By Tony Palin Evans, Reproduced from Journal No 37 of Autumn 1995.
It was in the summer of 1930 that by a curious chance I met Sir John Holder. Although I was only a boy of nine years of age at the time, I recall the meeting vividly. The circumstances of our coming together were so unusual and unexpected that I am unable to forget them. Nor do I wish to forget them, even if I could do so.
It happened in this way. We had set out from the village of Churt in Surrey, where we were living at that time, on a fine Friday evening. Our object was to view the 'Schneider Trophy' seaplane races, that were held each year down on the south coast in those far off times. These races were due to be held the next day, Saturday. I recall that it was an Englishman who won the competition that year, and his name was Flight Lieutenant Boothman. His achievement made us all feel very proud of him. There was plenty of national pride in those distant days of England's glory.
The distance from our home being inconvenient, we had decided to spend the Friday night at the Beaulieu Arms Hotel, and then drive on to the coast the following morning in order to be in good time to see the start of the races. We had travelled down to Beaulieu in our 45/50HP Italian Isotta-Fraschini. This car was thought to be the only one of its kind in England at that time, and was therefore prone to excite a deal of interest amongst motor enthusiasts.
Eventually we arrived at the Beaulieu Arms in the warm glow of a summer evening. Imagine our surprise when drawing into the car park, to see that the only two other cars there were also Isotta-Fraschinis, with double grand touring bodies, like our own car. The Italian owners of these two cars were holidaying in England. They spoke good English, and in coming out of the hotel were as surprised as we were at the sight of the three large motors neatly parked abreast of one another, and so we all fell into animated conversation.
At this juncture a passing car stopped, reversed and then came into the car park. The driver of this latter vehicle introduced himself as John Holder who lived near at hand at Keeping House. He explained that he had always had a real interest and affection for cars, that he had himself driven Bentleys at Brooklands, and that he could not resist the temptation of driving in to take a closer look at such rarities as Italian Isottas were in the English countryside. He also mentioned that he had other interesting hobbies, such as his steam launch moored not far from his home, but that his chief preoccupation was with a miniature railway that he had installed in the grounds of his home. The upshot of all this was that Sir John invited us all to Keeping House on the following Sunday afternoon at 2.30pm, to enjoy afternoon tea, and ride on his railway.
At the time I am speaking of, the railway was run for Sir John by a man named John Fowls, and another, a Mr Dudley Alexander. Also, in the background, there lurked Mr Hills, the chauffeur, who did not condescend to have anything to do with the running of the trains - his concern being only with the smooth running of Sir John's motor cars. Promptly at 2.30pm on the Sunday afternoon, the three Italian motor cars turned left out of the lane they had been following, and at the instigation of an arrowed sign, proceeded up a rough track, thence beneath an archway with a lodge attached, and onto the sweep in front of Keeping House, where we were all most warmly greeted by our host. We had not been there long when a troop of boy scouts arrived to join in the fun, but as yet there was no sign of a train.
Suddenly there was a loud roar, and a pre World War One J.A.P. motorcycle combination manifested itself before our astonished eyes. The driver of this weird contraption, we were informed, was Mr Dudley Alexander, who was sporting a sola topi, a pair of long shorts, and a horse's nose bag carelessly slung round his back. The protesting and sagging side car accommodated the remarkable Mr Fowls we were told, all the 25 stones of him. The noisy back firing machine that conveyed them was also worthy of note, with its high angled handlebars, acetylene gas headlight, and strap drive to the rear wheel.
This amazing apparition disappeared in a cloud of dust into the shed where all the locomotives and rolling stock were stored. This particular shed also served as a kind of novel railway tunnel. For the line, which consisted of an irregular continuous circuit of little more than 200 yards, ran directly through the interior of this shed, much to the astonishment of the more seasoned miniature railway travellers.
On a normal running day, as soon as the locomotive was in steam, the train would be stationed under the lee of the tall hedge at the side of the house. And here it would wait, blowing off impatiently until all who were invited had arrived. If some of the passengers were late in coming, as sometimes happened, Sir John, who wore an immaculate suit even on railway days, would stalk up and down withdrawing and consulting his gold pocket watch which was attached by a gold chain to something inside his waistcoat. Because the line traversed the driveway, safe running could not be achieved until all the passengers who were expected were present, and no further cars were due. When all was ready, a run would commence.
The circuit being on the small side for a 10¼in gauge line, two complete rounds were considered to represent one run before the train would be halted. The novel tunnel, and the antique motorcycle combination were not the only unusual features of this most interesting railway. Teatime was unusual, too.
You may have noticed, in some of the photographs of the Keeping House line, a large square box fixed to the middle of one of the coaches. This mysterious box had an important function. In its side was a small hole, and this hole was of importance too.
