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Requiem for a Braveheart
John Paul McGill29/12/1949 - 18/12/2001
John or as he liked to be know, Johnny, was born in London! That is the first surprise about this man… he was English. He came North to Scotland with his parents in 1954 and settled in the small village of Carfin. They stayed with his grandmother in a row of houses at the top of Cleekhimin Brae. He attended St Francis Xavier’s Primary School, where his strange accent attracted immediate attention. No –one could quite understand this funny sounding guy. He was canny about revealing much about himself and did not talk too much about his family life. Only in later years did it emerge that he and his siblings had been having a rough time in the family home, which by 1955 was in Newarthill. They had moved into The Green, a small street of pre-fabricated post war houses. His father was heavily into betting. Losing was a way of life for his father and money was usually in short supply. He often went to school hungry. He was rapidly losing his Cockney style of talking and acquiring a more acceptable and understandable Scottish accent. It was at this point that I met him and started what became lifelong friendship. At school, Johnny was not scholastic. He always said that Maths was a foreign language, and English composition was a puzzling story with no ending. With the modern teaching methods Johnny could have gone far, but in those days the teacher’s methods included bouncing your nose of the desk as you tried to make sense of the English written language. The belt/strap was also widely used (or in some cases misused) and Johnny found difficulty in comprehending both the written English and the Scottish accent of the teachers at the same time. But he struggled on, trying his best. When it came time to move on into the senior section Johnny went to St Patrick’s Secondary School, (a Junior High School). He went there because most of his acquaintances were going to go there, rather than to Our Lady’s High School, a “posh” school. If he had gone there he would have had to wear a uniform and it may have been that monetary considerations made him turn down the opportunity to get a better education. Always quiet and staying in the background, he finished Junior High and left to work in the local Leather Factory. There he met another friend, Peter Pollock, who also remained a close friend to Johnny for over 20 years, before Peter immigrated to California. Together they went on to work in the Steel Works, labouring at the Blast Furnaces. At about this time Johnny met his future wife Elizabeth Jamison. Courtship was short and soon they married. Many thought that at 19 and 17 respectively they were too young and that their marriage would not last. How wrong they were. Johnny and Liz went on to have three children, two sons, Garry and Scott and a daughter, Debbie. After the Steel Works Johnny joined British Rail first as a Ticket Collector then as a Guard and finally he moved to the inspection and repair of British Rails’ Wagon Section. Now based in Ravenscraig Steel Works, Johnny was working long hard hours frequently doing night shifts, working outside in all weathers. His job involved doing running repairs to goods wagons carrying coal, iron ore etc. His life revolved around his family and his work, but sometimes he could get talked into trying something new. He was persuaded to join the local Community Centres’ Central Committee, where he took an active part. He even tried his hand at chess, but gave up on that saying it was too much like maths. He especially enjoyed Fishing, of the Shore or Boat type, and dreamed of returning to Auchmithy, a small ex-fishing port, about 6 miles North of Arbroath on the East Coast of Scotland. It was there that he had some of his most memorable fishing experiences.
Johnny was especially proud of his Family and could and did talk about them endlessly, but he was also proud of something else. He was proud to term himself a Scotsman. Born in England he would tell all and sundry that he was descended from the MacGillvery Clan, a Sept of the Clan Chatham. The Macgillvery Clan stood for three hours at Culloden, standing under cannon fire, before finally charging into the teeth of the redcoats’ musket fire. In the same breath he spoke about his Grandfather, who was three times invalided out of the Army from wounds he received during the First World War. He loved Scotland and everything about it, and when he travelled to Lochgoilhead two years ago he was enthralled by what he saw. We drove to Blair Atholl shortly afterwards and when we stopped for a break at the Pass of Killiekrankie, he was astounded at the vistas. He seemed to swell with pride later, when he spoke about the countryside we had driven thru. “This is MY country “ he said, and almost reverently added, with a smile “God’s Country.” He was struck down 6 1/2 yrs ago with cancer, but fought it vigorously. He almost won. Only in the last four months did his body fail to fight as strongly as his will demanded. At the end, worn out struggling to breath, wracked with pain, he told me that he would be glad when it was over. Death held no fear for him, for he was at peace with the World. Those whom he could talk to were told of his love for them, and those that he couldn’t get in touch with for one reason or another should understand that he would be thinking of them from up above.
Rest in PeaceJohn (Johnny) Paul McGillHughie (UE) Home
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