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Fred Jackson

My father, Fred Jackson ISO, QFSM, CPM, who died in December aged 85, was a dedicated and exemplary fire officer, initially in the Doncaster Brigade and subsequently in Hong Kong, where he held a number of senior positions, both operational and in Fire Prevention, for nearly three decades, during which the city and brigade itself grew exponentially and experienced huge social, political and economic upheavals.

During World War II, he served in the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve and found himself at Juno Beach on D-Day. Both during his navy and his fire services career, he was decorated several times for distinguished service, most notably in 1968, when he was awarded His Excellency, the Governor of Hong Kong’s lanyard for outstanding
Gallantry during the 1967 Communist uprising and riots. In 1982, he was awarded the prestigious Imperial Service Order by the Queen for long and meritorious service to the British Empire.

Fred was born in 1923 in a tiny hamlet on the edge of the South Yorkshire coalfield. My grandfather, Cecil, was still a dairyman then but the pit at Askern would soon dominate the local economy. My grandmother, Violet, née Spink, went on to have another 10 children: Sidney; Charles, William Arthur; Anne Cecilia; Eric; Cecil; Stuart; Violet; Michael and Norma – the latter and brother Eric both died as infants of pneumonia. Both of Dad’s sisters and brothers Bill and Michael survive him.

My grandfather tended to the pit ponies and Dad’s bi-annual trip underground to bring them out for their brief respite in the fresh air convinced him that a miner’s life was not for him. Despite fierce paternal opposition, he escaped the pit by joining the Navy and swiftly, despite a truncated formal education, became a commissioned officer.

In 1944, he found himself accompanying the Canadian tanks across to Juno Beach on D-Day and celebrated his 21st birthday on a battered landing craft, negotiating the choppy Channel waters on his way back to England. My mother clearly fell for this smart, wind-burnished chap in uniform and they were married in October 1946

Dad then joined the Fire Brigade in Doncaster and in 1956, he and my mother left for an initial three year contract in Hong Kong, a move rather braver than any gap year student with a mobile phone and laptop might now be able to fully comprehend.

My parents both loved the colonial lifestyle and tropical weather and Dad endeared himself to his men by learning to speak Cantonese (albeit retaining his distinctive Yorkshire accent). He was an enthusiastic member of the Society of Yorkshiremen in Hong Kong, of the Royal Hong Kong Golf Club and the United Services Recreation Club where he discovered a latent talent for lawn bowls. With a generous gift to the Officers Mess in Canton Road of a full-size billiard table, he introduced his men to the joys of snooker and pool – promptly winning the first Brigade tournament.

During the 1967 Riots, several policemen and their fire brigade counterparts lost their lives in the violence. Fred, then posted to Kowloon Mainland, remained at the Command HQ for days on end, leading by example. The Fire Brigade, which also supervised the Ambulance Service, was very much on the frontline for every kind of emergency in the fast-growing colony and Dad soon became an expert on factory fires of all kinds, ship fires, chemical fires, fire fighting in high rise buildings (his favourite film was ‘The Towering Inferno’) and on the many complications caused regularly by the heavy summer rains and typhoons which hit the territory every year.

In June 1972, he was the senior officer supervising the rescue after the collapse in heavy rain of an entire hillside in Mid-levels on Hong Kong island on top of a 12-storey block of apartments. Although 67 people lost their lives, more than twice that number were literally excavated from the ruins; many of them stayed in close contact with Dad for several years thereafter. He also kept in close touch with several of his local Chinese officers after leaving Hong Kong. His efforts to speak the language, his genuine enchantment with Oriental culture and his fondness for traditional Chinese customs, not least the regular festivals and the exotic food, made him a firm favourite.

Dad’s Yorkshire candour and open, generous nature made him an obvious candidate to represent the human face of the brigade and he soon became an early version of what we would now call a ‘talking head’, frequently summoned by the local radio and television stations to explain particular problems or to articulate brigade policy or advice in a rather more human and comprehensible way.

Like so many colleagues, Dad felt an unshakeable bond with his fellow fire fighters and many of our family holidays abroad were spent trailing into fire stations all over the world for Dad to introduce himself – invariably to a warm welcome, a tour of the latest appliances and a few beers and an animated exchange of pennants, badges, stickers and helmets – all of which were then proudly displayed in his study back home in Yorkshire. After 9/11, Dad wrote personal letters of condolence to the station commanders of every fire house which had lost men in the Twin Towers; a total of 343 members of the FDNY lost their lives – a sobering thought which should remind us how fire fighters put their lives on the line in the call of duty every day.

Dad had a particular gift for friendship and it is a source of great sadness to me that he never managed to master the internet and e-mail, instead preferring his fountain pen for his regular missives – most notably his notorious Christmas card list - to friends all over the world whom he had met on his wide travels. After his retirement in 1985, he would organise huge international trips on which he rarely had to stay in hotels; he was usually able to catch up with friends and former colleagues.

Sadly, Dad’s final months were blighted by a diagnosis of a fairly rare condition: Dementia with Lewy Bodies, which, although not yet fully understood, seems to combine the worst elements of both Parkinsons and Alzheimers. Difficult as it is to watch someone you love and who was once so very vital, thus cruelly diminished, I often found it comforting that Dad’s vivid hallucinations – a key symptom of DLB – usually took him back to Hong Kong or to his Navy days and that very often he clearly saw my late brother, Rory, sitting amiably at the foot of his bed.

We are holding a service of Thanksgiving for and Celebration of Dad’s life on Friday 8th May, at St Joseph’s church in Pontefract where my parents were married, after which his ashes will be interred in my mother’s grave, alongside those of my late brother, Rory.

Dad wanted any donations in his memory to go the Fire Fighters Charity or to the Mission to Seafarers. You can find out more, both about the charities and about Fred on our justgiving.com page.

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Comments

Linda Newman writes [9th January 2010]:

Hi Dominique & Rory -
Your tribute to Fred is wonderful. I hope to be able to find the words soon to contribute something in my father's memory. I'm sorry my dad Gordon (Bill) Doore wasn't able to send his condolences etc personally but was too ill himself at the time. He finally gave up the struggle in July 2009. I know how much he respected and admired Fred. I'm much older than you two, and had the pleasure of knowing your mum & dad for quite some time. They were very kind to me, & I have ... [read more from Linda Newman]

Mark Tarrant writes [31st July 2009]:

I went to KGV School in Hong Kong with Fred's son, Rory Jackson. Rory was a kind-hearted soul and he would often venture up to our bungalow in Sha Tin to see my mother's many animals including ponies, dogs, our monkey and cockatoo. I met Fred several times when I would visit Rory's flat in Caldecott. Rory was always proud of his father's achievements as a Fire Officer in HK. As a young teenager (as I also was) Rory expressed a deep sadness in his mother's death which occured when Rory was very young. ... [read more from Mark Tarrant]

Barbara Philip writes [25th May 2009]:

Hi Dominique

I met your Dad in NZ when he visited my parents ( Margaret & Graham Reid). He was a character and I am sure you wlll miss him. I heard all about you and Rory from my parents and Fred and almost felt like I knew you.

Colin Naylor writes [7th May 2009]:

Would just like to say Fred was a gent and would always cross the street just to say hello and shake my hand and always asked how the whole of the family was .

Keith Rhodes writes [6th May 2009]:

I knew Fred in Hong Kong as a member of the Society of Yorkshiremen. He was a very nice man and was popular with all who met him. Both Fred and I were members of the Yorkshire cricket team in the colony and nothing was better than when we beat the Lancastrians - which we usually did !

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