Stirling Smith Museum and Art Gallery - The Stirling Smith 1951-1957 - An Account By Margaret Allan

An Account By Margaret Allan

After retiring from the police force in 1950/51, my grandfather, Robert Moffat became caretaker of the Smith Institute. He stayed with granny in the adjoining house.

My brother, sister and myself stayed every weekend and all school holidays. Each day was an adventure with the history and stories that papa told us.

His office was on the right hand side as you walked in the entrance. I remember the shelves being packed with books, ledgers and files. He sat at the huge desk in front of the window where he would write with a quill. Although I tried, I never managed to master it and was left with blobs of ink on the paper.

Going through the glass doors was like entering another world, full of history and wonder.

In the room on the left, there were lots of glass cases which had birds eggs, large and small. Also butterflies of outstanding colours, down to plain creamy ones, and moths, some of them so large, it gave you the shudders.

As you entered the room on the right, you stopped dead in your tracks, because, there in front of you was a stuffed wild cat which looked alive and ready to pounce on you. The stuffed birds of prey looked every bit as alive as the wild cat, especially one of the eagles. I used to duck as I ran past it. In the glass cases against the wall, there were snakes in liquid in tall glass jars, also creepy crawlies. Not my favourite part of the museum, as it gave me nightmares. There were steps which led into another part of the room. There was a stone age display of bowls, round grinders with a hole in the middle to put a stick so you could turn it to grind corn, etc. What was so interesting was that man had made these, and the tools that were needed for cooking.

At the very top of this room were all the ancient coins and paper money which was not so old. You could get into the main gallery from this room, but I preferred to walk back to the passage and enter through two glass doors into a small room before going into the gallery because all the armour was here. Shields and swords were put up on the walls and chain gauntlets. When the film Rob Roy was on at the Allan Park Picture house, papa was given permission to supply the shields and swords for display at the entrance in the picture house. He was given free tickets for the film which we all enjoyed and also added to the history in the museum for us.

In the main gallery, marble busts of famous people stood proudly around the edge of the floor. Paintings were hung on the walls, some nice but some, to me anyway were not so nice, but, it was history, and the scenes were real. At the back of the gallery was a stage where many concerts were held.

There was a private door leading from the house into the passage in the museum, and I used to love peeping out to watch the people who were dressed so smartly. I remember some of the ladies wearing long dresses and fur stoles, like my granny used to wear. Sadly I can’t remember the concerts.

The house itself was an adventure of sorts as a ghost used to walk about upstairs. There were four bedrooms, and at the top of the stairs was a room which had windows and curtains and had lots of trunks and boxes on the floor.

Downstairs was a dining room. At Christmas, papa got a tree that reached the ceiling. It was covered in glitter and fancy balls. The logs in the fire crackled cheerily adding to the excitement.

The bathroom was long and narrow, but the kitchen was big, and always smelled of baking and jam making. The two parrots, Polly the Amazon green, and Sunshine the African grey, sat in their cages on top of the dresser. Both had a wonderful vocabulary and seemed to have the knack of saying the right thing at the right time. In the cupboard next to the gas cooker was a peep hole where I could look into the stone age part of the museum.

Going down the stairs at the side door, and turning left, was the boiler room. My initials are in the cement there.

Papa loved his garden. The rose garden was in the front. At the side of the museum were trees and daffodils. Occasionally Mr Mclarin brought his horse over to graze in the side. Further up, and going through the gates was a garden the width of the grounds. Strawberries, gooseberries, rasps, rhubarb, red and blackcurrants, then there was potatoes, onions, carrots, peas, mint. Then the flowers, peony roses, poppies, marigolds and lots of others.

Going out the gate and turning right was the orchard. There were plum trees, apple and crab apple trees. One day as I was walking, I noticed that one of the gratings was loose on the side of the wall. I decided to see where it led, and crawled in. Well I didn’t get too far along the tunnel when I got stuck. My brother was too frightened to come in so he got papa, who came with a pulley rope and made a loop at the end. He kept throwing it until it slipped over my feet. Slowly he tugged, and pulled me out. My hips and legs were all scraped, but that didn’t stop me from getting spanked for going in in the first place.

On my thirteenth birthday, papa gave me a gold signet ring. After my birthday tea, I went out to the orchard. I was so thrilled at getting a gold ring, that I flung out my arms and birled round. Suddenly, as I was spinning round, my ring flew off my finger. I hunted and hunted until papa came to see if I was okay. Tears streaming down my face, I told him what had happened. I was heartbroken, but papa said that that would teach me to think before I did anything every again.

When papa died in 1957, three years later, I walked around his treasured gardens and the orchard. I looked again on the chance that I might just find my ring, papa’s gift to me, but it remained hidden.