Jon is of mixed heritage and was raised by his English mother, Angela Gilbey, with the help of his maternal family in Hull. He grew up never being told much about his father, Tony Lewis, until at the age of 13 years, long kept secrets started to be revealed. Through his own investigations in recent years, he has discovered that even this was only part of the whole story. For him it started with his grandfather who was a Black American soldier who was stationed in the Hull area during World War Two. Jon's pateral grandmother Irene fell pregnant in 1943 and gave birth to his father Tony in 1944, not long after the American soldier returned to the US. It is not known whether Irene kept in touch with the soldier, but she later married Dennis Lewis (a man of Caribbean descent) which brings us forward to the present day.
This is Jon's story.
This is Jon's story.
By Jon Gilbey
I was born in the late 1960s - my mum (Angela Gilbey, from Hull) was never married, and my dad (Tony Lewis, also from Hull) was not around at all (as far as I knew at the time). Initially when I was born in Essex, we went to live (in Braintree) with my mum’s sister and her husband. After a while my mum’s sister, managed to talk my grandfather (who lived in Marton Grove, North Hull) into taking both me and my mum in. We went to live there in 1970/71. In 1972/3 my grandmother had a series of strokes leaving her disabled and needing a lot of care. Many of my great-aunts and uncles often came visiting the house and one or two in particular did a lot of regular work around the house to help out. Even the neighbours helped out from time to time, whether it was looking after me while my mum was out at work or occasionally looking after my grandma. My maternal grandfather, Jack Gilbey, was a builder by trade and a wonderful man who taught me many of the life skills that I carry today - in short - he was my father-figure. He was, however, a Catholic and some of his disapproval of my mother’s life choices would be occasionally directed at me when he was angry. However, I got along quite well with most of our neighbours and most of the kids at school. I had quite a few good friends, many of whom I’m still in contact with today. The thing about the communities in Hull is that we never forget our upbringing and remain loyal to those we grew up with. |
I grew up going to Endike Methodist Church and often afterwards I'd stop by and visit what I thought at the time to be my Aunt Rene and Uncle Dennis Lewis (later I found out that they were my paternal grandparents). Occasionally there was a younger man there introduced to me as my “Uncle Tony“ (who later I found out to be my dad). Later, I had a stint in the Boy Scouts, which meant I had to attend St. Alban's on Hall Road, and a couple of years later joined The Boys’ Brigade, Cottingham Road Baptist Church.
I would often ask my mum about my real dad, because often at school we were asked to tell the class about our families. She would say vague things like "He lives far away" or "He lives in London" or "He works on the trains" all of which were true. My mum had many male friends who would take her, and sometimes the two of us, out during the 1970s but there was one man in particular, Derek, who I remember took me to Pearson Park Nursery and later Peter Pan Nursery, on Beverley Road, opposite Pearson Park a few times when I was a toddler. When I was 12 my mum told me we were going to go live with Derek in Leeds, which we did when I was 13. So despite having worked hard and been admitted to Hull Grammar School I never actually attended. A week before we moved to Seacroft, Leeds, with Derek, mum took me to Spurn Point for the day and sat me down and told me who my real dad was. Obviously I felt a bit betrayed that I felt she'd been lying to me all my life, but we stayed very closely knit and overcame all of that. Suddenly it all became clear that this man, Tony, - my dad - had been taking me out for my birthdays and Christmas, often to the theatre. He'd bought me Christmas and birthday gifts, but contributed very little else as far as I know, but at least I now knew who my dad was, and then it clicked my relationship to Rene and Dennis, and I felt OK about all of that. Just over a year later, at 14 years old, we moved again, this time to Surrey, where I struggled to fit in and nowadays only really have a handful of friends from that era in Surrey. Living in Surrey was easier on the whole, compared to North Hull and Seacroft in Leeds, much less racism, and seemed a bit more cosmopolitan. Living in Surrey was also much closer to my dad (he lived in North West London). I could see a lot more of him and get to know him better. My dad often told me my heritage was Caribbean/St Lucia, but I never really believed him for some reason. |
Dennis had died in 1997/ish and sadly Rene passed a couple of years ago, but over the years I've been wondering about this Caribbean origin. Dennis was a thin but muscular tall dark coloured man who always loved to fool around and have a joke – he loved all sports and all nature programmes on TV. He loved dogs too and so he and Rene always had a dog in the house.
What I can tell you about Tony, my dad, was that he was an intensely private person, and so really difficult to get to know. He held a few different and varied jobs in his life, from being a merchant sailor like Dennis (his dad), to being an Official Prison Visitor (OPV). My dad passed away in 2006 in North London. He was never married and had no siblings. When he passed away I had the sole job of clearing the house and sorting all of the paperwork. In the paperwork was a lot of stuff about his adoption. From this I learnt that Dennis adopted my dad when he married my dad's Mum Rene in 1946 (my dad was born in 1944) – which led to the question if Dennis wasn’t my blood grandfather, then who was?
Sadly my mum passed away in 2002 (she'd never married) after a long hard battle with Multiple Sclerosis; she was diagnosed in 1985 but hid it from everyone until 1994 when it was just too much for her. She had moved back to Hull in 1992 and was regularly going to college to re-educate herself, but I always thought she was pretty well educated anyway - she loved to read, she would read 4 or 5 books a week. She encouraged me to spread my wings, see the world, experience new things and always question everything – don’t just take it with a pinch of salt – read about it, learn about it, understand it. She was and is my hero. Family History Earlier this year I saw some adverts for DNA testing geared towards finding out more about ancestry and roots, and I decided to do a test. It was expensive but at least then I'd know - one way or another. I sent in the test and a few weeks later got the result. My estimated ethnicity origins are 35% Great Britain 24% Ireland 9% Cameroon/Congo 7% Scandinavia 5% Western Europe. This intrigued me further so I've been doing my family tree. I know the European/GB/Scandinavian part is a mix of my paternal and maternal grandmothers, and the GB/Irish/Scandinavian part is my maternal grandfather. Both Grandmothers families (Walker, and Leyland) have been living in Hull for the past 200 years or so, although at some stage some of the family originated in Aberdeen, Scotland. My maternal Grandfather’s family (Gilbey) was originally from Sligo, Ireland (c. 1820) and there’s some speculation as to whether they were originally called Galvey or O’Gilvy – but there are quite a few |
variations on this name. My grandfather had quite a few siblings and much of the Gilbey family remains in Hull today, although I’ve never met any of them, we as a family unit were much closer to my grandmother’s family (the Walkers).
Which just left me scratching my head, looking at the Cameroon/Congo percentage, which MUST be my paternal grandfather. More intriguing is that the website Ancestry, as part of the DNA test, gives me a match against over a hundred 4th cousins (but I think this is so far from my bloodline I'm not really interested). Most interesting is that the DNA results showed a match against a 2nd cousin who is an African American lady who lives in North Carolina, USA. Naturally I got in touch with her and we've been pursuing who my grandfather was. She had her own reasons for doing the DNA testing and unfortunately still hasn't found the answers that she was looking for.
Since we’ve been in contact we’ve deduced that my grandfather was one of six children who lived in Fairmont, Robeson, North Carolina in 1940. When he was in his late teens or early twenties he was drafted and served in the US Army in Yorkshire, which is when he met my grandmother in 1943. He was living with some of his siblings and his parents, Barney and Annie B. Bethea. Through talking to my cousin I’ve found out a lot more about the roots of our family and discovered that they were victims of the slave trade, so aside from the purely anthropological interest in |
the abolition of slavery, my interest goes way back. It’s interesting that particularly since that part of my family is from North Carolina, they would have been involved, if not instrumental in the African American Civil Rights Movement to some degree. I’m told that they were involved in the influential Greensboro sit-ins (1960) in North Carolina which is where my cousin and her immediate family live today.
I'm still learning about my family's roots and continue to explore with the assistance of my new-found cousin in America. We met briefly recently this year, (2017), when she visited London on her way back home from Switzerland. We both have so many questions of each other and we will remain in contact.
I'm still learning about my family's roots and continue to explore with the assistance of my new-found cousin in America. We met briefly recently this year, (2017), when she visited London on her way back home from Switzerland. We both have so many questions of each other and we will remain in contact.
Jon's family photos: click on each image to view