The crowd that had gathered for the museum’s January program was impressive for a small village—fifty or so people, including a few older children. We met in the Romani exhibit room, where several freestanding displays had been moved to make room for folding chairs. Hawksworthy and Isla Ferris were there, of course. So were Julia Kelly and Maggie Hughes from the library.
“Kate.” Maggie waved at us. She’d saved two seats, which was a good thing, because most had already been taken.
“Thanks, Maggie. This is my husband, Tom.”
They shook hands. “We really appreciate your help with research,” he said. “And thanks for saving us seats. We should have started out earlier.”
It was a few minutes before seven. The speakers, a man and a woman, sat on high stools at the front. The man, perhaps sixty, looked like a university lecturer—tall and slightly stooped with thinning gray hair and a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. He was dressed conservatively in tailored trousers and a blue V-neck sweater over a white shirt. The woman was probably a little younger. Fifties, maybe—short and compact with iron-gray hair pulled back into a thick ponytail that fell to her waist. Her high coloring, sparkling eyes, and a wide, white-toothed smile gave the impression of robust health and a good nature. She was dressed in a dark-purple cardigan over a printed jersey dress that reached almost to the floor.
Hugo Hawksworthy took the microphone. “Welcome, everyone, to January’s program on Romani culture in Southwest England. I’m Dr. Hugo Hawksworthy, director of the Museum of Devon Life. We are privileged tonight to welcome back two of our West Country Romanichal leaders. Dr. Bob Smith is an author and retired professor of Romani studies at Christ’s College, Cambridge. He’s an active member of Friends, Families and Travellers, a national charity; the Gypsy Lore Society; and RTFHS, the Romany & Traveller Family History Society. Dr. Smith is joined by Lula Boswell-Cooper, an internationally known advocate for human rights and a tireless worker for improving educational opportunities for Gypsies, Roma, and Travellers across the British Isles. Ms. Boswell-Cooper works closely with the National Federation of Gypsy Liaison Groups as well as the Dorset-based charity and advocacy group Kushti Bok. Our speakers tonight are going to talk about the most important issues currently facing the Romani and Traveller communities. After that, they’ll take questions. Please make them welcome.”
The audience clapped enthusiastically.
Dr. Smith stood and took the microphone. “Evening, folks. Lula and I are glad to be with you again. At our last visit in October, we focused on the history of the Romani peoples and the persecutions in medieval Europe and, later, under the Nazi regime. Tonight, as Dr. Hawksworthy told you—”
I watched as the two Rominchal leaders took turns speaking. The presentations were interesting, informative, and disturbingly clear. Lula Boswell-Cooper spoke about a recent report by the UK’s Equality and Human Rights Commission, documenting the failure of the educational system in the UK to meet the needs of children in the Gypsy, Roma, and Traveller communities. She struck me as a deeply competent person, sure of her facts and brave enough to tell it like it is. Even though she followed the bleak report with a summary of efforts underway on both local and national levels to bend the curve, I asked myself if those efforts would be enough. The problems were so massive. And yet her passion was undiminished. She was doing what she could, confident that others would pick up the banner in the future.
Dr. Smith was soft-spoken, with a charming air of self-deprecation. I noticed the OBE after his name on the museum brochure, but he hadn’t mentioned it. His presentation concerned the passage of new laws restricting the rights of Gypsies and Travellers to follow their traditional way of life. “Our culture has been criminalized,” he said, “and our crime is our itinerant way of life. Most of our families travel for work in trailers, chalets, or wagons. We are a mobile workforce, and yet public lands are now off-limits, and legal sites are becoming fewer each year.” Dr. Smith went on to identify the needs of the GRT community—access to health care and education, stabling for their horses, improved utilities, and green spaces for their children to play in. “What we’re asking for is the right to exist, to honor our culture, and to raise our families.”
When they opened the floor to questions, my hand was the first to go up.
“In the US,” I said, “the term Gypsy is considered a racial slur. Can you explain why that isn’t so in the UK?”
Dr. Smith smiled. “Well, now, the question isn’t an easy one to answer, but I’ll try to keep it simple. The umbrella term GRT—Gypsies, Roma, and Travellers—includes many individual communities with distinct ethnicities. And we don’t agree on everything. English Gypsies—the Romanichals—are people of Romani origin who have been present in England since the end of the fifteenth century. We bear the name Gypsy as a badge of honor. After all, our ancestors were persecuted and murdered for the name. We’re proud to own it.
“The Roma are a distinct ethnic group. They migrated to England and America from Eastern and Central Europe during the large waves of immigration beginning around 1880. They’re offended by the term Gypsy. They see it as a racial slur, and they also resent being called Travellers, because they typically don’t travel.
“The Travellers, now, were traditionally people of Irish origins, although several groups today claim that name—including Showmen and even some hippies.”
When another hand didn’t immediately go up, I said, “Could you explain a little about Romani funerals—why the deceased’s possessions were burned?”
“I can speak to that.” Ms. Boswell-Cooper took the microphone. “Traditionally, there was no such thing as inheritance among the Romanichals. Anything still owned at death would be burnt—however valuable. To keep anything was considered bokky—cursed. Any intergenerational transfer of wealth or goods had to occur during life. More recently, during the last sixty years or so, land ownership has complicated the matter. Some families have found a solution by setting up family trusts.”
I had more questions—lots of them—but decided to see if others would step in. They did, asking all sorts of questions about the past and the present, but none had a direct bearing on our research. By eight thirty, just about everyone had drifted away.
Tom and I introduced ourselves to the speakers. “Thank you both,” Tom said. “Your talk was eye-opening.”
“That’s why we do events like this.” Ms. Boswell-Cooper’s face lit up in a smile. “We feel it’s our responsibility.”
“We understand from Dr. Hawksworthy,” Dr. Smith said, “that you’re conducting research into the origins of a Victorian dress—a dress that may have connections with the Squires family.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Do you know anything about the Squires and the Heron families on Dartmoor?”
“Everyone knows about Queenie Squires,” Ms. Boswell-Cooper said. “A legend in her own day. I’ve heard the surname Heron, but it’s less common. Probably Welsh. Can you add anything, Bob?”
Dr. Smith appeared to be deep in thought. “Heron, did you say?” He looked up. “I have heard that name—and fairly recently. At the Romany & Traveller Family History Society, we help people trace their roots. It must have been about a year ago that someone contacted us, asking about a Luke Heron in the 1891 Devon census.”
Luke Heron—the man in the photograph, the one with the mesmerizing eyes. I hadn’t even told Tom about him yet. “Who was asking?”
“I don’t remember. It was an online contact. A man—I’m sure of that. We got the impression he wasn’t a Romani himself.”
“What did you tell him?”
“We couldn’t tell him anything. There is no Luke Heron in the 1891 Devon census. Perhaps he died.”
The thought came unexpectedly. Or was murdered.