Ulster Volunteers

This historic photograph is of members of the Ulster Volunteers at an encampment at Wheatlands near Belfast, Ireland. My father, Frederick Buchanan, is on the front row, extreme left. The Ulster Volunteers were formed at the height of the controversy over Home Rule in 1912. My grandmother, Mary Jane Lyons Buchanan, was strongly opposed to Home Rule and called it “Rome Rule.”

Apparently my ould faither echoed his mother and joined the Ulster Volunteers to show his solidarity with those who opposed the Home Rule legislation which was introduced at Westminster in 1912. Sir Edward Carson, the leader of the Unionists, wanted to preserve the Union between Britain and Ireland, believing it to be in the best interests of his fellow countrymen.

When the Westminster Parliament introduced the Home Rule Bill (1912), Carson took a leading part in the formation of the Ulster Volunteers, who drilled openly to show that they were prepared to resort to arms rather than be ruled by an Irish parliament in Dublin.

The Ulster Unionists planned to set up a government of their own if the Home Rule Bill was passed. It wasn’t, but the Ulster Volunteers continued as an idea, and in 1921 Ireland was divided into two political entities – the South with a Catholic majority and the North with a Protestant majority. Freddy Buchanan volunteered for the Royal Navy in1917 and swore allegiance to the British crown. After years of poverty he ended up back in Scotland looking for work as a radical Socialist. Such are the turns of life!

Grandma Buchanan and "Big Lizzie King"

This summer sport's meet was held at Stevenston a week before WWII began. Stevenston in those days was a popular holiday resort for the Glasgow and Paisley folk.

It looks as if my mother is coming in at 3rd place (second from right). Not bad for a forty-three year old! Now we know where the running instinct comes from! I think the winner is "Big Lizzie King."

The second photograph shows Gran and Aunt Betty as spectators. The wee lad on the right squinting into the sun is me at age 8. At his left is our Irish cousin Maurine Buchanan who was spending the summer at 5 George Place. She was a daughter of Uncle Angus Buchanan, Papa's brother. I think she was supposed to stay longer in Stevenston but the war cut short her vacation. I seem to remember the big folks talking about German submarines in the Irish Sea.

Ian

I am the lad on the right – the other is my cousin Ian Brittain Kerr, son of Tillie (Mary) Reid Kerr who was the wife of John Kerr who abandoned his family when Ian was a baby. Why? No one is alive who knows, but my father had his theories: Tillie made such demands on him that he had to get extra cash and got caught with his hand in the till of the company – which in turn made him leave for parts unknown.

But, to the subjects of this snapshot – why am I wearing three layers of clothing, while Ian had only one? Is it because my mother was overprotective of me? Or perhaps, I am supposed to be dressed up when I go to see my Grandmother at 6 Kelvin St., Largs. Come to think of it, when Ian came to visit he usually wore his kilt!

I can hear Aunt Tillie urging me to put my arm around Ian so that people can see we are real pals! Incidentally, Ian and Aunt Tillie lived with Grandma Elizabeth Bell Reid. I don't seem to be in a posing mood, but I do have a correct "hankie" in my suit coat pocket. Ian on the other hand is in gear, fit for a scramble up to the Roman fort in the heights above Largs or ready to play vikings and pirates in the Goggle Burn.

He was born on the 23d of December 1933 and took some pleasure in having the same birthday as Joseph Smith. He was an introvert, shy and easily embarrassed by his cousin's extrovertish ways. He was also very smart, interested in bagpipes, took lots of photographs, liked history – indeed we were really very good pals with similar interests.

It was a sad, sad day for me when he died of a brain tumour in 1987.

Frederick S., Boy Scout

Here I am standing on the Stevenston foreshore in the Fall of 1947 resplendent in my Boy Scout uniform, which in Scotland could include the kilt. The one I am wearing here is of the Seaforth Highlander tartan and was a hand-me-down from my cousin Ian Kerr. The scout belt that I wore (indeed still wear) is an authentic British Boy Scout clasp belt which I bought from Tommy Gilmour for five shillings. It has the Scout motto (Be Prepared) inscribed at the top of the clasp and at the bottom tiny carvings of the floral emblems of the 4 natons which make up Great Britain. My father put new leather on the belt. The shirt is actually one of Alex Leslie's discarded Royal Air Force shirts which my mother died khaki. The reason for reusing old clothing was that Britain in 1947 was still under wartime rationing of clothing, cakes, candies and coal.

How did I come to join the Scouts? I think it was my Uncle Willie Reid who invited me to join – he was the Assistant Scoutmaster and I was a frequent visitor to his and Aunt Sarah's home on Sunday evenings. Their own son (John Reid ) died c.1934, and they enjoyed seeing me reading Gulliver's Travels and other classics which they had bought for him. My father didn't encourage me much in my scouting activity – he thought it was a military organization designed to fight for the Upper Classes, Capitalism and the Monarchy.

I enjoyed the comradery of Scouting but didn't do much with merit badges – they were more difficult to get than their U.S. counterparts. I liked hikes into the country, wide games, singing around the campfire, doing a good deed daily and involvement in the "Bob-a-Job" project (a Bob is a shilling). I also made good friends – Gordon Hutton, Raymond Stark and John Cochrane. We went to movies as a group and played a sort of rugby on the Stevenston shore. One warm day in the summer of 1948 a few of us went along the Ardeer shore and took to "skinny dipping" in the surf.

Eventually I became a Patrol Leader and had some good times introducing new tenderfoots to scouting. Harry Cooper was our troop leader and artist. When I left for America he hand cast a figurehead of a curlew for me – I still have it. Dennis Dawson was the Assistant Scoutmaster, and I admired him for his intelligence and his prowess in sports.

All in all, my experience as a Boy Scout was very positive and it did much to mold my value system – it was a good substitute for the lack of church involvement.


I look as if I were twelve, but I'm really sixteen.

First Baptism

I spent the first 5 months of my mission in Doncaster, Yorkshire. My companion was John Hulme and we kept very busy trying to shine the gospel light into the minds and lives of the Yorkshire coal miners and their families.

We took one couple (the two on the left in the upper photo) through all the Anderson Plan discussions – including the Word of Wisdom – after which they agreed to be baptized.

On the way home from the baptism and feeling quite satisfied in having my first baptism, I looked back to see how the good brother was doing and he was sitting there drawing on a fag (cigarette). I went back and sat by him asking what was happening. He said "I thought I was to stop smoking only until I was baptized."

When we got to his home his wife really tore into him and he said "okay, okay I'll get baptized again." She responded, "Yes, and I hope the Elders will hold you under."

As far as I know this family never became "active" members of the church even though they had answered all the Anderson questions correctly. Demonstrating that maybe they had converted to Missionaries and not to the Gospel.

Frederick Buchanan, Harrier

My father is in this picture of the Eglinton Harriers. If we take the three sitting on the floor as row 1, he is sitting on row 2 – extreme right – proud as a peacock, ready to race across the Stevenston sand dunes. I don’t know when he became involved with the Eglinton Harriers, but essentially it was because of the outbreak of Wordl War I.

As you are aware, you can’t wage war without explosives and Alfred Nobel’s Explosives Factory at Ardeer, an area in Stevenston, was gearing up for the conflict. In addition Scottish factories were paying twice the wages Dad was getting in his job at the ship yard in Belfast. At the beginning of 1915 he began work at Ardeer Foundry. He boarded at the home of his Aunt (?) and Uncle (?) Isabel McManus and William Rainey in Ardrossan. It so happened that Willie Rainey was the coach of the Eglinton Harriers.

So I assume that he introduced his young nephew to the manly art of cross country racing and sprinting. He must have joined the club around the Spring of 1915. He won some medals, but on the 7th of March 1917 he was sworn in as an ordinary seamen in the Royal Navy.

MV Eucadia

My father was never very keen on leaving Scotland, but when he decided to go to Utah he made it a condition that we would sail directly from Glasgow rather than travel the length of England and sail from Southampton. Dad was Irish to the core and had the typical Irish bias against the Sassenach.

We made travel arrangements through Mr. Alexander Millar of Saltcoats and were scheduled to leave Glasgow on a brand and new cargo/passenger ship, the MV Eucadia of the Anchor Line, an old Scottish shipping company. The Eucadia had 6 first class cabins on each side. On the 18th of June 1949 we paid for our transportation from Glaagow to Salt Lake City–! £165 for the sea voyage and £54 for the railroad fare–the total cost of tranporting the three of us came to approximately $725 US Dollars. Originally scheduled to leave Glasgow on July 2nd, the sailing date was postponed for three days. I think we arrived in New York on the 13th of July.

On the morning of July 5th we walked the few blocks from Aunt Jean’s home on Mooorark West to the Stevenston station, each of us carrying a brown cardboard suitcase containing all of our personal clothing etc. We said final goodbyes to a few neighbours and kinfolk and as the train sped past places whiere we had worked and played we all realized that this was not a holiday jaunt we were going on. Dad wept like a child as his happy hunting grounds (the Stevenston Marshes) vanished in the distance. For me I was as happy any teenager would be when faced with the greatest adventure in his life. A new chapter of my life was opening before me and I knew that my life would be forever changed by the decision I had made to leave my native land and gather in the place I believed was Zion. For years we had sung with vigor the hymn “Ye Elders of Israel.” Now we could sing the chorus with conviction: "Oh Babylon, Oh Babylon, we bid you, farewell; We’re going to the mountains of Ephraim to dwell.”


This picture of the MV Eucadia was taken, September of 1953 from the deck of the S.S. United States as I was returning from my mission to Great Britain.

Liz Buchanan with Rabbits (and Fred)

Taken around 1939, my mother displays a brace of rabbits which dad had just brought in. In a few minutes she'll have them skinned, cut up and put into a large soup pot with a variety of vegetables – carrots, turnip, celery, parsley and tatties.

My mother was a very hard worker and could set a table fit for a king. Her brother John registered her for school and made her one year older than she really was. That was so she would be able to get home and start work instead of attending school. She was a housekeeper as well as a personal maid. She served in a home in Saltcoats when she was a teen.

Frederick Buchanan, Hunter

This is 32 year old Frederick Buchanan – hunter par excellence – standing by Stevenston Burn on Stinston Mair (Stevenston Moor) in the fall of 1929. His game bag was an important source of protein for his growing family during the “Great Depression.” He bagged 13 ducks on the day before I was born. Note the shine on his boots. He loved to take the missionaries hunting. Elder William Tolman took this picture. Fred’s game included hares, rabbits, curlews, lapwings, snipe, golden plovers and one “Royal” swan – which he bagged for the Stevenston Socialist Party's Christmas dinner – around 1930. Shsh – it was technically a crime, but so was the “Great Depression.” Dad was out of work for 8 years!