Alfred Tiley 3 April 1879- 13 November 1926

Alfred Tiley is my maternal grandfather, and when all is said and done, a little bit of a mystery, as not much is known about him. The bare bones of his story are that he was born in 1879, the 11th (surviving) child of a family of 12 children; his mother was almost 43 when he was born in Lambeth. At the time of his birth, the family lived in King Street, Lambeth, but later moved to a tiny house at 25 Wootton Street, for which the rent was 14 shillings a week, and the view from the front door was the Arches of Waterloo East Station; the houses were demolished long ago and replaced by L.C.C. flats. Alfred married my grandmother, a widow with three children under the age of 6, in 1918; had two daughters, my Auntie Iris and my mother, then died in 1926. He was buried in an unmarked pauper's grave in Streatham Cemetery, Earlsfield Road, Tooting.

Alfred's father, James, seems to have remained steadily employed throughout his life, 'in the print'. His mother presumably had her work cut out to fend for the large family on a printer's wage, but both parents lived to the ripe old age of 90, so hard work didn't kill them.

Alfred's occupations seem to have ranged from one correspondent's report that he worked for flour company Spillers and Bakers in Southwark, to recorded census records stating he was a Labourer, to painting and decorating, to Carpenter's Mate. During the Great War he served as Corporal 201290 301st Reserve Labour Company (HospitalAttendant). Financially, after marriage, life must have been a struggle as he had felt unwell for some time before he died, collapsing on an omnibus on the way to work and dying in hospital- he couldn't afford to take time off work or to pay for a doctor in those pre NHS days.

My mother's memories of him were few, given he died when she was so young. The story was told to her that when he married my Nan, he moved into the family house in Loubet Street, Tooting, where Nan and her three children already lived. That evening at tea time, the eldest daughter (then aged almost three) announced: 'we don't want you here...go back to your Mother!' Possibly the saddest memory was that of my Mother, who, angry over something she has long since forgotten, was sent to bed by her father one night, and in her anger, yelled at him 'I hate you!'. The very next day he died, and Mum regretted her last words ever after. She could remember attending the funeral, because they all wore purple coats as it was a very cold November day. That is all. No photos exist, to my knowledge, although I would love to see one. My mother reported she was told later in life by her Tiley aunts and uncles that her father was a kind and gentle man, quiet, and liked by many. Before his marriage, he was out one night, late returning home, and his mother was anxiously looking outside her door, waiting for him. A passing policeman stopped her and the conversation went as follows:

Policeman: is everything all right, Missus?

Great Granny: I hope so. My boy hasn't come home, and I am worried about him

Policeman (sensing some trouble): Is there anything I can do to help? How late is he? How old is he?

Great Granny: He's 31

Policeman: Missus, get back inside. He's old enough to find his own way home when he's ready!

Soooooo, at that stage I thought we had a simple and straightforward story of a youngest son born into a large family with elderly parents and oldest siblings old enough to be his parents, constantly employed, worn out and driven to an early grave by a life of poverty, remaining cheerful under miserable circumstances, possibly dogged by ill-health but finding family contentment later in life, happy to take on the care of another man's children in addition to his own beloved daughters.

Then one day I received a surprise letter from the late lamented family researcher Brent Springate, who was descended from Alfred's oldest sister. A tireless and generous genealogist, and a former police officer, he had uncovered something which was completely incompatible with all I had ever heard.

Alfred had a criminal past.

On 24th May 1904, aged 25, Alfred Tiley, Labourer, was up before the Magistrate at Newington (Westminster) having been charged at 8.20pm on the 23rd (incurring a doctor's fee of 3/6) with 'Assaulting William Blanks by striking him on the head with a walking stick inside the Rose and Crown Beer House, High Street'. He was bailed at 11pm on the 23rd.

He was subsequently sentenced to 2 months' hard labour, which was appealed, according to a note attached to the record.

Dated 26 July 1904, the note reads:

"Sir

Alfred Tiley

Conviction by Horace Smith Esq., dated 24 May 1904 for unlawful assault. Sentence 2 months hard labour.

I beg to inform you that on Friday last the 22nd instant, the above appeal was dismissed with Costs to be taxed out of session, and the Conviction affirmed. The sentence was modified with two months in the second division for that of imprisonment with hard labour".

The reports of the County of London Sessions in The Times (yes, my Grandfather was reported in The Times!) dated 23rd July 1904 throw more light on the incident:

"Alfred Tiley appealed against a conviction by Mr Horace Smith, sitting at Westminster Police Court, and against a sentence of two months' hard labour for assaulting William Blanks. Mr Peter Grain appeared for the Commissioners of Police in support of the magistrate's decision; Mr A. Hutton was for the appellant. On Whit Monday the appellant and Blanks were in the Rose and Crown Public House, High-street, Lambeth, when they came to blows. The landlord separated them, and turned the appellant out, but Blanks remained in the house. It was alleged that later the appellant returned and without any further provocation struck Blanks a violent blow on the head with a stick, wounding him severely. For the appellant it was contended that he was acting in self defence; but the conviction was affirmed, with costs. In view of the appellant's good character, however, the sentence was altered to one of imprisonment in the second division instead of hard labour".

Little wonder, then, in later years, his Mother took to prowling the streets of Lambeth in search of her boy if he was late home!