Retrospective Citations
RETROSPECTIVE CITATIONS
National Portrait Gallery (NPG), London: The NPG requested a photograph for their archives, which was gifted to them in 1990. Images of Mercedes were exhibited by the NPG in their ‘Photograph of the Month’ theme display in October 2012, on the 85th anniversary of Mercedes’s English Channel crossing.
The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (DNB): Mercedes’ biographical details are included in the 1993 ‘Missing Persons’ edition of the DNB, as well as in the 2004 revised full edition.
Museum of London, Barbican: Forgotten Thames Champions: A photographic display and illustrated talk by author Caitlin Davies about Mercedes and several other nineteenth and twentieth century pioneering female Thames swimmers of note (as featured in her book Downstream: A History and Celebration of Swimming the River Thames), was held from 7 to 27 September 2015.
The Wash, Heacham, Norfolk: In June 2004, on the 75th Anniversary of Mercedes’s swim across The Wash, Richard Townsley, West Norfolk Council Tourism Manager, in collaboration with Mrs Mary Pishorn whose mother witnessed the swim, organised a weekend beach celebration to mark the event. The incumbent Mayor, Paul Brandon, unveiled a new plaque to commemorate the crossing, the original plaque having been lost in the devastating east coast floods of 1953 when the North Sea broke through Heacham’s sea defences. Hunstanton Town Council has also named a street after her (Mercedes Avenue, Hunstanton), and one of the Norfolk Green Coasthopper buses (No 314) is dedicated to her.
Photograph: Courtesy of Denis McNeill.
TRIBUTE TO MERCEDES BY BRIAN MEHARG MBE
Brian, an experienced North Channel pilot, who writes poetry for his own pleasure, was inspired to compose the following narrative poem as his thoughts dwelled on Mercedes’s attempt to cross from Robbie’s Point, Donaghadee, to Scotland in June 1928:
Mercedes
She stood alone amongst the crowd
Standing alone, standing alone, her head unbowed.
Talking was over, the preparation begun
Greased and caressed, her mind was numb
Give me your hand and wave it high
History to be made, let no one deny
Pretty girl moved forward, the way was cleared
Pushing and shoving, the crowd they cheered.
Stones and barnacles jagged her sole
Walking alone, walking alone, towards her goal
Wide expanse separated the shore from shore
Following with eyes, onlookers’ goodwill came to the fore
Kiss, slight touch with no hug, a whisper in her ear
Roared the mob, show us your hand and show no fear.
Entering alone, entering alone, and leaning towards the freeze.
Splash, cheering carried in a morsel of the breeze.
Gasp, away, what a lady, her swim stroke increased
Swimming alone, swimming alone, towards the sun, in the east.
Her hand would not rise again until the moment of glory.
She would revel and relish, as news would relay her story.
People strained and watched until seen no more.
They returned to business, attending their chore.
Music flowed from vessel, keeping spirit on high.
Jokes with encouragement, no one can deny.
Show me your hand, stretch it far and pull it so strong.
Pulling alone, pulling alone, stretching utmost, moving along.
This lady who would defy this channel, cold and grey.
Bright lass, splashing some colour, throughout the day.
Time marched, time passed, tide came, tide swung.
Movement alone, movement alone, “Don’t give up”, from a Dee man’s tongue
Getting cold; stroke easing, dying embers on a fire.
Chatter quieting, musicians slowing, less likely to inspire
Raise up your hand, grab it this way, time for feed
Listen, take it, this way girl, drink it to succeed
Chattering alone, chattering alone, her teeth, they quietly chatter.
She carried on, Galloway called, the Irish tide took hold
Cheerlessness from her supporters, for she had to be told.
Come on, conveyed a few, raise your hand and show the end.
Cold, tide, and ignorance had won, but stopping she had no intent.
Unthinking alone, unthinking alone, mind blank, her body spent.
No further description, a private moment before her descent
They did grasp her hand and then the other, saving her body and soul
Those aboard would ever know the secret that time would not ignore.
That the Channel would surrender to a woman’s strength.
The years, would take three score.
Brian Meharg, 21 November 2012
