Hamilton Gray Park, the son of Samuel Park and Isabella Gray, was born in Kilbirnie, Scotland, on 25th November 1826. It seems he became a Mormon and was baptised in the town. Most likely in the river Garnock before emigrating to Utah.
I had no idea that there was a Mormon Church in the town at that time – the whole story is here https://localhistoryvideos.com/kilbirnie-scotland/
I don’t know much about him except that he lived in Muirend Street. Kilbirnie. He became quite well known.
Let me know if you have any further information.
The photo came from The Ardrossan and Saltcoats Herald.
I couldn’t resist publishing this again, it’s my poem about the “Bing” which was a huge amount of debris that sat as a mound at the corner or Place View and Newhouse Drive, Kilbirnie before it was converted into a small playpark for kids around 1983 or 1984.
In Scottish terminology, a “Bing” refers to a large pile or heap of waste material, especially the waste rock and debris piled up in the process of mining, such as coal mining. These Bings are remnants of the industrial era, particularly in Scotland’s coal mining regions, where they were created from the spoil that was brought to the surface during the mining process. Over time, some of these Bings have become landmarks or have been reclaimed for various uses, while others still dominate parts of the Scottish landscape.
Continue reading “The Bing, Fudstone, Kilbirnie (a poem)”
If Kilbirnie were a harp with strings I'd surely sweep a strain, An everlasting melody Which no man could restrain I'd write a song of thanksgiving Of peace and love and cheer To bless the town with all its woes Bring pleasure to their ears I'd play the song on Knoxville road And at the Walker Hall I'd play it at the Labour club While drunkards take their fall I'd play the harp so silently For those who hate the sound To aid them out of hopelessness To turn their lives around I'd sweep a strain of sad refrain At steel works passing by I'd touch upon a melody And older folks would cry I'd play it softly at the match While folks would cheer their team And move along the park so long To watch the Garnock stream I'd play the harp across the tracks As cyclists speed me by I'd play and wait at graveyard's gates For mourners with their sighs I'd play it at the Garnock's heart Right up at Jacob's Well, where no one goes to see it flow Or care to even tell I'd play a tune right at the school The Children would be pleased I'd pass the harp to little ones To hold upon their knees So to the town with all my sounds And everlasting strains I leave the harp right at the cross For others who remain To strain their sounds of happiness And hope for all the town To watch it grow with sadness no! As an everlasting crown.
Malcolm McTaggart and Janet Smith (my Great Great Great Grandparents) lived in Montgomery Street as well as the Paddockholm area of Kilbirnie and then Glengarnock and were in many ways the parents of most McTaggart families who live in Kilbirne and Dalry today. The others came from his siblings, aunts and uncles.
He died in the late 1890s and she lived until 1919. His first wife was Jane Leitch, with whom he had at least one child and he is pictured here with his second wife Janet Smith. Together they had a lot of children.
Their parents came from Islay, the island off the west coast and they could only speak Gaelic when they first arrived here in the 1840s. Malcolm was born in Kilbirnie. His father Neil, was also married to a Janet Smith, Father and son married Mother and niece. Everybody worked in the steel works.
Malcolm and Janet are buried with their son John and they are one of the first graves as you enter the old cemetery across from the old old cemetery gate.
The bing was a huge mound of cement and gravel where kids climbed on the corner of Place View and Newhouse Drive. It was converted into a playpark in the mid 80s. Oh the years upon the bing with cousin Margaret children played climbing up with all our power by Newhouse drive where people stayed Amid the thorns and grey cement there seemed a moment, time well spent and sliding down the gravel slope I skinned my knees without a hope My grannie waiting at the door with borax, plasters by the score O the hills we thought were steep when now in older lives we keep Mountains slopes upon our minds perhaps a bing of different kind climbing o’er our darker thoughts just like the thistles we did trod Lessons from the bing well learnt of my granny’s soothing balm o how that Love returns to me a nd brings with it a sense of calm And behind the trees sat Warrior’s bing perhaps a sign of future years with bigger slope and hills to climb amid the darker fading years
Last night I dreamt of Lilac buds Upon the Garnock Stream amid the thorns and briars thick a purple colour beamed I thought about the folk who came and chanced upon this sight perhaps ancestors,long since gone who left it burning bright Perhaps a bird did carry it from far and distant lands or from a child´s hands it fell and grew to proudly stand Or from Place Castle seeds did blow across the glade and vine to where the lovers meet in quiet with bodies deep entwined From where before the lilac came no man knows for sure cemetery or Moorpark House or from the Fairlie Moor So when you come and chance upon the purple lilac hue Give a thought from whence it came Ancestors before you
Death Certificate of Father Thomas Patrick Lee, (at the bottom) the first Parish Priest of Kilbirnie. He apparently was infected by fleas whilst giving the Last Rights aged 33.
