishop went to Oxford (Jesus College) at the same time as those two, and was Head of Magdalen College School at Brackley during the same period Jellicoe was head of the Magdalen College Mission in Camden. Oh, and Bishop was raised in Cornwall, where George Mills was born, but raised quite near George's Acland family ancestral home at Killerton in Devon.

And it likely is just a coincidence that Mills and Bishop left Oxford and each became involved in independent preparatory schools. And that Mills was writing books about those preparatory schools at the same time that Bishop was advancing his career in the schools. And it's likely just a coincidence that George's father was a social reformer in London, based in Kensington, during the 1920s and early 1930s, while Jellicoe was a London social reformer in nearby St Pancras during that same era.

Small world, isn't it?

So it's probably just a colossal coincidence that, when the young but worn-out Jellicoe passed away in 1935, his memorial service was attended by a gentleman named "Mr. H. E. Howell," a chap bearing the same moniker as a gentleman who, as an old friend of the author, had helped George Mills by reading the manuscript for his first novel, Meredith and Co.: The Story of a Modern Preparatory School, in 1933.

This Howell attended the service as the representative of All Saints Margaret Street, a Victorian Anglo-Catholic High Church that rests almost midway between the Kensington address of the Mills and the St. Pancras parish to the northeast, where Jellicoe had worked so diligently on behalf of the poor.



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So much of what we've discussed above may all simply be coincidental. Let's look at some hard-copy evidence.

Here's is how the London Times documented Jellicoe's death on 26 August 1935:


THE REV. J. B. L. JELLICOE

SLUM CLEARANCE IN ST. PANCRAS

The Rev. John Basil Lee Jellicoe died on Saturday in a nursing home of pneumonia in his thirty-seventh year. He will be remembered for his remarkable work as the chairman and organizer of the St. Pancras House Improvement Society, Limited, which has demonstrated that the improvement of slum areas by private enterprise is a sound financial proposition. The elder son of the Rev. T. H. L. Jellicoe, of Sullington Warren, Pulborough, Jellicoe took his degree from Magdalen College, Oxford, and after preparation at St. Stephen's House was appointed in 1922 head of the Magdalen College Mission and curate of St. Mary's, Somers Town. He resolved that he would not rest till his people had homes fit to live in, and the rehousing schemes started by his society have already provided many excellent flats with gardens, trees, ponds, swings for the children, and other amenities. Although the rents charged are not more than what the tenants paid for the old slums, the loan stock receives 2 per cent. and the ordinary shares 3 per cent. In 1929 Messrs. Whitbread entrusted the control of the rebuilt public house in Stibbington Street to Father Jellicoe. It was licensed to sell beer but not spirits, and was provided with a roof garden, a restaurant, and various games. When it was proposed to form a college for publicans, to be conducted by Church of England clergymen, Father Jellicoe said it was hoped "to attract young men of the best type who would regard the office of publican as a great and honourable profession. They should regard it also as a magnificent opportunity of social service by providing decent and happy recreation for their fellow-men." The progress of the society was steady, with the support of the Prince of Wales, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the late Minister of Health (Sir Hilton Young, now Lord Kennet), and others, and more blocks of flats were opened. But, as a letter in The Times last June showed, the society still needs at least £150,000 in loan stock and Ordinary shares to rebuild three verminous and overcrowded sites in Somers Town already in its possession. Last year Father Jellicoe moved to St. Martin-in-the-Fields as curate.


In that obituary we find that by 1935 Jellicoe had moved his career locale even closer to Kensington (and George Mills, who was probably teaching at Eaton Gate in Belgravia), taking over as the incumbent at St. Martin-in-the-Fields at Trafalgar Square. By the way, 1922 was the year that Mills ended his pursuit of an Oxon degree.

Details of Jellicoe's funeral were published in the Times on 29th August 1935 [my emphases]:



THE REV. J. B. L. JELLICOE

The funeral of the Rev. Basil Jellicoe took place at Chailey Parish Church {right]yesterday. The service was conducted by the Bishop of Dover, assisted by the Rev. H. J. Boyd and the Rev. H. H. Matravers. The choir boys of St. Mary's of the Angels Song School, under the Rev. Desmond Morse-Boycott, took part in the service. The principal mourners included:–
Mrs. Jellicoe (mother), Lieutenant-Commander C. J. L. Jellicoe (brother), Mrs. I. L. Murray (aunt), the Rev. John and Mrs. Murray, Mr. Felix St. H. Jellicoe, Mr. St. Alban Jellicoe, Miss Jellicoe, Mrs. Jellicoe and the Rev. Arthur H. Boyd and the Rev. Halbert J. Boyd (uncles).

Among others present were:-
Mrs. Madge Waller (representing the Under 40 Club), Mr. Eric Beetham and Mr. R. D. Just (representing the Fellowship of St. Christopher). the Rev. N. Scott, Miss E. Terry, Mr. R. L. Atkinson, Mr. L. Day and Mr. Ian B. Hamilton (representing St. Pancras House Improvement Society), the Rev. J. C. Nankivell (representing the Isle of Dogs Housing Society), the Rev. N. G. Powell (representing Canon Carr, St. Michael's Housing Society, Penzance), Mr. Donald G. Pelly (Strichard Housing Society).

The Rev. C. P. Shaw (representing the Church Union Housing Association), the Rev. Percy Maryon-Wilson and the Rev. Lorimer Reece (representing the Magdalene College Mission), the Rev. H. W. Grepe, the Rev. W. T. Norburn, the Rev. Hampden Thompson, Canon H. L. Pass (representing the Dean and Chapter of Chichester Cathedral), the Rev. C. W. Handford, the Rev. A. R. H. Faithfull, the Rev. C. E. B. Neate, the Rev. F. G. Fincham, the Rev. Montague Cox, the Rev. Donald V. Beckingham, the Rev. W. A. C. Ullathorne, the Rev. B. Thackeray, the Rev. E. I. Frost, the Rev. C. P. Orr, the Rev. C. G. Earmaker, Mr. and Mrs. R. C. Blencowe, Mr. and Mrs. I. Blencowe, Miss Blencowe, Mrs. Morse-Boycott.

Mrs. Maryon-Wilson, Miss Bartlett Blake, Elsie Lady Shiffner, Mr. and Mrs. J. H. Boyd, Lieutenant-Commander and Mrs. E. B. Martino, Mr. Alan L. Todd, M.P., Miss Margerson, Mr. and the Hon. Mrs. Maryan-Wilson, Mrs. Hampden Thompson, Mr. and Mrs. Basil Henriques, Lady Kenderdine, and Mrs. Reginald M. Mason.

A memorial service was held at St. Mary the Virgin, Somers Town [left], yesterday for the Rev. John Basil Lee Jellicoe. The Rev. Percy Maryon-Wilson officiated, assisted by the Rev. H. L. O. Rees and the Rev. T. M. Parker.

Among those present were:-
Mrs. D. G. Morris, Mr. Halliday McCartney, Miss Critchley, Mr. S. Rundle, Mr. and Mrs. John Gillard, Mr. W. H. Sheppard, the Rev. Langtry Williams (New York). the Rev. Eric Bailey (All Saints', Margaret Street). The Rev. T. A. S. Marsden, Mr. P. Henniker Heaton, Mr. A. J. Stewart, Miss Hunt, Mrs. Kightley, Mrs. M. White, Mr. John F. Dell, Mr. L. Myers, Mr. and Mrs. Toop, Miss E. Miller, Miss S. G. Saunders, Mr. Charles Low, Miss E. M. Evans, Miss Oaker.

Miss F. A. Day, Mrs. M. P. Leonard, Mr. W. L. Cooke, Miss Packer, the Rev. L. Jones, the Rev. J. W. E. Hooton, Mrs. A. Clark (St. Mary's Schools). Mrs. Ayrton, Mrs. Davidge, the Rev. Adam Fox (representing Magdalen College).

Miss Collet, Sister E. Armstrong, Miss De Rougemont, the Rev. Nigel Scott (representing St. Pancras House Improvement Society), Councillor F. Howson (former Mayor of St. Pancras), Mr. E. Ormnan, Mrs. Hunt, Mr. W, Bell, Miss Crowe, Miss Gedge, Miss E. Ayr, Miss E. Perry, the Rev. Norman Haigh, Mrs Henley Chater.
The Rev. J. A. Gorton, Brother Kenneth (B.S.F.A.), Mr. H. E. Howell (All Saints', Margaret Street), Sister Gent, the Rev. M. Le Marrino, Father Biggart (representing the Community of the Resurrection), Mrs. W. Sharp, Father Ferguson, the Rev. C. D. Horsley, the Rev. A. Swift, Mrs. E. A. Taylor, Miss Horsley.

Miss Edith Neville (chairman of the St. Pancras House Improvement Society) was unable to be present owing to absence abroad, and Lady Warren was unable to be present owing to serious illness.


I did not transcribe the above myself (my thanks to Chailey 1914-1918), so I do not know how accurate any of it is. For example, there's a fair chance that "Miss Margerson" may be "Miss Margesson," daughter of Mr. M. and Lady Isabel Margesson, a couple that attended the wedding of George Mills and Vera Louise Beauclerk in 1925. In addition, not only did they attend the wedding of George's brother, Captain Arthur F. H. Mills, to Lady Dorothy Walpole, but Mr. Margerson gave the bride away (as she was not on speaking terms with her family because of the couple's union that day).

As a frequent transcriber of the predominant font of that era's London Times (and with the crow's-footed bifocal squint to prove it), an "ss" as in Margesson can appear to resemble a "rs" as you can see in the name "margesson" in the fine print of this item [right] from the Times regarding the Mills-Walpole nuptials.

Nonetheless, there's no reason to think that the Mr. H. E. Howell mentioned there is part of any transcription error.



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Anyway, again dispensing with what may be simple coincidence and looking more at facts, the contemporary "Jellicoe Community" of today still allows students from Oxford to volunteer and work in the community to meet the needs of the local people, just as it did back in the days of Camden's Magdalen College Mission.

Even before the days of Jellicoe's stewardship, students volunteered. From the 1916 text In Slums and Society: Reminiscences of Old Friends by James Granville Adderley, we read an instructive description of the Magdalen College Mission: "I shall never forget my initiation to that 'open house,' where burglars and undergraduates fed and played and slept under one roof."

That was written during a time just before Jellicoe, Bishop, and Mills all attended various constituent colleges at the University of Oxford, from which the mission drew those compassionate undergraduates.

Moving forward in time, into the 1920s and 1930s when Fr. Jellicoe became established at the Mission, we read this from a website entitled The Jellicoe Blog describing the sometimes theatrical nature of the legendary reformer: "Jellicoe had been born into privilege and used his many connections to assemble a powerful alliance for change - enlisting the support of the Prince of Wales, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Housing Minister in his St Pancras House Improvement Society. He understood the importance of dramatic flourish – erecting vast papier-mâché effigies of the rats and bugs that infested the slums, and ceremonially torching them as the first slums were demolished. And he used the ‘new media’ of his age: making an early film of the conditions in which his parishioners lived, and making a mobile cinema in a trailer, so that those who lived in prosperity up and down the land could see what life in the slums was really like. After each showing he told them: 'Now you know what life is like. You have no excuse for inaction.'"

Back to (almost) unbridled speculation…

We know George Mills attended Harrow School at The Grove, the school's house strong in drama and the arts, and that Mills worked in with children at Windlesham House School in Portslade in performances, dramatic productions, and even musicals. Again, would it be a stretch to consider that perhaps working with the ever-present and attention-starved (as well as quite often actually starved) children of the slums that followed Jellicoe around could have been what helped nudge Mills along towards becoming a schoolmaster after departing Oxford?

Still, London and its environs comprised populous and bustling metropolis that was the crossroads of England and the rest of the U.K., if not the entire Empire, upon which the sun never set.

What were the actual chances that all of these men knew each other well? What were the chances that all of these circumstantial occurrences were anything other than sheer coincidence?
We've no evidence these men ever met while attending Oxford, or that any save Jellicoe ever worked at the Mission. There's no evidence that the Howell at the 1935 funeral service is the Howell thanked in the 1933 preface of Meredith and Co. And, although their names rest alongside each other's for eternity in that preface, we have no proof that Howell and Bishop ever met, even though they both knew George Mills. And, finally, George's father, Revd Barton R. V. Mills was a much older man than Basil Jellicoe, and although they both crusaded for social reform, each man in his own way, they may have run in completely different circles and may never have so much as met.

There also is no solid reason to think that it's noteworthy that Jellicoe, born in 1899 and son of a cleric, was raised in Chailey, Sussex, just 15 miles or so north of—of course!—Seaford, East Sussex, a coastal town that simply won't stop cropping up coincidentally in the story of George Mills. But if you do think 15 miles is simply too far away from Seaford to connect it with Mills, let's discuss the fact that Chailey sits just four miles or so east of the location of Parkfield School in Haywards Heath, where George, born in 1896 and son of a cleric, attended classes.

What we do know is that, in some way—even loosely—these men somehow are linked to George Mills, circa 1933, perhaps if only in a way similar to the logic behind Six [or, depending on whether or not the teller understands the concept, Seven] Degrees to Kevin Bacon [right]. Exactly how they were linked is the mystery, one we may never solve.



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It has been over a year since my first messages to All Saints Margaret Street, Magdalen College School, and the Old Brackleians were sent. No replies with research assistance have been forthcoming so far, and may not ever be.

We may never know more than we now do about these men who seem so tantalizingly close to each other—personally, historically, and even spiritually. Perhaps this is all a series of overblown coincidences, neatly if not randomly arranged on an undreamed-of internet some 80 to 90 years later, and even if it is true these men did know each other, that in itself doesn't make any one man's behavior at the time in any way causal in regard to any aspect of another's life.

But I find it hard to believe that such strong-willed, talented, and outgoing men wouldn't have influenced each other in many ways, directly and indirectly.

In a way, all of this seems suspiciously as if a nearby camper asked my father if he knew the "Smiths" from Pennsylvania, and the more the fellow described them, the more it became apparent that they—out of millions—actually had been our neighbours…


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Fr. Jellicoe inspired a stage musical [left] that recently played at the Shaw Theatre on Euston Road in London, and his memory is held fast by the communities he helped, as well as a more figurative, charitable community that still works in his memory.

I'll close with these words from Fr. Rob Wickham, rector of Hackney:

Jellicoe was angry. He saw 5 children to a bed, he saw children with breathing difficulties, and he saw the effect that mass unemployment can have in a community. He saw loan sharks at work, and he saw people every night affected by fleas, bed bugs, rats and cockroaches. “How can I preach Jesus when people live in such filth? The devil is the Lord of Somers Town," came his cry.

This vision of a new Jerusalem led him to use a local workforce to charge the same rents after the rebuilding as before, and to keep a community strong through its nurseries, rent clubs, furniture clubs and even a pub – a place where clergy and churchwardens might go after evensong!

This vision holds dear today. It is a vision which undergirds the principles of the Jellicoe Communities and Community organizing. Local people doing something – galvanizing their efforts to make a difference in the communities in which they live and where they service.



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For more information about the Jellicoe Community today, see http://www.theology-centre.org/jellicoe-community.

1916: For the Duration of the War, with the Colours, and in the Army Reserve

Still sifting through "piles" of documents and messages on my computer, I think that I'll post this one today: The "Short Service" enlistment form of George Mills, dated 15 January 1916 [the duplicate copy is pictured, left; click to enlarge]. It notes that the service would be "For the Duration of the War, with the Colours, and in the Army Reserve."

Mills, a self-proclaimed student—although he hadn't attended a school at this point since 1912—entered the Rifle Depot as a private. Fast-forwarding three years, Mills would leave the service in 1919 as a lance corporal. After "The War to End All Wars," it must have seemed as if his days 'with the Colours' were behind him.

I wasn't exactly sure what this 1916 enlistment and the term "Army Reserve" might've entailed entirely, so I checked the British Army's website and found this: "When a member of the Regular Army leaves the service, he or she remains liable to be recalled in times of need, and this group of ex-Regular personnel is known as the Regular Reserve," and "All male (but not female) soldiers who enlisted before 1 Apr 97 have a statutory liability for service in the Long Term Reserve until their 45th birthday."

Perhaps Mills wasn't quite as patriotic as I might have thought when, on 13 October 1940, George was commissioned as a lieutenant in the Royal Army Pay Corps. George had just turned 44 years of age and had less than one year to go until, at 45, the army would seem to have been unable to recall him as a "regular reserve." But diud they actually recall him to duty.

Now, in 1941, my father [pictured, right, circa 1942] joined the Navy at the age of 24 because he knew the government was drafting every young man in sight into the army. The whole idea of marching through mud and sleeping on the ground wasn't all that appealing to him. "How far can they march you on a boat?" he said. Certainly not the ten miles or more he'd been hearing about! And he never heard of any sailors sleeping outside on the deck, so he dashed to the enlistment office to sign up for the United States Navy before he could have been drafted.

Is it possible George Mills was simply recalled as a regular reserve and plopped into a position as a lieutenant in the RAPC? Or is it more likely that, after clearly seeing that the Second World War wasn't going to be just a skirmish, he volunteered to return to the military in a more self-selected position he might've been able to negotitate as a "volunteer," much like my Dad?

Perhaps it's simpy a coincidence, but I went into George's enlistment papers with Adobe Photoshop and pulled out something interesting. Amid all of the scrawling, cross-outs and number changes, and remnants of departmental stamps on this duplicate copy, the ghost of one bit of writing became easier to see as I tweaked the brightness and contrast of the document.

You can see it, reading "MY PAY CORPS" in block letters above the handwritten assignment to the "Rifle Depot Res" on the "Corps" [pictured, left]. Presumably, those typed block letters in their entirety would have spelled out "Army Pay Corps."

Maybe it's unrelated to the fact that Mills later became a paymaster in that very same corps. Harrow School's archivist, Luke Meadows, has already told us that according to the school's records, after leaving Harrow, "we know that he was in the Rifle Brigade and then transferred to the Royal Army Service Corps (R.A.S.C.) during the First World War between 1916-1919." Oxford's Anabel Peacock affirms George's rank in the RASC as having begun as a private and concluded as lance corporal.

That's the only documentation of George's WW I service that I can find short of spending the £30 or more to acquire his entire service record, and, as a schoolteacher, that would be a frill I simply can't afford. Since there's only a 40% chance George's military record wasn't at least partially destroyed by bombing, it simply doesn't seem a good financial risk for me right now.

Might George, during the First World War, have transferred into the R.A.P.C. instead of the R.A.S.C.? It certainly wouldn't have been the first typographical error we've run into in our study of George Mills and family—RAPC possibly having been misinterpreted as RASC!

The skimpy Wikipedia article [just 3 sentences] on the RAPC isn't much help, but includes one useful sentence, a sentence that would be even more useful if its reference wasn't unrelated to its content. It reads: "Before the Second World War, the RAPC did not accept recruits directly from civilian life, but only transfers from serving soldiers who had been in the Army for at least six months."

What's difficult to determine is the meaning of "before the Second World War." Mills, still a regular reserve in 1940, indeed may have been able to transfer into the RAPC [the Reading barracks from 1942 is pictured, right] without having been serving currently. Rules, at the time, seemed to changing quickly as the conflict escalated.

More information about the situation at the time is be found in the following memory of a WW II paymaster archived by the BBC and dated 21 October 2004:

"I was born into the Army and, when young, lived in married quarters. Therefore when war was declared in 1939, I enlisted in the Army Territorial Service (A.T.S.). Before Christmas I received orders to join the Royal Army Pay Corps at Leicester.

"Factories, some two or three storeys high, had been taken over by the army to store all the pay records. Regular soldiers of the Royal Army Pay Corps were training both newly enlisted men and women and we were all housed in guesthouses or the homes of local people. We worked from 9 a.m. until 7p.m every day except Sunday, when we were allowed to finish at 4 p.m. It was a few months before we were able to have a half-day on Sunday, and, later, we did appreciate having the full day off. As more people enlisted, in addition to some local people being employed as civil servants, we were able to work normal office hours.

Gradually, the regular soldiers were transferred overseas. Then, when women were called up to register for war work, the enlisted men, except for a few on special work, were also sent abroad. When I joined up in 1939, there was one woman to about 30 men. By 1941-42, the position had gradually changed to the women outnumbering the men."

It's likely the gentleman who wrote this memoir was somewhat younger than George Mills, but he also had apparently returned to the service at the onset on World War II, much like Mills himself.

Perhaps George was trained by this fellow. Perhaps George had previous experience in the RAPC that I can't verify and quickly became a fellow trainer.

One thing is for sure: This part of the military experience of George Mills has been kept under wraps. Both Harrow and Oxford have records of Mills' WW I service, but I can't find any authorities boasting of George's WW II service.

Did George Mills spend time overseas during the Second World War? Or was he involved in some "special work" that kept him from being deployed abroad? How did the death of his wife, Vera, in Exmoor in January of 1942 affect George and his military career? Did the "ill-health" that forced Mills to relinquish his commission in 1943, retaining an honorary rank of lieutenant, occur in Great Britain, or had he been assigned overseas when his health declined at age 46?

I invite you to weigh in on these questions with any information, ideas, or informed speculation you may have—and many thanks!

Peculiar. Very peculiar...

My father retired, I think, in 1979. I remember asking him about something and he replied that he hadn't had time to think about it yet.

"Time?" I asked him. "You're retired, Dad."

"I'll tell you," he replied, "I don't know how I ever squeezed in working full-time. It seems like I've more to do now then ever!"

That's basically how I feel just a few weeks into my summer. Time to write about George Mills? Not as much as I would have thought, and having my work e-mail shut down for a week for a system upgrading didn't help at all.

Long ago, it seems, we looked at phone numbers and addresses for the Mills family through 1925, the year of the wedding of George Mills and Vera Louise Beauclerk. It seemed a natural time to graze the British telephone directories for new listings involving George Mills. I knew he and Vera had gone to Portslade to work at Windlesham House School. I'd have expected to find him there.

Geoerge and Vera never crop up in Brighton or Portslade listings, but apparently did surface in the October 1926 London telephone directory—perfect timing, considering George had cut ties with Windlesham at the end of the Summer Term in 1926.

He had appeared at a time I would have expected, given how the events at Windlesham played out, but it was at an address I didn't expect. The 1926 listing reads: "Mills George R. A, 51 Wickham Rd. S.E. 4… New X… 2332." [And, as we know, George's full name is George Ramsay Acland Mills.]

Now, I found these London directory pages at ancestry.com, but their search engine always frustratingly teases you with only occasional dribs and drabs of specifically what you're looking for while often barraging you with completely unrelated references. It took awhile, but I eventually ferreted out listings for that same name, address, and phone number through the March 1929 book.

Thinking about the Mills time-line we know, George worked for some unspecified time at Warren Hill School in Meads, Eastbourne, after he and Windlesham separated in 1926. This address would seem to imply that George remained working on the southeastern coast through the end of the decade. the 51 Wickham Road address is a building housing multiple flats today, as it likely did then.

I speculated things must have been going well for the young couple, being able to both buy a home in Portslade and keep a flat in town. Of course, they may immediately sold the home in 1926. Still, it seemed a bit odd that their flat would have been in Lewisham, so far away from Kensington, where all of the kin on both sides of their families lived within a small radius.

We also know that by 1933, George had also taught in Windermere at The Craig School, and in Glion, Switzerland, at the mysterious English Preparatory School.

A second 1929 London directory came out that September, and the same listing has changed significantly, reading: "Mills, G. R. A, 27 Le May av S.E.12…….LEE Gn.. 4643." G. R. A. Mills then stays listed at 27 Le May Avenue [pictured, upper left] in each year through the May 1934 London directory.

I wondered about that, but realized that Vera would probably not have been inclined to go north with him, or to Switzerland, and probably wanted to stay near her family. 27 Le May Avenue [right] in Lewisham is actually a pretty nice home today, and must have been then as well. Still, it struck me as quite odd that, if George had been living away from home in Windermere and Switzerland, why would Vera have wanted to be residing so far from Kensington?

Vera's mother had passed away in June of 1933, as had George's father in 1932. It wouldn't be surprising if George and Vera had come into some money during that span of time, and there also would have been additional income for the couple from the publication of his first book, Meredith and Co. in 1933.

Given the financial windfalls the couple likely would have experienced, it wasn't surprising for me to find yet another new listing for G. R. A. Mills in the November 1934 phone directory: "Mills, G. R. A, 24 Beadon rd, Bromley….. RAVensbrn 0819." Using Google Maps to take a peek at 24 Beadon Road reveals a extremely fine-looking house to be moving into in the midst of the Great Depression. Not bad for a fellow who, at this time, would seem to have then found some employment as a schoolmaster at institution, seemingly lost in the mists of time, the Eaton Gate Preparatory School, London, S.W.1.

This would all seem to blow my theory about a struggling and often jobless George Mills during this time frame right out of the water! The only thing I wonder: With kin in Kensington and a job right there in Eaton Gate, why keep addresses—no matter how lovely—so far across the river in Lewisham and Bromley. Perhaps, I thought, real estate was much cheaper at the time if one purchased in the southeast of London, on the far side of the Thames.

That 24 Beadon Road listing in Bromley stays in the London telephone directory until the next watershed year in the career of George Mills: 1939. In that year, Mills publishes two books, Minor and Major as well as St. Thomas of Canterbury, after having published his second novel, King Willow, in 1938.

Predictably, with new finacial gain, that 24 Beadon Road listing disappears from the February 1939 London directory. That's not too surprising since G. R. A. Mills seems to change domiciles in tune with the major events of his life. No listing for a G. R. A. Mills replaces it, however.

Perhaps Mills had anticipated the war in a very pragmatic way. We know that George returned to the army in October 1939, becoming a paymaster in the Royal Army Pay Corps, and perhaps, knowing he planned to make that career move, he had already started to make arrangements for a change back to a career in the service of the Colours. No matter, that 24 Beadon Road listing stays out of the London directories for quite a while.

A listing for a Mrs. G. Mills soon shows up in the 1940 Exeter telephone directory: "Mills, Mrs. G, South Vw, 28 Exeter rd……..Crediton 112." Crediton is just a few miles outside of Exeter, where George could have been stationed as a paymaster at the FCO there. It would make sense: He had kin among the Aclands at Killerton and Broad Clyst.

Vera died in 1942, however, in Exmoor—again Acland land, only farther north—where there was also an FCO of the RAPC in nearby Taunton. There are no listings for any Mills, G. R. A., George, or Mrs. George, in Somerset around 1942. In fact, there are hardly any Acland listings there at that time.

By 1943, Mills relinquished his commission in the service due to "ill health." Where did he then go? A recent widower and presumably too ill to work, it would make sense for him to head to Kensington, and the care of his mother, Edith Mills, and his sisters, Agnes and Violet.

By 1948, the listing for G. R. A. Mills at 24 Beadon Road in Bromley returns to the London directory, this time sporting a barand-new telephone number "RAVensbrn 0451." Is Mills finally well again, and ready to resume his life in Bromley once more after so much time?

Again, there are very good reasons to think that 1948 is another key year in the life of George Mills, but that's something we'll get to next time.

Before I finish, here’s the caveat regarding all of this. While preparing to write this post, I happened to notice something I hadn't seen before.

There was a listing—a new London listing— I'd overlooked in the earlier 1926 London directory, the edition that had been published in April: "Newcross .. 2332 Mills, George Robert Alexander .. .. 51 Wickham rd S.E.4."

George Robert Alexander Mills. G. R. A. Mills…

That 51 Wickham Road address apparently never did belong to George and Vera Mills. I'd been fooled by the fact that after one publication, George Robert Alexander had condensed his full name to G. R. A in subsequent editions of the London directory.

What of those other addresses? Have I simply tracked the upwardly-mobile movements of George Robert Alexander Mills through 1948, and not those of George Ramsay Acland Mills at all?

Is it sheer coincidence that key dates in the life of our George Ramsay Acland Mills always seemed to—somehow, through the ether—prompt someone named George Robert Alexander Mills to relocate as well?

Or is the coincidence simply that one of those listings coincidentally saw the permanent removal of the George Robert Alexander Mills listing at the same time George Ramsay Acland Mills began his own new listing?

It's odd: I can't find any other documentation in ancestry.com that a gentleman named George Robert Alexander Mills existed in the United Kingdom. No birth record, no marriage, no death certificate—nothing. The only reference I could squirrel out myself was that single, April 1926 London telephone listing providing his full name.

Peculiar. Very peculiar.

Next time we'll look at some other interesting listings in the London telephone directories between 1925 and 1948 that aren't in doubt and clearly aren't listings for any George Millses at all.

These listings would have had an impact on the life of our George Mills. In two days, I'm leaving for a 10-day holiday in Michigan to spend time with friends and family there.

If you don't hear from me by then, check back around the 14th of July!

G. D. R. May 23, 1828. Jan 16, 1920.

In addition to the letter from Queen Victoria below, David Wingate also sent me a scan of the memorial card from the funeral of Sir George Dalhousie Ramsay [1828-1920].

Ramsay was the maternal grandfather of George Mills and the first cousin, three times removed, of David Wingate. He was a civilian who first served as secretary to the Hon. Fox Maule Ramsay while the latter was Minister of War. Sir George later became the Director of Military Clothing in the War Office where he served from 30 November 1882 until his retirement in 1893.

Interestingly, Ramsay has been credited with introducing khaki to the military. You can read more about the life, career, and character of Sir George in the text of this memorial card.

Of great interest to me is the sentiment written on the front that reads: "With My Love Edith Mills." Wingate noted: "It would seem that the funeral card was probably sent to Elizabeth Patricia Wingate (nee Maule) by Edith." That would have been David's grandmother [Edith's first cousin, once removed], the wife of Rev. George Wingate.

Edith's signature and sentiment don't reveal an awful lot except that, despite what the census reports may say, she was called by her middle name, Edith, as opposed to Elizabeth. Perhaps she was raised with or near the recipient of this card, Elizabeth Patricia Maule, and was called Edith to minimize confusion.

[Update: The above speculation is probably not correct. In researching Lady Elizabeth Patricia Maule, it turns out she was born in 1846, making her twenty years older than Elizabeth Edith Mills. What makes me even more certain is that Miss Maule was later involved in a legal proceeding detailed on Wednesday 14 June 1876 in the Scottish Law Reporter entitled "Petition—The Honourable Mrs Elizabeth Binny or Maule, and Miss Patricia Maule." Despite the difference in their ages, Elizabeth Patricia and Elizabeth Edith apparently went by the names Patricia and Edith, respectively!]

That is, though, exactly why, despite being named Harry after my father, the family has always called me by my middle name, Sam. Nicknames like "Little Harry" and "Junior" were considered and rejected [Thank Goodness!]—except that I would not have been a "junior" anyway. For some reason that no one knew, my father was the only one of seven children who hadn't been given a middle name. He was the fifth of the seven, and was followed by both a brother and a sister.

Dad served in the United States Navy during the Second World War as a diesel mechanic and machine operator in logistics, and he spent his time overseas primarily on Okinawa. Apparently the Navy frowns on two-initialed sailors, and he was processed from enlistment to return to civilian life as Harry N. M. N. Williams—"no middle name."

Anyway, to read the story of Sir George Dalhousie Ramsay, click the images to enlarge them!