Ron Openshaw

Photo: (from left) Ron Openshaw, Keith Haddon, Judy Jackson

We were all very sorry to hear of the death of Ron Openshaw. He had been ill on and off for a number of years and looked as though he was getting better but, leaving the Library after his usual shift recently, he had a heart attack and crashed his car. Sensibly, he managed to choose the wall of a care home where two nurses took him in hand while the ambulance arrived. Ten days later, he had a second attack and died in Treliske.

Quiet, gentle and kind are the words that everyone uses about Ron. Private, might be another. Not many people knew that he was actually an accomplished folk singer/songwriter and was working with Sue Fallon on the fifth CD of his songs. Many of these grew out of Cornwall and the history of the working people; many had a sly wit like his song of the laminated beam engine which was never quite straight.

A life-long bachelor, Ron was brought to Goonhilly by BT in the 60s and sensibly never left. He helped found, and was on the steering group of, the Kerrier and Falmouth Credit Union and sat on the Lizard RNLI committee. In the Library, he did much of the early work on Fox's Arrivals which has been taken on by Bill Powell, and on other databases.

We will miss him.

Jonathan Griffin

Museum Minnows

(clockwise from top left)
Alfie Newlands (Katie N's),
Eliza Wittamore (Jenny W's) and
Nancy Nenning (Derryth Ridge's)

Frank Dye

I was very sad to hear that Museum volunteer Frank Dye died last Sunday afternoon. Frank and Margaret were probably the greatest dinghy cruisers the country has known and were famous around the world for their daring voyages, many of them carried out in Wanderer (Wayfarer 48).

Frank, an engineer by training from a garage-owning family, was a cautious seaman, planning each trip carefully and customising his boats to suit the conditions he was expecting to meet. He tackled trips that would terrify any 'normal' sailor: like sailing to Iceland or Norway of from Florida to Canada. I doubt that he enjoyed capsizing in the middle of the North Sea but that did not put him off planning similar voyages when he was plenty old enough to know better. His books have inspired thousands of sailors.

Wanderer was initially retired to Greenwich but, in Margaret's words, found a new lease of life when she came to Falmouth, featuring in a number of exhibitions including Mad Dogs, and Englishmen? whose title was partially inspired by Frank's exploits. She received regular greetings cards and flowers from Margaret.

Frank and Margaret became volunteers and, in the early days taught us all how to talk to our visitors as they shared stories of their travels and the joy of sailing. One never quite knew when they were going to turn up but they would be there one morning, chatting away as though they had never left; stayed for a few weeks and disappeared as suddenly as they had come.

Frank's fame was legendary. In a stiff force 5/6 off Barmouth on a cold winter's day, wrapped up in several extra layers of clothing, he was hailed by another sailor, worried that the conditions were a bit extreme: 'Who do you think you are? Frank Dye or someone'. 'Yes', came Frank's simple and honest reply as he sailed through the surf.

Amongst the moments I cherish was sailing with Frank in the Museum's Wayfarer, Never Say Die. He refused to take the helm, assuming that I was a better helmsman (!) and simply enjoyed being out on the water. He was the perfect crew, politely dropping the mainsail at exactly the right time so that we gently glided into the pontoon under our own way. Nothing would keep Frank and Margaret from the water. When they were last here I asked how things were going and was told that they had been out sailing the previous weekend as usual, creek-crawling in Norfolk. This would have been fine in younger people and if it had not been February.

A postcard arrived from Margaret today: 'Just to tell you that Frank died peacefully in hospital yesterday. I was there and we talked about you all in Cornwall. He was wearied by the long hard East Coats winter and he hated inactivity. We sailed here as usual on Christmas Day ... Coming to Cornwall retained our happiest memories ...'

Let me end with the words of this quiet, modest, humble man:

'Offshore cruising in an open boat can be hard, cold, wet, lonely and occasionally miserable, but it is exhilarating too. To take an open dinghy across a hundred miles of sea, taking weather as it comes; to know that you have only yourself and your mate to rely on in an emergency; to see the beauty of dawn creep across the ever restless and dangerous ocean; to make a safe landfall - is wonderful and all of these things develop a self-reliance that is missing from the modern, mechanical, safety-conscious civilised world.'

Frank Dye, 28 April 1929 - 16 May 2010

Jonathan Griffin

The end of the Slaughter?

And so, farewell 'young' John. Former Trustee of the Cornwall Maritime Museum, project director for Ponsharden, boat-building volunteer, former chair of the Falmouth Town Forum, tireless campaigner for Falmouth and its traffic systems, scourge of Cornwall Council, and tutor to young museum directors, John Slaughter has finally upped his sticks from the leafy glades of Carnon Downs and is heading for sunny Cardiff to support his daughter through university.

Having nothing else to do, the boatbuilding volunteers got together for a breakfast to say farewell and, being dab hands with wood and sticky-back plastic, could not resist sending him off with a model pallett truck to wile away his third retirement. His reputation with the life-sized version is the stuff of legend. It is said that his chassee through the Hold bearing lighthouse optics made Strictly Come Dancing look like a herd of buffalo; Waterlily almost moved herself when she saw him coming; and no gap was too small for him to attempt the pallet-truck triple lutz.

But that was not all. The team found an obscure certificate he had never been given: a qualification donated after a one-day course in speaking Japanese - damn him, he even remembered some of the phrases - which naturally required some Cornish sushi: a mackerel.

A few days later the Town Forum said its own farewell to John. One former chairman remarked that his email inbox would be lighter by several Gb and he could revert to his original small-capacity telephone answering machine now that John was leaving but we were reassured to know that we will be receiving regular reports on the Cardiff traffic system. It was suggested that we should arrange a twinning arrangement with the city burghers who are, as yet, innocent of what awaits them. 'That castle will have to move and who on earth had the idea of building a rugby ground just there; now about this roundabout ...'

The boatbuilding crew made another gem for John's dining table: a model of the Falmouth bollard, in both its dormant and erect state, complete with flashing lights, for this was another of John's Falmouth triumphs achieved by wearing down the Council Transport Department with relentless logic until they finally capitulated and installed Falmouth's answer to the leaning tower of Pisa. His only failure was to see the benefit of pay-on-exit at the car parks.

It is impossible not to hold John in high regard. His energy and dogged determination accompany a self-deprecating wit. Not for nothing was his house called Raffles, reflecting his years in the Far East where he installed things for Cable and Wireless and, allegedly, brough China into the modern telecommunications world. On one occasion a younger John even carried a new satellite receiver up a volcano on the back of a donkey: but that is another story which may be read in the history of C&W (naturally a copy is in the Library).

For now it is enough simply to say goodbye and thank you. John has helped to change Falmouth for the better and has been a great support and friend to me personally. I shall miss the cheery answerphone message from his vacuum cleaner and lugubrious tones on the phone when he has had, yet another, idea. For now, I have to sort out all the papers he has left me with which 'just turned up' as he was clearing out his garage.

Jonathan Griffin

Grumpy Volunteer Corner

by Keith Evans

I feel duty bound to write this blog in the interests of Anglo-American relations and to enable my colleagues to interpret their lingo. I became involved with a group of ancient Americans off a cruise ship recently. One asked "Where's the Bathroom?" He wants a bath, I thought. They must have been at sea a long time. You can have a dip in the pool. But, being quick off the mark, I realised he wanted the toilet.

A few minutes later another, wearing a stetson asked "Hey! Where's the rest room?" He wants a snooze, I thought. I'm sure Jonathan wouldn't mind him having a kip in his office. Ah, I thought, he too wants the toilet.

Later, a third asked "Where's the men's room?" I was ready for him. I pointed him in the right direction. Why don't they speak the same language?

Whilst on matters lavatorial, I remember a large, very large, attendant wielding a smelly lavatory brush in a lavatory in a French village. She demanded a fee and tore off a couple of pieces of flimsy paper from a roll. A thought this was a receipt; in fact it was toilet paper. I didn't argue.

Debs got all excited recently. No, she didn't want the toilet. She came streaking across the Main Hall, I'll re-phrase that, dancing, no, prancing, no, anyway she came across, as only Debs can, all excited. She'd been down to the Tidal Zone. I thought that at least she must have seen a killer whale. It turned out that she'd seen a squid. Really Debs, you know this excitement is not good for me.

The 'Gunner’s Daughter'

('Kissing the gunner's daughter' = bent over a gun barrel and flogged) or
The Cat o’ Nine tails

by Mike Pennell

Chatting with visitors is an enjoyable experience, but observing visual expressions can be interesting too - usually friendly, sometimes amusing or surprised, interest & disinterest - but recently I have added 'serious concern'!!!!

I was in Cornwall Gallery talking to a man & his wife about the Cat o’Nine Tails (changed to a bunch of Birch (Hazel) twigs in the 1860s) displayed there, and they were amazed when I recounted my Policeman father’s stories of the Birch being used (for petty larceny offences) in the 1920s & 30s; (it ceased to be legal in the UK for judicial punishment in 1948, but use by former Colonies extended to 2002). Apparently it really did discourage re-offending, as flogging was still given on the bare back.

When used to punish on-board theft, deemed to be a very serious crime, the historical seafaring version of the Cat often had three overhand knots tied in each 'tail' to increase the pain. The Cat was kept in a red baize bag until punishment was imminent, when the Bo’suns Mate would 'Let the Cat out of the Bag'.

Maybe foolishly, I then went on to mention to the visitors that a similar form of corporal punishment existed at my Sea School (HMS Conway) in 1950 and sensed, rather than saw, the male visitor step back slightly. The instrument of torture was 'The Teaser' – an 18” back-spliced piece of ¾” cordage with an eye for the hand - and this was administered 'astern' (covered!) by seniors, for many 'crimes'. It could be given whilst the miscreant stood, or made to kneel and present a smoother target. 'Steeping' the backspliced end in salt water (for stiffness) was not unknown.

The Teaser was worn by Seniors, hanging through their belt as a visible deterrent to all.
Corporal punishment could not be enforced, but it was far easier than the alternative of vast amounts of extra work, unloading coal and other such unpleasant tasks.

Every evening we mustered all hands on the Lower deck to hoist four large boats onto davits and as we tramped along with the falls, talking was a heinous crime worth two strokes.

As a senior in charge of sports, one of my lesser responsibilities was the nightly treatment of Athlete's foot (a common occurrence on wet wooden decks) and failure to attend my 'clinic' of a permanganate of potash foot bath earned the absentee two strokes!!

In the Royal Navy, punishments used to be given in front of the entire crew, and at School, very serious misdemeanors were administered by an Officer, after lights out with a cane, on the Quarter Deck, accompanied by a roll on a side drum. Very moving to hear as one lay in a warm hammock!!

I am not sure with what impression my visitors departed, nor how that sort of discipline would be viewed nowadays by the PC brigade!!



The pictured working replica is inappropriate as a Museum exhibit, but could be loaned to Waterfront during School Holidays.