Eureka Moment
Jeremy Cripps made a breathtaking discovery when he researched the life of his maternal great great grandfather, says Gail Dixon
“My great great grandfather sold spuds to Queen Victoria!” reveals Jeremy Cripps from South Shields
Finding a successful entrepreneur in the family can be very exciting. It becomes all the more enthralling if your ancestor grew up in humble circumstances. How was social mobility possible for workingclass people in Victorian times?
Jeremy Cripps from South Shields has discovered an ancestor who managed to leave the world of agricultural labour behind to become a merchant who supplied the highest echelons of society.
My Brick Wall
My mother Beryl told me intriguing stories about her great grandfather John Malin. He came from Oxfordshire, sold potatoes to smart hotels, and lived as a wealthy gentleman in Jermyn Street, the City of Westminster, London. My parents even named their house ‘Rydens’ after a farm that the Malins once owned.
In 1992, my great aunt Maisie died and I inherited her collection of old family letters and photographs. Among them was a headed sheet of paper for ‘Judd and Malin’, potato salesmen of 117 Jermyn Street. If this was my forebear John Malin, then who was Mr Judd?
I began researching my family tree in 2018. I knew very little about John and didn’t have a clue who he married, so I did some detective work online. I assumed from what I’d been told that John Malin sold potatoes grown on his family’s farm, and that he’d always been well off.
However, I quickly discovered that none of this was true. John was born in 1828 in the village of Towersey, Oxfordshire, the son of agricultural labourer Joseph Malin and his wife Deborah. John came from humble origins, so how did he forge a career as a successful businessman?
Frustratingly, he is absent from the census in both 1851 and 1861,
but he does appear in the 1864 Westminster Rate Book when he was living at 195 Piccadilly, a prominent street in London.
My Eureka Moment
At the start of my search I had no idea who John Malin married, and neither had Great Aunt
Maisie. This brick wall came crashing down when I found him on the 1871 census at 195 Piccadilly with his wife Mary.
The couple had two children, Bertha and John Stephen who was my great grandfather. Also resident were John’s stepson Cecil Judd and Mary’s mother Christian Philpott, which gave me her maiden name.
Mary’s first marriage revealed further intriguing clues. She married Samuel Judd in Lambeth in 1854, and the certificate gave her father’s occupation as a “potato salesman”.
It all began to fall into place. Kelly’s Directory (1856) listed Samuel as a potato salesman based at Hungerford Market, London. Samuel and Mary had three children, and in 1862 they lived at 195 Piccadilly which was listed as a “potato warehouse” in Kelly’s Directory.
Sadly, Samuel died later in 1862 and was buried in Brompton Cemetery, Chelsea. Two years later Mary Judd married John Malin and the couple settled at her home in Piccadilly. The company ‘Judd and Malin’ was first mentioned in an 1868 advertisement in the Clerkenwell News. Mary must have known the potato business well, and brought her expertise to the joint venture. It was immensely satisfying to realise that my great great grandmother was probably the Judd in ‘Judd and Malin’. I had always assumed that it was a man.
My Breakthrough
The business clearly prospered thanks to John and Mary’s hard work. It was astonishing to discover that in 1885 the London Gazette included ‘Judd and Malin’ in a “list of tradesmen having authority to use the Royal Arms and style themselves ‘By appointment to Queen Victoria’ ”. So my ancestors must have supplied spuds to the queen!
This patronage continued throughout the reign of Edward VII and after George V had ascended the throne. It ended in 1912 when John was very old.
I’d love to discover how ‘Judd and Malin’ became suppliers to London clubs, hotels and wealthy families, as well as the monarchy. Their career is a shining example of social mobility.
Sadly, Mary died in 1871 and was buried alongside Samuel Judd in Brompton Cemetery. Two years later John married Mary Jane Alloway, a book-keeper who no doubt brought important skills to the business.
By the end of the 19th century John owned four houses in Islington and property in Lambeth. The Malins split their time between their townhouse in Jermyn Street and a farm named Rydens near Walton-on-Thames in Surrey, the inspiration for the name of my parents’ house.
John died in 1913 aged 85. He was buried alongside his first wife Mary and Samuel Judd in Brompton Cemetery. A plaque in St James’s Church, Piccadilly, commemorates his 23-year service there as a “courteous” and “attentive” churchwarden who was “thoroughly straightforward in character”.
I’m proud of John and both his wives. They must have worked hard to grow the business and support their large extended family. It’s a fitting end to the story of ‘Judd and Malin’ that they share a resting place.