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Life at Perry Hall 1924 - 1949
J. Adam Plummer

William and Eva Plummer were married in June 1925 and moved into the Perry Hall Mansion. Margaret (Schneider) Plumer (Adam's grandmother) and two aunts and uncle; Clara Plumer, Louise Plumer and Joseph Plumer also lived there at that time. This living arrangement must have lasted only a few years for two aunts and grandmother had a new house built on Plumer Avenue near St. Joseph's Church a few years later. Possibly Anna Plumer Koelber and her husband were to become part of the farm operation; this did not materialize; they later established residence on a Ridge Road farm.

Adam was born in the Perry Hall Mansion; not in a hospital. This occurred in the northeast room on the second floor of the higher portion of the house. First memories of this room was that its color was a light green. In childhood years was told that paint was calcimine and it did brush off on person's clothes. The door was always kept closed in later years. Adam's sister, Sybilla, was also born at Perry Hall and their sister Mary was born at their grandmother Heil's home near Fullerton. When Adam was in high school an English teacher advised that the pronouncement of the name Plumer was different from the way it was done by the family; therefore, the change in spelling [ from Plumer to Plummer ] . At the time of the birth of Adam the doctor who was in attendance inadvertently recorded with the Vital Statistics Department the spelling of the family name as Plummer rather than Plumer. This was not known for some years. Some of the decendants of Edward still use the original spelling.

This was a 204 acre farm which contained a large bank barn along with other associated buildings. Approximate 100 acres were in woodland on the steep slope to the Gunpowder Falls to the north; the balance was tillable farm lands and pasture. I recall seeing a cow and three horses on the farm in the very early thirties. Wheat and other related crops provded food for the livestock and other crops for family food and income. Small grain was threshed on the farm by Ed Simms of the local area who used and old International Harvester gasoline tractor that looked like a steam engine. One would hear it coming as it moved very slowly from the adjoining Dreyer Farm on Perry Hall Road. Potatoes, turnips and carrots were the primary crops grown in the 1930's using local seasonal help to harvest those crops. Turnips and carrots were harvested in late fall, buried in earthen kilns and in very late winter were removed, washed and then sent to market. At some point in time it was said that the carrots were fed to race horses.

I recall a large spreading oak tree which was located about 150 feet northwest of the house. Its spread must have been close to 75 feet. As a child I was not permitted under this tree for it was hollow and it was feared the long outstretched limbs would come crashing down. This tree must have been removed in the late 1930's for I recall men working in the area and a large fire burning in the still standing old trunk of the tree. In the mind of a child, this fire burned for a long time. Near the southeast corner of the house was a very large spreading beech tree. As a child I recall the roots surrounding the tree and suckers growing from them making it very difficult to get close to the trunk of the tree. Just south of the house (100 ft or so) grew two very tall spruce trees; the family always called them pine trees. The area surrounding the house, considered the lawn, was not kept cut in those early years. This was possibly the reason one would find an occasional copperhead snake in the basement of the house. The surrounding farm was well populated with various kinds of snakes which were encountered often. Also regular visits from fox, ground hog, and skunk were frequent.

I recall the walls of Perry Hall mansion were on the same points as that of the compass; i.e. the north wall faced north, etc. Perry Hall Mansion had fifteen rooms as large as 20 x 20 feet with 12 foot ceilings in the lower part of the house and 14 foot ceilings in the taller part of the house with a fireplace in each room. There is a large open staircase that begins on the main floor next to the main hall and proceeds to the third floor. The main hall measured 20" x 40" and had two entrances to the porch. The porch began on the south side of the house and continued on the east and then to the north sides. In addition, to these entrances there were two sets of French doors on the east wall of the house [ here, on the first floor ]. The main hall was not used in the years the Plummer family lived there. In the early years old wall paper was coming off the walls; one would see the strips of the paper hanging from the walls and ceilings. Of course there was no paint under that paper; some sight! A number of the rooms were like this in the earliest years of my childhood. There was no central heat in the house, just a wood stove f

THE CLAREMONT FEW

'The struggle of people against power, is the struggle of memory against forgetting.' MILAN KUNDERA

December 1994

On the rooftops of Claremont Road, 300 protesters waited for the start of what was to become the most extraordinary eviction in British history. Nearby, two diggers stood poised to demolish the last remaining houses in the path of the M11 Link Road. By 1:30 pm a convoy of 120 vehicles containing 700 police and 400 private security guards had arrived in the area. By 2 pm Operation Garden Party had begun.

For 7 months the campaign had held the street in open defiance. We lit fires on the tarmac, built stages and cafes, and put a smile onto the face of a condemned community. We launched actions on the roofs of Westminster and the High Court, and unfurled a symbolic motorway titled: "RETURN TO SENDER" from the Minister for Transport, John MacGregor's roof. Throughout this time, behind the sculptures and painted brickwork of Claremont Road, we prepared to repel the Eco-war machines of the Department of Transport (D.O.T.).

When the "Big One" arrived in late November it was like throwing a party with a thousand gate-crashers all dressed in black. Whistles and cheers signaled the first sightings. Techno from a 100 foot scaffold tower (Codenamed: DOLLY, after Claremont's oldest resident) accompanied the steady flow of riot police encircling the street. No briefing could have prepared them for such a bewildering spectacle of cultural defiance. "Welcome to Claremont Road - The State of the Art", came a shout. "What you are about to experience will affect your head-space forever."

As the road was cleared a pensioner was pushed to the ground and hauled away in tears. A disabled man, his fingers prised from the wheels of his chair, was dragged outside the cordon. Campaigners lock-on to holes in the road were kicked and punched.

By dusk, huge floodlights towered above the rooftops. This was to be a 24 hour gig. Acts of individual bravery and reckless pursuit charged the atmosphere. Brandishing a chain, a lone protester challenged a digger from an airiel walkway. A young woman slipped through the netting that spanned the road and fell 25 feet.

Inside Number 42 a group of local residents, including three pensioners and a nursery school teacher, ate peanut butter sandwiches by candlelight. Overhead, we prepared to seal ourselves into a heavily fortified loft. We took advantage of the temporary lull to communicate with other sections of the street via an internal phone. During the night film had been smuggled out along a secret tunnel in the back gardens (Codenamed: VICKY, after the Viet Cong), and one of four underground bunkers had been discovered.

Dawn on Day Two. They attempted to take the first floor. After 4 hours they gave up on the windows, the door and the stairs, and came in through an adjoining wall. They were greeted by a former Squadron Leader waving a plackard proclaiming: "DIGNITY IN THE FACE OF OPPRESSION". Towards nightfall they started on us. As the roof began to buckle under a succession of thunderous blows, we prepared to lock- on. Moments later they came in. Then, amazingly, having inspected our D-locks and posed for photographs, they retired for the night.

TIP: Never throw your D-lock keys away. You never know when the bailiffs are going to unexpectantly sign-off and leave you shackled to an iron railing all night. Luckily, my keys were found precariously balanced on the edge of a large crack and snatched to safety.

Outside we were confronted with an urban nightmare. Under the glare of arc lamps, cold and hungry people clung to smashed roofs. Dog handlers patrolled the perimeter fence. Riot police clustered around the slashed remains of Claremont's rare lime trees. The road had been stripped of the front-line art that had attracted thousands of visitors throughout the summer.

On a flat section of roof, Keith had left his concrete lock-on barrel to build a fire and rustle up some baked beans on toast. With a pair of striped boxer shorts on his head he proudly announced that the Flat Roof Cafe was open for business.

At 4 am they began to cut the last of the nets. In a highly dangerous manoeuvrer, sheilded from cameras by the glare of powerful torches, they rose beneath one man in a cherry picker (airiel platform) and slashed the net, before dragging him away like an entangled insect.

When the bailiffs returned at dawn we had resealed the loft and reapplied our D-locks. While we waited to be cut out I asked one security guard what he thought of the eviction. "It's the best work I've had for a long time," he replied. "All the lads want you to keep it up for as long as possible." The campaign had become the largest source of temporary employment in the area.

From the roof I could see the riot cops storm the wooden tower on Old Mick's house. It seemed fitting that the first house