As mentioned in the first part of
this story, when my Father (James Henry Robert Foster)(1897-1961) was
discharged from the army, in 1922 he decided to visit Argentina . He traveled various
places of the country and then settled in Buenos
Aires . He thoroughly enjoyed his stay and the
companionship of many of the WW1 veterans, so much so that he decided to remain
here.
As his savings were quite low he
decided to get to work. His friends informed him there were three good
possibilities: “Alpargatas”, administrating a ranch or the railways. He finally decided for the last mentioned and
applied for a job at the “Great Southern Railway”- I often wonder if his
decision was influenced by his experience during the last months of the war as he
was stationed at a rail-head somewhere in France-Belgium.
So he started work at the Central
Office as a trainee and he was there till 1924. However, whilst in Central
Office, the youngest of the Meek family arrived from England , to work for the railway.
According with my long friendship with Uncle Eric Meek (1902-1987) I was told
that as soon as he arrived at the offices he started to look for my Father and
he, in turn, used to avoid him. Till one day they met down a one office
passages and Dad referred to him as “Hello, you little B…..” that brought about
a life long friendship and fishing adventures.
That same year Dad was
transferred to the town of Balcarce (Province of Buenos Aires
That is where he met the lady
that was to be my Mother: Carmen
Malmierca (1901-1986). He first set eyes on her at the local theatre, when
accompanied, as usual still, in those days, by her chaperon: my great-Aunt
Zaida (Aunt Zaida was a spinster but was well known for both her good looks and
her stern character.). So a few days later meeting them strolling down town he
addressed them in his disastrous Spanish requesting permission to visit her at
their home. After the usual family reunion the visits were approved.
Carmen, Grandfather Julio, aunt Letti
My Grandfather Dr.Julio V.
Malmierca (1876-1958) was both a chemist and a dentist. He was born in the city
of Mercedes (Bs.As),( who’s father had been a
notary with offices both in the town of Mercedes
and in Av.Belgrano in Buenos Aires
and founder of the, in those days, famous theatre Orfeon.) Grandfather traveled
to Balcarce in 1900 where he founded a chemist shop. Those were the days where
chemist attended patients as doctors, dentists, apart from his usual work of
preparing prescriptions for patients. He was a most interesting man and knew
much of argentine history, both from his personal experience and his family. He
became Mayor on two periods in the time when Dr.Marcelo T. de Alvear was
president of the country. As many people
in those days he took office a well to do man and left in a poor financial
situation.
Top: Uncles Ulises, Julitoand Osman, Dad
Bottom: Aunt Pirucha, Grandfather Julio, Grandmother Jorgelina,
Mother and aunt Letti, baby Aunt Alida .(1925)
The first Malmierca, Feliciano,
arrived in Buenos Aires from Castilla La Nueva (Spain ) in 1804
and set up a shop as Military Tailor
very near the main plaza. He became
quite known as he worked, first for the Viceroy and later with all the
invasions, the 1810 revolution and war with Spain and Brazil business was very prosperous as mentioned in General
Gregorio Araóz de Lamadrid memoirs.
In 1820 the central government
named him “distinguished neighbour”
He married Maria del Carmen Porrás,
direct descendant of Antonio de Porras who came with Juan de Garay from Paraguay and founded, for the second time, the
town of Buenos Aires
(1580)
The tailor shop business was very good and so
were the investments, but due to politics, being very much against the government
of Rosas he and his son had to migrate in 1840. So together with fourteen other
citizens amongst them General José Maria Paz (mentioned in General José Maria
Paz memoirs) rowed their way to Uruguay .
As the consequence of this all his properties were confiscated. On their return
after the over- through of Rosas in 1852 their properties were not returned,
not even after investing in very expensive law-suits.
As to my Grandmother Jorgelina Puig (1880-1979):The first Puig of
this branch was Francisco Puig, a chemist from Barcelona that arrived in Buenos
Aires around 1830 and set his pharmacy in
the area of Montserrat.. (City of BsAs .)
He married a miss Brígida Rubio a very strong anti-Rosas who helped those to be
in danger to escape the country.(There was a strong article about her in the
magazine Esquiú in February 1965 – The editor of this magazine was Father
Agustín Luchía Puig - a cousin to my
Grandmother.)
When Grandmother died, in 1979
(aged 99) Father Luchia Puig presided the farewell ceremony at the Pilar church
and she was laid to rest in the Luchia Puig vault at the “Recolecta” cemetery
Grandmother’s parents were
Matilde Noirell and Jorge Puig. Jorge
Puig was on friendly terms with General Olascuaga who had been in Generals Roca’s
expedition to subdue the Indians attacks (1879).
and offered Jorge Puig to finance
the first expedition of farmers to
settle in Fort General Roca (1888)(today the city of General
Roca in the Rio Negro province).
The Puigs and family (My Grandmother then 8 years of age and her sisters, Zaida
and Matilde) left Buenos Aires
and arrived at Carmen de Patagones.. (I
do not know how they traveled there but according to William Henry Hudson’s
stories it was normally by ship to “El Carmen”)
Once there, the girls went to
school at Maria Auxiliadora for a few months till the farmers arrived and they
took off to Fuerte Gral.Roca on horse-back and wagons. On arrival the town of General Roca was
founded. (For further information
please refer to Internet: www. Los Malmiercas). From there they crossed the
Andes into Chile
where my grand-uncle was born: Dr. Raul Puig. After a few years the Puigs
settled in the town of Balcarce
and Joge Puig administered several camps.
Back to my Father, he was
transferred in 1924 to the town of Cipoletti
(Prov. of Rio Negro). So after three months of courtship my Father proposed and
they married in Balcarce and traveled to settle in Chipolletti, which in those
days it must have been a very small town.
However, I do not think they
remained long there as later they were
again transferred, this time, to Bahía Blanca (Prov.of Bs.As.) that was and
still is a booming city.
They enjoyed life there, settled
in a lovely house, had an interesting social life and Dad had to travel often
within the area, specially the town of Tornquist
where the railways maintenance shops were situated.
During his stay at Bahia Blanca , amongst his
many friends were Lieutenant Colonel Alvarez and his family. This family came
from the Province
of San Juan
From here on, for a few years,
happenings are rather hazy:
On the 9th of July
1928 my brother was born like all of us at my Grand-parent’s house in Balcarce.
Soon after that Dad was
transferred to Central Office in Buenos Aires
and when Digby was one year old they went on “Home Leave” to England to
present Grandmother Clara with her first Foster grandson.
As to the Alvarez family we often
had their visit at our home in Lomas
de Zamora where we lived.
Alvarez did not agree with the
new authorities of the 4th of June 1943 revolution, so he retired
from the army and all the family returned to the Province of San Juan
However, during dinner on the 15th.of
January 1944 at 20.52 an earthquake hit San
Juan . The Alvarez home was completely destroyed and
Alvarez and his youngest son were killed.
Their remains were buried with all military honours in the cemetery of
the Recoleta in Buenos Aires .
When back in Buenos Aires Dad got back to his friend Eric Meek who had
married Miss Maria Luisa Bourdon in 1927 (Auntie Nena) and in1928
Ronnie Meek was born, followed Mary and later Alice.
I was born in 1933, and my
sisters Lillian in 1936 and Joyce in 1939.
In 1934 my Parents again took home leave but I
was left with my Grand-parents in Balcarce.(I suppose I would have been a
nuisance)
Dad on "home leave"
When Dad and Eric took up their
fishing excursions I do not know. My
first was when I was 7 and we went two years running to a camp in Quequen
belonging to a Dr. Astelarra from the town of Necochea . To get there a grand-uncle used to
drive us from Balcarce to the camp. I
remember we used to fish in a stream near by the dunes that gave into the sea
and we slept in a bungalow. The first year I was in to give a fright to most of
the party as soon as we arrived Digby
took off running amongst the dunes and I tried following but I got lost … my
cries were so loud that I saw Dad running up the dune at full speed for he
though I has encountered a snake.
Another fishing excursion, where
we used to travel to spend a Sunday quite often, was very near the town of Ranelagh . We used to take a small train at Temperley
station and get of at the station before Ranelagh. From there we would walk a
couple of Kms. and arrive at a farm of a
Mr.Ballesteros who had made his farm into a bird sanctuary, dam a stream that
used to flow within his farm and turned it into a fishing site. No shooting was allowed, only fishing
offered to friends. As to Mr.Ballestero
I remember him quite clearly: a man dressed in bombachas and boots and carried
a whacking big revolver in its holster by his right side.
Years later when Mr.Ballestero
died, everything was destroyed and, although I haven’t been in that area for
years I do not doubt, today, it is all built in.
Our next expedition was to the
Samborombón river. Quite far from the railway station of Cnel. Brandsen (FCS)
To get there we used to take the train to the mentioned station, and on our
bicycles Dad, Digby Eric, Ronnie and myself cycled to the river and spend the day there. I those days, what is
today route 29 was then an earth road.
Who, in those days, would have
thought that, at least, ten years later Charlie Dodds and I would arrive there
on our horses and sleep under the railway bridge.
Finally, both Dad and Eric
noticed the “Salado ” river (160 Kms. From
Bs.As.by train to Guerrero station.) So they went down on a tour of inspection.
The area was very pretty and the river quite wide with good fishing…. So, for at least ten years, we adopted the
area.
First, it was spending the
week-end sleeping, like hoboes, under the bridge of Route
My first experience was about
1942, with Dad we slept under the bridge on a lovely moon light night. that
streamed along the river bed. I was very much impressed at the amount and
variety of duck.
As time went by things got better
organized a so we became to spend two weeks in February with a big tent, that
could fit eight camp beds, first under the road bridge and later at the small
farm of Sr. Doming Ursino´s, who was a commercial fisherman, sending his catch
to market to the town of Mar del Plata.
Normally we were Dad, Uncle Eric,
Ronnie, Digby and myself. Life would start early in the morning when Dad got us
out of bed at 6.30 with a cup of tea and sent us walking two kms to the
Guerrero estancia to buy vegetables, meat and other supplies.
On our return to camp we were received
with a good breakfast of bacon and eggs. After which we went fishing, rowing,
in one of Ursino´s boats, walking down the river sides, swimming, and other
sports.
Long walks also took place up
river to the old bridge of the unused old road to the town of Dolores .
Sometimes we would go down the steel
works of the Railway
Bridge
One year, I was not present when
this occurred, Dad and Eric were fishing from one of the pillars one at each
point, when a fast train went through the bridge tooting away …. As it past the
pillar, somebody in the train flushed the W.C. and Eric received a surprise
present on his left shoulder…. At the shout of Harry, Harry, Dad went to
inspect what the trouble was and very slowly took of Eric’s stained shirt and
through it in to the river.
Another time, after breakfast we
all got into the boat with the idea of fishing. Dad was rowing till we arrived
at a spot where that was considered suitable. On arrival, Dad gave the order,
“Eric, through the anchor” “Aye, aye,
sir” and through the anchor…… the anchor was not tied to the boat. So the four
of us jumped into the water and swam around to no avail. The brown waters of
the river had secured the anchor for ever.
Eric could work wonders with Dad
and could mellow his strong character when in an explosive mood.
This was so much so, that
whenever we had a problem with Dad, either at home or camping we used to go to
visit Uncle Eric to ask his advice.
As time went by the neighbours
became very friendly towards us and we were well received by Ursino, the
Station master and his family, Martinez ,
the local policeman, the administrator of the Guerrero estancia and of course
El Vasco.
El “vasco” was an entity in
himself: He was Dads man Friday, when he
had news that Dad was arriving he would be at the station platform waiting with
his wheel-barrow to load it with our tent plus many other guia and we would all
walk the two Kms. to the river bed and help set up the tent and camp beds. He hardly spoke; we never quite knew where he
came from or what had been his life.
He lived in a shack on the other
bank of the river together with his dogs, hens, etc.
The local story that we heard was
that he had been a nice young man but when he returned from WW1
he completely abandoned
himself…. One day he mumbled to me
something about the French Foreign Legion but that is all. Every neighbour helped him out. He used to address my Father as “Don Mister
Foster”
Pepe (El Vasco)
With
time Digby and Ronnie stopped coming with us so I was allowed to bring a friend
with me.
And one morning after having made
our shopping and sat down to breakfast, on the other side of the camp wire on
the Guerreros estancia¨we were approached by a tall man dressed in whites and two
Great Dane dogs with him. He wished us
Good Morning and then introduced himself as Dr. Russo, the husband of Valeria
Guerrero, he mentioned that he had seen us come camping for quite a few years
and that they had asked references about us and that we were known as “good
persons” and therefore we were invited to lunch at the Guerrero´s chateau on
the Sunday.
Joyce,Eric,David,Ronnie and Dad
Sunday came along and Dad got us
all into the river to have a proper bath, so we soaped ourselves, don on sport
coat and tie and went into the estancia.
We all laughed on arrival as Mr. and Mrs. Russo had dressed as hoboes as
to not make us feel uncomfortable. David, my companion and I swam in the pool,
whilst the elders had their drinks.
After a very good lunch we were toured round the chateau which was built
on the base of the old fort of walls 60 cms.wide. The tour was very interesting
and many things brought from abroad were seen.
The friendship continued for many
years whenever the Russo family was in residence, and on occasions they would
go out, up-river in their launch and Eric playing his banjo. Another
interesting lady that we met there was a Miss Gisela Shaw. This lady which was
part of the family that owned the Shaw Bank had been in the 1930´s with the
government of the time within the Ministry of Education. I believe she was
quite an eccentric person and in those days as she use to walk down B.A.
dressed in cowboy boots, skirt and a large Mexican sombrero.
Valeria and her husband lived,
mostly, in the town of General
Madariaga.Estancia “La Raquel” has been for many years
turned into a Fund for Music and arts, plus a tourism resort.
On the many sea resorts in the
south of Buenos Aires
one is named “Valeria del Mar”
As to Miss Gisela Shaw she
donated all her paintings to a welfare society.
During our stay, the middle
Sunday, Dad used to cook his special “Hot Curry”, expecting our guests.
Days before he would dig a deep hole
and get el “Vasco” to bring in his wheel-barrow a bar of ice. This was
deposited in the hole and filled up with bear and other drinks. At eleven o’clock arrived the train to
Guerrero station, and on passing the bridge, friends would wave announcing
their arrival.
After the walk of the two Kms.
from station to camp they were received with cool Gin-Tonics and then sit down
for the hot curry. (I was given a softer portion) And I used to stare at the
guests: George Dent, Eng.Bearly (forgotten the rest) together with Dad and
Eric, in the heat of the afternoon eating away the Hot Curry and downed with
bear. perspiring away. Around 3.30 pm
they would walk back to the station, waving again on passing the bridge, and
back to B.A… Their return, on the train, was, at the bar drinking bear.
During some of the years we spent
holidays at the Salado
River
1945) in most of the world.
My first recollection of the war
was when the battle of the River Plate took part and there was a welcome party
to the sailors of the Ajax
at the Lomas Athletic Club. Although I was about 6 years old I remember this
issue quiet clearly, as I was given cigatte by one of the sailors. I was
smoking away when brother Digby (11) caught me in the act and went and told Dad,
who was in the “Welcome Committee”, I saw Dad coming at a full run and I
started running and puffing with my cigarette till finally caught up and given
me a thorough shaking.
We were all aware of the
situation and sooner or later we all had our, small or big, effort within
it.
Dad, not being accepted as a
volunteer, took his work within the British Legion. Erik Meek, George Dent and many
others, gave concerts and comedies, mainly at the Barker Hall, to entertain
people and raise funds for the war effort.
My small contribution was as from
1943 was working at the local “Dump”, where people donated all sort of things
to be sold and the profit sent to the War Fund.
The Lomas Club had a grand fete
at its grounds in Links where even an elephant was brought in.
As to my town, Balcarce, as many
others, came to the rescue. Thanks to Mr. & Mrs. Pagnam (with their two
sons volunteering into the RAF), the railway chief engineer, was backed by the
most of the population of the town.
Balcarces donations made able to the building of a Spitfire (The
Fellowship of the Bellows (?)). I had, until a short time, and I gave it to my
son, that lives in Spain ,
a pin of a Spitfire that had been presented to my Grandfather.
As war raged and things became
very difficult the different Institution both British and Argentine
(Pro-allied) jumped to its duty…. Men and women that worked during the day use
to find time to help the war effort.
Thousands of volunteers joined the allied forces. Men and women that
should never be forgotten and to whom I take my hat off in remembrance and
respect.
And comes to my mind, something
learnt at St.Alban´s College: Shakespeare’s:
In peace nothing
so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility
But when the
blast of war blows in our ears
Then imitate the
action of the tiger
Stiffen the
sinews, summon up the blood
Disguise fair
nature with hard favoured rage
And lend the eye a terrible aspect, let
it pry through the portage of the head.
Like the brass cannon,
let the brow overwhelm it.
We saw the return of many volunteers arrive back home and all settled
down to their circumstances.
During 1945 (after the surrender
of Germany ) or 46 the
“Ajack” returned to Argentina …. Dad, Eric and I went to visit it one
afternoon. However we were not aloud as
that same afternoon they were taking on board (some) prisoners of the Graf Spee
that had been interned in the country for the duration. Most of them were in
uniform and they were guarded by marines (Turtle necks?) with rifles and
bayonets.
As to Eric, when the railways were sold found
a job at Duperial and when pensioned he worked for the British Embassy whilst
he was, also, teaching English. He continued to entertain people at the Barker
Hall in “Get-Togethers” for funds for the British Community Council.
Leslie Cockshot,Alice Meek,Eric Meek,Maira Comber,Billy Thomas
At the time he also had to two
youngsters whom he taught to play the banjo: Leslie Cockshot and Billy Thomas.
The trio was most successful in their concerts.
I enjoyed visiting his house on Colombres street ,
where the Meeks lived, and many Sunday evenings he met with George Dent and
Reginald Hortis and together: Eric (banjo) Dent (piano) and Hortis (saxo) use
to play together. I imagine it was not only practice and good fun but to take
of the “blues” of Sunday evenings.
Eric and Aunty Nena later moved
to a flat in Adrogué and we use to meet every Thursday visiting Dad at the British Hospital
As a teacher of English he was a
success and remained so after going to live in the town of Tandil where, occasionally, I was able to
visit him.
The last time I saw Eric,
personally, was in 1983 when there was a “Jam Session” at St.Alban´s College
where took place the 25th.anniversary of Billy and Leslie, as banjo
players, which was a great success.
Eric danced most of the night
with a very pretty lady……
One day in 1987 Mary phoned me
from Tandil to inform me that Eric had passed away…..
.
Derek R. Foster
“Dry Alamo”
No comments:
Post a Comment