Monday, May 18, 2026

October 2, 2002 Nancy's advice to Cancer patients.

 

 October 2, 2002 Nancy's advice to Cancer patients.




Dear J and J,


Please excuse this computered letter; you are being spared my handwriting.


I’m so terribly sorry that you have been given this maddening disease. DAMN!

There it is, we can’t change it, BUT if I ever find my magic wand, you will get to use it first.


If some angel came to me and said, “ Choose, Nancy: go back to your life

before cancer & never have it, or go on as you are.” I honestly don’t think I would go back because cancer has changed me. It certainly has not made me a better person, but it has validated the things I value most and has done exactly what you said on the phone: up front, cancer asks us to live the way we have always said we intended to live, second by second, breath by breath, present in the moment, and to the light in each of us. It’s a worthy task master with very heavy feet, stepping on a lot of toes, but, just the same, it has been a gift to me. 


There are aspects of this BIG C trauma that I wanted to tell you about.


Unlike a heart attack, stroke, Alzheimer’s, or sudden death by accident,

cancer gives us some time to get ourselves and our families ready for the next step, for the rest of our journey, and I think this is a great gift because it tells us in no uncertain terms: “This is your time, use it well.” Even so, the time is too short because, in our remaining days, we, sometimes painfully even, KNOW vividly and deeply how beautiful this world is, how graceful and lovely are those we love, and how little we want to leave them.


Just the realistic thought of it breaks our hearts over and over. All around me, I see people avoiding the heartbreak, operating in a forced bravado, hiding their tears, but somehow the tears are healing, necessary, and in themselves, transforming. Danish storyteller Isak Dinesen says that all of the troubles of the world are eased by salt: sweat, tears,and the sea!

Isak Dineson

My tears help my children because my tears acknowledge their tears and we grow

closer within them. So, both of you cry, let everyone see it, ride the roller

coaster of this journey the way Larry Gillick had to ride that real roller coaster in his past when he stepped into the gap between the cars. Terrified when he realized where he was, he had to trust the hands of his friends to pull him in.


Cancer also allows us to prepare for a good death. This preparation and

process is something we give to those who love us and follow us. Harry was able to do this eminently well. Patiently and gracefully, he became filled with light and

drifted away from us as he flew into the arms of God. We were all there. We held his hands. Even two year-old Bea and Weezie. Unconsciously, he waited for Guy to come back from the zoo with the kids. It was natural. It was essential. He taught us how to a way to do it.

I know that this is not always possible for everyone; sometimes pain management robs us of the ability to think, and I hear tales daily of deaths that are made tense and painful by the struggle of doctors to keep the patient alive and the patient’s need to go.

Cancer allows you some time to make this clear to yourself and to your family and to facilitate your transformation with dignity. Hospice is a brilliant assistance in this struggle. Harry benefited from their work. I intend to do so, too if at all possible.

My young friend David Barker’s suicide this summer still has me reeling in grief and anger. I feel as though he meant, by killing himself, to kill all of us who

loved him. I know he was on some kind of downward spin with medication, but his death underscores the gift of cancer. It allows us to say goodbye, allows those who love us to grieve with us, to love us openly, and to be able to help us (especially when we are so used to being the helper and don’t know very well how to receive the gifts of love) - this is a true gift. And knowing you both, I know that you will, in your own unique ways, make good use of this time.

 

Realize quickly that you are in charge and you have to be for your own sake.

No one doctor, surgeon, oncologist, internist, nurse, no one person was overseeing all my treatment - I had to do it and make the decisions as I saw fit - and it meant educating myself more than I wanted to be educated about breast cancer.


In the meantime, live and try to live, because HOPE is perhaps the most potent and resilient healer. I am staying alive because of the work my weekly doses of

antibody. I suspect this drug will work for another three years or so if I’m lucky, and then my cancer will figure out a way to get around it. But by then, there may be a new drug!

Pancreatic cancer is totally different, but so is every single cancer, totally different

because of our own unique chemistries and attitudes. In three years, there may be a cure, or another drug to extend my life. I’m looking for that drug, but I also know that if I have to go through the horror of chemotherapy again, I am not sure I will choose it.

Through genome experiments and the use of a person’s own cells to heal them, scientists are finding clues to what’s really going on with cancer and how to defeat it. So, I’d recommend going to M.D. Anderson, to Mayo, or UNMC and get yourself into a trial for one of these techniques. They are so much less invasive than traditional chemotherapy and perhaps you’ll be given the days that I’ve been given by the antibody, days of sweetness.


I also recommend finding a doctor you like, with a nurse who likes you. It makes a huge difference. Stefanie found me such a doctor & nurse at UNMC, Beth Reed & Anne Privitera, and even though I felt I had to do therapy with Beth every time I

saw her for the first two years because she seemed to shield herself rigidly from knowing me as a person (ARGH- doctors are taught to shield themselves; it’s got to be a damaging and dangerous training), we broke through that when my cancer metastasized.

This makes a difference to ME. I am happy to be going in for treatment and happy to receive it because I have a relationship with them that is not JUST illness.


What I am most afraid of for myself in this journey is that I will lose my mind to pain, so I’ve asked my internist, Ed Taylor, to watch for me, and if I’m unable to

think for myself, to allow my family to think for me and to help them let me go when my body says “enough, already, enough!” That’s a good time when it comes, because it’s natural, it’s the way it is meant to be.


OK, enough already!


Nancy Duncan: Her final story by Leo Adam Biga

 Nancy Duncan: Her final story

By permission of and © by Leo Adam Biga. Originally appeared in The Reader



Professional storyteller Nancy Duncan felt the tell-tale lump on her right breast in 2000. She recalled it being “about two digits long, as round as a pencil and as hard as a rock. I knew the minute I touched it what it was.” Doctors soon confirmed her suspicion. Cancer. “Somehow it had just sneaked through the mammograms.”

After a mastectomy and chemotherapy, her illness appeared under control. Then, in April 2002, she found “a little chip of a tumor” under her armpit. “They told me it had recurred, and when they found it there they figured it was somewhere else. They did a CAT scan, and there were these little specks everywhere in my liver — like from a shotgun blast,” she said. Her cancer had spread. “Metastasized. It’s a nasty word. Nobody wants to hear it. You never know where it’s going to go when it gets outside the breast,” she said. “It’ll go to your bones or to your lungs or somewhere else. Mine just happened to go to my liver.”



“Well, Nancy, you’re a terminal,” is what her doctor told her. Terminal. Aren’t we all? — Duncan wondered. The only difference between me and my doc, Duncan thought, “is that she thinks she knows what I’m going to die of.” That, and the fact that the malignant tumors carrying Duncan’s death sentence play a cruel game with her. “They grow, and then the chemo shrinks them. Enough so you can barely see them, or they’re not visible. In about four or five months, they figure out how to get around that drug, and then they come back. That routine is what I’ve been doing the past two years,” said Duncan, the Nebraska Arts Council’s Artist of the Year.

Her four-year “dance with cancer” has propelled the former theater maven into a journey of self-discovery that’s informed every aspect of her life and work. Her unfolding death is the subject of her final, most profound story.

“Storytelling is always a process of learning about yourself,” said Duncan. “The story transforms along with you and that’s exciting to realize that and to let that happen. It’s a dialogue you maintain with that story for the rest of your life.”


The most surprising thing to happen in the narrative of her evolving death, she said, is the tranquility she’s found. “It’s totally taken away the fear” she had of dying. Her late husband, Harry Duncan, an acclaimed poet and fine book printer, died at home under her watch. That experience is helping her prepare for her own death.

When she first got news of her terminal illness, she panicked. “Then, I remembered what Harry did. He just stopped eating and drinking and he was unconscious after three days and gone in a week. From the day he decided he didn’t want to live anymore, he went in this kind of graceful state. It wasn’t like he was a beaming idiot or anything. He just seemed totally at peace. Very relaxed. Loving. It was like he was teaching us all that when you’re ready, you don’t have to hang around and be tortured to death. So, I thought, I always have that option. My kids have agreed they’re not going to mess with that choice.”

Harry Duncan 1916-1997

The comfort Duncan gained in contemplating her own blissful exit carried over to a new freedom she felt on stage. “The interesting thing is I totally lost my fear in performing. I became completely relaxed,” she said. “It was such a gift to be able to perform two years without any fear. Yahoo! Because that is what your audience really wants. They want you embodied in that art form. They want to see you, the most they can possibly see you, broken open. And fear just gets in the way. It’s a barrier between you and the audience. It’s a good thing, because it tells you this is an important occasion and you need to be present for it. It helps you stay on your toes. But it’s also a bad thing because then you’re editing, and you don’t want to edit. What you want to do is listen to your audience and remember things and let them pop into the story. Why did I have to have cancer in order to lose that fear?”

She’s considered her cancer from every conceivable angle. She’s talked frankly about it in stories. In the published Losing and Getting, her cancer-ridden breast converses with her healthy left breast in a stream of bitterness, guilt and humor. She’s talked about losing her hair but gaining a new appreciation for life. She’s performed her cancer story for many audiences, but especially for women who are cancer survivors, patients and potential victims. She knows first hand their fear.

 


“There’s also a lot of lessons you learn…” Like the harsh reality of health care in America. “If I didn’t have supplemental insurance, I wouldn’t be alive today because I couldn’t afford all these chemo treatments. And a lot of people can’t afford them. They don’t have a choice. They’re not given the opportunity to have their lives extended like mine has been. Given the fact that there’s so much money being made treating cancer and that cancer is growing exponentially in the world, there’s no incentive to find a cure…and definitely no incentive to prevent it. I think we don’t really want to prevent it because we don’t want to change our lives. We’re too lazy. We don’t want to give up our fossil fuels and our fatty foods. We’re so complacent. I’m as bad as anyone else. That makes me mad sometimes.”

Since finding she’s terminal, she’s tried maximizing the brief periods she feels well between her taxing treatments, stealing moments here and there to work and to spend time with the many friends and relatives who comprise her extended care team. She’s also managed performing occasionally and nurturing some of the storytelling festivals she’s helped found and grow, particularly the Nebraska Storytelling Festival in Omaha. She’s annually given 600-plus hours of volunteer time to Nebraska Story Arts, the organization that puts on the festival.

Even as her condition worsened, she continued to be the state’s most visible and vocal advocate for storytelling. Omaha sculptor Catherine Ferguson called Duncan “one of Nebraska’s most treasured women. She has dedicated her professional life to connecting people to the arts and humanities. Nancy’s performances have always gone beyond entertainment to become educational.” Story Arts president Jim Marx said, “Her gift is to imagine possibilities, inspire others to join her vision, and to will them into existence through tireless effort and encouragement.” Nancy’s daughter and fellow storyteller, Lucy Duncan, said, “She has a great generosity of spirit in her teaching of storytelling and wanting to spread the art form. Her support of my telling is a direct example. Instead of feeling, This is my territory, she says, Let’s share this. She’s done that with a lot of people — not just me. She’s also very beloved in the national storytelling community.”

Lately, Duncan’s good spells have grown fewer. The artist has been homebound since the end of May, when she gave her “last” performance at the Darkroom Gallery in the Old Market.



Her three grown children and several grandchildren are staying with her now in the big midtown house she and Harry shared. It’s where he died of cancer in 1997. It’s where she intends to die, too. As the debilitating rounds of chemo have taken her longer and longer to recover from, she’s considered not undergoing them again, knowing full well that stopping them will mean certain death.

“I have to pay such a huge price to feel good for about two months,” she said.

For now, at least, she tarries on, telling stories to her grandchildren or soaking up
the good vibes of her army of friends who flit in and out of her place all day long. Some come to do chores. Others bring her things. Some just come by to chat.

 
Reminders of her friends are everywhere, most poignantly in the paper, silk, and rubber hands adorning the inside of her front door. Each “helping-healing hand” was sent or delivered to her and is adorned with a message that’s variously funny, outrageous, wise, enigmatic, just like the stories Duncan’s told since 1984, when she turned away from a career in the theater to pursue storytelling professionally.

Some visitors come to say goodbye, although few use that word, because even though Duncan is physically frail now and needs around-the-clock support, her effervescent spirit shines through, making it all the harder to imagine her gone. The light-up-the-room sparkle is still there in her eyes. So, is the ear-to-ear smile. And the cascading laugh. Ah, The Laugh. It’s an irrepressible cackle that starts in her chest, rolls up her giraffe neck, and spills out her crescent mouth in a high-pitched sound that recalls the coyote-witch figures she portrays in tellings.

Then again, there’s a chronic fatigue that didn’t used to be there. Every now and then, she catches her breath, swallowing hard to stem the pain from the stints in her liver. Her body, once as expressive an instrument as her animated face and voice, is gaunt and still, betraying the fight she wages to keep death at bay.

Her impending death is being recorded by Omaha videographer George Ferguson. The documentary she asked him to make is meant to help other dying individuals in their search for healing. It’s only natural that Duncan, who’s used stories as a way to interpret life, should use storytelling as a means of understanding her own end.

“I thought it might be useful to somebody else who’s dying the same way, but also to see how useful storytelling can be in helping you go through this process,” she said. “where grotesque things happen to you and people are poking your body here and there. And, where, in the middle of having stints put in your liver, people around you are talking while you’re drugged. And the craziness of discovering systems that you are either a victim of or you have to figure out how to defend yourself against. Not to mention a whole new vocabulary you learn.

“I’ve met people who, when diagnosed with cancer, kind of isolate themselves and live at home quietly and some who sadly get really angry and stay angry until they die. And to me dancing with cancer has not been like that. I was angry the first weekend before the biopsy results came back. That was the weekend when I fired God and hired HER back a couple times. But then I got over that because I’ve always believed that in every trauma there’s some kind of a grace at work and you just have to open yourself to it and figure out what it is. It doesn’t make you a better person, but it says, Wait, stop, who do you really want to be? And, so, cancer gives you some time, mostly, to do that and that’s a great privilege. I mean, I think it would be a great privilege to drop dead of a heart attack, but it wouldn’t be for your family because it’s so traumatic.”

Her decision to have her odyssey filmed was one she came to after much thought. “It took a long time to decide what my motives were here. Was I just doing this out of ego? Was it really a good idea? I talked to a lot of friends about it before I talked to my family. Most of my friends said, ‘Oh, yeah, you better do this because it will give you something to keep you busy.’ My kids in the beginning, were thinking what it would be like to have somebody around filming during the last week of my life. I wasn’t thinking about that at all. I was thinking about talking about the things that happened to me in terms of my cancer, but also in terms of how the cancer affects my life and the stories. So, finally, I think my kids have all come around to it.”

Storytelling, she said, constitutes the way we make sense of things. The story of her cancer and dying, she said, is “no different. Every time you narratize your story to explain something to yourself, that’s healing, because then you’re no longer so confused or befuddled by it. Then, when you tell it to somebody, they give it their own meaning based on their lives.” This search for identity and meaning is one she thinks America suppresses in its instant gratification apparatus.

“I think all my work with storytelling has been trying to fight that tendency in our culture that does everything to avoid having people talk deeply to each other, especially about death or anything important. As a society, we want to be entertained, and we avoid things that might make us think or deal with situations going on in the world. Problems are not going to get solved until we sit down with somebody else and really listen to their stories, so we can get to understand each other rather than blowing each other up. The more we put labels on people, the more we’re destined not to know them. When you really know somebody else’s story, you can’t hate them anymore. It’s a wonderful tool for peace,” said Duncan, whose residencies in schools and other settings have used storytelling to break down barriers, to build self-esteem and to promote diversity.

“But nobody trusts it (storytelling), partially because nobody has ever listened to our stories. We narrow ourselves so much by not knowing each other. Storytelling works against that. That’s why I keep working on storytelling.”

She said too many of us seek the cold isolation of mass media diversions as substitutes for interpersonal communication around the dinner table or fireplace, where gathering with friends to talk and tell stories is a communal event and a celebration of our shared humanity. “That’s what storytelling is all about.”

Her many tales, from the repertoire of “platform” stories she’s crafted for performance to the private stories she’s passed on to loved ones, are sure to live on through her family members, all of whom, she said, are born storytellers. That’s why her dying is more celebration than requiem. “Not only is it a celebration,” she said, “it’s a transition. It’s a very important transition from my versions of the stories to everybody else’s. Now, they’re all going to own these stories. I would love to someday eavesdrop on them, although that’s probably not possible.” Her performance stories are available on CD, and now on Youtube.

Duncan’s love for stories extends back to childhood. Born in Indiana to “depressed-alcoholic” parents, she did most of her growing up in Illinois and Georgia. A tomboy with a big imagination, Duncan roamed the woods behind her Georgia house to act out the dramas in her mind. It was her pipe-smoking grandma, with whom she shared a room and found refuge for eight years, that introduced literature and storytelling to her. “She read books to me until she dropped. She was not a big talker, but she told very well-honed stories all about her life. She was the unconditional loving parent in my life and my rock of stability,” Duncan said. “If I hadn’t of had my grandmother, I think I would have ended up in a booby hatch.”

Expressive by nature, Duncan first heeded her talents as a writer, earning a scholarship to the prestigious University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop in 1958. It was there, as a student, she met and married Harry, then a teacher and fine arts press director. Eventually, she and Harry moved to Omaha, where he ran the Abattoir Press at the University of Nebraska at Omaha. She acted on area stages and served as associate director of the Omaha Community Playhouse and as artistic director and, later, executive director of the Emmy Gifford Children’s Theater (now the Omaha Theater Company for Young People).

The former Enmmy Gifford Childrens theatre


She applied drama techniques to her early storytelling. She built her signature story performances around Baba Yaga, a witch character adapted from Russian literature, and a chicken. “Baba Yaga was really the one who broke me open because she could say anything,” Duncan said. During the Fundamentalist Right’s rise to power, Baba Yaga got herself in hot water with some area school districts that outright banned or picketed her shows. She was even spat at once.

Nancy Duncan and Belinda Acosta in The Revenge of Baba Yaga

Dissatisfied with her hybrid of theater and storytelling, Duncan began shedding makeup and costume to explore and expose more of herself on stage. Once she made herself more present in her increasingly personal stories, she found her voice as a teller. She never looked back at the theater, which she found limiting. “In the theater, you’re really not in charge of the material. The playwright or director is. In storytelling, there’s no separation of yourself from the story. You have to take total responsibility for it. You can’t blame it on the writer or director. It’s a different kind of bareness-nakedness, but also a different kind of responsibility.”

Speaking of responsibility, she hopes her militant views on cancer increase awareness. It’s why she doesn’t wear a wig or a prosthesis. “We need not hide the fact that this is happening. If we hide the fact we have cancer…we’re denying who we are. We’re also making it easier for others to get it because we’re doing nothing to prevent it,” she said. “I hope my actions draw attention to the fact that there is breast cancer in the world and that we need to do something to cure it. Moreover, we need to prevent it. Hiding it, to me, says the opposite. That it doesn’t exist. Instead, we need to let women know, You have a job to do.” She said many women don’t self-examine or are afraid to. Why? “They don’t want to know.”

Duncan’s curiosity, passion, concern and whimsy have made her a timeless teller  and, when she’s gone, her life and work will endure as a never-ending story.

Monday, February 23, 2026

Jane Starkie, woman of mystery and Richard Stringer Starkie

 

This is my investigation into the Starkie Chemist and Druggist store in The Strand and the folks associated with it - especially the good lady, Jane Starkie (1857 - 1926), who seems to have lived for maybe a year with my Great Uncle, Abraham John Garner, in considerable luxury in St. John's Wood back in 1924.


First, I tried to work out when the shop had first opened. It was originally owned by Richard Stringer.

There are mysterious hints that the original shop was started by either Moses Stringer, his son Hermes Hippocrates Stringer, or his son, another Moses Stringer. There are exciting tales of Moses the elder demonstrating Chemistry and maybe Alchemy to Peter the Great in his rooms off The Strand on his renowned visit to London in 1698. The salt of lymons is actually his cure for scurvy as sold to the British Navy



As an aside, Moses wrote this terrible poem to welcome Peter to England, and it could be about Donald Trump these days.


A CONGRATULATORY POEM

To the High and Mighty CZAR OF MUSCOVY, ON HIS ARRIVAL in ENGLAND 

On Tuesday, the 11th of this Instant January, 1698.

Welcome, Great MONARCH, to our happy Shore

Proud of a Glory ne'er known here before,

What working Transports must brave Britain shew

Blest with the PEACE, the Great NASSAW, and You

A Peace, the greatest Gift from Heaven can Flow

And You, the greatest Men, the World can Show

What thronging JOYS our Smiling Lands Invade?

At once so Happy, and so Glorious Made.

You two, the Twins of Fate, whose powerful Work

Subdues both MAHOMET, and the Christian TURK;

Go on, Great SIR, pursue thy great Design,

May thy Great SOUL in equal Conquests Shine.

Thy Glist'ning Sabre on proud Asia Gleams,

Dazling the Frighted Tarters by its Beams;

Its Conquering Steel shall to the East give Law,

Whilst NASSAW's Scepter keeps the West in Awe.

Christ's firmest Pillars, and the Christians Prop

To keep the sinking Church, and Gospel Up,

Thy Name makes ROME reflect on Heroes Slain,

And dread the Northern Nations once Again,

Thy Martial North, the Load-stone of the War

Attracting shining Steel, and Arms, Afar;

A moderate warmth the Births of Peace Unfold,

__________________________________________________________________

The Bold claims he made for his medicine:-


“That  Learned  Chymist  made  his first  experiment upon  a  Hen,  so  very  old,  that  nobody  would  kill  it, either  out  of  a  sense  of  profit  or  good-nature.  He mingled  some  of  his  medicine,  which  he  called  Renovating  Quintessence,  with  a  quantity  of  Barly  and  gave  it to  the  Hen,  fifteen  days together.  The  effects  were wonderful,  and  the  Hen  recovered  Youth  and  New Feathers,  and  what  is  still  more  surprising,  LAID EGGS  and  Hatcht  chickens  as  if  she  had  lost  a  dozen years  of  her  age. 


“  But  this  small  experiment  in  Animals  did  not  content the  inquisitions  of  that  Scrutinous  Chymist,  who  turned his  skill  to  the  relief  of  mankind.  An  ancient  woman that  kept  his  house,  with  the  consequences  of  Old  Age, was  upon  the  very  margin  of  Death.  He  gave  her  the same  medicine,  fifteen  days  together,  as  he  had  prescribed  to  his  feathered  patient  and  the  success  was  the same.  She  recover’d  her  Health,  Youth,  Hair  and  Teeth again.  Her  complexion  lookt  florid  and  vigorous, and  Nature  exerted  itself  as  it  generally  does  in  Young Women.



However, sadly for my overexcited expectations about such a remarkable beginning, I couldn't find that he had opened a Chemist or Druggist shop on The Strand, though Moses lived and entertained Tsar Peter in York Buildings in Villiers Street just off The Strand, he seems to have his premises and works in Black Friars.


So the earliest clue I have found for the Opening of Stringers Chemists is this notice from a Chester paper in 1790, but it presupposes the shop has been open and popular for some considerable time


On 26th November 1790, a local paper in Chester ran this:


“We with pleasure mention that on Tuesday last, Mr. Richard Stringer, of the Strand, London 

(son of Mr. Stringer, of this city, upholsterer) was appointed chemist to His Majesty.”


The shop subsequently advertises this as actually happening in 1788.


It does suggest that this "Stringer" is not related to the rather biblical/Greek-philosopher chemist folks


I have now found other evidence that suggests Richard Stringer came down from Chester and studied pharmacy and chemistry under “Professor Graham”

- and then I guess opens or buys the shop.

The Reading Mercury of Monday, 14 February 1791 had this advert

ORIENTAL TOOTH POWDER and ESSENCE OF MYRRH, PREPARED only by RICHARD STRINGER, Chemist (and druggist to his majesty)  No. 19, Strand, London, and appointed to be sold in Reading only by Mr. John Thomas, apothecary and chemist, King Street. 

This truly innocent Powder preserves the Teeth, and hath the virtue of whitening and cleaning them to admiration, without wearing out the theil or enamel.—One shilling and three halfpence each box. 

The Essence of Myrrh is an infallible remedy against the Scurvy of the Gums; causes them to grow up, and gives them a beautiful red; it fastens the Teeth that are loose, prevents those which are decaying from becoming worse, and renders the Breath delicately sweet.—Two shillings each bottle.

 Then it seems another Richard Stringer (the younger), was born in 1790, the address of birth given is 19, Strand, London, to Richard Stringer. and __________


The next earliest record I can find of the shop is in 1793 - at this time it is shown as owned and managed by Richard Stringer and was at either 18 or 19 The Strand, 


A Trade card in the Heal Collection (Heal,35.71) advertises


"Rd. Stringer Druggist to His Majesty, No.19, Strand, London. Prepares & Sells all Sorts of Genuine Drugs, Medicines and Chemical Preparations, Wholesale & Retail." 


Heal, who collected the card, annotated it that a 1793 Directory actually gives Richard Stringer at No.18, Strand. 


An undated later card in the collection shows the address then as at No.4 Strand."

Yet another trade card in Banks' Collection (D,2.262) advertises

 "For Bilious Complaints, &c. Cooling Opening Pills, of the late Hugh Smith, M.D. Member of the College of Physicians in London, and late Physician to the Middlesex Hospital. These Pills justly claim a Preference over all other Opening Medicines, as they may be taken with safety by either Sex, and will keep good in all climates; and have not that Tendency to heat the Body as is generally complained of from taking the Opening Pills mostly used. They are particularly recommended in habitual Costiveness, as a frequent Use of them does not injure the Constitution, but will remove a long Train of Diseases, which alternately result from a confined State of the Bowels. They speedily remove Sickness and Head Ach [sic], occasioned by the Bile in the Stomach, and should never be omitted at Bed-time, after excess of Eating or Drinking…

Doctor Hugh Smith's Pills are prepared by R. Stringer, Chymist and Druggist to his Majesty...and sold by him at 4 The Strand."

So what is this street correctly called, just "Strand", but mostly known as The Strand.

In the 16th century, the Strand, which connects the City of London with the Royal Centre at Westminster, was lined with the mansions of some of England's richest prelates and noblemen. Most of the grandest houses were on the southern side of the road and had gardens stretching down to the River Thames.

In around 1605, Henry Howard, 1st Earl of Northampton, cleared a site at Charing Cross on the site of a convent and built himself a mansion, at first known as Northampton House. In 1614 it was sold to the Dukes of Suffolk, then in 1640 for a bargain price, it was bought by the Earl of Northumberland. By 1658, John Evelyn was calling it Northumberland House.

Northumberland House by Canaletto, 1752. It shows the Strand front of Northumberland House. 4 The Strand would be the building with chimneys as shown below, adjoined, but four doors further up The Strand.

By the end of the mid-19th century, the other mansions on the Strand had been demolished. The area was now largely commercial, and its entertainment industry had grown, meaning it was no longer a fashionable place for the aristocracy to live.

"In 1874 the town residence of the Duke of Northumberland was discovered to be on fire. Five steam engines were quickly on the spot, but the flames were not extinguished until the roof of the south-west wing, used as a ballroom, was burned off, paintings, furniture, and decorations partly destroyed… with confectionery rooms underneath damaged by fire and water. Fortunately, the drawing room, dining room, marble staircase, and upper suite of saloons and valuable paintings have escaped destruction. Though some splendid friezes have been more or less injured… but these are insured… Workmen employed at the house are supposed to have caused the fire."


Here is The Strand with Northumberland House in 1874. Drawn 20 & 23 July 1874 by George Scharf, just before Northumberland House was demolished.

R S Starkie, Druggist and Chemist, is the ornate shopfront to the left. Four doors down from Northumberland House.

The younger Sharf made this drawing of the Strand, from an upper room of Gardners in The Strand. This was the shop of the Lamp Manufacturers and Oil Merchants, Gardner & Sons, 433 Strand, (almost opposite with the odd numbering system in use), a firm established in 1752 and, by now, "Oil refiners and wax chandlers to the Queen". The Gardners were some long-standing friends of the Scharf family when they were living nearby at No 3 St. Martin's Lane in the days before the Strand end of St.Martin's Lane was demolished to make way for Trafalgar Square in the 1830’s. 

George Scharf

Like his father before him, Scharf enjoyed drawing buildings before they were demolished, and Northumberland House had been doomed ever since the Charing Cross and Victoria Embankment Approach Act had been passed in July 1873. He was only just in time to capture the great Jacobean mansion before it was pulled down to make way for Northumberland Avenue. Beyond Northumberland House, the road sweeps round to Whitehall. On the far corner is Drummonds Bank, demolished in 1877 and rebuilt on the same site in 1879

The opening immediately to the left of Northumberland House leads to a tiny courtyard at the back of No 1 Strand occupied by Frederick Dobbs, the Dentist, and Thomas Clark, the Umbrella Man. By the side of Henry William Field, the Jeweller at No 2, is the entrance to Northumberland Court, described in the 1720 edition of  Strype's survey as "a handsome new-built court, with houses fit for good inhabitants”. One lodger here was Nelson when he was a young lieutenant.

At No 3 is Samuel Barton and son, Tailors & Hosiers, and at No 4 on the corner of Northumberland Street, is the splendid ornamental chemist shop of Richard Stringer Starkie with a photographer's studio visible up on the roof.

It seems that the old premises of Richard Starkie at 4 The Strand were demolished as part of the plans to create Trafalgar Square and to build The Grand Hotel. This was an opportunity for them to open a new shop at 126 The Strand, and also, when the Grand Hotel was built, have a shop front in that building on the ground floor.

A brief history of the Shop was given in The Bulletin of Pharmacy Volume 18 of 1904- Page 493, 1891.


“Richard Stringer was the first proprietor appointed chemist and Druggist to George III in 1788, by Royal letters patent. He had a great reputation as a tutor for students of pharmacy. 


The shop is now situated on the Famous Trafalgar Square in the Grand Hotel. It is now owned by Mr. R. S. Starkie, Who Does a Thriving Business. The original shop, over which Mr. Stringer lived according to the custom of the good old days, stood on the spot now occupied by the buffet of the Grand Hotel, about 20 yards from the present site (4 The Strand). In those days, it was a rendezvous for people of fashion who used to come into the shop to wait for coaches. Among other customers were patrons of the Golden Cross Hotel, rendered famous by Dickens in his Pickwick Papers, and in more modern days, it has been visited by many men bearing historic names - Napoleon III, among others. 


The Golden Cross Hotel and the coaches leaving from it

When the business was established, what is now Trafalgar Square was surrounded by a wooden railing, and the site of the present National Gallery was occupied by stables. The present premises, which have been occupied for twenty years, have recently been doubled in size to keep pace with the increase of business; they have been entirely refurnished and brought up to date in every respect. The fittings are solid walnut, and the electric lights hang from handsome chandeliers, which add greatly to the beauty of the room. Mr. Starkie, who owns two branch establishments in other parts of London, devotes special attention to the American, Canadian, and foreign trade generally, and travelers from all parts of the civilized world are generally to be met in " Starkie's. " :


As mentioned above, at some point, a James Starkie from Lancashire became the assistant to Richard Stringer, probably one of his star pupils, and would eventually inherit (or buy) the business from Richard Stringer - and then call his male heir Richard Stringer Starkie.


A newspaper report from 1806 mentions the shop in relation to Nelson’s funeral, also how it had doubled in size from 1885, and that it was well known and advertised to foreign visitors to London.


We can see that James was an assistant apothecary in both 1818 and 1821 from these news reports

Constitution (London) - Sunday 08 November 1818

George Mason was fully committed for trial, charged with stealing a horse, saddle, and bridle, the property of Mr. James Starkie, a chemist, of Na. 4, Strand. The Prisoner obtained possession of the horse by false representation to the groom; he had uttered a fraudulent bill for twenty pounds in payment for the horse.

General Evening Post - Saturday 05 December 1818

George Mason was indicted capitally for stealing a bay mare, value 11 guineas, and a bridle and saddle, the property of James Starkie. The prosecutor is a chemist living in the Strand; on the 6th of October, the prisoner came to his house to purchase the mare, and agreed to do so, provided he could have her three days upon trial. This was agreed to on the part of the prosecutor, and the prisoner gave him a bill for two months for £20. drawn upon James Percell, of the Canterbury Arms, Lambeth. The prosecutor asked for a reference as to the validity of the bill, and the prisoner referred him to Mr. Kell, two houses away. The Prosecutor told his servant to saddle the mare, and in the interim, the Prosecutor went to Mr Kell, and his answer to the bill was not satisfactory and although he was not absent more than three minutes, the prisoner had-assisted to saddle the mare, and had rode off with her, and sold her to Mr. Hardwicke, butcher in Clare Market, three days afterwards, for 6 guineas. who sent her shortly afterwards to Dixon's Repository, where she was sold for 10 guineas and a half. Mr. Reynolds, for the prisoner, stated that the offence did not amount to felony.—Mr. Aribin and Mr. Platt contended, at length, that it was a felony. Mr. Justice Holroyd said it was a question which the Jury would have to consider upon the evidence. The Learned Judge summed up, and the Jury found the prisoner Not Guilty. B. Solomons was also acquitted.


In 1821, Samuel Wyburn was passing along The Strand on a "caravan" when a terrible accident occurred. It was reported that the "caravan" was as heavily loaded with boxes as a large goods wagon, and outside the chemist's shop at number 4, disaster struck. The load tipped and pulled the caravan over. 

James Starkie, the apothecary's assistant, rushed out and surveyed the scene.

Mr. John Hilyar, the driver, then realised that Mr. Wyburn, who had been sitting beside him, was nowhere to be seen. Boxes were frantically shifted, and Mr. Wyburn was found crushed under the boxes and the side of the wagon. The wagon was lifted with great effort, and he was carried into Mr. Stringer's shop and was treated there (by bleeding him??), and after but a few breaths he expired.

The jury, while commenting on the overburdening of the carriage, returned a verdict of "Accidental Death". They imposed a deodand of five shillings on the carriage.

(A deodand was apparently a medieval English legal concept where any personal chattel (object or animal) that caused a person's death was forfeited to the Crown, with the intent of being used for pious or charitable purposes.)

Being in the midst of the London sightseeing district, a great business is done with foreigners, and a greater diversity of languages is heard in this shop than in any other pharmacy in London. The present premises, which have been occupied for 20 years, have recently been doubled in size to keep pace with the increase in business; they have been entirely refurnished and brought up to date in…

James had married the mother of his children, Cicely Amelia Green, on 5 May 1822, at St. Marylebone, but his address at that time was not recorded.

This advert for “Frank's Specific Solution” shows the other major pharmacies in central London around these years.

 When exactly his father James Starkie had inherited the shop is uncertain, but he was certainly there on 18 April 1824 when Richard’s sister Cecelia Louisa Eliza Starkie was baptised at St. Martin in the Fields. Richard Stringer Starkie, the future owner, himself was baptised on 8 June 1828 at St. Marylebone Christ Church (he was born 17 December 1827). 

In 1826, the “Charing Cross Act” was passed by Parliament. The plans included the demolition and redevelopment of buildings between St Martin's Lane and the Strand and the construction of a road (now called Duncannon Street) across the churchyard of St Martin-in-the-Fields. However, Nash, the original and famous architect, had died, and the rebuilding was slow

This is the earliest street directory I have found, which also includes Starkies Chemists, in 1832


In 1840, new plans for what was now called Trafalgar Square by Charles Barry were adopted, and construction began at once, opening to the public in 1844.

Weekly Chronicle (London) - Sunday 12 March 1843

LAW. COURT OF EXCISE

CONVICTIONS OF CHEMISTS AND DRUGGISTS FOR SELLING SPIRITS.—

Before Capt. Percy, chairman, J. F. Stephenson, Esq., and T. Harrison, Esq

John Priest, of No. 14, Parliament Street, chemist and druggist, was charged with selling spirits of wine without a licence. —George Chappell, I am an officer of excise, having purchased the spirits at the shop of the defendant, which were pure and unadulterated.— Mr. Stephenson said that it was the wish of the court that the trade should generally understand that they were not permitted to sell spirits of wine, except for medical purposes. 

Also charged were James Starkie, of No. 4, Strand, chemist and druggist. Charles James Hodgson, of No. 406, Strand, chemist; and Joseph Gifford and Charles Linden, chemists, of No. 104, Strand, were severally charged upon similar informations.— The evidence was mainly the same as in the preceding cases, and the charges were either pleaded guilty to or fully proved. —The court said they should give judgment in the whole of the cases, but would take time to consider what mitigation of the penalties might, with justice to the revenue and the nature of the case, be made. I'm not sure what his fine or punishment was.

In 1848, one of the first "riots" occurred in Trafalgar Square - a protest about the new "Income Tax. There's a lot about it here



A Military Career for Richard Stringer Starkie



In 1859, the Queen’s Westminster Rifle volunteers were formed (coincidentally, my father's regiment in WW2), and Richard joined it, eventually serving for 26 years as a volunteer and retiring as a Major.


I also found this description of what it was like in a Victorian Chemist Shop - Not Starkies but similar.



It’s 1859, the height of the industrial revolution. Queen Victoria rules an empire that stretches from the Canadian plains to the lush jungles of India. Ports bustle with steam ships and clippers bringing tea from China, and smoking towns hum with the sound of spinning machines. In one cobbled street, as horses and carts thunder past, a druggist is opening his shop.

It’s a typical store: large shelves are occupied by gleaming jars containing the ingredients of the druggist’s trade. Whale oil is nestled against containers filled with calomel and camphor, while jars hiding lavender, coriander seeds and balsam of Peru occupy the shelf above. The colour of each glass container hints at the contents: a ruddy cobalt hue suggests a syrup, while a mysterious green indicates a poison.

In a secluded counter, out of reach of patrons, is an ornate, sealed jar containing medicinal leeches, in case a patient needs bleeding.

The polished mahogany of the main shop is scrupulously clean from hours of attentive burnishing and all available surfaces are occupied by items for sale. Lemonade, marking ink, tobacco and bullets – sold as ‘sporting ammunition’ – are displayed, while some items are tucked behind the counter for security. The air is thick with the rich smell of ingredients drifting from the dispensary; although patent medicines are sold, these are mostly for lower class customers who cannot afford the druggist to prepare their treatment himself. There is no National Health Service, and no such thing as a free prescription.

The first customers arrive and are greeted by a smartly dressed young man, hair slicked with pomade. It’s a typical day, so the druggist’s apprentice has been at work since 7 am. He won’t finish until at least 10 pm, when he’ll get his week’s wages – 20 shillings, about £75 in today’s money

Retreating to the dispensary, the apprentice presents the first prescription to his master, who studies it intently. There is no formal way of writing a prescription, and patients are often defined as “Mr Smith’s wife” or “Italian baby” rather than by name.

The first request is written, as usual, in the spidery hand of the local physician: “Tincturae jalaep, 3ss.; Magnesiae sulpatis, 3ij.; Infusi sennae, 2/3 iss.; misce fiat haustus cras manae sumendus.” The prescription is for a laxative, and relatively simple to decipher – ingredients and instructions are always written in Latin. Laxatives, or ‘purgatives’, are some of the most popular remedies sold in the shop as everyone knows they must be taken regularly to regulate the bowels. That said, everyone also ‘knows’ that diseases are caused by the foul-smelling miasma, or ‘bad air’ (Louis Pasteur will not publish his germ theory for another two years).

The druggist moves to his dispensary bench, laden with measures, scales and the latest apparatus. In one corner, a pestle and mortar await their first use of the day, while a few inches away sits a tincture press and a recipe book.

There is no supply chain other than for ingredients and patent cures: the druggist prepares most remedies to his own formula. If tablets are required, ingredients are taken from the jars, combined with an agent such as soap, rolled into a sausage and fed through a machine to create them. Sometimes sweeteners are added to lessen the taste of a bitter pill, and medicines for children often contain chocolate to disguise the taste

For this prescription, the druggist weighs out his ingredients on the scales: solid quantities are measured in grains (65mg), scruples (20 grains) and drams (3 scruples, with eight drams in an ounce). Liquids are measured in minims, fluid drams and fluid ounces.

The first prescription is finished and the order is passed back to the apprentice. Other prescriptions continue to arrive throughout the morning, all in Latin, requesting everything from trochiscus (lozenges) and charta (papers, to hold powders) to unguentum (ointment). Many treatments will not work. Infant mortality is high, and diseases such as cholera, tuberculosis, and typhoid are rampant. There are no antibiotics, and little sanitation.

Sundries and novelties

As the afternoon begins, the main shop is bustling, with the apprentice and the assistants hard at work with sales. In addition to the soaps and shaving foam, chemists’ sundries and novelties have also been sold. Earlier, a wealthy patron bought an apothecary cabinet – an elaborate medicine chest to use while abroad. Large sales are now conducted quickly: four years ago, the Bank of England introduced printed bank notes, so the customer no longer has to write the shop’s name and sign the note (like writing a cheque) to make a transaction. Occasionally, local physicians also visit the store to purchase scalpels and other instruments of the doctor’s trade.

As the afternoon trade begins to wind down, a small boy rushes into the shop, face caked in grime, and recites a request to the apprentice. The local sweet shop is out of daft – powdered limestone used to adulterate sweets. The druggist overhears the order and elects to fill the request personally. Last year, 20 people died when a druggist accidentally dispensed 12 pounds of arsenic, and he is cautious not to make the same mistake.

In the shop, as in any druggist's, poisons are freely available over the counter and are not kept in separate, locked cabinets. Some are also used in medicines, for example, bitter tonics containing strychnine to stimulate appetites and improve muscle tone. Laws governing the sale of poisons will not emerge for almost a decade, in 1868.

Night falls, although the shop remains open. Shadows flicker across the walls as the warm glow of flames behind glass globes illuminates the shop. Outside, the gas lamps are lit to guide travellers on their journey home. And, as the store’s clock chimes 10 pm, the front door is finally closed and bolted. Another working day for the druggist in Victorian Britain has been brought to an end




In 1860, Richard Stringer Starkie, now 32, lived in Teddington at Bloomfield Cottages (later called Bloomfield Villas) and was very keen on sailing on the Thames, possibly also having a shared ownership in a much larger sea-going yacht, “The Alice Maud” in Hull.

He was a member of two yacht clubs on the Thames, The Ranelagh Yacht Club and The Royal London Yacht Club.


Some time after 1856, the Ranelagh Yacht Club, flying a blue burgee with the letters "RYC" in white, and with headquarters at the "Swan" at Battersea, commenced racing between Battersea and Putney, its upper turning mark being opposite the then Lord Ranelagh's house at Fulham, just downriver of the old wooden bridge. These races continued until the construction of a succession of new bridges limited the Club's activities and led to its decline.


Bell's Life in London and Sporting Chronicle - Sunday 20 October 1861 also shows Richard as a boat owner and member of an even more prestigious club and still resident in Hampton Wick.

A 4 ton Yacht of the type Richard owned.

From 1863, an aside:-  Joshua Jebb

Sir Joshua Jebb, prominent in administering prisons, among other things, was taken ill on an omnibus and removed to James Starkie Chemist at 4 The Strand, where he died.

Later in 1863, James Starkie died, leaving an estate “less than £3,000” (about £500,000 in 2025) , and presumably his son Richard Stringer Starkie inherited the business. His military duties as a volunteer continue however, as the notice from 1862 confirms.

In 1864, Richard, in his military capacity as an expert shot, was invited by a company's agent to fire 100 rounds at 500 yards to test the rapid firing capabilities of a new weapon. (likely the Snider-Enfield) After the thirtieth round, the barrel got very hot, and whilst inserting a cartridge in the breech, it exploded in his face, and fired the remaining cartridges by his side, the result being that he was much burned, and narrowly escaped loss of sight. At a subsequent meeting of the English Twenty, the late Captain Field jokingly alluded to the victim of this accident as " the man with his head blown off.



 Below is their former Clubhouse in Wimbledon that served them for 125 years, but is now demolished; however, the English Twenty is still in Existence.

Another incident in Richard Stringer's life was this robbery.


Bell's Life in London and Sporting Chronicle - Saturday 11 November 1865


At the Middlesex Sessions, Jeremiah Connell, 19, blacksmith, was indicted for assaulting Richard Stringer Starkie, and violently stealing from his person a gold watch, one gold chain, and a locket, value £28, his property. The prosecutor said he lived at No. 4 Strand and carried out business as a chemist. About half-past seven on the evening of October, he was passing near the public baths in Endell Street, Long-Acre, when the prisoner rushed up to him, put one arm round his neck, and with the other tore his watch and chain violently away from his pocket, and then ran away. Witnesses pursued him. collared him, and asked him for the watch, and he said he had not got it. He told him to go with him to a constable, and he immediately slipped the waich into his hand. The witness, however, still retained his hold and gave the prisoner into custody. The jury having found the prisoner guilty, he was sentenced to hard labour for two years.


1866 He wins a shooting competition. It’s lucky for Jeremiah Connell he wasnt carrying a pistol the previous November.



He is also advertising for workers


Some time in the 1870’s RSS progressed from just having his shop at 4 The Strand to opening at 126 The Strand and also a ground-floor shop at the Grand Hotel, which was built over the demolished previous premises.  The new shop on the ground floor of the Hotel building with an entrance to both the Square and the Hotel is described as follows: “the ground floor has a central archivolt arched entrance and altered shop fronts articulated by polished granite pilasters carrying entablature.”

It is also mentioned that he still had a third shop, possibly 18 or 19, The Strand. 



1867. He is prominent in the Pharmaceutical Society - here helping to organise (in a very complex manner) a ball, but he is also one of many pharmacists challenging new government legislation.

 The  Chemical'  Ball.—

 A  ball will be held at  Willis's Rooms, King  Street, St. James's, on Wednesday next, January 10th, 1867, under the patronage and support of the leading members of the trade, the surplus of which will be given to the Benevolent Fund of the Pharmaceutical Society. 

Willis's Rooms

The following gentlemen have already consented to become stewards: — W.  R.  Barker,  Esq.,  James  Bass, Esq.,  W.  H.  Bell, Esq.,  Robt.  Bentley,  F.L.S.,  J.  Bourdas, Esq.,  Elias  Bremridge,  Esq.,  Chas.  Croydon,  Esq.,  Robt. Curtis,  Esq.,  Edward  Harvey,  Esq.,  A.  Hinton,  Esq., Theophilus  Redwood,  Ph.D.,  C.  H.  Savory,  Esq.,  W.  A. Tilden,  Esq.,  A.  C.  Trotman,  Esq.,  R.  S.  Starkie,  Esq., and  R.  B.  Warwick,  Esq.

Tickets, including supper, wine, and refreshments during the evening, Lady's: ls  6d., Gentlemen's: 15s.  Coote and Tinney's band will be in attendance.  It gives us great pleasure to draw attention to the above.  No pains have been spared to make the gathering thoroughly respectable. Each ticket is countersigned by a steward, who is responsible for the holder, and tickets are only issued to persons who are in some way known to those who have undertaken the management of the affair.  It promises to be very successful, and it is to be hoped that it will be the first of an annual series.  With a conference in the summer and a ball in the winter,  something must be done towards breaking down exclusiveness and jealousy, and establishing a kindly feeling amongst those following a common calling.


London Evening Standard - Tuesday 27 January 1874

Death: STARKIE.— At No. 4, Strand, Mrs. Starkie, widow of James Starkie, in her 84th year.

On 22nd August 1877, Richard Stringer Starkie and Elizabeth Ann Horne were married. Richard is 23 years older than his bride, who is 26.

 Elizabeth was born in 1851 in Smiths Passage, Cambridge (which was somewhere along Corn Market St) to Thomas and Amelia. Thomas was a waiter, but I haven’t been able to find any more details about his wife.

1880 Here are some views of Trafalgar Square in 1880 and the inside of the Hotel


These are some of the other shops along the ground floor of the Grand Hotel


1 & 2 B Gibb & Son Co, Tailors

3 Keith, Prowse & Co Ltd, Musical Instrument Makers

4 & 3A W R Deighton & Sons Ltd, Printsellers

5 Joshua Turner, Hat & Cap Maker

6 S Smith & Son Ltd, Jewellers

7 Richard Stringer Starkie, Chemist

8 J Jackson & Sons, Bankers

9 & 10 H R Randall  Limited, Boot & Shoe Makers



1881 Richard Stringer Starkie and Elizabeth, his wife, were living above the shop at 126 Strand. The Grand Hotel had only opened in 1880, and Richard later explained at the Old Bailey that “no one lives in the shop; it is under the Grand Hotel”.


Enter Jane Starkie, nee Tavener

In the 1881 Census, Jane Taverner- the future second Mrs Starkie - was working at The Queens Head, 64 Theobalds Road, Holborn WC1, as a Barmaid.

She was born in Kingsbury, Somerset, in 1857 to Thomas, who seems to have been a farmer, and Elizabeth. In 1861, at age 4, the family was living in Stembridge. Jane is the youngest of 10 children!

Her sister Honor is 10, and Elizabeth is 4, both later mentioned in her will as executors and beneficiaries.

In 1871, aged 16, she was still living at home in Stembridge - her father now described as a “Farmer of 40 acres”.

Then in the 1881 Census we find her as a "live-in barmaid" at The Queens Head in Theobolds Road, Holborn,

William Hunt         69 Licensed Victualler         Southwark

Jane Macnamara         36 General Servant Domestic         ?

Mary Parker Hunt 31 Daughter, Housekeeper Newington

William Geo. Hunt 29 Son, Manager of His Fathers Tavern Newington

Annie L. Andrews 27 Barmaid         Woolwich

Jane Taverner         23 Barmaid         Kingsbury,

Sarah Rogers                 21 Barmaid         Rotherhithe


In 1882, the building of the Grand Hotel began. It was built between 1882 and 1887 and had seven floors, 500 rooms, and a large ballroom. The building served as a hotel until the First World War, when it was used by the war office for the accommodation of military officers.

Allen's Indian Mail - Thursday, 31 August 1882

 This advert shows another feather in their bow. Sales to folks heading out to the colonies


At this time he is shown on the electoral roll as sill living in Hampton Wick



In 1887, a demonstration in Trafalgar Square on the 13th of November, known as “Bloody Sunday,” turned into a riot, with the police attacking the protestors. Eleanor Marx, Annie Besant, William Morris, and George Bernard Shaw – all these giants of the early British labour movement converged on Trafalgar Square today in 1887.

They marched there with a crowd of at least 10,000 working-class Londoners.

It was a protest against soaring unemployment in the city as well as the ruling Tory government’s coercive treatment of Ireland (many workers in the contemporary East End were Irish).

 

Richard later appeared at the Old Bailey to state that

“I am a chemist, and one of my shops is 7, Grand Hotel Buildings, Charing Cross, which faces the S. E. corner of Trafalgar Square—on Sunday afternoon, November 13th, I went to the Square about 4 o’clock from the Strand—I found great difficulty in getting to my shop—the mounted police were trying to disperse the crowd that choked the Strand, and as they returned, pieces of stick and a few stones were thrown at them, and there was hooting and booing at them—I got just up to my shop—my plate-glass windows are not protected by shutters, and about 6 o’clock one of my windows was smashed.”

   

1889 Richards' first wife, Elizabeth Starkie, nee Horne, dies in the first quarter of the year, aged 38.


1890 A view of Strand.


1891 In the April census, Jane Taverner is recorded as a “Visitor” at 126 Strand, aged 35, 


Later that year, on 22nd July, Jane Taverner, aged 35, married Richard Stringer Starkie, aged 63


BYy1893, Richard and his wife and assistants are all on the electoral roll as living at 126 The Strand, rather than Bloomfield Cottage/Bloomfield Villa, Teddington, as previously



1895 shows Richard Starkie beng a good citizen, together with a nearby neighbour Edmund Pallant, a surgical instrument maker at 292 The Strand, as appointed to be managers of a local school. In 1903, it had 595 pupils, and from this nurse's testimony in 1898, it was progressively run.

"An amusing account was a nurse's confession that before she took up school work she had regarded the teachers with dread and ever expected to see them cane in hand The splendid humanity of the staff at the Vere Street school had quite dispelled this illusion A kettle of hot water a basin and a cup are all that the school need supply to help the nurse in her work but of course without the co operation of the teachers she can do nothing But that co operation has never failed her, the teachers are only too glad that the unfortunate little children under their charge should have the benefit of the nurse's kind ministrations. From the boys department, we went down to the girls and then to the infants department. In all 26 children were seen in 14 hours."


In 1900 The relief of Mafeking sparked an enormous outburst of joy all over London, but especially in Trafalgar Square




The next Census in 1901, shows those living at 126 The Strand,as 


Richard S Starkie 73, Pharmaceutical Chemist

Jane Starkie                44, Wife

Elizabeth M Furzland         25 Servant

Thomas E Wrather         27, Pharmaceutical Chemist

William P Little         23, Pharmaceutical Chemist


Come 1902, the business obtained a licence to sell Wine and Spirits in the Hotel which had caused them a two pound fine in a previous year.


In 1906, phone numbers first appear in adverts for the shops, they are 13372 (Grand Hotel) 11839 (126 Strand)   


More excitement in 1906 with yet more police activity.


Globe - Thursday 04 January 1906 

AMERICAN “DOCTOR” CHARGED WITH ROBBING STRAND CHEMIST. 


Charles Percy White, 32, a respectably dressed man, who described himself as a medical practitioner, of Melite, Walton-on-Thames, was charged at Bow-street to-day with stealing two half-sovereigns, the property of Mr. Richard Stringer Starkie, chemist, Grand Hotel Buildings, Charing Cross.—Alfred Rose, an assistant to Mr. Starkie, said that the prisoner went to the shop at twenty minutes past nine o'clock on Wednesday night, and wrote out a prescription. The witness took the prescription into the dispensing room, and while he was there, he heard a " click." Returning hurriedly to the shop, he saw the prisoner coming from behind the counter. When he saw the witness, he remarked, "That's a fine spiral staircase you have there." Witness's suspicions were aroused, and on going to the till, he missed two half-sovereigns. He called the porter from below and told him to remain at the door while the witness went for a policeman. On hearing this, the prisoner said, If you don't look sharp, I will go for a constable myself." When the constable arrived the prisoner said, " Surely you don't accuse me of taking the money." He afterwards gave the constable a visiting card which did not bear the name that he had written on the prescription, and the witness subsequently charged him at Bow Street.

P.C. 64 E said that when he was called to the shop, the prisoner said, " I admit being behind the counter. I went there to see the prescription made up." When he was searched at the police station, he had 3s. in his trousers pocket, and two half-sovereigns and a Colonial coin in his vest pocket.—Mr. Ludlow (who defended) reserved his cross-examination and applied for a remand. The prisoner, he said, was a respectable medical man, and he hoped the magistrate would grant bail.—Sir Albert de Rutzen said he would grant bail if the prisoner's name appeared in the British Medical Register. —Mr. Ludlow said he was afraid it did not, but according to his instructions, he held an American diploma.—The prisoner was remanded in custody.



The Daily Mirror, 11 February 1907

Eva Gore-Booth addressing a rally at Trafalgar Square, part of the Mud March


1908 I couldn't resist adding this - neighbours of 126 at 138  The People's Teeth Association.



1911 in the April Census: 

Those living at 126 The Strand are 


Richard Starkie 83 

Jane Starkie,         50 

Assistants: 

John Barnett Smith, 25

and Victor Bottomley   26

Porter: Arthur Grant 36 

Servent: Ann Grant 36



From the Daily Mirror - Monday 20 February 1911, a patent medicine advert mentioning the Starkie shop.

Sadly, on the 4th August 1911 poor Richard Stringer Starkie dies

All claimants to his estate should address themselves to Woolley and Whitfield, solicitors..

He leaves  £ 2.5 million, approx in today's terms, to his widow Jane


1912

On the 1st of March, 1912, windows in a large number of shops in Westminster were deliberately smashed by women trying to get attention for their struggle to get the vote. And attention is what they got. The Manchester Guardian reported on the disturbance the next day with a triple headline, “Militant suffragists. | Window-smashing raid in the West End. | Mrs. Parkhurst arrested.” Emmeline Parkhurst was, however, not arrested for breaking shop windows; she went one better and, with two other women, went to 10 Downing Street and broke the windows of Asquith’s residence. As we now know, it still took several more years for the final granting of their wishes, but the noise they made in 1912 certainly made everybody sit up.

Among the shops that were attacked was the chemist's shop of R S Starkie at 126 Strand

1913 on 15 May 1913. A bomb was planted in the public area of Trafalgar Square outside the National Gallery, but failed to explode

1914 

The words Richard Stringer Starkie can be seen on an awning at The Grand Hotel in Trafalgar Square. Also, that year, Jane, now the owner of the shops, is advertising for new workers.

QUALIFIED  Assistant wanted soon after Christmas, to sleep in: capable Salesman and Dispenser. Call  or send full particulars to R. S. Starkie, 126 Strand, W.C.1

On 4 April 1914. A bomb exploded inside St Martin in the Field, blowing out the windows and showering passers-by with broken glass. The bomb then started a fire. In the aftermath, a mass of people rushed to the scene, many of whom aggressively expressed their anger towards the suffragettes. 

Churches were a particular target during the campaign, as it was believed that the Church of England was complicit in reinforcing opposition to women's suffrage. Between 1913 and 1914 thirty-two churches were attacked nationwide. In the weeks after the bombing, there were also attacks on Westminster Abbey and St Paul's Cathedral

On August 2nd 1914 At least 10,000 protesters marched in from several directions, and around 30,000 other spectators surrounded Trafalgar Square. Approximately 2,000 police and 400 troops were deployed to halt the demonstration, which is when the violence began. Clashes between police and demonstrators escalated with many armed with iron bars, knives, pokers, and gas pipes. In the fighting, many rioters were injured by police truncheons and under the hooves of police horses. A report noted that 400 people were arrested, 75 were badly injured – including many police, and there were two deaths. The consensus from the police was that stronger truncheons were needed as so many broke in the riots. For activists, though, Bloody Sunday would be remembered as a heavy-handed act of repression

Keir Hardie calls for peace

but.........
Recruitment for World War I was taking place in London’s Trafalgar Square, 1914.

The Grand Hotel was taken over by the Ministry of Munitions as well as serving as a hotel for military officers. It stayed that way till 1919.
What being "taken over" by the military could look like.


1915 Jane is shown living at 126 The Strand in yet another court case.

George Henry Russell, employed as manager of R S Starkie Chemists, pleaded not guilty to having embezzled £23.10s, but admitted having, without intent to defraud, omitted certain accounts.

The defendant worked for Mr. Starkie from 1906 until he died in 1911. The defendant took on the entire business to enable Mr. Starkie to live in comfort during his last few years, After the previous manager's death, the defendant managed the two shops and worked to wind up the deceased's affairs and dispose of accumulated and out-of-fashion stock; thus, his role became more prominent than that of an ordinary servant due to these circumstances.


May 8 1915


WANTED at once, a qualified Assistant, experienced and good Salesman, to sleep indoors, separate sitting-room; board out. Apply, if by letter, enclose a photo (!)  (to be returned), or personally, to  R.  S.  Starkie,  126  Strand.


Winston Churchill was a good customer of the shop. Here is a long and detailed receipt of his purchases from 1915. Wish I could see more clearly what the medicines were; he was noted for his war on lice.

Also in 1915, bombs fell on the Strand.

The Zepellin, L15's raid on the evening of 13 October 1915 One device struck the rear of the Lyceum Theatre in Exeter Street, and another blew a hole in Wellington Street, killing 17 and setting alight a gas main. Other bombs fell outside the entrances to the Strand Theatre and the Waldorf Hotel.



1916

Another air raid, this time from Gotha bombers

The first night-time raid on London by Gothas on 4 September 1917 resulted in four bombs being dropped around Charing Cross station (i.e., on or near the Strand). The damage to the obelisk and plinth of Cleopatra's Needle is still visible.

Two Gothas, but in daylight

1917


Selling war bonds from a tank in Trafalgar Square 1917 and a newspaper vendor



1918 Jane is shown in some documents living at 7 George Court off the Strand - though this may be confused with 7 The Grand Hotel.


In October 1918, London’s Trafalgar Square was transformed into a facsimile of a battlefield in France. Hoardings painted to look like the scenery of the front surrounded a large area in which trenches were constructed alongside the apparent ruins of a French village. Lamp posts were altered to look like shell-shattered trees. Spectators could move through the trenches themselves, look at gun emplacements fitted with actual guns, and (if they bought war bonds) climb inside a tank which had seen action at the Front. This display, mounted in conjunction with ‘Feed the Guns’ week, was one of many multimedia shows of different kinds attempting to depict the war as the fighting continued.



In 1919 Jane is on an electoral roll at 126 The Strand


In 1920 problems with “profiteering” at the shop saw the Starkie name back in the courts.

In 1921, Jane is once again registered to vote at 126 The Strand, this time with two live-in employees.


Jane Starkie        65 Years 6 Months Head

Grace Crowther, 27 Years 2 Months Servant

Paul E Crowther        25         Porter


1921 More legal action, Jane Starkie, trading as R. S. Starkie, chemist, Strand, pleaded guilty to selling camphorated oil which was deficient in camphor, and was fined £ 5. The analyst's certificate showed the sample to be composed of only 82.1 per cent Camphor oil.


1922 She is still registered to vote at 126 The Strand, but in 1923 she is shown living by herself at 37 Circus Rd, St. John's Wood. A future resident, Faith Robinson, who lived there from 1959, has left a little memoir of the house here.




Then, and the entire reason I have looked into all these lives and events, in 1924 at 37 Circus Rd, she is shown as living with my great uncle, Abraham John Garner, who would have then been 58, and Jane 68.



Then in 1925, she is back living alone at 37 Circus Rd, but registered to vote at the shop in the Grand Hotel. Why my Great Uncle was with her for that time is a mystery

1926 Heart failure was given at the Paddington inquest as the cause of the sudden death of Jane Starkie, aged 72, of 37, Circus Road, St. John's Wood, who collapsed on Sunday while sitting in a chair in the dining room and was found by Dr. Pearson to be dead.

Re Mrs. Jane Starkie. deceased.

NORTH FINCHLEY AND ST. JOHN'S WOOD. MESSRS. W HEELER & ATKINS are instructed to SELL by AUCTION at the LONDON AUCTION MART, 156 Queen Victoria Street, E.C., on I WEDNESDAY, 9th JUNE. 1926, at 2.30 p.m., the following FREEHOLD PROPERTIES:-

46 WOODSIDE PARK ROAD, North Finchley.—Semi-detached house, containing 10 rooms and two bathrooms. Let at £7O p.a.

49 Woodside Park Rd - 46 has been demolished.

37 CIRCUS ROAD, St. John's Wood. —A detached house, containing 8 rooms and a bathroom. The ground is nearly a quarter of an acre. WITH VACANT POSSESSION.

Full particulars and orders to view of the Auctioneers, Messrs. Wheeler and Atkins, 1 Sydney Street, Chelsea, S.W. 3 (Kensington 1687) and 4 Harwood Road, Waltman Green (Putney 2419), and of the SOLICITORS, Messrs. Woolley and Whitfield, 1 Great Winchester Street, E.C. 2. 537



That's £3.3 million today!


The executors (and likely benefactors) of the will are two of her sisters, Honor and Elizabeth - nothing goes to any of the Starkie family (or my Great Uncle!)


Honor Perren was born Taverner in 1847 in Kingsbury, Somerset

On April 2, 1911, she was living at St James Street, South Petherton, Somerset, England . She is  64 and living with her is her niece, Sarah Ann Best, who is 29.

(“Honor Taverner”, her mother and namesake, was born in 1790 in a place called Axbridge. She died on January  8th, 1874, in Wedmore, Somerset, England)


This is Cotham Villas, where Elizabeth Best lived in 1926. She was born Elizabeth Hannah Taverner in 1854 in Kinsbury. Married to Charles Best and with nine children, including Sarah Ann




October 2, 2002 Nancy's advice to Cancer patients.

    October 2, 2002 Nancy's advice to Cancer patients. Dear J and J, Please excuse this computered letter; you are being spared my handw...