Today in Kimberley's History
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George Labram killed by Boer shell - 1900
On 9 February 1900 George Frederick Labram, manufacturer of a cannon popularly known as 'Long Cecil' in the De Beers' workshop in Kimberley, was killed by a shell from a Boer 'Long Tom' cannon during the siege of Kimberley. Labram, who was chief mechanical engineer at the De Beers Consolidated Mines, manufactured the gun from steel shafting. Within twenty-four days it was shelling the Boer lines. Labram was one of the defendants when Kimberley was under siege by the Boers during Anglo-Boer War 2. He died only a few days before the siege was lifted.
(Source: SAHistory.org.za)
On 9 February 1900 George Frederick Labram, manufacturer of a cannon popularly known as 'Long Cecil' in the De Beers' workshop in Kimberley, was killed by a shell from a Boer 'Long Tom' cannon during the siege of Kimberley. Labram, who was chief mechanical engineer at the De Beers Consolidated Mines, manufactured the gun from steel shafting. Within twenty-four days it was shelling the Boer lines. Labram was one of the defendants when Kimberley was under siege by the Boers during Anglo-Boer War 2. He died only a few days before the siege was lifted.
(Source: SAHistory.org.za)
117 days since beginning of the Siege of Kimberley, 1900
Extract from "The Diary of a Doctor's Wife – During the Siege of Kimberley October 1899 to February 1900" by Winifred Heberden.
Our good night's rest was rudely broken by the big gun booming in our ears, and everyone hastily dressed - Reggie performing his 'toilette' in the Smoking Room!
The unfortunate people at the Meat Market fled back to their homes without waiting for their rations.
A Miss Mallett had a narrow escape. She was lying in her bed and a servant came to her door for orders, so she turned round and sat on the edge of her bed. Hardly had she done so when a large piece of one of the big shells fell through the end of her bed to the room below.
Our hotel, being in the line of fire from Kamfersdam to the Central and principal part of Kimberley, we hear the horrid sound of almost every shell whirring over our heads, and, instinctively, 'duck', not knowing whether it is to fall on us, or perhaps a mile away.
The gun is generally turned to a fresh target after five or six shells, so when our share has dropped round us we breathe again for a while.
This excitement continued with two silent periods of about 1.5 hours till 6 p.m. When the very last shell fell it struck the roof of our hotel, passed at an angle through three walls, bursting right into Mr Labram's room, where the poor fellow had only that moment entered to dress to dine with Mr Rhodes. A Coloured boy was in the room, having brought in fresh water. He says that Mr Labram came in and was taking off his coat as the shell struck him. The boy was thrown down uninjured! Nearly everybody else in the hotel was in the basement. The women and children in the Smoke Room, which is exactly two floors under Mr Labram's room; so this occurred literally over our heads.
The crash was something awful. Mr Labram's hat was blown out of the window, so Jack went straight up. He saw no sign of anyone, so came down again, much relieved, and said that Mr Labram was not there.
Presently a policeman, who was pushing out loose bricks, stepped on something and called out to say there was a man there. Jack, and one or two others, ran up again and found the poor body, partly dismembered, and quite unrecognisable, covered with bricks and mortar, and splinters of shell and wood. The wall of the room gaping with a hole 8 feet wide, the doors smashed, and windows blown outwards.
The terrible work of placing the remains in the ambulance was done as quickly as possible, whilst we remained in the Smoke Room with the blinds drawn down, and the children unconsciously playing round us.
The Boers seemed to know that they had taken the life of the one man who mattered so much to us, and who had helped us against them so splendidly with his hands and his brain for they ceased firing entirely. And the ambulance slowly went down to the Hospital Mortuary, and past the crowd of sorrowful people who had already heard the tragic news. And we are left with the sad reflection that had Mr Labram come to us for a chat and a cup of cocoa, as was his custom when returning from his office, instead of rushing up to his room to change for his dinner appointment with Mr Rhodes, his life might have been spared.
Everybody was too unnerved to sleep upstairs. So the women and children crowded into the lowest rooms and the men slept in the halls and passages or, rather, tried to sleep, for no one could feel relaxed after the last terrible shock.
Extract from "The Diary of a Doctor's Wife – During the Siege of Kimberley October 1899 to February 1900" by Winifred Heberden.
Our good night's rest was rudely broken by the big gun booming in our ears, and everyone hastily dressed - Reggie performing his 'toilette' in the Smoking Room!
The unfortunate people at the Meat Market fled back to their homes without waiting for their rations.
A Miss Mallett had a narrow escape. She was lying in her bed and a servant came to her door for orders, so she turned round and sat on the edge of her bed. Hardly had she done so when a large piece of one of the big shells fell through the end of her bed to the room below.
Our hotel, being in the line of fire from Kamfersdam to the Central and principal part of Kimberley, we hear the horrid sound of almost every shell whirring over our heads, and, instinctively, 'duck', not knowing whether it is to fall on us, or perhaps a mile away.
The gun is generally turned to a fresh target after five or six shells, so when our share has dropped round us we breathe again for a while.
This excitement continued with two silent periods of about 1.5 hours till 6 p.m. When the very last shell fell it struck the roof of our hotel, passed at an angle through three walls, bursting right into Mr Labram's room, where the poor fellow had only that moment entered to dress to dine with Mr Rhodes. A Coloured boy was in the room, having brought in fresh water. He says that Mr Labram came in and was taking off his coat as the shell struck him. The boy was thrown down uninjured! Nearly everybody else in the hotel was in the basement. The women and children in the Smoke Room, which is exactly two floors under Mr Labram's room; so this occurred literally over our heads.
The crash was something awful. Mr Labram's hat was blown out of the window, so Jack went straight up. He saw no sign of anyone, so came down again, much relieved, and said that Mr Labram was not there.
Presently a policeman, who was pushing out loose bricks, stepped on something and called out to say there was a man there. Jack, and one or two others, ran up again and found the poor body, partly dismembered, and quite unrecognisable, covered with bricks and mortar, and splinters of shell and wood. The wall of the room gaping with a hole 8 feet wide, the doors smashed, and windows blown outwards.
The terrible work of placing the remains in the ambulance was done as quickly as possible, whilst we remained in the Smoke Room with the blinds drawn down, and the children unconsciously playing round us.
The Boers seemed to know that they had taken the life of the one man who mattered so much to us, and who had helped us against them so splendidly with his hands and his brain for they ceased firing entirely. And the ambulance slowly went down to the Hospital Mortuary, and past the crowd of sorrowful people who had already heard the tragic news. And we are left with the sad reflection that had Mr Labram come to us for a chat and a cup of cocoa, as was his custom when returning from his office, instead of rushing up to his room to change for his dinner appointment with Mr Rhodes, his life might have been spared.
Everybody was too unnerved to sleep upstairs. So the women and children crowded into the lowest rooms and the men slept in the halls and passages or, rather, tried to sleep, for no one could feel relaxed after the last terrible shock.
Sophiatown residents are forcefully moved to Soweto - 1955
It was in the early hours on 9 February 1955 when around 2 000 policemen, armed with guns, knobkerries and rifles, forcefully moved the families of Sophiatown to Meadowlands, Soweto. Their possessions were loaded at the back of police trucks, and dumped in Meadowlands where they were forced to stay. With their children, these families were exposed to cold and rainy weather conditions. According to a notice, residents were supposed to be moved on 12 February 1955, but the government caught them by surprise. The forced removals were part of the government's countrywide apartheid plan to turn the residential and business areas of cities and towns white. A new, white suburb was built on the ruins of Sophiatown and named Triomf, which translates to “triumph”. In June of the same year (1955), the Freedom Charter was adopted at Kliptown, where Africans, Indians, Coloured and Whites came together in a dramatic event that took two days. In 2006 Sophiatown was renamed by Johannesburg Mayor Amos Masondo.
It was in the early hours on 9 February 1955 when around 2 000 policemen, armed with guns, knobkerries and rifles, forcefully moved the families of Sophiatown to Meadowlands, Soweto. Their possessions were loaded at the back of police trucks, and dumped in Meadowlands where they were forced to stay. With their children, these families were exposed to cold and rainy weather conditions. According to a notice, residents were supposed to be moved on 12 February 1955, but the government caught them by surprise. The forced removals were part of the government's countrywide apartheid plan to turn the residential and business areas of cities and towns white. A new, white suburb was built on the ruins of Sophiatown and named Triomf, which translates to “triumph”. In June of the same year (1955), the Freedom Charter was adopted at Kliptown, where Africans, Indians, Coloured and Whites came together in a dramatic event that took two days. In 2006 Sophiatown was renamed by Johannesburg Mayor Amos Masondo.