An Hispanic Liverpool Heritage Walk

On Tuesday, 29th December, Dr Kirsty Hooper of the Hispanic Liverpool Project - www.hispanicliverpool.org - arranged a meeting at the Baltic Fleet pub so that members of the group could catch up on the latest developments, pore over maps, and generally chat and exchange family stories before taking our heritage walk.

The Baltic Fleet - www.balticfleetpubliverpool.com - proved to be the perfect place to gather. It's more than likely that any seafaring ancestors would have stepped through its doors when coming ashore after a long trip, and some members of the group have happy memories of drinking at the Baltic in more recent years. Although not everyone in the Hispanic Liverpool Group was able to join us, we were still quite a large group, but the Baltic's Landlord, Simon Holt, was happy to accommodate us. We arrived after lunch, but the sight of their signature dish, Scouse, (adopted by Liverpudlians from the Norwegian Lapskaus) being carried through to other customers, made me determined to return one day soon to sample it. I did enjoy the coffee though, and according to the men in the group, the beer was excellent!

When I look back fifteeen years to when I first began researching my family history, I am amazed at the progress Kirsty has made in placing Hispanic immigrants in Liverpool's history. I spent the early years of my research frustrated at the lack of information; for all my efforts, it seemed my Spanish ancestors had arrived, lived, raised a family, and died in the city without leaving any trace. There was a thriving Chinese community, celebrated by a splendid Chinese gate, even an area called Little Italy, but what of the Hispanic immigrants? I knew my grandparents couldn't have been the only Spaniards to arrive in Liverpool at the beginning of the 20th century. My research was made more difficult because my family had moved from the heart of Liverpool, way out into the suburbs, at the outbreak of WWII; perhaps if we'd stayed, I would have met other children of English/Spanish heritage and perhaps heard their family stories.

I have mentioned in a previous blog, that I met Kirsty when she was head of Hispanic Studies at Liverpool University and I attended one of her lectures. That night was a turning point for me, for the first time I was in a room full of people who had a shared heritage; whose grandparents had lived in the same streets as mine; whose grandfathers had worked alongside mine for the Larrinaga Shipping Line. That was the first time I gained a sense of my place in the city's rich multi-cultural history. Now, thanks to Kirsty and her team's ongoing, tireless, research, we have the Hispanic Liverpool Project, where we meet up, in workshops and on line, to share photographs, memories and family stories, and discuss our ongoing personal projects.

Before setting off on our walk to trace the homes of our Spanish parents and grandparents, using maps and old photographs to try to trace where their long-gone homes once stood, we gathered outside the Baltic Fleet while Simon gave us a brief, but very interesting, talk on the history of the building. We plan to meet there again at some point in the future and hear the full story - ghosts and secret tunnels, I can't wait!

After a December of above average rainfall, the weather that day proved kind to us, perfect for strolling, taking photographs, and above all reminiscing. We all had different addresses we wanted to trace and by physically walking the area around Park Lane we could get a sense of just how many Hispanic people lived in that part of the city. I could see Liver Street, my grandmother's first destination on arrival; and although there is now no trace of the house in Greetham Street where my mother was born, the street sign is still on the wall and part of the cobbled street remains. I was able to walk in my grandmother's footsteps and imagine her pushing my mother's pram, the first child of her Liverpool-born family.

Kirsty had taken a packet of chalks along on our heritage walk, and was soon marking precise spots on lamp-posts and pavements.

Old photographs and maps made it possible to trace where the homes and businesses of other Hispanic families once stood. We learned where Christina's grandparents had their fish and chip shop, and a secret family recipe - but that's her story to tell!

What Liverpool has suffered over the years, especially in the Blitz, has made it almost impossible for a family historian to find physical traces of their ancestors' homes. I have had more luck in Santiago de Compostela, where I have been able to trace, stand outside, and photograph, every house that my grandmother lived in, the churches where her family were baptised and married, and the cemeteries where they are buried. My next project is to trace my Spanish grandfather's roots - and, with a great deal of help, I am on the verge of an important discovery!

Until then, I am extremely grateful, and proud, to be a member of the Hispanic Liverpool community and I look forward to our next get-together. Thank you all - including my very patient other-half, who took the photographs!

Out of the Shadows - Part 2

In Part 1, I mentioned the newspaper extracts provided, and translated, by Kirsty Hooper, which had given me an insight into my Spanish grandmother's family background. One item in particular solved a mystery which had puzzled me for the past 15 years. I had always been told by my mother that my great-grandfather was an artist and I understood that the painting of the Madonna and Child which hung in my grandmother's house in Liverpool, and was buried with her when she died in 1950, was one of his. I was also told that my great-grandfather used to travel between Spain and Buenos Aires to sell his paintings, and undertake commissions painting murals for churches. Yet on my grandparents' marriage certificate, Micaela's father is described as a 'labourer'. A Spanish newspaper extract from 1904 which mentioned his return from Buenos Aires was proof that he did travel to Argentina, unlikely if he was a labourer, but there was more exciting information to come.

An article in El Compostelano dated 16 July 1923 describes a 'Regional Exhibition of Painting and Sculpture' taking place in the Casino de Santiago, and lists a selection of the works on display. These included two paintings - Fuente de las Platerias, (Fountain in Silversmith's Square) and Interior of St Mark's Venice, (oils), both by José Vilarelle Vázquez - my great-grandfather! I reasoned that if he had been so well-known as a painter that he had exhibited, then perhaps I could find some record of his paintings and that was the main aim of my trip to Santiago de Compostela last March.

We had visited the Museo do Pobo Gallego - the Museum of Galician People - on previous trips to Santiago de Compostela simply as a matter of interest, now that I had some clues perhaps I could find out more. Ever the optimist, I was hoping the museum might even have one of his paintings! The young woman on the reception desk spoke excellent English and I had no difficulty in explaining my mission. She introduced me to Rosa, who I think was the head archivist, and translated my request. Within minutes, we were being led down corridors, up staircases, in and out of lifts, until we reached the administrative heart of the museum, where it is unlikely any other tourist had ever been admitted. For the next hour or so, Jim and I sat at a desk, in awe at the willingness of Rosa and an assistant to search through boxes and boxes of documents looking for paperwork relating to the Exhibition. I was beginning to feel embarrassed at the time they were investing when Rosa, smiling triumphantly, handed me an original catalogue. It was small, unlike the expensive, glossy catalogues one would expect at modern art exhibitions; photographs of some of the paintings had been glued onto the pages, and at the back of the catalogue were printed the names of the exhibitors and the titles of their paintings, in alphabetical order. Sadly, there were no photographs of my great-grandfather's two works, but there was his name and I was holding physical evidence of his profession.

Obviously, I was unable to keep the original, how wonderful that would have been, but Rosa did scan the front of the catalogue and the relevant page to take away with me, and that was the next best thing. Rosa thought she remembered seeing one of the paintings, she wasn't sure where, but it might have been the Consorcio de Santiago, and we left with the address, again in the Rua do Vilar, the street which seemed to have so many connections with my ancestors, and the name of the man to ask for. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts at trying to explain in Spanish, we were asked to return the following day and when we did were simply handed a business card with an arrow pointing to the address of their website!

We had more luck in the History of Art Archives at Santiago's University, where again two archivists were more than generous with their time and efforts. Another couple of hours produced a second catalogue; in August of 1923 the Exhibition had moved to Coruna and there was my great-grandfather's name, but this time only one of his paintings was listed - Fuente de las Platerias. Did this mean that the other painting had been sold? I hope so.

Another department of the University Archives holds plot numbers of the graves in Boiseca Cemetery, where my great-grandparents were buried but despite a thorough search, and finding their names and dates of burials in the archives, the plot numbers were missing. I've visited the cemetery several times, but it covers acres of ground, and together with the Spanish system of removing bones and 're-using' graves after a number of years, it's impossible to find an original burial place without an exact plot number. So my wish to place flowers in memory of my Spanish great-grandparents, on my grandmother's behalf, has to remain unfulfilled.

However, this latest trip had proved fruitful. I now had definite proof that José Vilarelle Vázquez was an artist whose paintings were worthy of exhibiting. Not only that - the Casino de Santiago, where the Exhibition took place, is now a café bar, and is only a couple of doors away from where my great-great-grandfather had his hat shop! A very fitting place to end my visit, enjoying churros, the treat my grandmother used to make, but this time dipped in thick, hot, melted chocolate, unimaginable in those war-time days of my childhood.