Made for a Child: The Romance of Rumples Rig the Railway Man

A dad made this manuscript for his little son in 1921 and Ian Dooley wrote it up shortly after it was received.  It’s a delight, whether you like trains, working class heroes who triumph over their superiors, or appreciate the talent of anonymous author/illustrators.  I’m reposting it, with a few changes, hoping that one of Cecil’s descendants will come across it and solve the mystery of its origins!

Front cover

Front cover. The Romance of Rumples Rig Railwayman Manuscript. [Wargrave, 1921]. (Cotsen)

Acquired nearly ten years ago (item no. 6814899), this manuscript picture book was made as a Christmas gift by “Daddie” for his little son Cecil in 1921.  It’s a funny story, involving chance encounters, romance, and upward mobility illustrated with 21 humorous hand-colored illustrations by the author.  If you look closely, you can see that the author first wrote in pencil and then retraced it in black ink.

With the scene set, let’s let the story speak for itself:

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title-page

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35-3637-38There’s one other interesting feature of the manuscript, its bookplate:

Pasted onto the inside front cover, the bookplate answers some questions about the history of this piece and raises a few more.  I was able to establish that the acronym “G.W.R.” stands for “Great Western Railway” and that “Wargrave” refers to a village in Berkshire county, southeast England. The now defunct G.W.R. (founded 1833, nationalized at the end of 1947) opened a railway station in the small town of Wargrave in 1900.  The platform still stands, but the station building was demolished in 1988.

At some point between 1921 and 1947, Cecil, or someone he knew, seems to have given the manuscript over to the station, although it’s hard to imagine that the station had a library.  Who had the label printed up and put in the manuscript?

So why would Wargrave train station have this item?

The story was actually set in the station. If you look closely at the second page (the first illustration after the title-page), you can just make out “GWR” written at the top of one of the papers on Rumples’ office wall.  I think it’s safe to assume that the author’s knowledge of the GWR, and the railroad goods office in particular, probably suggests that Rumples might be semi-autobiographical. This might explain why it was donated to the station.

I am guessing that the author probably worked in the goods office at Wargrave station, where he could not help fantasizing about kicking his boss in the bum, getting a boat and a bike, and providing a better home for his children.  He put them into his little gift to his son Cecil during the Christmas of 1921.  What would he have thought to learn that his present 93 years late traveled over the pond and has become part of the collection of manuscripts in the collection of the Cotsen Children’s Library?

Build a Sandcastle to Send Off Summer

Many schools open before Labor Day now.  As is often the case, the change may be eminently practical, but downgrades the importance of an old marker of the passing year, the last long holiday weekend until Thanksgiving.  The final weekend of freedom was bittersweet, with gloomy thoughts of the looming imprisonment brightened only by the prospect of having new clothes and tight new shoes to wear the first day of class (if one were a girl, anyway).

Two delightful picture books pay tribute to sand as a building material for summertime imaginative play—Israeli author/illustrator Einat Tsarfati’s Sandcastle (2018; American translation published by Candlewick Press, c.2020, Sommerville, MA) and Peter Bentley’s Captain Jack and the Pirates illustrated by Helen Oxenbury (New York: Dial, 2016).   In Tsarfati, a girl is the architect of a fantastic palace; in Bentley a trio of boys build a ship out of whatever they have at hand.

A redhead with a red shovel, green pail, and sun hat walks by the multitudes on towels baking at the beach, ignoring the picnickers, gamers, readers, mermaids, babies, witches, and snorkelers.  She gives the shoreline a quick look, then kneels and gets to work.  Her creation is at least four stories high and its roof line with multiple turrets, spires, and domes is a sandy Chambord with spectacular ocean views.

Any king or queen worth a crown to flock to see the castle, with the royal children and corgies in tow. (A few people on the beach sneak in too.) The visitors dance the night away, refreshed by unlimited dollops of ice cream, but they are not enchanted by sand in their beds or breakfast pastries in the morning.  Who can play cards on a table made of sand or compete in the Triathlon of Knights with sand in the seat of their armor?  Well, what did they expect staying in a sandcastle?  Luckily the unnamed heroine devises a solution.  Everyone makes good firm sand balls and hurls them at the walls.  When the sea rushes in through the holes, everyone has a grand time splashing in the water. Once the sandcastle has been washed away, she starts all over.No castle for Jack, Zack, and Caspar.  Born naval architects, they build an enormous galleon of sand and outfit it with mast (two sticks), a sail (shirt and bib), and cannons (three plastic buckets).   Mainsail hoisted, the pirate Captain Jack and his crew sail off to find loot and adventure. In the misty distance a pirate ship looms and they set their course dead ahead, prepared to board and cover themselves with glory and pocket gold doubloons.   The gnarly rival pirates are ready to give as good as they get when a tropical squall blows the intrepid three far off course. Their ship is swamped and it melts into the surf.  Undaunted Jack, Zack, and Caspar sneak up on their enemy’s hideout and discover sugary booty on the wooden table inside.  Ambushed by the crew members left behind to guard it (Mum and Dad), the buccaneers must submit to being rubbed with towels and changed into dry clothes.  Luckily their captors know that the quickest way to the hearts of marooned pirates is an ice cream cone.  Oxenbury fills out Bentley’s reassuringly familiar story line with clever details that creative little boys playing together could dream up themselves: it is magical without straying beyond the boundaries of the real world.

It is delightful how sand and ice cream go together like cookies and milk in these two  picture books set in such different imaginative spaces.  The story lines may be considered by some to be too gendered, but the virtuoso use of nice wet sand will surely appeal to any child who loves being by the water on a bright sunny day.