Best not to mention those Irish roots Kamala, your ancestor was a slave owner
If Kamala Harris makes it to the Oval Office she might want to think twice about claiming her Irish roots as 23 US presidents before her have done. Most of them have ancestors from the province of Ulster, with the majority from Co Antrim just like your columnist.
Alas for Harris, a historian has done the research for her and it’s not good news. Poor Kamala’s (not-so-great) great-great-great-great grandfather was Hamilton Brown from Ballymoney, Co Antrim who, after a spell as a bookmaker, left Ireland to set up in the Caribbean as a slave owner and trader. And when the debate on abolition was in full swing in the UK at the start of the 19th century Brown would return to London to fight moves to end this appalling trade.
Brown’s Town, Jamaica is named after him (and it is where Kamala’s father Donald Harris was born.) But Hamilton Brown didn’t let the 1833 Abolition Act deter him from his vile occupation; he travelled back to Ireland, particularly to the then poorest counties in the west, Galway, Clare and Mayo, and brought back impoverished young Paddies to work on his plantation. They were given the same work as the newly-freed African slaves but without the shackles.
Kamala Harris is referred to as African American and Asian American on account of her Jamaican father and her mother, born in India. Both were high achievers, Donald a Stanford professor and mother Shyamala a biologist specialising in research on breast cancer. So it is no surprise that their daughter rose to the top seemingly effortlessly. When she became Attorney General for California she advocated the legalisation of cannabis and, judging by some of the things she has said recently, one wonders whether she had been sharing the odd spliff. This is my favourite:
‘I think it is very important...for us at every moment in time and certainly this one to see the moment in time in which we exist and are present and to be able to contextualise it, to understand where we exist in the history and in the moment as it relates not only to the past but to the future.’
Hey man, that weed was strong stuff....
And to think that poor old Biden was mocked for his incoherent ramblings. That said, Harris has got off to a flying start since Biden bowed to the inevitable on Sunday. As a former District Attorney for San Francisco she puts herself forward as the Prosecutor v the Criminal Trump. It’s a great slogan and could, just could, be a winning one.
One thing’s for certain, there will be no holding back in the electioneering invective by either candidate. It’s not in the Trump manual and Harris won’t let up on his multiple convictions. Hold on to your hats!
*****
I am in Oxford next week for lunch with old school friends, one of whom is a Fellow of one of the colleges and was an undergraduate there in the ‘60s. So I was amused to come across this reply from the Warden and Fellows of Wadham College to ‘non-negotiable’ student demands in 1968, a time of great student turmoil throughout Europe and the US.
‘‘Gentlemen, we note your threat to take what you call ‘direct action’ unless your demands are immediately met. We feel it only sporting to remind you that our governing body includes three experts in chemical warfare, two ex-commandos skilled in dynamite and torturing prisoners, four qualified marksmen in both small arms and rifles, two ex-artillerymen, one holder of the Victoria Cross, four karate experts and a chaplain.
‘’The governing body has authorised me to tell you that we look forward with confidence to what you call ‘a confrontation’ and I may say with anticipation.’’
You may not be surprised to hear that peace reigned that term at Wadham.
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Dick Dismore’s mention of Charles Wilson in his splendid piece on Matthew Parris brought back memories of an awkward dinner party Chez Frame in the ‘70s. Wilson, later the distinguished, if unlikely, editor of The Times had just decamped from Manchester where he had been Northern editor of the Mail, to be assistant editor of the Evening News where I had just arrived from the Mail.
Charlie had a temporary berth at the concrete slab known as the Tower Hotel and I suggested he might like to spend the weekend with us in rural Tatsfield on the Kent/ Surrey border.
And so it was that we left EC4 for Tatsfield stopping off at our village pub en route, arriving home in time before our other pre-booked guests, the Rector and his wife, were due for supper. All went well, wine was plentiful and the Rev Michael Unwin, a good pal with whom I had trodden the boards in a couple of village hall productions, in particularly top form. Mrs Unwin not so however.
As the evening progressed Charlie, by now throwing caution to the wind, decided it was time to regale us of the events leading to his divorce from TV harridan Anne Robinson. ‘Well it was like this’, spoken in a richly aggressive Gorbals accent, ‘she came back early and found me screwing the au pair on the rug in front of the fire.’ Well, that was the gist of the story but there was a great deal of very detailed detail thrown in.
It was at this point that the Rev Michael Unwin was told by his wife that it was way past his bedtime.
ALAN FRAME
24 July 2024