Slèinte Mhath (Slanj-a-va) – [Part 1 of 2 stories about this family]

 Cheers!

Arthur Campbell was a proud second generation Scot in Cape Town. He was born in the front room of a semi-detached home in Trill Road, Observatory, Cape Town in 1889. Present were his birth mother (obviously) and the midwife. His dad was at a nearby pub enjoying his Scotch on the Rocks (whiskey with ice “croutons”, as ‘t were). Surrounding him at the bar counter were some of his buddies that he was regaling with his riveting stories liberally spiced with fiction. He could lie with incredible fluency when his mind was sufficiently lubricated with his beloved Scotch – something that was part of his heritage and the consumption of which would become an inter-generational curse for his growing brood. He would stumble into the little house a few hours after his son had popped into this world. 

Sadly, Arthur acquired a taste for the lubricant late in his teens. He followed in his father’s footsteps – and these led directly to the public house and liquor store. Besides this particular vice, he was a rather pleasant fellow and turned out to be hard working and thrifty in the Scottish tradition. 

He landed employment at the Salt River Works that had been established in 1862 to build and service rolling stock for the first South African railway service and was later taken over by the Cape Government Railways. The Salt River Works grew as railways expanded their footprint at the Cape and in the rest of the region, eventually occupying about two square kilometers of land in Salt River, an up and coming industrial hub in the City. Arthur was apprenticed and showed his mettle in a workplace with some rough diamonds and hardened manual workers. He worked his way up to become a skilled iron worker and, in his later years, a supervisor in this tough environment.

Shortly before the First World War Arthur met and married a bonny lass by the name of Millicent, four years his junior. She could also trace her ancestry to Scottish roots, but her family had long since lost the Scottish accent, unlike the Campbells. She found his accent charming and he was enthralled by her bubbly, bouncy personality that reflected a delightful gaiety. He had started to make enough money at the forges and anvils of the Salt River Works to be able to support a family, and lived in the home purchased by his parents, both of them now deceased. Typical Scots, both he and Millicent looked after their pennies and soon established a healthy nest egg – funds with which they could embark on the next phase of their lives as young parents.

In 1917 Millicent gave birth to a boy whom they named Alexander (Alex) and three years later, a daughter named Muriel joined her brother in this nuclear family. On both occasions her husband had not been present for the birth, but either at work or at the local pub, in the same way his own father had been years before. The young mother, Millicent, maintained a pristine home environment in her traditional and widely accepted role of housewife in that day and age. So particular was she about cleanliness and neatness, that the youngsters grew up in a very structured and restricted environment. In those days children were to be seen and not heard – a dictum she enforced exquisitely. Charming and exuberant as she could be in adult company, she could play the role of strict matriarch with paddle in hand as far as the raising of children was concerned. Indeed, even as she tolerated Arthur arriving from the local pub inebriated after work, she depressed a very firm thumb on the lives of her youngsters. 

Family life in the Campbell residence became strained as the children progressed into their teenage years and flexed their wills (and hormones) against the restrictive boundaries set for them. Their strict upbringing turned both Alex and Muriel to inventive and cunning means to escape the regimen imposed on them. Both would find any excuse to visit those of their buddies who had won the trust of Millicent. She allowed this, because she knew that there was adequate adult supervision at those homes. Alex, of course, abused this trust and made his way to the less trustworthy homes on many an occasion. He got away with his duplicitousness most of the time, but felt the consequences on those occasions he was caught out. His sister, however, could not hide the evidence on the one occasion she strayed. Nine months later she gave birth to a youngster who was promptly farmed out for adoption – against her will. Of prime concern to her parents was hiding the shame that they felt would befall the family should they not hide their daughter’s indiscretion. Whether he agreed with Millicent’s enforcement of her rules or not, the old man had to abide by them. Most of the time he was inebriated, but not whilst at work. He also never lost a penny, despite his heavy drinking. The family was frugal and managed to amass a small fortune over the years.

As the two youngsters reached adulthood, they left the confines of their home as soon as they could. Muriel initially held a few jobs, but started the generational descent into alcoholism early in her twenties. This led to “night shift” on the streets of Cape Town and a rapid progression that ended with her becoming a transient, vagrant type, with all manner of dubious characters in her wake. She evidently met her ignominious end on the seedy streets of the city. Mercifully, she never gave birth to another potential victim of the generational curse.

Alex was a highly intelligent fellow and a talented pianist. In those times of silent movies he played the piano at the numerous cinemas that popped up in every area of Cape Town. It required outstanding skill to play the piano in those venues – a keen eye for the visual projection coupled with dexterity and near perfection in improvisation as the fingers danced over the ebony and ivory keys. It was a great pity that the entertainment industry was, at that time, closely associated with the free flow of alcohol at the venues that invariably offered their own bar facilities. The generational curse struck again, and Alex began his own spiral into alcoholism.

The advent of “talking movies” was the death knell of the theatre pianist. Alex sought and found employment in the administrative department of the municipality and continued to follow the work ethic of his father. His mother passed away at around the same time and he moved in with his father. 

Alex entered into a marriage and the pair took over the running of the house that belonged to old man Arthur – who moved into one of the rooms that was more than adequate for him. He had no intention of remarrying and tucked into his Scotch with gay abandon. He managed for the most part to keep his pose when he had poured a bit too much of the intoxicating brew down his throat. Sometimes he would pause at the front door upon his return home and lean against the doorpost – presumably to “think”. 

Alex and his wife parted ways when she tired of the constant cycle of heavy drinking – both father and son. He became quite a relationship expert over the next few years – marrying and divorcing a few more times.

[Part 2 will be published next week}