Jim had close associations with Rowhedge. Long before he moved here with his new wife Pauline, to live at 61 Albion St, he had established ‘trade’ with Mrs Maudesley who ran a grocery in the High Street. He liked to recount the ‘Relief of Rowhedge’ when, in the dark days of WW2 and food rationing, young Jim and his mate skipped school to deliver wholesale quantities of blackberries to Rowhedge, by boat from the Hythe. The ‘boat’ was in fact a pair of re-purposed bomber drop-tanks, obtained by doubtful means from the Corporation rubbish dump.
We were lucky to hear this and other amusing anecdotes at one of our most successful evening supper talks in the Village Hall. But the main content of the evening was his account of a career on the sailing barges. Fulfilling a schoolboy ambition he fled school at 15 to join the sailing barge Gladys. In spite of the fact that barging under sail was a dying industry, he and a few other youngsters were prepared to suffer the hardships of barging, to join skippers, often 50 years their senior, on the few remaining Thames Sailing Barges. His account included a string of amusing stories, like his very first job installing the bob (flag) at the masthead. Thinking that it was something you just hauled up, he readily accepted his task, only to find that he was expected to climb, unaided, to the very top of the 100ft mast. He then had to insert the staff into a small hole in the truck (the button at the top of the mast), whilst the skipper drank his tea and read the newspaper down below. His account of this had his audience in stitches.
But Jim was clearly good at his job for he rapidly rose from 3rd hand, to mate, and then, due to an injury to his skipper, he himself became skipper of the sailing barge George Smeed at the age of 18! Sadly, this career was brought to an end by the demise of he sailing barge as a form of cargo transport. By the late 1950s Jim and others were already planning ways of preserving the Thames Barge by addressing the leisure market, in the form of charter and sail training for young people. He was a co-founder of the Sailing Barge Preservation Society, and for more than a decade, Jim skippered charter crews in the much-loved SB Memory, later the Lord Roberts and finally the Marjorie.
As charter barging also became decreasingly secure, Jim took a sideways step into sail-making, a skill he had learned aboard, serving the everyday need to maintain some 4,000 square feet of canvas, the power plant of the barge. This venture was a great success and he made sails for many historic traditional craft such as the surviving Thames barges and smacks, and for new vessels such as the sail training square-riggers Lord Nelson and Tenacious, both owned by the Jubilee Sailing Trust. James Lawrence Sailmakers became the place to go for apprentices wanting to learn these skills, some of whom went on to start their own sail lofts. Steve Hall of North Sea Sails says “Jim taught me everything I know”. His caring attitude earned him the honorary title of ‘Uncle Jim’.
But he was never long away from the water, and during this time he owned a number of boats, including the smack Rosena, William (briefly), and his beloved bawleys – Saxonia and the Helen and Violet. His love of smacks was a close second to his love of barges, and Jim was instrumental in setting up the Colne Smack Preservation Society and the Smack Dock at Brightlingsea, both still major assets to the Colne smack owner.
And it must be said that, as with the barges, he sailed all of these craft with great skill, and with many successful race results. In later years he was often to be seen in his open lugger, Native, together with his immaculately turned out mate, his wife Pauline. As recently as last summer he sailed his smaller open dinghy, on his own, up to Rowhedge on the lunchtime tide.
Sadly, Pauline died in 2020. This was a great setback to Jim, as he loved her deeply. She had been a lifelong partner in all his ventures, often sailing with him on the barges in the early days. They must have made a striking couple in the barging world, not known for its glamour. With support from his friends and family, he coped with his loss, and by the time of the Covid lockdown the following year, was giving a regular evening recital (on voice and accordion), to his neighbours in Tower Street.
The decades roll past, gathering speed relentlessly, and suddenly we are remembering Jim at recent RHT events such as our Seafood Picnics, Harris Rallies and the Archive Exhibitions. At the Picnic we saw his other great talent (which no doubt will be celebrated elsewhere), his music. Jim could almost always be persuaded to bring along his concertina and his ukulele, to accompany his fine inimitable Essex baritone. His voice could be light and hearty, or powerfully nostalgic; his rendering of the curiously moving ‘Shoals of Herring’ could often bring tears to my eyes. He knew it was my favourite.
Jim was also a great humourist, and I remember at a Sing, Play and Say session (he could do all three) he performed the Shipping Forecast – alternative edition. He delivered lines such as – “Malin, Hebrides, Bailey, Fair Isle, Cardigan, Pullover and South East Iceland: wind south east, rain at times, slightly disappointing…” to great effect. (You need to be familiar with the Shipping Forecast to find this funny).
He was also master of the one-liner:
“How many sugars, Jim?”
“Eighteen”
“Eighteen?!”
“Aha, but I don’t stir ’em”.
And giving advice on manoeuvring a barge in tight circumstances – “look round, booey, an’ if yer gonna ‘it someth’n, ‘it someth’n cheap”.
Just over a year ago, RHT committee members and friends took a trip up to the Colchester Hythe and back on our dutch barge Alberdina. In spite of being unwell with a cold right up to the day, Jim made a big effort to come and bring his accordion. It was typical of him that, although somewhat of a celebrity in the barge and folk scene, he took every invitation as an unexpected honour – he always had time for us. Fortunately, the BBC Look East team also travelled with us and recorded his words, music and song for posterity.
Jim’s autobiography is entitled ‘London Light, A Sailorman’s Story’. The title refers to the voyage from the Colne to London for orders, with no cargo, and with a fair wind this meant an easy ride. So, Jim old pal, travel light and may you have fair winds and good sailing wherever you’re going next.
Nick Baker
