There are certain particular names in each of the East Neuk of Fife villages that crop up with regularity throughout their history with St Monans being no exception and having its fair share of them.
Normally those can be traced back through the ancestry of long-established families, a common feature in close-knit communities.
But come the late 1800s in St Monans, there is one surname heavily woven through the daily life of the town, Cameron.
In some instances it is difficult to unravel the intertwined threads of those Cameron tales. One thing is for certain though and that is if all these characters were indeed walking the same streets in their shared lifetime, then there is no doubt if they all came together the craik of this cohort would have been as fascinating as it would have been colourful.
There was James Cameron, fisherman and respected representative of the local fleet whose common sense and authority was a vital attribute in the hey-day of the herring fishing. Then there was James Cameron, licensed grocer and, occasionally, unlicensed grocer, who at times appears to have sailed close to the wind with the authorities in terms of his premises and his business dealings. There was also James Cameron, the long-serving town crier and a well-kent character whose booming voice could, apparently, be heard a mile beyond the burgh’s boundaries.
Adding to that Cameron mix, there was also the James Cameron who served as the town’s cobbler; the James Cameron who served as sheriff officer; the James Cameron who was the town’s bill poster; the James Cameron whose job application rattled the Pittenweem town’s fathers; the James Cameron who was a convicted poacher; and, last but not least, the James Cameron who was at the centre of a bizarre alimony case in Renfrewshire.
That’s quite a Cameron clan to be birling through the burgh at the same time. But further research reveals that, fisherman aside, it would seem all the other Camerons were one and the same. Now that may, or may not be the case, but the circumstantial evidence is strong.
St Monans Heritage Collection, at 5 West Shore, has a photograph of the town crier on display, along with his now clapper-less handbell. But there is definitely a lot more to this Jimmy Cameron, and his tales must earn him his place as one of the town’s true characters and one who deserves a permanent place in the history spotlight.
But before exploring Mr Cameron’s kaleidoscopic contribution to the community, the first clarification is that his name wasn’t Cameron, and, like those other venerable worthies, teacher and writer John Jack and pharmacist and photographer William Easton, he wasn’t from St Monans, but an incomer.
It is best to start at the end, and then try to unravel the many faces of Jimmy, whose home was on the West End in St Monans. A widower, his wife Jane predeceasing him, he died on July 1, 1937, at the age of 87. His daughter, Jane Cameron, was with him when he passed.
His death certificate states that his parents were unknown, and his occupation was given as ‘Retired town’s officer’. In both cases, that is an over-simplification.
The fact that his death was reported in The Scotsman newspaper illustrates the renown of ‘Auld Jimmy’. The brief obituary read: “Former town crier of St Monance: The death has occurred at St Monance, in his 88th year, of Mr James Cameron, who held the post of town crier for about 50 years. At the time of his retirement a few years ago he was one of the oldest bellmen in the country . Deceased had been in failing health for some time.”
There is no online record of Jimmy Cameron’s birth certificate as he pre-dates the 1855 collation. Church records are a possibility but even that is not straightforward as his entry into this world is considerably more vague than his exit.
A brief colour piece published on him gives his place of birth as Nitshell, a village three miles outside Linlithgow. That location has proved elusive but there is, or was, such a place in Renfrewshire. That county, which seems correct from census records, provides a valuable piece of the jigsaw and opens up one of his tales. Though his parents were recorded as ‘unknown’ that would not be strictly accurate, with Jimmy and his father actually being quite well-acquainted through somewhat acrimonious dealings.
So, accepting that Renfrewshire connection, who was the real Jimmy Cameron?
It would appear, despite being recorded as orphaned or abandoned, he began his journey through life as James Cameron Colville, born c1850. Neilston, in Renfrewshire, is the most likely hometown with the 1861 census showing James to be the third of five children born to Hugh and Mary Colville.
As a young man he trained as a cobbler, securing a position with a reputable bootmaker in Edinburgh, and married Jane Melville in November 1872 at Hope Terrace, Edinburgh. He was 22, she 24.
Unknown circumstances brought the couple to St Monans, where Jimmy, dropping the Colville in favour of Cameron, set himself up as a shoemaker. That business venture doesn’t seem to have been enough to provide for the family and, by the 1881 census, James and Jane had two daughters, Jane and Elizabeth, and his trade was now listed as grocer.
That change or addition of profession appears to have followed an incident when James found himself before the small debt court in the Parish of Cathcart, Renfrewshire, defending a claim against him by his own father.
According to the Fife News in October 1880 it was “a case of more than usual interest” in that Cameron’s father had raised an action for aliment through the Parochial Board of Cathcart, seeking repayment for advances.
In defence, Cameron’s solicitor argued that the father had abandoned his children to the mercy of strangers, and Cameron was not in a financial position to support this newly-emerged parent. It wasn’t a clear-cut case and the Sheriff decided to continue proceedings to allow representation from the Parochial Board. When no representative appeared the next day the Sheriff immediately found in favour of the defendant, granting Jimmy a decree of absolvitor and 10 shilling in expenses.
With the court case behind him, the shoemaker’s business needing supplemented, Cameron then turned to his grocery enterprise but this also seems to have had its share of difficulties. The local press covered various rejected and approved applications for licences, as well as Cameron being forced to return to legal representation, this time to pursue unpaid bills.
By 1887 it would seem Jimmy Cameron had decided the role of St Monans trader, be it stitching soles or selling spirits, was not for him. Public service beckoned and it is here his true colourful character now starts to emerge.
A change of scene and a change of career offered itself in Pittenweem that August with the town looking for a new sanitary inspector. The Public Health Acts in the 1870s aimed to reform the health and hygiene of Victorian Britain and Jimmy reckoned he was the right fit for that task which brought with it a £3 annual salary to supplement his other streams of revenue.
When Pittenweem’s town council considered his application, it split the members. The provost thought Cameron had a “good tongue” and would be perfect for the job, but others saw him as an incomer where a resident would be better suited for the position. Before reaching a decision the council felt it also needed clarification as to which body would, after appointment, have the power to dismiss him – the local authority or the Board of Supervision. So with hiring and firing to be determined, and a decision made on local or ‘stranger’, it was agreed to re-advertise the post.
Later that month, the council reconvened. It is uncertain what had occurred in the intervening days
but Jimmy had decided to withdraw his application, and did so in writing with some panache. The use of language caused much amusement amongst some, while others were insulted by the disrespect. The town’s bailie tried in vain to stop it being read out and after the eyebrow-raising letter had been publicly aired, the audience demanded the right to comment. This was refused and no further interruptions were allowed.
It would appear, following this episode, Jimmy secured a similar position in St Monans, and another as sheriff officer. Then, in 1892, he again found himself within the legal system and reported in the local press, this time as the victim of an assault from a fisherman who had fancied a square go.
A few years later though, our now respected legal officer was again facing justice, on this occasion not as a victim but as the accused; the charge being heard at Cupar Sheriff Court was that of poaching.
Under the headline ‘A sheriff officer’s temptation’, the Dundee Courier report read:
James Cameron, shoemaker and sheriff officer, St Monance, was charged with having, on the 22nd November last, on field on the farm of Ardross, known as Caliart Hill Park, on the south side of the road leading from St Monance, trespassed in pursuit of game and, by means of lurcher, killed a hare. Accused pleaded not guilty.
“Mr R. J. Davidson prosecuted behalf of Mr Baird of Elie, the proprietor of the lands. Mr J. Kerr Tasker, who defended, adduced evidence with the view of proving that the hare was killed at the side of the road, and that it had come from fields on the north side of the road.
“His Lordship said could not get over the very distinct evidence of the two gamekeepers. He must hold that a technical offence had been committed. Though he must convict, he could not but look on the offence as a very slight one.
“It was very probable that accused did not out with the intention of poaching, but when temptation had come in his way had been unable to resist it.
“He would pass the modified fine of 1s, but the expenses that fell to paid were £2 13s. The alternative was 21 days' imprisonment. The fine and expenses were paid.
Other press reports indicated Jimmy would be required, or was urged, to dispose of his hare-hunting hound, and that would appear to be his master’s final brush with the law, but brushes now became his business.
In the following years he became a daily familiar figure as the town’s street sweeper, bill poster and, of course, town crier.
He held these posts into his 80s and while it is possible to piece together a ropey record of his life with just possibly two surviving photographs of this worthy, there is another valuable dimension of the man left to us.
In May 1930, the Dundee Evening Telegraph carried a feature ‘Mrs A.R. Rowlands introduces...’ It would appear to have been be a regular column, focusing on a different character. In that issue, it was ‘Jimmy Cameron, Town Crier of St Monance’ and the writer offers a unique insight into this character by retaining his dialect in her personalised copy:
I’m up every mornin' at fower o'clock. I like to get my streets soopit afore ony body's up. There's nae body to speak to an' pit me aff my wark at that time i' the mornin', an' it's grand for the folk to rise an' see a’thing clean," said Mr James Cameron, for almost 60 years town crier of St Monance.
"Forbye," added Mr Cameron, " I like a blaw o' the clean caller air in the mornin', an' forbye that" -with a pawkv twinkle -"there mith be twa three bits o' things lyin' aboot," an' he looked down suggestively.
Mr James Cameron was born over 80 years ago in the village of Nitshells, three miles from Linlithgow. A shoemaker to trade, he was some time employed in a well-known shoe shop in Prince's Street, Edinburgh.
Owing to the increased use of machinery in bootmaking, the services of fewer men were required, but, as Mr 'Cameron says, "Cobblers are aye needed, but ye've to work a long time afore ye mak' ony bawbees."
Coming to St Monance, Mr Cameron married and settled down in the quaint fishing town on the shores of the Forth.
During his many years' residence in "St Minnans," Mr Cameron has filled the offices of town's crier, town's officer, and billposter.
For some years also he was the local sanitary inspector “afore a' they new-fangled weys o' daen cam' in," and for 16 years he was sheriff officer for the district.
The last-named office was sometimes not altogether to Cameron's liking. He had some unpleasant jobs while fulfilling this post, "but it was his work, an' he had to dae't.
Enemies were occasionally made, and sometimes the officer was blamed for matters with which he had nothing whatever to do, except in an official capacity.
"Oo, aye," said he, "I was gaun tae be killed an' gaun to be drooned often enough, but I'm aye livin' yet."
In his youthful days, Mr Cameron was a great lover of dancing, taught many a one the intricate steps of the old-fashioned " lancers" and " quadrilles," and had it not been for a touch of rheumatism in his knee, he would have given a demonstration of the polka and Highland Fling.
Mr Cameron was possessed of voice of remarkable power, and it said that his proclamations have been heard in villages at least a mile distant.
In spite of his advanced age, his voice is almost as powerful as ever, and when he "cries through the toon " every word is heard clearly and distinctly.
Although not tall, Mr Cameron is strongly built, and shows signs of having been very agile in his youth. He tells with great glee of an encounter he once had with an opponent, who had threatened to catch him one dark night " between Pittenweem and St Minnans," and leave him "for deid".
" Oo aye," said Jimmy, when he heard the threat, and went on his rounds unperturbed.
One dark night his assailant, a tall, powerful man, met Jimmy on the road, and made a rush at him. Jimmy merely stooped down, and catching the other man by the legs, " threw him clean head over heels".
It was the other man who was left, not Jimmy.
Mr Cameron's unusual strength is still shown by the fact that he is yet employed at his usual vocation of town's crier, and can ring the heavy " toon's bell " as vigorously as in days of yore.
Although 80 in years, he affirms that he is still young in spirit, and that "he's gaun to live to be a hunder an' fifty," and from his appearance he may live to be what he terms "an auld man".
In days of old, tradition tells us, the " wee folk " were heard building the auld kirk of St Monance through the still hours of the night.
Now when all else is hushed, in the quiet morning hours the sound of a brush is heard, while a hale and hearty old man who loves the sweet and caller morning air "soops” the quaint streets and winding lanes of old St Monance.
Other than a little published nod to his veteran service in those streets and lanes, that was the last published record of Jimmy until that brief 1937 obituary in The Scotsman.
His is quite the tale and deserves to sit alongside the stories he could have recounted from the gossip and goings-on in St Monans, stories that he witnessed and was often a part of.
