James Henry "Harry" Brooker was born in Brighton, England, on June 23, 1887. His parents were Henry Joseph Brooker and Harriett Rowland. They only had two children, Harry, and his little sister Florence Harriett (my grandmother) born April 12, 1899. There was a 12-year age gap between the two, and Florence adored her other brother. She never got over his death. According to my Uncle Bobby, Florence was close to Harry's eldest daughter, Ivy, who was only 9 years younger than her. (Ivy died in 1930, which was as devastating to my grandmother as her brother's death.) They were living at 12 Regent Row, Brighton at the time of his birth. It doesn't really exist anymore.
In the 1891 census, he is listed at 3 years old. They are living in Camberwell, London. It looks like his father came to London to work at the gas company as a gas stoker (a person who feeds the coal into the furnaces to produce coal gas). This is probably how his sister later met my grandfather, because he also worked at the gas company.
On a side note, there was a gas stoker strike in London in 1872 and a gas worker strike in 1889. The strike forced many union organizers to think more widely, and they set up a Federated body to represent workers across London. But it would not be until the Gas Workers' Strike of 1889 that they would earn the 8-hour day. The Gas stokers had a particularly harsh existence. The work was dirty and dangerous. The casualty rate was high amongst workers, with many fatal accidents leading to children without fathers. Perhaps the 8-hour day was the reason that Harry's family moved to London two years after he was born. Because of the union, work in London was safer than in Brighton.
The family did return to Brighton for a short time. They were living at 25 Islingword Street when his sister Florence was born.
In 1901, he was around 13 years old and the family was living at 208 East Street in the parish of St. Peter, Parliamentary division of Walworth, which is also the Municipal Borough of Southwark. It's hard to find these places on current maps as this part of London was bombed during WWII. East Street still exists, but 208 has been replaced by a newer building. There were four families at that address, so it was probably an apartment building. His grandmother, Mary Ann Rowland, was living with them, and his father's occupation was still a gas stoker.
In 1906, on his banns, he was listed as a blacksmith and living at 9 Wagner Street. Wagner is a short, nasty-looking street that runs under train tracks. It's parallel to Old Kent Road. It looks like #9 used to be where an old derelict apartment complex is now. I am guessing that it was an apartment complex because his future wife, Florence Gertrude Lizette Clack, lived there as well. For some reason, the witnesses were all on the Clack side, her father and Nellie Clack (who could be her sister).
Speaking of Florence Gertrude Lizette Clack, I am so glad that her parents gave her such a long name and she used it because I would never have found out where he was buried if she hadn't applied for a WWI pension and used her whole name!
On the 1911 census, Harry is also working at the gas company as a hammerman and living at 110 Ormside St, Old Kent Rd, Peckham, Camberwell S E. His parents and sister lived next door at 95 Ormside Street, which happens to be the same address as her future in-laws, the Bulbrooks. This census shows that his wife, Florence, was born in Witney, Oxford, and two of the children were born in Deptford and one in Camberwell. What's wonderful about the 1911 census is that it was filled out by the occupant, not the enumerator, so this is Harry's handwriting.
I'm not sure why his father put him on their census form and then scratched him out. I'm glad he did because it verified that this was his parents, and we get to see his father's handwriting.
The 1918 list of electoral registers lists his wife at 527 Canterbury Rd, Old Kent Rd, S.E. 15, Camberwell. James Henry is also listed as absent and listed as NM (naval/military) for qualification.
On September 22, 1915, he enlisted in the Royal Engineers. He was attached to Battalion 131st Field Company. The 131st FCE joined the 26th Division on April 25, 1915. His service number was 66589.
"Forward units crossed the Serbian-Bulgarian boundary on 25 September 1918. Hostilities with Bulgaria ceased two days later. The Division advanced towards Adrianople (as the war with Turkey was still underway) but this also soon ceased. 26th Division successively became part of the Army of the Danube and then of the Occupation of Bulgaria. Demobilisation began in February 1919, with Italian troops arriving to replace the dwindling British presence. By 10 May 1919, the Division ceased to exist. The 26th Division had suffered casualties of 8,022 killed, wounded and missing during the war but vastly larger numbers sick with malaria, dysentery, and other diseases rife in the Salonika theatre."(1)
Harry was one of the sick. On May 4, 1917, he was transferred to the sick convoy. He was suffering from Pyrexia, which is a fancy word for a fever. It could have been caused by a viral infection. Here is more information about that theatre of operation.
To make matters worse, in July 1917, his oldest son, James Henry Thomas Vincent Brooker, drowned at the Greenwich pier. He was only 11 years old.
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| West Kent Argus and Borough 03August1917 |
Unfortunately, I cannot find his service record; a lot of them were destroyed in the WWII bombings. Luckily, I got a bit after discovering his service number. I believe he was transferred to a hospital in Bulgaria, where he died on December 7, 1918. If he had only hung on for a few more months, he would have been sent home.
Now I know where he is buried and found his file in the War Graves Commission.
The cemetery is fascinating to look at in the street view of Google Maps. It's rather overgrown and spooky. I'd go there in a heartbeat just to take photos. But I'm weird like that. The British graves are on the right side, where the label Resting Place of Marion Jack, Bahá’í Pioneer.
So, after all these years I've found the resting place of Great Uncle Harry Brooker. Rest in Peace, and hopefully, one day, one of us will be able to visit you. And thank you, Florence Gertrude Lizette Clack Brooker Matthews, wherever you are.
