Autobiography: My Life Story so Far

By Patrick C. James

The world is indeed small and, for many of us, a world view is lacking,so that smallness is not necessarily a good thing. My friend Patrick James was born in relative prosperity on the small, outragiously beautiful Caribbean island of Dominica, where opportunities for travel, for a rewarding career and for a satisfying life can be a dream, followed by reality witness the twice as many Dominicans (as those living in Dominica) who are living, working or comfortably retired in such far flung countries as the U.S.A., the United Kingdom and Canada.

During his growing up years, however, and as a result of circumstance, Patrick experienced wild swings of fortune but, because he was fortunate enough to be blessed with great intelligence and sensitivity, he grasped education as his means for personal fulfillment as wellas his ticket off the island and into the greater world. To do so meant severing family ties that sustain us in difficult times, including a short separation from his beloved grandfather, who sent him back to his parents for petty thieving and so that he might learn a lesson the hard way, become repentant, ask for forgiveness and, gleefully, be accepted back into his beloved grandfather's household. At that time (1938) Patrick's parents lived in Antigua, approximately 90 miles away from Dominica and, to Patrick, Antigua did not feel like home. Prior to Patrick's temporary banishment and, form time to time, all too sympathetic Patrick eight year old Patrick would steal a few pennies from his grandfather's shop drawer, to feed his less fortunate and very hungry friends. Finally, Patrick was caught and sent away as a form of punishment for wrong doing. While Patrick lived in Dominica with his grandfather, he had to cope with the absence of his father, who would have provided guidance and taught him to be self reliant. Patrick grew up being all thumbs. Later, he taught himself self reliance.

Patrick overcame all obstacles and his travels would take him t several other islands in the Caribbean area, including Guyana and Venezuela in South America, both of which do have Caribbean sea fronts, the Canary Islands off the west coast of North Africa, Barcelona on Spain's Mediterranean coast line, Genoa in Italy, Nice and Paris in France, Brussels (Belgium), Amsterdam (the Netherlands), the United Kingdom, Johannesburg and Cape Town in South Africa, Singapore, Perth (Western Australia and, finally, Florida, U.S.A Patrick would see his love of education allowing him to teach into his eighties, affecting the lives of thousands of human beings in many countries.

To meet Patrick is to meet an African American and a world citizen, a cultured man with a beautiful English accent and a Caribbean lilt to his voice, whose qualities of hard work, empathy, intelligence and respect are instantly apparent in the first moments of making his acquaintance, and whose knowledge of world affairs, literature and history and his unwavering religious faith make him a lodestone to his friends and acquaintances, a leader by example to others, and to children a guiding North Star to fulfilling their own hopes and dreams.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781479771646

Patrick C. James

During his “growing up” years, however, and as a result of circumstance, Patrick experienced wild swings of fortune but, because he was fortunate enough to be blessed with great intelligence and sensitivity, he grasped education as his means for personal fulfi llment as well as his ticket off the island and into the greater world. To do so meant severing family ties that sustain us in diffi cult times, including a short separation from his beloved grandfather, who sent him back to his parents for petty thieving and so that he might learn a lesson the hard way, become repentant, ask for forgiveness and, gleefully, be accepted back into his beloved grandfather’s household. At that time (1938) Patrick’s parents lived in Antigua, approximately 90 miles away from Dominica and, to Patrick, Antigua did not feel like home. Prior to Patrick’s temporary banishment and, from time to time, all too sympathetic Patrick eight year old Patrick would steal a few pennies from his grandfather’s shop drawer, to feed his less fortunate and very hungry friends. Finally, Patrick was caught and sent away as a form of punishment for wrong doing. While Patrick lived in Dominica with his grandfather, he had to cope with the absence of his father, who would have provided guidance and taught him to be self – reliant. Patrick grew up being all thumbs. Later, he taught himself self – reliance.

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Copyright © 2013 by Patrick C. James.

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Patrick Conrad James

An Autobiography

Acknowledgment

I should like to thank my friend and colleague Daniel Callaghan, Vice President of the West Pasco Historical Society and Secretary of the African American Club of Pasco Inc. for having accepted my invitation to read my script and to criticise it, constructively. Although Dan is a very busy man, nevertheless he read my script diligently and made suggestions for improvement including, in particular, the suggestion that I should explain in greater detail. I accepted his advice, did as he suggested and, thereafter, he was satisfied that my autobiography was fit for publication. Dan himself is an author who has had books published and he is thinkings seriously, about writing more books for publication. He says that his reading of my autobiography has given him the impetus to write more novels—his specialty.

In addition, I would like to thank Dan for his Foreward to my autobiography, which he has written, following my request.

Finally, I should like to thank Dan for suggesting a number of publishers whom I might approach for the publication of my autobiography and recommending, in particular, Xlibris (now taken over by Penguin) whom he thought might be the most helpful in obtaining world-wide exposure for my published autobiography, as well as being the most economical.

Foreword

The world is indeed small and, for many of us, a world view is lacking,so that smallness is not necessarily a good thing. My friend Patrick James was born in relative prosperity on the small, outragiously beautiful Caribbean island of Dominica, where opportunities for travel, for a rewarding career and for a satisfying life can be a dream, followed by reality—witness the twice as many Dominicans (as those living in Dominica) who are living, working or comfortably retired in such far flung countries as the U.S.A., the United Kingdom and Canada.

During his growing up years, however, and as a result of circumstance, Patrick experienced wild swings of fortune but, because he was fortunate enough to be blessed with great intelligence and sensitivity, he grasped education as his means for personal fulfillment as wellas his ticket off the island and into the greater world. To do so meant severing family ties that sustain us in difficult times, including a short separation from his beloved grandfather, who sent him back to his parents for petty thieving and so that he might learn a lesson the hard way, become repentant, ask for forgiveness and, gleefully, be accepted back into his beloved grandfather’s household. At that time (1938) Patrick’s parents lived in Antigua, approximately 90 miles away from Dominica and, to Patrick, Antigua did not feel like home. Prior to Patrick’s temporary banishment and, form time to time, all too sympathetic Patrick eight year old Patrick would steal a few pennies from his grandfather’s shop drawer, to feed his less fortunate and very hungry friends. Finally, Patrick was caught and sent away as a form of punishment for wrong doing. While Patrick lived in Dominica with his grandfather, he had to cope with the absence of his father, who would have provided guidance and taught him to be self-reliant. Patrick grew up being all thumbs. Later, he taught himself self-reliance.

Patrick overcame all obstacles and his travels would take him t several other islands in the Caribbean area, including Guyana and Venezuela in South America, both of which do have Caribbean sea fronts, the Canary Islands off the west coast of North Africa, Barcelona on Spain’s Mediterranean coast line, Genoa in Italy, Nice and Paris in France, Brussels (Belgium), Amsterdam (the Netherlands), the United Kingdom, Johannesburg and Cape Town in South Africa, Singapore, Perth (Western Australia and, finally, Florida, U.S.A Patrick would see his love of education allowing him to teach into his eighties, affecting the lives of thousands of human beings in many countries.

To meet Patrick is to meet an African American and a world citizen, a cultured man with a beautiful English accent and a Caribbean lilt to his voice, whose qualities of hard work, empathy, intelligence and respect are instantly apparent in the first moments of making his acquaintance, and whose knowledge of world affairs, literature and history and his unwavering religious faith make him a lodestone to his friends and acquaintances, a leader by example to others, and to children a guiding North Star to fulfilling their own hopes and dreams.

Patrick’s book is not simply a fascinating story of one person’s fulfilled dreams despite obstacles, including racism. It is a testament to innate goodness, a love for humanity, and a vision that includes much of the world as a place of oneness. It is an intimate look into human beings who shaped the person Patrick James becomes, from a little boy in the Caribbean islands to a man meeting the Duke and Duchess of Kent, Princess Alice and Princess Margaret on their visits to Dominica, and Princess Anne (Chancellor of the University of London) as she handed him his Bachelor’s and Master’s certificates at the Albert Hall in London and as she turned around to take a final look at him again, at the Service of Dedication at Westminster Cathedral, to an American citizen in the state of Florida, still teaching in his eighties and deeply involved in making his community a better place by his work with the African American Club of Pasco County, Inc.

This is the story of one man’s yet unfinished journey through life, as told by the autobiographer, Patrick C. James himself,

According to my mother, Sylvia (deceased) I was born at No. 58 King George V Street, Roseau, The Commonwealth of Dominica, at 3. 00 A.M. on Tuesday, October 15, 1929. That two storey wooden building, with its galvanized (corrugated) roof exists today, unaltered, in remarkably good condition, brightly painted and serving a similar dual purpose as it did at the time of my birth: a grocery shop on the ground floor and living quarters on the first floor. The only difference today is the absence of a bakery in the backyard. At the time of my birth and for several years thereafter, my step grandmother, M.A.B. Georges (deceased) owned and managed a bakery in the backyard. That bakery supplied bread on a daily basis (Sundays excluded) to all the Roseau inhabitants, as well as to people living in villages, hamlets and other out of town dwellings, particularly on Saturdays, when those out of town customers came in to town to do their weekly shopping. At that time, scarcely another bread bakery existed in Roseau. The baker was Rene’ Peter, more affectionately known as Tit D’or. The house itself: No. 58 King George V Street was owned by my maternal grandfather: J.H.D. Georges (deceased) and his second wife, M.A.B. Georges. J.H.D., M.A.B. and a few of J.H.D.’s children (my mother, Sylvia included) occupied the first floor flat for a few years. Later, J.H.D, M.A.B and a few of J.H.D.’s children (my mother excluded this time) moved to Brinsley House in Great Malborough Street, Roseau, following the purchase of that dwelling by J.H.D. and M.A.B. Obviously, J.H.D. and family needed more space. They must have been living in very cramped conditions, in the first floor flat of No. 58 King George V Street, which was not very spacious. Brinsley House provided ample accommodation for J.H.D., M.A.B., three of J.H.D’s four daughters and, occasionally, other offspring of J.H.D.’s and their spouses. I recall that, for a time, a large room was let, on the ground floor, to Eric Richards, a school teacher. In addition to the ground floor flat, there was the first floor and a garret which contained two large rooms. The yard was very ample, with a grape bearing grape—vine in it. In the yard, too, there was an out—house, which spanned the width of the yard from east to west. That out—house was divided into four rooms. The first room on the east side of the yard was used as a store room, particularly for salt, which was sold in J.H.D’s grocery and liquor shop, adjoining Brinsley House. The shop itself was a corner shop, with two entrances: one from Great Malborough Street and the other from Old Street. But I have digressed a bit. Therefore, I shall return to that out house in the yard of Brinsley House. The second room, adjacent to the first, served as a kitchen. The cook was Emily and the maid was Rosette. The third room, adjoining the second, served as a bath/shower room. The bath area was enclosed by a wall, which was about 5 feet tall and 9 feet long. Whenever the bath was stoppered, so that the water flowing from the shower itself was allowed to fill the bath, two children could swim, comfortably, in the bath area. The fourth and final room contained a toilet, for convenience. The main building itself had a toilet and sink room. The yard was enclosed by a high wall, some 18 feet tall, which separated Brinsley House from the Latigres, who were the neighbours to the east of Brinsley House. Today, Brinsey House is known as the Kent/Anthony Guest House. Sadly, the main building itself and the yard, which in J.H.D.G.’s time resembled a courtyard, rather than an ordinary yard, are not, now, in as pristine a condition as they used to be.

Following my birth at No. 58 King George V Street, on October 15, 1929, my mother and father took me, along with my elder sister, Marrie Ellen (more commonly known as Rosa) to Montserrat. My father: Jabez Nehemiah James, a Leeward Islands police officer, was orderly, also, to the governor of the Leeward Islands. According to my recollection, the governor at the time was his Excellency Popham. At that time, Dominica was part of the Leeward Islands Group; so, too, were Montserrat, Antigua, Barbuda, St. Kitts, Nevis and Anguilla. The joke is that the geographers and the administrators had difficulty deciding whether Dominica should be part of the Leeward Islands Group, or whether it (Dominica) should be part of the Windward Islands Group: St. Lucia, St. Vincent, Grenada and the Grenadines. The net result was that sometimes Dominica was classified as being part of the Leeward Islands Group and, at other times, Dominica was classified as being part of the Windward Islands Group. Poor Dominica did not know whether it was going or coming.

As governor of the Leeward Islands, Popham moved, at intervals of time, from island to island and remained in each of those islands for a considerable amount of time (or not) according to his pleasure. He was the big chief. As Orderly, my father moved with the governor. My elder sister: Marie Ellen was born in Montserrat while Governor Popham was in residence there. The date of my elder sister’s birth was November 1, 1928. I was born in Dominica, while Governor Popham was in residence there. My date of birth, as I have stated (above) was October 15, 1929.

One of my maternal aunts Victoria Georges, who was, at that time, undergoing teacher training at Codrington in Antigua, was in the habit, also, of stopping for a short while in Montserrat, on her way back to Dominica, when schools were closed for the summer break, from the beginning of the last week in July, until the end of August. On the occasion of her last week in July, 1931 stopover in Montserrat, Victoria (Aunty Vicky deceased), by way of a reminder, asked my mother: Do you remember that just after you were married to Jabez, you asked Pappa (our father) what he would like, from you, as a parting gift, and his reply, to you, was: Your first son? My mother, on perceiving the rhetoric in that question, made no reply. Simply, she lifted me up from my cot and handed me to Aunty Vicky. Scarcely could Aunty Vicky contain her elation. Of course, I have no reollection of my first one and a half years (roughly) on Mother Earth but, in later years, Aunty Vicky told me and, in my teens, my mother confirmed that what Aunty Vicky had told me was correct. Apparently, my father had no say in this snap decision and, later, during my teen years, he regretted it so much, that he repeated several times, in my presence: I should never have allowed you to go to your grandfather in Dominica. However, I am jumping the gun a bit here. All will be revealed later in this autobiography.

At the end of July, 1931, I arrived back in Dominica, with Aunty Vicky. The Canadian Ladyboats: Lady Nelson, Lady Drake, Lady Frobisher and the Nerrissa, another Canadian tourist boat were plying the Atlantic Ocean and the Caribbean Sea in those days. Aunty Vicky did tell me which Canadian tourist boat brought us (Aunty Vicky and myself) to Dominica, but I do not recall, clearly, which one she mentioned. However, that is of little (or no) importance, anyway. Vaguely, I seem to recall that the name she mentioned was Lady Drake. These names are of historical importance, but I shall not go into that, in this autobiography, since it bears no direct relation to the story of my life—Mr. James’s Life Story as the students in a few of the West Pasco, (Florida), Middle and High Schools like to call it. Aunty Vicky took me to Brinsley House (now Kent Anthony Guest House, No. 3 Great Malborough Street), where I met the occupants: J.H.D. Georges, (my maternal grandfather) and his other two daughters: Rosalind and Alfreda, although I have no recollection of that first meeting. At that time, I was two and a half months short of my second birthday.

My second return, to Dominica, from Montserrat, occurred at the end of July, 1931; but my first return to Dominica, albeit briefly, occurred in 1930. My mother wanted me to be baptized (christened in Roman Catholic terminology) at the Roman Catholic Cathedral in Dominica. In addition to having my name, date and place of birth recorded in the registry at the Roman Catholic Presbytery, she wanted those entries to be recorded, also, at the Roseau Registry, which was, at that time, housed in the High Court building She (my mother) asked Grandpa whether he would like to take on the godfather responsibility and he agreed, gladly. In addition, she asked her younger sister: Rosalind, whether she would like to take on the godmother responsibility and she, too, agreed, willingly. The two (Aunty Rosalind and Grandpa) took me to the presbytery, after the christening, where Father Bogart (by name, I think) was seated at a desk, pen in hand and registration book open, ready to take, from Grandpa, the necessary details for recording in the book of registered births. Grandpa, in addition to being a fast talker, whenever it suited him tended, also, to be verbose. The result was that Father Bogart, who was very senior in years in those days, misunderstood what Grandpa was trying to tell him, concerning my place of birth. Grandpa assumed that Father Bogart knew I was