Two of my Uncles were extraordinary men. Here are a few sparks from the fire of their lives.
When he was 86 or so Uncle Arthur learned I was in England on vacation from my job in Guyana and sent a message inviting me to crew with him in a yachting race in which he was competing. I replied that I was too old and unfit to accept. He got someone else and nearly won the race.
My father’s older brother – in his pomp Air Marshal Sir Arthur McDonald of the Air Council of the Royal Air Force. He was a life-force, one of the most charismatic men I have met. Charismatic but not intimidating. When I first went to England at the age of 18, to go up to Cambridge, he was a VIP but didn’t show it at all. His kind eyes and his chuckling laugh and his smile were like my father’s and that helped. He put me at my ease – conversation that drew me out and gave me confidence. Thereafter he helped me whenever he could while I was at University.
If there is someone of lasting fame in the family it is Uncle Arthur. He rose and rose to be Air Marshal helping to run the RAF at the very top. He had done experimental work of great distinction with fighter planes. At one point in an illustrious career he was seconded to be first Commander of the Pakistan Air Force. But more importantly in the greater scheme of things, he was in earlier days in the forefront of the team which tested super-secret radar in the 1930s and brought it to success in time to be decisive in winning the Battle of Britain. The Air Minister at the time told him and the small team testing the application of the new technology that an Empire’s fate depended on them. I have seen a letter he wrote my father in which he describes the excitement when blips appeared on the experimental monitor indicating airliners rising out of Schiphol international airport hundreds of miles away and they knew for the first time that the device worked and early warning in battle would be possible.
In the sidelines of his outstanding Air Force career he was a famous yachtsman, no doubt learning the rudiments of that sport sailing in the blue and sunlit seas off the windy coasts of Antigua in his boyhood. In 1948 at the Olympic Games in England he captained the British yachting team and took the Olympic oath on behalf of all the sportsmen.
A Great Man, no doubt. To me he was an astonishing presence but mainly a good and helpful and friendly uncle.
I have a memory of meeting my Uncle Bertie – A.E. ‘Bertie’ Harragin, my mother’s uncle. He died in 1941 when I was eight years old so it can’t have been long before he died that we met. I remember a tall, elegant even graceful figure who did not condescend but had serious, interesting things to say. I wish I could remember what those things were but I know they were not pat-on-the-head stuff. When I was older my father told me that he had been asked by Uncle Bertie if I was a speed or endurance runner – because that would be important to know in any future sporting career I might have. I wish he had lived longer.
“What the earth swallows is soon forgotten.” In his era Uncle Bertie was the greatest all-round sportsman by far in Trinidad. Lieutenant – Colonel Harragin was also a distinguished soldier and fought with extreme gallantry and dedication in Palestine in World War One. At the battle of Damieh on the Jordan he was awarded the D.S.O for his leadership and bravery and earned the special praise of the Commander in Chief General Allenby. Subsequently he had a fine career in the Police Force in Trinidad and rose to be Deputy Inspector General – much admired in his profession.
But his fame was truly in the field of sports. He was an outstanding athlete. At one time he held the West Indian record in the 100 and 220 sprints, the 120 hurdles, the shot put, the pole vault and for throwing the cricket ball and the Trinidad record for the 440 and 880. It intrigues me that his record of throwing the cricket ball 128 yards 4 inches may be the longest such throw ever officially recorded since around that time throwing the cricket ball stopped being an event in competitions.
He was a leading footballer. He was a champion amateur jockey. He was an outstanding oarsman. He was one of Trinidad’s best cyclists. I wonder what else he excelled at? It seems unreal.
Yet all these exploits are not what bestowed on him the greatest fame. Because cricket was by far the most popular sport in Trinidad and indeed the West Indies, the ordinary man’s obsession, it was Uncle Bertie’s extraordinary prowess as a cricketer and Captain of the national team which made him universally celebrated. In that role it is not too much to say that he became a legend. He first played for Trinidad in 1898, captained for the first time in 1901 and thereafter was a dominating figure in inter-colonial play until he retired in 1921. Only to be induced to come out of retirement in 1932 to lead Trinidad against perennial rival, and recently unbeatable, Barbados. Uncle Bertie was 55. He led Trinidad to victory. I like to think of it.
In 1906 he toured with the West Indies team in England as Vice-Captain. In the first match of the tour the West Indies played W.G. Grace’s XI. Uncle Bertie – I have seen the report – hit the Grand Old Man of cricket for six sixes in a swashbuckling innings of 50. I like to think of that too.
How can one measure the full nature of any man? When Bertie Harragin died it was said he was by far the most popular sportsman ever produced in Trinidad. It was said of him that he epitomized honesty, grace, charm, strength of character mixed with modesty and sympathy for others that never failed him. Fine words indeed but even finer for me is what C.L.R. James wrote – C.L.R. James, the great West Indian historian and intellectual, author of Beyond A Boundary, the best book ever written about cricket:
“Old Constantine was an independent spirit. Cricket must have meant a great deal to him. Yet when some dispute broke out with the authorities he refused to play anymore. One who saw it told me how A.E. Harragin left the Queen’s Park pavilion, walked over to where Constantine was sitting in the stands and persuaded him to come back. Few people in Trinidad, white or black, could refuse Bertie Harragin anything. He was an all-round athlete of rare powers, of singular honesty and charm. I would have accepted any cricket pronouncement of his at face value. He was one of the very few white men in the island at the time who never seemed aware of the colour of the person he was speaking to.”
And writing of the emergence of young Learie Constantine CLR had this to say:
“Even to my interested eye he was full of promise, but not more. Major Harragin, however, was captaining Trinidad in the evening of his cricketing days. He knew a cricketer when he saw one and he probably could see much of the father in the son. Practically on his own individual judgment he put Learie in the intercolonial tournament of 1932. But for the Major’s sharp eye and authority it is most unlikely that he would have got in so early.”
Just to think that a little of Uncle Bertie’s bloodline may have leaked into mine makes me feel better than I am.
