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| John 'Jack' Neil |
The Courier, Friday, May 1, 1936,
LEVEN MAN FATALLY INJURED
Motor Cycle Burned Out After Collision
John Neil (27), Scoonie Drive, Leven, died in Wemyss Hospital yesterday morning as result of injuries sustained in a road accident the previous night.
A motor cycle combination which he was driving was involved in a collision on the Lundin Links-Leven road with a car driven by John G. Marshall, journalist, Lochgelly.
Neil was having a trial run on the combination, which he intended to purchase from George Ross, Wellesley Road, Denbeath. Ross was passenger in the sidecar.
Neil was hurled against the windscreen and so severely injured that he never regained consciousness. After attention by Dr Wilson, Leven, he was rushed to hospital.
Ross sustained knee bruises and Marshall was unhurt.
The motor cycle combination, which was wrecked, caught fire and was burned out.
The front axle of the car was broken, and the right wheel, mudguard, door, and entire side of the vehicle were badly damaged.
Neil was 24 years of age, unmarried, and was employed at Wellesley Colliery, Denbeath. Recently he removed from Kennoway to reside with his brother in Leven.
September 6, 2018
He was always ‘Uncle Jack’ but the only physical memory I have of him is a small, worn, barely legible grave marker in Scoonie cemetery. I doubt I would be able to find it now. Jack Neil was actually my great-uncle but my mother, to this day in her nineties, still remembers him with great affection.
She was just a child when he died. She was raised by her grandparents and remembers when the police came to the door and asked her to take her to the neighbour where her grandmother was visiting.
Jack had been rushed to hospital after that motor accident on the edge of Leven. He would never regain consciousness and died a few hours later. He was in his 20s and not long engaged to ‘Jeanie’.
It was a traumatic experience for a young girl and while she recalls the uncle who always had time to tease her and make her laugh, after 80 years the finer details of him had started to fade from her memory. And as to what happened on that fateful day seemed lost, and would be a forgotten part of the Neil family history.
But so much of all our histories are lying sleeping in the columns of our local newspapers. You only need to look at the popularity of Facebook pages like ‘Auld Fife and its People’ to see how valued the faces and places from our past are, not just for the glow of nostalgia but because they mark the path we have taken to where we are now, and possibly provide an indication of what is ahead. Appreciating what and who are around you is really all we have.
In the latter part of my career in local newspapers, when the titles were centralised, I was horrified to hear some young reporters dismissing and, after the telephone call, mocking a family member who had wanted an obituary in their local paper for a loved one.
“I mean he hadn’t done anything,” exclaimed one. “It wasn’t like he was anyone... important.”
Over the years I had tried to encourage more families to offer some details of those they had just lost. Everyone is important, and everyone has a story to tell, whether they have travelled and conquered the world, or never ventured beyond their village boundary.
Uncle Jack didn’t merit an obituary but thanks to the British Newspaper Archive and The Courier of Friday, May 1, 1936, I now know the details of his fateful last journey, and that, in itself, has sparked more memories for my mother and for all the family. It was forgotten he worked down the pit... and that he wanted out. He’d started a correspondence course and was making plans for a brighter future for himself and his bride to be.
And, having covered so many fatal accidents over the years, the little report in The Courier gives me an insight into that horrible day all those decades ago, and these few paragraphs moved my mother to tears as it brought the memories pouring back.
That was the power of local papers and one that has been diminished and continues to diminish, because we have grudged the cover price and paying the equivalent of a first class stamp, forgotten every story is important to someone, are unwilling to pay for an online newspaper, and are happy to take news from sources where we actually have little or no input, and have no real voice.
So, as a newspaper ‘dinosaur’, I’m grateful to the reporter in 1936 who has allowed my mother to say a final farewell to her favourite uncle and who introduced me to him properly.
I also forgive him and the sub-editor who handled the copy for muddling Uncle Jack’s age.
She was just a child when he died. She was raised by her grandparents and remembers when the police came to the door and asked her to take her to the neighbour where her grandmother was visiting.
Jack had been rushed to hospital after that motor accident on the edge of Leven. He would never regain consciousness and died a few hours later. He was in his 20s and not long engaged to ‘Jeanie’.
It was a traumatic experience for a young girl and while she recalls the uncle who always had time to tease her and make her laugh, after 80 years the finer details of him had started to fade from her memory. And as to what happened on that fateful day seemed lost, and would be a forgotten part of the Neil family history.
But so much of all our histories are lying sleeping in the columns of our local newspapers. You only need to look at the popularity of Facebook pages like ‘Auld Fife and its People’ to see how valued the faces and places from our past are, not just for the glow of nostalgia but because they mark the path we have taken to where we are now, and possibly provide an indication of what is ahead. Appreciating what and who are around you is really all we have.
In the latter part of my career in local newspapers, when the titles were centralised, I was horrified to hear some young reporters dismissing and, after the telephone call, mocking a family member who had wanted an obituary in their local paper for a loved one.
“I mean he hadn’t done anything,” exclaimed one. “It wasn’t like he was anyone... important.”
Over the years I had tried to encourage more families to offer some details of those they had just lost. Everyone is important, and everyone has a story to tell, whether they have travelled and conquered the world, or never ventured beyond their village boundary.
Uncle Jack didn’t merit an obituary but thanks to the British Newspaper Archive and The Courier of Friday, May 1, 1936, I now know the details of his fateful last journey, and that, in itself, has sparked more memories for my mother and for all the family. It was forgotten he worked down the pit... and that he wanted out. He’d started a correspondence course and was making plans for a brighter future for himself and his bride to be.
And, having covered so many fatal accidents over the years, the little report in The Courier gives me an insight into that horrible day all those decades ago, and these few paragraphs moved my mother to tears as it brought the memories pouring back.
That was the power of local papers and one that has been diminished and continues to diminish, because we have grudged the cover price and paying the equivalent of a first class stamp, forgotten every story is important to someone, are unwilling to pay for an online newspaper, and are happy to take news from sources where we actually have little or no input, and have no real voice.
So, as a newspaper ‘dinosaur’, I’m grateful to the reporter in 1936 who has allowed my mother to say a final farewell to her favourite uncle and who introduced me to him properly.
I also forgive him and the sub-editor who handled the copy for muddling Uncle Jack’s age.
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