A Grandfather 'Found'
Although I did not know
James Philip Hewlett 4th personally, I have some knowledge of his
‘past life’. I am the only child of his second daughter, Gertrude
Esther Hunt (nee Hewlett).
In 1988 when I began to research the history of my mother's family I
believed that my grandfather had died in 1903 of Bubonic Plague and
was buried in the Melbourne General Cemetery. It wasn’t until the
year 1990 that I had any evidence that caused me to doubt whether
this was so. At that time, my husband Owen, while researching in the
Victorian Public Records Office found affidavits dated 1917
contained in an application lodged by my maternal grandmother, Helen
Laura Foley, for divorce from her husband, James Philip Hewlett 4th
on the grounds of desertion, failure to financially support his
daughters, and that his whereabouts were unknown.
This information gave rise to much speculation and aroused my
curiosity. I wondered whether my grandfather might have changed his
name in order to avoid being accountable for the financial support
of his children in which case he would be impossible to trace.
My husband, Owen, being even more curious than me about the life of
my grandfather, commenced a search to discover the truth. Early in
2000 he found him in the WW1records under his real
name. It was later learned that he had changed his name to
‘Hoyle’, but resumed his baptismal name in 1918 while on active duty
and disabled by illness.
My grandfather’s War Service Record was obtained
and a phone call to the War Graves’ Commission in Canberra revealed
that there was no record of him having a war grave. This, in fact,
was not the case. However, a staff person at the Commission
volunteered information that a James Philip Hewlett who was born in
1911 was listed on the database. I asked her for the location of his
war grave and she informed me that he was still living and residing
in a suburb of Perth, Western Australia.
Realizing that this James Philip Hewlett was most probably a son of my
grandfather I contacted him by 'phone. I shall always remember
making that call, nervously dialing the number and being aware that
I was wanting to speak with an 89 year old man and perhaps give him
some surprising news. I was apprehensive lest I would shock him if
he was, indeed, one of my Hewletts.
The call was answered, and a strong male voice said: ‘Good evening,
Jim Hewlett speaking’. I introduced myself and explained that I was
researching my family history and that it was possible we shared the
same ancestors. As I told my story he listened without interruption.
I completed my explanation and, after a lengthy silence Jim said: “I
am James Philip Hewlett the 5th"
Until I contacted him, Jim had no knowledge of any living relatives aside
from his brother Herbert Edward and his nephew, Warren Hewlett who
had died. Unfortunately, Jim is childless. He had no prior knowledge
of his father’s marriage to my grandmother, nor the existence of
three half-sisters born in Melbourne a hundred years earlier.
To say that I was delighted to have ‘found’ Jim would be an
understatement. I was ecstatic. Not only was he living, he had a
lively mind and the ability to quickly assimilate information. He
was an active man even at the age of 89 years: running a business,
having recently driven his car on a round trip from Perth to the
Kimberly Ranges, a distance of several thousand kilometers and was,
at the time, in the process of building a long picket fence for his
sister-in-law in Kelleberrin, Western Australia.
Three days later, Owen and I arrived in Perth with for a face-to-face meeting
with
Uncle Jim. As my husband and I arrived at the retirement
village where Jim lived, in a rental car, a man who was sitting on a
fence rose to his feet. I knew at once that this was ‘Uncle Jim
Hewlett’. Recognition was instantaneous! He looked familiar
and clearly reminded me immediately of my mother’s younger sister
and his half-sister, Elsie Selina Nicholls (nee Hewlett).
Jim welcomed us warmly and invited us inside his unit where lunch he
had prepared lunch. During the meal he handed me a dark green hard
cover book, battered and worn with the spine partly missing, saying:
‘These are the poems my father wrote and I want you to have them’.
I opened the book and, written in beautiful copperplate script, were
the poems contained in this volume. As I quickly scanned some of the
poems, I realized that many were autobiographical: several referred
to my grandmother (his wife) and their marriage 'woes'. A
number graphically revealed the emotions of a father grieving the
loss of his daughters and these touched me deeply.
Reading the poems and knowing Uncle Jim, have given me a broad
perspective of my grandfather’s life and revealed something of James
Philip Hewlett, the man. Through this means I have received a
measure of being ‘grandfathered’ - and for this I am ever grateful.
Marion H Clark
April 3, 2007.
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