John Rutherford and his con flab e dab e dozie family tree

JOHN RUTHERFORD
AND HIS
CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE
FAMILY TREE
Alan Rutherford

A
JOHN RUTHERFORD
AND HIS
CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE
FAMILY TREE
JI
THE CONTENTS
Some Sort of Introduction
v
Some Debate on JOHN RUTHERFORD’s Ancestry 1
JOHN RUTHERFORD family tree 24
Appendix 1: James Beckett Rutherford 27
Credits: all my washing on the line 55
Appendix 2: Origins of the surname Rutherford 57

SOME SORT
OF INTRODUCTION
JI
ALAN RUTHERFORD
From a casual interest, the vague answers received were accepted and, for a
number of years, this vague understanding of my ancestry seemed adequate ... then
I became uncomfortable with the information I had taken at face value. A resulting
driven curiosity was rewarded with an initial overview of my family history, provided
by my cousin Ian and his ‘family tree’ document, a painstakingly detailed hand
written document on a long roll of draughtsman’s paper. Some of Ian’s conclusions
were challenged by another cousin, James ... and as I turned to admire his
investigation, another theory proposed by Raymond and Carol appeared ... I am
now happily confused and feel an attempt at laying out these differing histories may
make an interesting spectacle.
V
Other than this construction, my recollections and a wee bit of my own concluding,
I must confess that a large chunk of the research contained in this pamphlet is the
work of others. As befits a decendant of sixteenth century ‘Reivers’ – Anglo-Scottish
border families of robbers, liars and brigands (see stealthy Rutherford opposite) – I
have stolen, plundered, borrowed, blagged and begged the ancestral information
contained herein ... thanks.
OCTOBER 2016

This pamphlet’s purpose? Well, other than to lay out the differing theories of
members of this large branch of ‘Rutherford’, the intention originally was to supply
my children, grandchildren, etc with a record of a ‘belonging’ ... much as the brief
tales my father told me as a boy did for me.
As this is a digital record (there may be a limited printing?) I hope it will be of use in
the giving of that ‘belonging’ feeling ... shared and passed on.
So here is an ancestry, at times contradictory, with dodgy19th century census
records, and a difference of opinion amongst John Rutherford (senior)’s decendants
... all good stuff.
Followed up by a couple of Appendixes: a potted history of my father, James Beckett
Rutherford, and a sort of delve into the surname Rutherford’s source.

SOME DEBATE
ON JOHN RUTHERFORD’S
ANCESTRY
ALAN RUTHERFORD, WITH MUCH HELP AND EGGING-ON ...
I remember my dad instilling ‘name-pride’ in us kids, saying ‘remember you are a
Rutherford, son’ and it was quite nice to have that belonging feeling … but in later
years I have come to question this familial-pride thing … its interesting to know your
forebears, but also a proud nonsense.
Within our ‘Rutherford’ line, the main bone of contention seems to revolve around our
great grandfather JOHN RUTHERFORD (senior), father of George, James and John
(referred to as the 3 brothers, or 3 step-sons). The second John (one of the 3 brothers),
John Rutherford (junior) is our grandfather.
1
One theory, is that John senior was the son of single-parent Marion Rutherford: where
at 6 years old, his surname is Pickie (in1851), but by 1861 it becomes Rutherford
(see census images on pages 14-15). If he had remained John Pickie ... well, a whole
branch of Rutherfords that have decended from his line could have been surnamed
Pickie? I mentioned this to Carol Callender(a cousin),
‘From our cousin James, I have Marion Rutherford (single parent) as being our greatgreat-grandmother,
and her son, John (Pickie) Rutherford, our great-grandfather, was
actually named ‘John Pickie’ in 1851 census ... which could have meant that all of
us ‘glorious Rutherfords’ decended from him might have had to run the gauntlet at
school with the nickname ‘nose-pickie’ ... wonderful stuff!’
OCTOBER 2016

But because his name changed to JOHN RUTHERFORD, they are still, of course,
Rutherford because I’m not averse to a female single parent determining a family
name … its just interesting to note how haphazard this whole ancestry and namepride
thing is.
Anyway, so after a couple of years of happily living with James’ theory and its fragile line
of decent for our surname ... this line of reasoning was then disputed by Carol’s brother,
Raymond, with another, perhaps more solid theory backed up with documentation, that
JOHN RUTHERFORD senior is the son of a George Rutherford who may have lived in
Coleraine and originally came from Lancashire?
2
Neither theory is completely proven, but, even though the latter theory from
Raymond Rutherford holds more water, I sneakingly prefer the Pickie version from
James, it appeals to my subversive streak … see correspondence and further
conjecture on the evolution of this mind-waffle in this wee pamphlet.
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

3
COUSIN JAMES RUTHERFORD
whose detailed research perversely, with lateral thinking,
led to my subversive ‘nose-pickie’ reverie ...
but which now looks a wee bit flawed.
Its place within the evolution of this
investigation is however secure!
OCTOBER 2016

4
My wife, Ann, with Ian Rutherford.
Ian’s ‘family tree’ project was my
inspiration ...
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

Some years ago I asked Ian Rutherford (a cousin) for
information on our grandfather, John Rutherford (the junior
one who is one of the ‘3 brothers’), he replied:
‘You ask about our grandfather and as one of the older grandson’s (64) I may be
able to help you. Our great grandfather, as far as I can ascertain, came from the
Selkirk area and moved to Ireland to work in a paper mill [?] at Ballymoney, lived
in Balnamore [probably the textile mill at Balnamore]. His first wife died and he remarried
– the 3 stepsons did not get on with his new wife. They fled to Milngavie (nr
Glasgow) where they worked in the Ellangowan Paper Mill. This was about 1906
and the brothers were George, James and our grandfather, John. Our grandfather
eventually became nightshift foreman and he and his family moved into Mansefield,
which was a mill house. He left his wife, family and job to go to Ireland and join
up in the first world war, he claimed he was in the Inneskillen Fuseliers but Uncle
Davie’s widow has his medals and cap badge, and the badge is for the Royal
Dublin Fusiliers. He took part in the 2nd battle of the Somme and had a small piece
of shrapnel embedded in his forehead.’
5
Then from James Rutherford, whose grandfather was James
‘one of the 3 brothers’: a brother of our grandfather John, and
so makes James (jnr) technically first cousin once removed:
‘Clearly the stepsons did not flee the new wife – probably John senior died in
Ireland (he almost certainly did not die in Milngavie), and his three sons and their
stepmother went to Milngavie for work in the papermill there. That there is truth in
the piece, however, is corroborated by John Rutherford (junior)’s Medal Roll Index
card, see over.’
OCTOBER 2016

þprobably?
6
Medal Roll Index Card (info from James)
The Medal Roll index card, above, records John (junior)’s rank, name, number &
unit as: firstly: Private John Rutherford, 27234, Royal Dublin Fusiliersthen: Private
John Rutherford, 043549, Royal Army Ordnance Corps.
He served in France/Flanders, and his ‘Qualifying Date’ in respect of campaign
medals was 18 December 1915. He received the Victory Medal, the British War
Medal and the 1914-1915 star, which was awarded for service in France or
Flanders between 23 November 1914 and 31 December 1915.
Now, you would think that that would be the end of it and that the above was John
Rutherford (junior)’s record in the first world war, but ... because of the confusion
(Inneskillen or Royal Dublin Fusiliers) mentioned in Ian’s recollection, we have ...
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

ýmaybe not?
Then, from Robert Rutherford (son of Ian) here is another John Rutherford’s
medal list from the first world war ... and Robert suggests this one is the/our John
Rutherford (junior)’s medal list?
‘... I liked your little article on us Rutherfords. I attach a photo of our John
Rutherford’s medal list with him in the Iniskillin Fusiliers and after his battlefield
wound in the Labour Corps.
Any thoughts on two John Rutherfords in Ireland and in the army at the same
time?’
Finally from cousin Carol Callender: Raymond (her brother) found a John
Rutherford online in the Dublin Fusileers ... I suspect there were a lot of John
Rutherfords and as records are sparse we may never know which company he was in.
Certainly Raymond was told the Dublin Fusileers by our dad (George Rutherford).

8
The certificate of John Rutherford (junior)s
marriage to Jeanie (nee Smith) in 1907,
see his father given as ‘John Rutherford,
Labourer (dec)’.
Photograph opposite:
Our grandparents,
Jeanie and John (junior) Rutherford
pictured at one of their sons,
Jack and Elsie Rutherford’s, wedding.
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

9
OCTOBER 2016

and then ... back to JOHN RUTHERFORD (senior), also from cousin
James, and possibly the clincher that John (senior)’s second wife, Margaret
Rutherford (nee McClelland), was not ‘the wife the 3 stepsons did not get on with’, or
the stepmother they ‘fled from’ as Ian has implied:
‘The census image here is the only record of the family that I have been able
to locate – it records the three brothers, living with their widowed stepmother in
Milngavie, 1901. The address is 17 Cheapside – note that Sarah Park Young’s
address at that time was 12 Cheapside.’ (Note: Sarah later married James
Rutherford [one of the 3 brothers])
10
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

Notes from cousin James Rutherford’s research (2011):
1. This is the only John Rutherford in both the 1861 & 1871 censuses whose
occupation description includes the word ‘paper’. There are two in the 1881
census, neither of whom matches this John Rutherford – both are married, neither
of them to an Elizabeth.
2. I cannot find this John Rutherford in any census after 1871, and no John Rutherford
born 1843 -1848 died in Scotland between 1871 & 1881. (There is a John
Rutherford, born 1846 Glencorse, recorded in both 1891 & 1901 censuses, in
the Lunatic Asylum in Lasswade, Midlothian. His Death Register entry (1919, in the
Asylum), however, records his parents as Archibald & Janet Rutherford.)
3. I cannot find any record of the birth of either of Marion’s children (under either of
their recorded surnames), though they are recorded as her son & daughter in three
consecutive censuses. Marion is recorded as unmarried in three censuses, and as
widowed in one.
11
4. I cannot find a record of the birth of Marion Rutherford, but the 1851 census
records Margaret senior as her sister, born Temple, Midlothian, and unmarried.
5. I cannot find either John or Marion Rutherford senior in either the 1841 or 1851
census.
6. I cannot find Marion junior in the 1901 census; nor can I find any record of her
death or marriage after 1891.
7. I cannot find a record of the birth of John Rutherford senior in the parish of Currie,
though there is a Marion Waldie born in Penicuik in 1782 who is tentatively
identified with the Marion Waldie above. She would have been about 37 at the time
of her marriage, and about 59 by the time of the 1841 census.
OCTOBER 2016

Summary from James Rutherford research (2011):
‘As there rather a lot of negative searches listed above, it’s well to detail the
hypothesis which they were designed – and failed – to disprove.This is simply that
the JOHN RUTHERFORD (senior), having, by the mid-1870s, probably twenty years
experience working in a paper mill, travelled to Ballymoney, Ireland, for work in
the paper mill at Clough Mills (?) [more probably the textile mill at Balnamore?].
There he met & married Elizabeth Beckett, with whom he had three surviving sons
before she died, sometime after 1888. John married Maggie, and then himself
died, leaving Maggie with the boys, who all moved to Milngavie, again for work in a
paper mill (Ellangowan), before 1901. Marion, John’s mother, perhaps moved to be
with him in Ballymoney after 1891, and died there.
Although this hypothesis is not disproved, it is by no means yet proven – records
from Ireland will probably be required before that is achieved.’
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

My mischievous interpretation of James’ research on our
‘Rutherford’ ancestry
‘I have Marion Rutherford (single parent) as being our great-great-grandmother, and
her son, John (Pickie) Rutherford, our great-grandfather, was actually named ‘John
Pickie’ in 1851 census ... which could have meant that all of us ‘glorious Rutherfords’
decended from him might have had to run the gauntlet at school with the nickname
‘nose-pickie’ ... wonderful stuff!’
See census images over page.
[Images left and right from James]

More interpretation from James’ research (2011) on JOHN RUTHERFORD
(senior) and the Pickie theory:
1851 census (above) shows Marion Rutherford, 26 and head of the household, living in
the Parish of Glencorse (near Edinburgh). She is described as a ‘paper mill worker’, living
with her children, Margaret Hastie (11) and John Pickie (6) ... and her sister, Margaret.
However, 10 years later, in the 1861 census (opposite), Marion (now 36) has moved. Still
head of the household, her sister is gone, she is still described as ‘paper mill worker’. Now
she is also described as a widow (although her surname has not changed) ... and both her
children are now surnamed ‘Rutherford’?
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

JOHN RUTHERFORD (16) is now described as a ‘labourer in paper mill’.
Based on this line of reasoning this JOHN RUTHERFORD (senior) was born in 1845, and if
he is ‘our great grandfather’ he married Elizabeth Beckett when he was 35 (1880) and he
died when he was around 50.
Another intersting point is that on John Rutherford (junior)’s marriage certificate his father
is described as ‘John Rutherford, Labourer (dec)’ ... see marriage certificate on page 2.

From Carol Callender, mentioning her brother, Raymond
Rutherford’s research:
‘I have spoken to Raymond and, although he has seen reference to Marion in papers
from cousin James Rutherford, he doesn’t think it is the correct line. We don’t think our
great grandfather JOHN ever had the name name Pickie {sadly!} ... his father on his
marriage certificate is George Rutherford (see over the page).
16
George is found living in Coleraine on a census in Bellhouse Lane – now a carpark –
and he and his wife were married in the church in Coleraine. He had a son John
that we think died and then 3 daughters. The next son was also called John which
seems odd but maybe it was done in those days. Raymond is looking more closely at
that. George was a coach or carriage painter. We are not sure where George came
from but a lady who Raymond has been in contact with thinks it was Lancashire!
Raymond will keep trying to find out more.
John our great grandfather married Elizabeth Beckett and she had the three
Rutherford brothers that eventually went to start a new life in Milngavie. In a very old
graveyard {photo of old tower} in Ballymoney there is a Beckett family grave but not
sure if Elizabeth is buried there. John was buried in an unmarked grave across the
road {some bright spark built a road through the cemetery} and Raymond knows
where it was. John remarried and we think 2 babies from that marriage were laid to
rest with John. I have included a photo of the mill in Balnamore but you can find out
a bit about it online. It is being used for other businesses at the moment and originally
there were some terraced houses in front of the mill.
I can send you info with dates and maybe some marriage certificates once I get copies
from Raymond if you would like that. Sorry that is all I can remember from my phone
call with Raymond and I hope it makes some sense.’
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

cousin Raymond Rutherford
17
OCTOBER 2016

From Carol, further interpretation and supposition from
Raymond Rutherford’s research:
Our great grandfather JOHN RUTHERFORD (senior) was married to Elizabeth
Becket, see opposite. Note: apparently in Ireland they put age 21 to show they were
of age but it is not necessarily an accurate age. His father on these documents is
shown as George Rutherford.
18
The great great grandfather George Rutherford is a little more difficult to be sure
about. Raymond did chase up a really interesting one that proved to be all wrong
in the end. The one that may be correct is a George Rutherford and was found in
Coleraine when his third child Elizabeth was born in 1845 (in Bell Lane, Coleraine).
This George was married to a Nancy McKinney and had a child John born 19
January1841, Alice Fisherwood born 1842, Elizabeth 1845, Mary 1851 and then
another John. Sometimes apparently when a child dies they often named another
child by the same name. It was someone else that gave Raymond this info and they
thought this John was born in 1858 (possibly in Scotland). It is a bit of a gap and I
wonder if he was kind of ‘adopted’ into the family. That is purely my supposition and
Raymond will probably do a bit more research on it. Someone has suggested that
this George may have come from Lancashire!
We can be more definite about our great grandmother ELIZABETH BECKETT. Her
father was Oliver Beckett born in. co. Antrim 1827. He was married to Roseann
Culbertson on 1 April 1851. The Becketts worked in the linen mill in Balnamore and
there is a Beckett family grave in the old churchyard in Ballymoney.
_____________________________________
Ireland Civil Registration – Marriages
19 November 1880, JOHN RUTHERFORD to Elizabeth Beckett, Ballymoney Church
of Ireland, Ballymoney, Antrim
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

We know JOHN RUTHERFORD (senior) and Elizabeth were living at 9 Boundary
Street in Greenock, Scotland, in 1882. John may have worked in the paper mill
there, or one of the many other mills in Greenock at the time. Great uncle George
(one of the 3 brothers) was born there and I have included a copy of his birth
certificate showing the 9 Boundary Street address, see opposite. Elizabeth’s brother
William (we think) was also living in this street at the same time.
More information on JOHN RUTHERFORD (senior)’s second marriage:
So far, I have John and Elizabeth having 4 sons, George, John, James, and fourth
son, William, dies July 1893 as an infant … after Elizabeth, who died April 1893. And
in between those 2 deaths JOHN marries Margaret McClelland on 12 July 1893.
_____________________________________
20
Ireland Civil Registration – Marriages
12 July 1893, JOHN RUTHERFORD to Margaret McClelland at Trinity Presbyterian
Ballymoney, Antrim
Results from database search at www.ballymoneyancestry.com
These results both come from a sub-set in the database, consisting of entries,
from 1883 – 1932, in the Burial Register of Ballymoney Old Churchyard. The
Register is currently held by Ballymoney Borough Council.
Eliza Rutherford, Protestant, occupation none, funeral 10 April 1893, died 9 April
1893. Female aged 33, Balnamore, married to John Rutherford (page 89 reg no 432)
William Rutherford, Protestant child, funeral 31 July 1893, died 30 July 1893. Male,
Balnamore, child of John Rutherford (page 90 reg no 449)
Both were registered by John Freeman, Registrar; both were buried in Ballymoney
Old Churchyard (see also: ballymoneygraveyard.com)
_____________________________________
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

21
OCTOBER 2016

JOHN and Margaret had three children that sadly all died young – Robert born 10
May1894 and died 21 February1895, Mary born 18 August 1896, died(?), and
Joseph born 23 July 1897 and died 13 May 1898.
Next news of Margaret, now a widow, is the 1901 census showing her living with
her 3 stepsons in Cheapside, Milngavie. From this information we can surmise that
JOHN RUTHERFORD (senior) died sometime between 1897 and 1901, probably in
Ireland (?).
22
Cousin Carol Callender, without whom I would not have Raymond’s theory, thanks!
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

23
OCTOBER 2016

Oliver Beckett
b. 1827
married
Roseann (Cuthbertson)
m. 1851
William
&
Elizabeth Beckett
b. 1859?
m. 1880
d. 1893
Raymond’s theory?
George Rutherford
married
Nancy (McKinney)
JOHN RUTHERFORD OR
b. 1858
James’ theory?
Marion Rutherford
b. 1821
single parent but
partner at time could
be a Mr Pickey
JOHN RUTHERFORD
b. 1845
Margaret McClelland
m. 1893
George
b. 1882
Greenock
John
b. 1884
Ballymoney
James
b. 1887
Ballymoney
William
d. 1893
Ballymoney
Robert, d. 1895
Mary
Joseph, d. 1898
24
married
Polly
married
Jeanie Smith
b. 1886
George
Rutherford
George
Rutherford
married
Susan
Jack
Rutherford
married
Elsie
David
Rutherford
married
Ann
Robert
Rutherford
married
Flora
William
Rutherford
Marion
Rutherford
married
William
Murray
Campbell
Carol
Raymond
Alan
John
Catriona
Jeanie
John (Ian)
Christine
Jean
Fioana
Christopher
Robin
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

JOHN RUTHERFORD FAMILY TREE
Note: the JOHN RUTHERFORD,
mentioned here, has an uncertain ancestry.
25
married
Sarah Young
b. 1884
married
Robina
Elizabeth
Rutherford
married
Jack
Williamsom
Jean
Rutherford
married
George
Fordyce
James B.
Rutherford
married
Mary
Beagle
Alexander
Rutherford
married
Helen
William Y.
Rutherford
married
Helen
Mary M. Y
John
James Y.
George
John B.
Kenneth
Barbara H.
Alistair
Charles
Jack
Jean
Ronald
Alan
Anne
Brian
Donald
Gail
Graham
James
John
William
OCTOBER 2016

James Beckett Rutherford with my wife, Ann Rutherford, in Durban
26
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

JAMES BECKETT
RUTHERFORD
ONE OF JOHN RUTHERFORD (SENIOR)’S GRANDSONS, A SON OF JOHN
RUTHERFORD (JUNIOR), AND FATHER TO ALAN RUTHERFORD
James Beckett Rutherford was born during the night, 04.45 of Friday morning, 30
September 1921, at Allander Place in Milngavie (near Glasgow). His father was
John Rutherford (referred to in this pamphlet as John Rutherford junior) and his
mother, Jeanie, was from the large Smith family in Milngavie.
He grew up in a large house called Mansefield with 3 sisters: Marion, Elizabeth,
Jean, and 6 brothers: Jack, George, Robert, David, William, Alexander – the house
was a ‘Mill house’ and their father was a manager at the Ellangowen Paper Mill.
27
Alan says, ‘Because my father was a distant man I know almost nothing of his
childhood, other than vague stories told to me by others. When he did speak of his
childhood/youth it lacked any detail and consisted of references to Mansefield and
insignificances like a liking for rhubarb, or buying single woodbines on Milngavie
railway station on his way to work. I do know that on 18 March 1936, aged 14, he
started to work at Albion Motors as an Office Boy in the Production Department, and
that he became an Apprentice Engineer there on 2 December 1937’ (see over page).
On 14 January 1939, aged 17, he left Albion Motors to then enlist in the Royal
Air Force on 24 January 1939. Later that year, Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain
broadcast to the nation announcing that a state of war existed between Britain and
Germany: 3rd September, 1939, and World War II had begun.
OCTOBER 2016

James Beckett Rutherford:
his birth certificate and a
photograph of him
as a boy

29
Above:
A letter of recommendation from
Albion Motors OCTOBER 2016

James Beckett Rutherford:
on the wing of a moth

Above: ‘Airmen of RAF stationed
at Wonderboom, my father,
James Beckett Rutherford,
standing on the right’.
Above right: ‘James with Mary
Valerie Rutherford, my mother.’

‘During the war my father was stationed at Wonderboom Air Base, near Pretoria
in South Africa. It was here that he met my mother. Her father was manager at the
nearby municiple quarry at Bon Accord, his daughters, including my mother Mary
Beagle, worked at Wonderboom’s NAAFI.
After the war, while he was working at Vickers (Brooklands, near Weybridge, Surrey),
Mary came to England, they married on 6 November 1946 and they lived at 24
Annetts Road, Walton-on-Thames, Surrey. I was born on 31 July 1947, and they
decided to emigrate to South Africa ...’
33
OCTOBER 2016

Above: Passport.
Right: James with Mary and
their 3 children, Alan, Anne and
Brian, photograph from around
1950. They were living at 31
Manor View Road, Hillary (near
Durban), Natal, South Africa.

35
OCTOBER 2016

The family lived in Hillary until 1957 when they moved to 11 Grout Place in Bellair, a
split level house they were buying with financial help from Mary’s mother. For some
reason that fell through and, in 1961, they moved to a flat in Park Street, Durban. In
1963 they moved to a municipal flat in Kenneth Gardens. It was at this point Alan left
home, the family then moved to a flat on the beach front and later ended up at 3 Wye
Flats, Perth Place, Umbilo, Durban.
‘Having left South Africa I became aware that both my father and mother were
adherents of the prevailing racism of the Apartheid system’. He became a naturalised
citizen of South Africa on 30 January 1968.
‘My mother, Mary Rutherford, died on 12 February 1969 ... and in what seemed to be
an indecent haste, my father married Nancy’.
36
‘At around about this time he wrote one of his rare letters to me, which I have
conveniently mislaid, where he wrote of his disappointment in his 3 children’s life
choices/decisions/events beyond their control, etc. To put this in some context, in
hindsight, I realised he was a bit of a snob who liked to brag about his children’s
achievements in such shallow categories as sport, finance, academic, job, etc ... and,
rather sadly, he thought he had nothing in this arena that he could hoist up his flagpole.’
‘With Nancy he visited the UK, us and family in Scotland a couple of times’. He was
inconsolable when his youngest son, Brian David Rutherford, died on 29 May 1977.
As is becoming apparent, this piece is fading fast ... Jobs he did included; Fitter and
Turner at Dorman Long, Insurance Salesman, a job at Durban Corporation, Trade Union
Official with AEUW, and before retiring be was a government official to ensure wages
and conditions regulations were maintained in the Natal area. Vehicles he owned at
different times included: Humber super Snipe, Citroen, Scooter, Jaguar, Toyota ...
He died on 10 July 2003 in Augustus Hospital, Durban.
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

37
JAMES BECKETT RUTHERFORD
30.09.1921 – 10.07.2003
[my dad]
OCTOBER 2016

Some writing about
James Beckett Rutherford
38
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

MOTHS AND BUTTERFLIES
1999
September, the back garden is looking good in as much as it’s tidy. My dad is on a
visit from South Africa. He’s a Scotsman who, after over 50 years in South Africa,
still has a Scots accent. His views are tempered by surviving the Apartheid years and,
like my sister, he is old white South African and all that implies, but to his credit were
his trade unionist activities. Before he arrived I wondered what we would talk about
and how we would deal with our differing views on South Africa, but now he was
here it didn’t seem to be so important. I loved the man.
Ann and I had the week off work and awoke mornings to find him sat out back in
his dressing gown under the gazebo, staring at blue skies criss-crossed with vapour
trails, smoking endlessly and being fascinated by the butterflies attracted to the wild
buddlea which overgrew each year beside the high fence on the left side of the
garden. The days he was with us, started with me making us a cup of tea and taking
it out to him, and then at the hint of a question long answers which filled my head
with things I never knew about him. Ann, I think by design, left us to it, and some
mornings gloriously just went on for ages – and then later I would try to remember
our conversation for Ann, and fail miserably to capture the moment, making it all
seem very pedestrian.
39
Now several years later it is the occasion that has stayed, the detail has become
fudged. Upon my joking about his tattoo, and the fact that he’d always maintained
he didn’t know what it was of, his mood changed. He was immediately serious with
that so very familiar look of paternalistic reproval, catching me unawares, midchuckle
and genuinely happy and in awe to be in his company after so many years.
Too late I realised I was barefoot on eggshells, and more than a hint of annoyance
edged his ‘OK I’ll tell you about it.’
OCTOBER 2016

Here is the potted version. He was in the RAF during the war and at one point was
stationed in Montrose in Scotland. He was part of the groundcrew, a fitter, and him
and his pals serviced Tiger Moths. This also meant going up on test flights. One of
his friends (name?) went up and the plane crashed and he was killed. When this
happened the others had to go and clear up the wreckage. On this occassion my
dad got very drunk on the way to and from picking up bits of his friend, so drunk
that he went off and had a tattoo done on his left arm, too drunk to later recall what
the tattoo was of, and all that remains of that night is a large blue blurry mark on
his arm as a constant reminder.
We sat in silence for a while and then turned our attention to the butterflies.
40
James Beckett Rutherford on that visit to Bishops Cleeve, 1999
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

41
OCTOBER 2016

An email from Anne Meilhon, my sister: 2 July 2003
... don’t know what to say, dad is dying, can’t say it any better, sorry ... just been off to the
bank (after a few calls) with Nancy ... with a letter I wrote and he signed, to get her some
money out of his account. We managed to get R5000 ... and now I am back at work but
am going to sleep there tonight, to help Nancy ... she is pretty scared at the moment.
I phoned hospice who won’t take him unless his doctor phones them and tells them he
is dying ... he has the same look that Noel had at the end ... he just sits in his chair and
doesn’t even want the TV on ... the heater is on the whole time, its like a hothouse ... and
so depressing ... don’t worry about me I’m fine ... so I will be there if you want to phone.
42
Yesterday he looked awful ...and I was expecting a call last night (sorry I didn’t phone you,
I couldn’t) and today because Charles and Nancy’s friend, Vivian, are there he seems to
be making an effort ... he won’t eat ... maybe one mouthfull of oats in the morning ... only
because Nancy begs him to eat two spoonfuls so he can have his medicine.
I think he has given up and hates being like he is and just wants to go to sleep and not
wake up ... so he’s trying to do that, I think ... Nancy even has to take him to the toilet and
she says she even had to wipe him this morning – you know how he must hate that ... Just
thought you should know what’s going on ... we could be wrong. If you can’t face phoning
to night, (I will understand, because I am forcing myself to write this, I’d rather you didn’t
know, it seems such a waste telling you, because all it will do is upset you and you can’t do
anything so will feel even worse, but he is also your father and it wouldn’t be fair of me if i
didn’t tell you )
Anyway, whatever. I will email you with the latest news tomorrow when I get to work.
love you all
Anne
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

WEE TIMOROUS BEASTIE...
July 2003
3 July: Making plans to go over to South Africa after my sister, Anne, lets me know
that dad is back in hospital. In a phone call last night she told me how they got him
to the hospital. Nancy phoned Anne to say he needed to go back. Anne tried to get
him into the hospice that Noel went to before he died, but they only take cancer and
AIDS, then Nancy phoned again and said he was going back to the same hospital,
St Augustines, that he was discharged from a week or so ago.
And apparently Nancy was having to wash and wipe him after toilet, etc. so it
sounds like he is in a bad way, but I expect he is still smoking. Anyway, they had to
get Bruce to carry him down the stairs and out of the flat, then there was a bit of a
hitch at the hospital where no one knew where to go – and it just so happened that
some black people gave them wrong directions and then, the story goes... Bruce
found someone white who corrected them – fascinating how old Suid Afrika is still
there, and hard to believe that colour can be so correct... otherwise why mention it?
43
Anne visited dad later and he had been fitted with a catheter because he had been
unable to stop wetting the bed, and when she left she thought he had looked a bit
better, even though he had an oxygen mask on. A month or two ago Anne emailed
me to tell me of his health deterioration, that she had visited him in the flat where he
was smoking with one breath and then taking a hit from his oxygen tank the next,
and being pleased with himself as if he’d found the miracle cure, and I’d remarked
if it wasn’t so sad I would have burst out laughing to see such a spectacle. Both
he and Nancy suffer from emphysema after years as heavy smokers, but now that
Nancy had quit it was particularly thoughtless of him to smoke in front of her...
9 July: Its Wednesday, nearly seven in the morning and Sasha, one of the dogs, has
come into the room, her head seeming to work the rest of her body and wagging
OCTOBER 2016

her whole rear end – both dogs seem to have recognised me from our previous
visits – unlike my dad, who maybe, just maybe, knows who I am ... I remember
suggesting to Callum, my grandson, that he should write all his thoughts down just
after his dad, James, had suddenly died of a drugs overdose – so I am determined
to write it all down, as time goes by memory can be so selective.
44
We eventually got a flight organised for me – and Ann, my darling wife, and I set
off for Birmingham Airport on Sunday the 6th, at 10.30am. Emirates flew me to
Dubai on the first leg of a very cosmopolitan and exotic flight, a plane full of what
may have been every variety of human being, observing and listening was a delight.
And I was one of the few not even bothered by mischievious and bored small dark
children– sometimes I wonder at my reversed ‘racism’ and thought, if the children
had been spoilt white would I have been the same ...? Already I could pick out a
few disdainful white South Africans and I took a perverse pleasure in watching their
reaction at being in close proximity to Asians, Arabs and big black women!
It was the middle of the night when we landed and outside Dubai was 35° but inside
the huge air-conditioned hall of the airport it just seemed warm as I wandered
through the Duty Free, fake giant palm trees, truly grand opulance combined with
painted reliefs of Arabian Nights and a phoney Irish Bar – well it did sell Guinness
I suppose. Our stop here was a bit longer than it needed to be and after sitting on
the cold marble floor, hoping to cool down but only losing some feeling in my legs,
we ended up, still very cosmopolitan and being squeezed into a sparate lounge for
the Dubai to Johannesburg flight, where every seat was taken, being forced to face
each other.
There was me, being such a smug observer, still enjoying the obvious discomfort
of some white South Africans when I faced my own dilema. An old white guy sat
opposite me, staring me hard in the eye, beside him, and with him, sat an attractive
black woman. This couple seemed to be shunned by both the small community of
white South Africans, whose male components had even adopted me into their midst
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

with their knowing winking and smiling, and by the groups of black South Africans.
At first I just continued my observing in a detached way, taking in this variety of
human sorts and letting my mind evaluate their attitudes, then I saw the hard staring
guy was still staring at me, but I wanted him to know that my staring wasn’t the
disapproving kind, I couldn’t care less about his relationship with a black person, my
eyes looked everywhere but at him, but in the corner of my eye I could see and feel
his glare – he was a hurt man.
To my relief we were soon herded onto the plane, being very briefly exposed to
the 35° which made the plane so cool. Dad was flitting in and out of my thoughts,
stories told to me and Ann when we had visited Milngavie a couple of years ago,
like when his favourite older brother, Davie, who was working nights got my dad up
and dressed for school in the middle of the night ... and dad’s favourite retold tale
about his dog which hung around Milngavie and stole fish off the fishmongers slab.
I had brought a video camera to record anything he wanted to pass on, and this
laptop loaded with photos of his great-grandchildren, and a card from Tanya and
the boys – I was even trying to think of jokey ways to talk to him, always presuming
he would be compos mentis, about death and life ... remembering him as he was
last time I had seen him, a couple of years ago when he had visited us for a week or
so and we had chatted and chatted.
45
Then the shock as I saw him in the hospital bed, almost unrecognisable, unshaven,
sunken cheeks, the palest blue eyes flitting about with only the very merest hint of
recognition – and that may have been wishful thinking on my part. Oh dad, I’ve
arrived too late to burdon you on your journey from this life with all my excess
baggage. It soon became very apparent that all my plans were void, here was a
man whose mind had left the building, he was finding it hard to breathe, he looked
like he was trying to focus, but on what? He did seem to know me and did ask
where Ann was, I’d like to believe he knew I was there – but his countenance was
just barely recognisable as my dad. Visiting time was an hour of mumblings, abrupt
‘what!’s where he almost seemed like he was going to say something to us, and
OCTOBER 2016

then away again, very little made any sense, some ramblings about being chairman
of a club and ‘there was some monkey business going on’ and that frightened look.
I remembered as children how we used to come into mom and dads’ bedroom,
when we lived in Hillary, on a Sunday morning and all three of us kids climb into
his bed where he would read Robert Burns to us in his strongest Scots accent, ‘Wee,
sleekit, cow’rin’, tim’rous beastie, O what a panic’s in thy breastie ...’ – its you dad,
its you! Oh dear ...
46
Tuesday the 8th, and the second visit, he had been moved, and it was obvious to
us and probably all in his ward that he had messed his nappy. Nancy, his second
wife, was with us and obviously upset and distressed to see him in this condition.
He seemed aware of our presence and the fact that he had shit himself. For such a
proud, sometimes distant but always independent man to be reduced to this utterly
helpless state is very very sad, and were he to realise his predicament would surely
kill him, so fortunately or unfortunately he is still with us, but not really there at all.
He was changed to ooohs, ahs and a very happy sounding giggle, which made
us all wonder what the young nurse was up to behind those screens, once clean
we again circled the bed waiting for his mind to return. But other than an almost
frightened look of unrecognition and whatever they had fed him continuing to fill his
clean nappy, with the smell causing his bed-neighbour to have handcream rubbed
into his hand by a forced-smiling woman and then shoved under his nose, nothing.
Having said all that, as we left Anne had the most wonderful smile and hand salute
directed at her, where he regained the face I recognise, but only for a few seconds
and then he was gone again. A mixture of envy and generousity swept me – if he
had returned for that brief period, it was a wonderful recognition for her efforts –
Anne is trying to arrange Frail Care at a hospice as the hospital can do no more for
him, it’s just a matter of making him comfortable for the rest of his days.
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

Wednesday the 9th, and during a visit to dad and Nancy’s flat I see that book of
poems – the one from which the Burns poem was read from all those Sundays ago –
I pick it up and find the poem, I ask Nancy if I can have it and then hold it close, all
those memories tumbling out...
After a day of meeting a social worker who seemed unaware that dad was in
hospital and flitting about with Anne and Nancy trying to get this Frail Care set
up, them two inside Anne’s bucky and me in the back, trying to look all casual as
I watch the traffic trailing us through the Berea – visiting Natal Settlers – an elderly
people’s home just below the Cemetry which just happened to be almost opposite
Clivia Court where we had lived before I left in 1964! Mentioning that we had lived
in Clivia Court to the guy in the office at Natal Settlers elicited this reply, ‘Oh yes you
were lucky to live there then, I lived nearby and as our neighbours died or left THEY
(knowing look) moved in and soon there were fights and bottles tumbling down the
stairs, and girls about and ... you know ...’ Shit, this new South Africa is still riddled
with a racist cancer.
47
Third visit: Dad was a bit more agitated, he had on a blue gown with ties at the
back and a matching nappy, he was soothed a bit when I held his hand, but his
gaunt frightened expression, eyes darting and widening as if in shock, remained
almost constant throughout our visit. I can only imagine that if he were there, facing
death was scaring the shit out of him. I was transported back to Hillary, my mom
was digging for a thorn in my foot and my dad was distracting me with tales of
bravado – he was an observergunner in a Tiger Moth and he opened his shirt to
show me his shrapnel wounds on his chest – a story I believed until he told me he
had made it up – nearly thirty years later on one of his visits.
All I wanted to do was hug the life out of him, but didn’t for fear of rejection – he
was not a touchy-feely person – he was out of reach, maybe already gone. We
wondered if he slept at all, and couldn’t he be made more comfortable, morphine
or something ... Anne noticed something odd in his mouth which I thought were his
OCTOBER 2016

teeth come loose, but when she scooped it out it was the remnants of a previous
meal just hanging about in his mouth. He seemed in pain and in some distress and
we all agreed we just wanted him free of pain and comfortable for the remaining
days of his life. Both Anne and Nancy approached the nurses with this concern but
were fobbed off – he’s not a priority as he is not really ill, he should not really be
there, and they are just keeping an eye on him? It seems he may have a place at
Natal Settlers, if the paperwork goes OK, but only from Monday, and that’s five days
away...
In the evening Anne, Jade and I make a huge vegetable lasagne for Bruce and
Madelaine, Ruth and Harry, Jade and Robbie, Anne and Charles, Mel, and me. Its
OK. Anne mentions her plans to move to Bethulie in the Orange Free State to Ruth
who, surprisingly, is dismissive of the idea to the point of being rude – I thought she
would have been supportive of an adventurous idea like this, but there you go.
48
Ann phones like she has each night and I tell her about the day, we both end up
sobbing and I really miss her. Anne gives me a shake, it’s early Thursday the 10th,
‘dad died at about 2 last night’. I am relieved, happy and sad, he is gone. Talking
about him brings tears to my eyes, and then you realise you can’t talk for fear of just
breaking down and the conversation dies in a strangled half sentence and averted
watery eyes.
We set off to tell Nancy, and she is very upset repeating that ‘she knew ...’ We meet
Trevor, Nancy’s son who is deaf, and I have a longish chat with him where I get the
feeling that Nancy’s plans to have him live with her and eventually leave him the flat
are not what Trevor wants – he wants to go over to England and live with his sisters
...? Anne and I find that Nancy agrees with us when we say that dad would not have
wanted any fuss or religion at his funeral. Then, with some documents we set off
to find Doves the Undertakers. A friendly man called Dirk talked us through it and
made arrangements for a service in their smallest chapel, 12 noon Friday. Dad’s
ashes would be scattered in the Garden of Rememberance.
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

Death, a concept of sweet taboo, not to be talked about too openly, but can be
written about surely – Anne, who claims to be a born again Christian, will believe
dad is in heaven, with mom and Brian, and all his brothers and sisters, and so on,
and that’s fine ... whereas I find it very difficult, with all the inconsistencies thrown
up by humans trying to explain the unexplainable, to believe in a higher being so
cruel and merciless and consequently believe you live and then you die, in between
you procreate like all species, giving encouragement to your offspring and making a
mark in the history of some – and in that way you live on ... I think dad thought the
same way, but we never discussed it. I also think in life, because we humans have an
ability– however feeble and narrow – to imagine and also reason methodically and
intellectually, we will use whatever we need to get through this life, and if you need
a crutch because you cannot face the fact that we are just a minute, and probably
insignificant, part of the 4,600 million year evolution of the gaseous third planet of a
minor sun in an infinite universe ... then go for it! Reel me in, I’m done.
A visit to Jade and Robbies’ neat little house cements arrangements for the funeral
when Jade agrees to make a sort of announcement and we would play some Frank
Sinatra. A slight hiccup has risen to the top of the cup when Nancy, who agreed
with the no religion bit, has now been influenced by Vivian, one of her friends, who
thinks there should be a minister ... or people will talk!
49
Ann phones after Anne and Charles have had an early night, the phone is in their
room, so my end of the conversation is a bit subdued as two people stare at my
back from their beds, Ann is very upset – more than I ever was and I wish I was
there to console her. She is going to phone Ian in Milngavie. I miss her very much
and cannot wait to get back. It’s been a long week and tomorrow concludes ‘my
dad’. I think I might read out the ‘Vapour Trails’ story, well it depends...
Friday the 11th, I go with my nephew Bruce to visit his workplace, Bramprint, and
get shown around – meeting Mervyn an Indian Hindu and ‘his brother’ (sorry the
name eludes me), a muslim, who works on the printing press next to him. As I’m
OCTOBER 2016

waiting for Bruce, who has to get a delivery together, Mervyn explains the sign
‘Lower your gaze’ above his machine – flirting with women is OK, but infidelity is
wrong, so lower your gaze – refreshingly succinct.
Bruce takes me to Doves, with CD player, Frank and my laptop with a couple of pics
of dad. We go in at about ten to twelve and set up laptop and CD player, we are
not expecting many, if any, but about seven or so bowls club people turn up. I am
surprised that there doesn’t seem to be a coffin, and that there are not any ‘mates’
that Nancy could have contacted, but then I remember he never was one for mates,
and that I suppose the bowls club bunch were his pals – although none speak to me
or Anne.
50
Jade does her welcome chat and explains about no minister and that we would
just like to play some music dad liked and those present should take a moment to
celebrate and remember the life of James Beckett Rutherford.
I’m trying desperately to think of dad but end up thinking of mom, and Brian, both I
never got to say goodbye to either. Added to a long list of serious illnesses Brian had
to contend with my sibling teasing, I sometimes teased him until he cried ... what
an awful shit brother I must have been. Pulling myself back from the welling tears
... Dad ... yes he would come home from work, sit in his chair reading the paper
with us all huddled around the radio, and as the evening wore on the shuffling
turning of the pages of the Daily News would be replaced by a jerk-collapsing of the
broadsheet as it crumpled over his face ... and then that magnificent snoring.
Funny, I don’t ever remember him having a bath – and never saw him naked –
even when we went swimming. In the changing rooms, he would change around
a corner. Oh yes ... swimming in the Municipal Baths in the centre of Durban was
an early memory, where he could swim underwater from one end to the other –
something I tried to copy ... and that, I conclude, really sums it all up – my whole
life has been about trying to please him, almost all achievements have been done
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

with one eye looking for that spoken approval which never came, or to be fair, only
seemed to come rarely and was muted to a whisper ... oh well, goodbye dad.
Nancy just hangs her head and Anne smiles a bit. Frank croons Blue Moon, Always,
When you’re smiling and Anything goes – Jade switches it off and thanks everyone
for coming. Some, well all, of the bowls club crowd look a bit puzzled, but that’s it.
Nancy mentioned that no one actually enquired about dad while he was in hospital
and that they were only here now that the club had been told he was dead – also
that they would be flying the flag at half-mast!
It’s almost like, after my mother died in 1969, I knew very little of his life with Nancy,
and now here we were reclaiming our dad, but not really, as Nancy was married to
dad for longer than my mom, but it kind of felt like that – anyway I think dad would
have liked the brevity and respect of the occasion.
All during this visit I’ve had a wad of British pounds in my pocket, I wanted to
change them into Rands but by design, I think, Anne has not taken me anywhere
near an exchange – so I have not really paid my way ... I leave £60 and a small
lantern (gift) to light their way and maybe buy some knickknacks for their move to
Bethulie.
51
The flights home are separated with a mind-numbing, middle of the night, seven
and a half hour stop in Dubai, where all manner of humanity come and go, leaving
me sat on one of the few seats, tired and dazed ... and then I’m in Birmingham, Ann
and home.
OCTOBER 2016

Letter to Thorpe & Hands about dad’s Will
Dear Mr Phillips
Thank you for your letter dated 25 July, and your condolences. Your letter included several
sheets showing a copy of my fathers’ Will, an Inventory: Immovable and Movable Property,
and on page 4 – Claims in Favour of the Estate ...? This page 4, which I have been told
by my sister, was included by mistake by you, and obviously refers to someone else’s
Will... someone who had considerably more to leave than my father ... caused some initial
confusion and could easily have led to some embarrasing confrontations within the family.
52
It would have, or has, further compounded a very sad time where my father died in
a rather distressed state, taking a week or so to deteriorate from a very proud and
independant man into someone almost unrecognisable, uncomfortable, incontinent,
helpless, fearfully agitated and seemingly unable to recognise us when we visited him in
a hospital which barely tolerated his presence ... All in all, your letter, containing its still
uncorrected inclusion, seems to me to complement the rather shoddy way my father was
treated as he died – with no respect!
I was also told by my sister that you would be sending another letter, which would have the
correct details – neither she, nor I, have received this letter ... As a matter of courtesy, an
attempt at belated respect and just common decency ... or just to earn your fee with some
dignity ..., please send me, and my sister, the correct details and let us sign whatever we
have to sign.
Of course, if page 4 actually refers to my father and his estate, I appologise for the tone
of this communique, but please explain, in layman’s terms, the discrepancy between
R314000 mentioned in the meat of your letter and the R1074308 totalled up at the end of
page 4?
Best wishes
Alan Rutherford
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

another email from Anne, 11 June 2004, after sending her the whole story above...
Hi
Thanks fot the letter, and it was quite somthing to read about dad again. I had a
little cry (of course). You are lucky to have some nice memories of dad when we
were young, I dont remember him reading to us, I only remember him playing
cricket with us at Hillary and that not too clearly. Slight memory of me going down
the hill on that little cart thing he used to slide under his car when he worked on
it, and coming off face first and him rubbing my hair... and then the only thing in
Bellair was him sitting on a chair on the verander with his legs up on the wall and
his balls were sticking out squashed on the side of his pants, I went and told mom
and she woke him up (what a memory!).
Not much else and when we stayed in the flat in Park Street nothing much of dad,
more of mom with her tablets and walking around looking drunk and not wanting
people to know she was my mom, terrible! Then in Clivia Court – not much about
dad at all – only when I met Noel and he would’nt say hello to him so we used to
meet outside! and the most important thing – he used to take me out and drop me
off and pick me up every weekend, but we never spoke? Maybe a hello, that was it
(so different with our kids ) – and you and Apples (Hedley Appleby) bunking school
and the most awful time at the Umbilo flat when I was going out with Noel (still) and
mom tried to be polite, but the three of us sitting in the dining room whispering (not
to disturb dad) and she always brought out pictures of you and Ann to show (anyone
who came to visit, which was hardly anyone), and was Joanna born before mom
died? sorry I don’t remember dates at all.
53
Mom was usually always sick or zonked on her tablets and I can remember how awful
I felt coming home every day because I never knew if she was going to be OK or funny
(I really wish I could have that time again and be me now, not the stupid inconsiderate
impatient daughter as I was then) how I long for mom ... And Brian as well, he was such
a lost soul, not too many friends, couldn’t get on with dad, didn’t like Nancy.
OCTOBER 2016

He came to stay with Noel, Paul and I and then we couldn’t handle his moods
(smoking dagga). He used to read romsam lumpa (something like that) [Lobsang
Rampa, author of The Third Eye, 1956] and throw coins which told him things? I
can’t remember what now, but he used to climb out and in the window at night,
instead of using the door, and do you know what I did Alan, you will hate me ...
Noel said we couldn’t have Brian staying with us when we moved to Tongaat, so I
told him and just left him with his little pile of belongings ... and thats when he went
to Guys’ to stay – he had nowhere else. When he died I felt so guilty ... and mom,
why didn’t I get her help ... what was wrong with me?
54
Anyway I have cried this whole time – reading your note and writing this one, now
I have a headache ... I really don’t deserve three wonderful children who think I’m
the best mom alive. What a bladdy letter, I was going to tell you about the ducks,
ect ... don’t know what happened, Old guilt that I can’t get rid of maybe ... can’t
even remember what mom looked like. Hope this letter doesn’t upset you but I am
sending it. Will send you a cheerful one later after I write to Paul ... going to watch a
bit of TV now to get my mind clear of these dreary thoughts ....
Anne Meilhon
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

‘All my washing on the line’
Credits
The information gathered here, as of October 2016,
is my interpretation of details taken from recollections from Ian
Rutherford; research done by James Rutherford of Selkirk ... and
Raymond Rutherford of Milngavie (as passed on by Carol Callender);
and a further document/suggestion from Robert Rutherford.
Information interpreted by Alan Rutherford.
Thank you!
Production
www.handoverfistpress.com

56
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

SOMETHING ON
THE ORIGINS OF THE
SURNAME RUTHERFORD
There are several theories of how the Scottish Border name Rutherford
originated, a few of them appear on mugs, and are a-swill in shortbread
tin tweeness, so lets get them out of the way first.
Twee versions:
Some would say the name is from the lands of Rutherford in Roxburghshire in the
Scottish Borders. The village of Rutherford, near Maxton can be located by the River
Tweed, between Selkirk and Kelso. Map ref: 74 64 30. In furtherance of this theory
there is some debate as to whether the place name is derived from a man named
Ruther who guided an ancient king of the Scots over a little-known ford on the river
Tweed ... or from ‘Rue the Ford’ after an English army had been defeated crossing
the river.
57
The ‘Rue the Ford’ twee version is of a Scottish force which encountered an English
force on the opposite back of the River Tweed. Both sides prepared for a fight and
the English, the greater force, succeeded in forcing a crossing of the river and a
violent battle ensued. Many fell on both sides but the Scots emerged as the victors
and forced the English to retreat back into England, badly mauled. The English
named the place Rue-the-ford because of the heavy losses they had suffered there.
OCTOBER 2016

John MacLeod, Searcher of Records in Edinburgh, examined Rutherford family annuals
dating back to the Crusaders. He related that during an insurrection in Scotland, King
Ruther had to flee for safety. Being unable to cross the River Tweed, his life was saved
by a young man of Teviotsdale who aided him in crossing at the ford. The spot was
henceforth known as Ruther’s Ford, and the land contiguous to the spot was later given
to the family of his benefactor by Ruther as a token of his appreciation.The family thus
became known as Rutherford when surnames were adopted.
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James Coutts, another historian, revolted at this venerable legend, but was surprised
when he found a portrait of the semi-historic Rutherus among the portraits of the
Scottish kings in Holyrood House. ‘Still more surprising,’ wrote Mr. Coutts, ‘was the
date of the reign of Rutherus, put as 231 B.C. Little wonder that the Rutherfords have
been described as ‘one of the oldest families in the Border’.’ (from the Anglo-Norman
Peaceful Invasion of Scotland 1057-1200, p. 133). If we are talking ‘B.C.’, I’ll leave that
one to simmer in its own gravy ... its going nowhere.
Another fanciful and romantic version of the establishment of the name, which seems
awfully similar to a previous mention, was related in a letter written by A. Rutherford of
Stirling, Scotland, 15 December 1906, and addressed to George Ernest Rutherford, No.
1852. ‘The Rutherfords are not Highlanders, they are Borderers: they belong originally
to Roxburghshire. They are pure Scots, and they derive their name from thrashing an
invading English Army. This incident occurred before the time of Wallace. The tradition
is that an English invading force was allowed to cross the river at the ford, and after they
had done so, the Scots fought and defeated them, and drove them back across the ford
making the English ‘rue the ford.’ Rue-the-ford again.
Another story, was written by James Rutherford Brown of Liverpool, England, 13 April
1909 to George Ernest Rutherford, No. 1852. He stated there was no doubt that the
name Rutherford meant ‘red ford,’ an explanation given by Jeffray in his history of
Roxburghshire. Jeffray explained that ‘ruther,’ meaning red, was a Celtic word. There was
also a tale that mentioned ‘oxford’ as cattle are
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

By a strange paradox, while the historic branches have seemed to die out, no part
of the family’s original lands remains in their possession, the parent village lies
destroyed and all the early strongholds have disappeared, yet the name is now
widespread throughout the English-speaking world, forgotten though its ancestral
Border home may be.
The ancestral village of ‘Rothersfurth’ was spoiled by the English (i.e. Henry VIII) in
July 1544 and destroyed on 6 September, and on 1 October it was reported that
‘certain English and Scottish men burnt Roderford in Tividaill’. The rest of the village
was ‘brent, raised and cast downe’ between 9 and 13 September 1545.
Around this time, with there being no real national allegiance, some individual
Scottish Border families, including Rutherfords, were seduced by agents of English
king, Henry VIII ... and, donning the cross of St George, joined in the sacking of
their own border towns, the slaughtering of men, women, children and cattle, and
the destruction of their own environment ... madness? For more on this pointlessness
read The Steel Bonnets, George McDonald Fraser, pp. 257-258.
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And it was also in the sixteenth century, that the Rutherfords were one of the Borders’
families well known as ‘Reivers’ for their raids into Northumberland. A wee piece to
give a further flavour of that century of deceit, and cruel individualism ... Thomas
Rutherford, The black Laird of Edgerston, was famed for his daring attacks upon
the English. His most notable exploit/crime was at the battle of the Red Swire at
Caterfield in July 1575. This came about when the English and the Scots wardens of
the marches had met to hear mutual grievances and to give redress for complaints.
The Scots demanded the surrender of a notorious English brigand named Farnstein.
The English claimed that Farnstein had fled and could not be found. Sir John
Carmichael, the Scotswarden, doubted this and said so in plain terms. The English
warden retorted with insults regarding Carmichael’s family whereupon the English
bowman discharged a flight of arrows among the Scots and Sir John Carmichael
was taken prisoner. However, the Rutherfords and the men of Jedburgh soon
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appeared and put the English to flight, freeing Carmichael and instead taking
prisoner the English warden and a number of his lieutenants.
OK, back to the present, it is suggested by those that care about this sort of thing,
that every person with a Rutherford ancestry on the male or the distaff side shares
the heritage of descent from the medieval lairds of Rutherford.
Note: In the summer of 2000, John Rutherford of Ottawa Canada, visited the site
of the original town of Rutherford. There is now a house called ‘Rutherford House’,
occupied by a John Rutherford (oh my word, another ‘John Rutherford’), on the brow
of the bank above the Tweed River at a point where the river is wide, shallow and
stoney. Possibly the original hrythera ford. Nearby is a town called Rutherford, that
now consists of a railroad station of an abandoned rail line.
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With a shield bearing heraldic emblems, the Rutherford clan motto is ‘Nec sorte nec
fato’ which means ‘Neither by chance nor fate’.
Here is a variety of spellings through the ages, no wonder people have such
difficulty pronouncing ‘RUTHERFORD’
RUTHERFORD. Ridderfort/Ruddervoorde, de Rutherford or Rutheford, lord of
Rotherford, William de Rwthirford, Huwe de Ruwerfort, Nicolas de Rotherford,
Nicholas de Rothirford, Nicol de Rotherforde, Aymer de Rotherford, William de
Rotherforde, S’ Aimeride Rotherford, S’Will’ mi de Rothirford, Eva and Margery
de Rotherforde, Monsire Nichol de Rotherforde, Richard de Rotherford, William
de Rotherford, William de Rotherford and Nicholas of Rothersford, Sir Richard
of Rotherfurde, Richard Ritherford, George de Rutherfurde, James Ruthyrfurd
and Nicholas Ruthyrfurde, Samuel Rutherford, Rhetorfortis, Retorfortis, Ritterfart,
Routherfurd, Rudderfoord, Ruderford, Ruderfourd, Ruderfurd, Ruderfurde,
Rudirfurd and Ruthyfurd, Rutherfurd, Ruyerfurd, Ruyrfuird, Rwtherforde, Rwtherfurd,
Rwthirfurde, Ruddyrfurd, Daniel Rutherford.
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

Now for a serious version on the origin:
Ethnic Origins of the Rutherfords: from ‘The Rutherfords in Britain: a history and
guide’, by Kenneth Rutherford Davis.
The paternal ethnic origins of the Rutherford family are most certainly not Celtic. The
Rutherfords are found throughout Britain and nowhere is there any evidence of a
Gaelic speaking ancestry. Each cadet has marked ethno-historical differences, some
with no known or assumed connections to Roxburghshire. However, all English and
Scottish Rutherford groups have a common link to the era of William the Conqueror,
most likely because of a common Flemish descent. The Rutherfords first appear
in Scotland in the 12th century. This was at the same time the Ridderfort and/or
Ruddervoorde family of Flanders was making alliances with Flemish lords who were
resettling in Roxburghshire.
Although the fragmentary Scottish records of this remote period seldom afford
precise clues to the provenance of early Lowland landholders, it is well known
that during the reign of David I [1124-1153] and later, many Anglo-Norman
adventurers entered Scotland, encouraged by a royal policy designed to transform
its social economy into a feudal state with a centralized administration organized
on lines similar to those of Norman England, and depending on a nucleus
of immigrant barons, knights, their followers and clergy who could apply the
experience they had gained in the neighboring realm where David himself held two
earldoms.
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The most important of these alliances were with the ancestors of other continental
immigrants, like the Douglases, Balliols, Hayes, Humes and Lindsays. Tellingly, the
Ridderfort/Ruddervoorde family was disappearing in Flanders at the same time the
Rutherford family was appearing in Roxburghshire. Like many of the towns in West
Flanders, Ruddervoorde is of great antiquity. However, the surname Ruddervoorde
or van Ruddervoorde is practically unknown in Flanders after the 12th century.
Inversely, the name Rutherford is unknown in Scotland prior to the 12th century, but
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egins to appear in Roxburghshire at about the same time as its decline in Flanders.
The demographic diversity, feudal associations and ‘laws of nobilitas’ all point to
pre-Scottish origins in Flanders. The literature is usually very general concerning
Flemish vs Norman ancestry in Britain. This collective group is often referred to as the
‘Anglo-Normans’ even though there were enormous differences between the Nordic
invaders of Normandy and Flanders who became known as the Normans and the
local Flemish lords who were descendants of Charlemagne.
When therefore, we find at about this time adult Scotsmen bearing typical Anglo-
Norman Christian names we can conclude that they came from the stock of foreigners
whom the Normanizing kings, welcomed to settle with grants of land. [So, we can
safely assume] the first known Rutherfords must have been living there in the 2nd half
of the12th century, and their names – Hugh, Gregory, William and Richard – of similar
character introduced by the newcomers may point to an Anglo-Norman founder.
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Nec sorte nec fato ... indeed!
JOHN RUTHERFORD AND HIS CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE FAMILY TREE

Church & graveyard
Ballymoney

A
JOHN RUTHERFORD
AND HIS
CON-FLAB-E-DAB-E-DOZIE
FAMILY TREE
A
MANSEFIELD
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2016