The Good Doctor
A Doctor in the house
As Isadore Gonzalez, the tragic hero of my previous post, fell from his horse, a Doctor stepped from the crowd.
Though they never consciously met, a coincidental connection of two very different lives occurred that night, 23rd July 1903. Today the two men rest in the peace gardens of neighbouring Bristol cemeteries, Holy Souls and Arnos Vale. They are within line of sight of each other, waving distance should you believe in such things.
The Western Daily Press report of the accident provides us with a name; Dr Griffiths. Curiously, the reporter sees no need to further explain, seemingly assuming familiarity on the part of the reader.
Who was the man that stepped out of the crowd to Isidore’s aid that night? Why would the newspaper report assume that their readers would recognise him? Where does his story lead?
This is the story of Dr Griffiths. Of how he came to be in the crowd that day, of his contribution to his city and to his travels beyond.
A tale of two Griffiths’
The Western Daily Press article provided me with the best description of the sad incident of Isadore’s death. The fleeting reference to the Doctor initially catches my attention for fairly banal reasons; I wonder if he studied in the same Bristol University building that I did (now Geographical Sciences but in earlier forms the medical school) and because I grew up in a small Welsh village called Griffithstown.
But the real reason it strikes me as unusual is because of what is unsaid; why would the reader know who Dr Griffiths was?
As I developed the research into Isadore’s death, this question remains. Is it nothing? Was it just the norm of the time? Just as the minor mystery appeared in newsprint, so is its further unfolding.
Returning to the excellent British Newspaper Archives it is a swift discovery that there were two prominent Dr Griffiths’ practicing in Bristol at that time. The elder, Dr Lemuel Matthews Griffiths of Pembroke Road, the younger, Dr John Samuel Griffiths of Redland Park.
As should now be obvious, I believe the doctor that leapt to the aid of Isadore Gonzalez was the younger, John Samuel Griffiths (henceforth JSG). I had originally formed this opinion on the basis that around a month prior to the incident, JSG had written at length of his cultural exchanges and visits to family and friends in America (more on that soon). It makes immediate sense, circumstantially at least, that someone with such an interest in the West would attend a Wild West Show in his home town.
Lemuel Matthews Griffiths (LMG) by contrast, was renowned locally for his involvement as Chair of the local Shakespeare Society, amongst other cultural pursuits. Perhaps a less likely fan of cowboys and Indians.
But these are indeed circumstantial and subjective evidences, not firm proof that it is JSG named in the Western Daily Press. I press ahead with researching his life all the same, in the hope that further evidence will provide the answer.
Census, archives, newsprint and burial records
Its amazing to me how quickly one becomes familiar with archival searches. I am not a researcher by trade, but am firmly now in awe of the care and commitment of local historical and archive societies and facilities. Stories are important and they can only be told and understood if they are properly remembered.
My first point of order is, as with Isadore, to explore any census information. I have little luck with birth, marriage or death certificates but find a useful line in the 1901 census, nearly contemporaneous to the accident. Here we learn that JSG lived at 20 Redland Park, was married to Sarah Griffiths and held a household of staff and lodgers. Redland Park is a beautiful, well to-do neighbourhood of Bristol and the property is a handsome town-house. No doubt then JSG was comfortably off and lived accordingly.
We also learn that he hailed from West Wales, specifically Robeston Wathen in Pembrokeshire. This tiny town was never likely to satisfy the intellect that JSG displays later in life and so I assume he heads East, to study in the thriving town of Bristol, as did I, over a century later
As it happens my chosen subject, Geographical Sciences was, around the time of JSG, housed in the old medical school building on University Road. Its a thrill to think that JSG may have received lectures in the old Peel Lecture Hall where I received mine. But alas its not to be; that building opened shortly after he completed his studies in 1891.
I learn this from the wonderful University Special Collections, housed in the University library where I had myself spent so many long hours studying. I am somewhat embarrassed to explain that I am researching a man with whom I share no personal or familial connection. I needn’t be, the staff are warm, enthusiastic and skilfull, as seems to be the norm amongst librarians and archivists.
Beautiful old tomes appear from the catalogue and I learn that JSG studied from 1884-1991, likely at a building in Tyndall Park. His qualifications, as was the order of the day, were conferred by the Royal Colleges rather than the University.
It seems that he was a student of impressive capacity, winning prizes for chemistry, practical surgery and the wonderfully named ‘Martyn Memorial Pathological Scholarship for Proficiency in Pathology and Morbid Anatomy’ in 1890. For the latter he received ten pounds towards his final year of study. What a wonderful detail.
Despite all this I remain nagged by the doubt that my search is for the wrong Griffiths. While poring the University collections I stumble across some of the activities of LMG during the same period, also a Bristol student. His name appears frequently throughout the records and is credited as the Medical Librarian there. It is like bumping into an old acquaintance and I quickly lose my concerns. Instead I am pleased to be remembering two seemingly good men, for the effort of one.
Things move along apace; I shortly receive news of his burial from Arnos Vale Cemetery, recorded as April 1933. Although it confers little additional detail of his life, the precise date of his death is extremely useful. The University collections had listed his life as 1859-1933 but had not provided specific dates. Likewise I had not been able to find census data confirming, making it difficult to locate any newspaper announcements of his passing. The cemetery also provides confirmation that he was cremated and a memorial service held at the beautiful Peace Garden, below (credit Visit Bristol):
I turn back to the newspaper archives and discover further details of a life well lived. He was, for a time, the Deputy Lieutenant of Gloucestershire, County Director for the Red Cross and, perhaps his life’s work, the Medical Officer of the Victoria Convalescent Hospital during the Great War.
He was also a founder of the Clifton Arts Club, still vibrantly active to this day. This latter detail somewhat spoils my presumption however, that I should dismiss LMG on the basis that his interests did not seem to lie in the Wild West but in the arts.
As if to remind me of this a small incident of LMG’s life surfaces again during the newspaper trawl. He had been struck near his home by a taxi cab, breaking his leg in 1911. Wonderful details again, though perhaps not for him.
Then, just as I begin to plan this post on the basis of this uncertainty, I find JSG’s obituary.
Knight of Grace of the Order of St John
JSG died, surrounded by family, in April 1933. He had practiced medicine in Bristol for 40 years and left his wife, Sarah and his daughter, at the (now) family home at 25 Redland Park, a stones throw from where he lived in 1901. The funeral was attended by Bristol’s brightest and the Western Daily Press dedicates a lengthy obituary (see excerpt below).
We learn that his role at the Victoria Convalescent Hospital was to lead the care of the recuperation of the injured of the Great War. He would have received many wounded soldiers from those who had been treated at the Bristol Infirmary, the same hospital in which Isadore had finally succumbed to his injuries.
But the detail that provides the closure I am looking for is his award of the title of Knight of Grace of the Order of St John. He is noted as playing a prominent, pioneering role in the founding of the Bristol St John’s Ambulance who are well represented at his funeral.
Just as they do today the St John’s Ambulance provide a public service, providing medical oversight to large public events. At the time of the accident the Brigade was less than twenty five years old, still fixing itself in the public imagination. Today they are a common sight at sporting and musical events, unassumingly providing an essential service when called upon.
Suddenly all makes sense; JSG was no doubt interested in the show itself but he also had a formal role there. As part of the St John’s he was naturally a first responder to Isadore’s accident.
Epilogue
JSG’s life, by any standards, was well lived. His contribution to public life, his service during the Great War and his achievements as a medical practitioner are significant.
Unlike Isadore, there is no real tragedy to be told in his story, other than perhaps at his death the first dark clouds of the Second World War must have been on the horizon. Was this tireless public servant aware of that? Was he relieved to depart before hell once again broke loose? I doubt this is so. He strikes me as a man that would have again committed himself to serving fallen soldiers, for as long as he was needed.
To close this story I take a walk around JSG’s haunts. I wander around the university precinct and am reminded of my time there, a welcome nostalgia. A short stroll to the Victoria Convalescent Hospital from there, still standing though now covered in scaffold ahead of its conversion to retirement flats. Finally To his beautiful home at 25 Redland Park and a pint at the Clyde public house, opposite. I wonder if he had enjoyed a beer there himself, very possible given its age. I certainly hope so; I raise a quick glass there, in gratitude for his public service but mainly for his attempt to save Isadore.
I also stop at Arnos Vale to pay my respects at the peace garden where his funeral was held. It is a short walk from Isadore, whom I also visit. These two men have provided a wonderful platform for my Small History side quest; to take one story and follow random coincidental connections wherever they lead. For that I am grateful to both.
And where next? I wonder about that family in America...
25 Redland Park
The Clyde (directly opposite number 25)
Pegasus Homes - the Victoria Convalescent Hospital as it stands today
The Arnos Vale Peace Garden
