John Simpson Who Do You Think You Are?

John Simpson is one of the most familiar faces on BBC News.

His nose for a story has taken him to revolutions and war zones

from Tiananmen Square to Afghanistan,

where he was smuggled in wearing a burqa.

This is the front line in a war

that's been almost completely forgotten.

EXPLOSION

'Being in dangerous places, from time to time,

'I always have a rather crazy, silly, perhaps,'

feeling that I can kind of get out of anything.

As a journalist, John is used to digging out stories

and asking difficult questions.

But he hasn't always had the time to delve into his own past.

My wife says I mustn't... mustn't break down in tears.

"Whatever happens,"

she said, "It doesn't matter what they do to you, do not cry."

'I wanted to take part in this programme

'because as I've got older I think I've become'

much more interested in my own family.

And that is your sort of great-great-grandfather.

He was the first man to fly in Britain.

I was brought up with stories about Sam Cody, my sharp shooting,

cowboy, aviator, great-grandfather.

And I loved the old boy. I mean, I've got huge respect for him.

And he used to charge around on his horse, with his gun.

He was a brilliant shot, and a brilliant horse rider.

'One of the problems that you have with Cody, and with Mrs Cody,'

was that they both told the most amazing number of lies

about their past.

You know, there are a hell of a lot of questions that remain unanswered

and, I mean, I want to tell my little boy about it.

I want to tell my daughters and my grandchildren what really happened.

This is my father when he was about 25 or 26,

and my mother and me. I think I remember, but I don't suppose I do,

being photographed there.

I don't have enough clear memories of her.

Hmm.

My mother left my father when I was seven.

And what I remember

was standing on the doorstep with the two of them,

with my mother already packed and prepared to go

and to take me with her.

And my father standing there saying,

"Don't you think we ought to ask the boy who he wants to go with?"

And so I thought about it and I chose, for better for worse,

I chose my father.

My mother was in a terrible state, as you...

I mean, you know, I'd rejected her and she left.

And so I kind of lost contact

with that whole side of the family.

But there is one member of his mother's family

that John had always heard stories about.

Sam Cody is, far and away, the most glamorous figure

that I've got any personal association with.

I always assumed that I was Cody's great-grandson.

But my father realised that the ages of Cody's supposed children

didn't quite match up, and that Mrs Cody must have had children

by a prior relationship, by a prior marriage.

And then it all came out that they ran off together.

The biggest of the Cody myths was that he was married

to my great-grandmother.

Now I know he's no blood relative of mine.

That doesn't matter in slightest bit. I admire him immensely.

But it's very difficult to know where the precise truth lies

and where storytelling comes in.

I'm really, really interested to know where that division is

between truth and invention.

American cowboy Samuel Cody first made his name

touring Britain with his Wild West Shows.

But as the 20th century dawned, he wanted to conquer a new frontier.

It was a time when many magnificent men were trying to take to the air.

And in 1908,

Samuel Cody became the first man to fly an aircraft in Britain.

John's visiting Farnborough, the site of Cody's first flight.

'I really want to know how this cowboy on the ranges

'of the Far West turned into an aviator.'

Welcome to Farnborough. Thank you very much.

He's meeting aviation enthusiast David Wilson

at the National Aerospace Library

to find out how Cody got into flying.

Cody was making a jolly good living in the Wild West Shows

that he was taking part in.

He was...he was a "shootist".

And, at that same time, he made several approaches to the War Office

in an attempt to get them to accept his brilliant invention.

This is the Cody Kite.

No, really?

Cody developed kites which would carry a man.

Oh, that's him!

Yes. Good Lord!

But how gutsy.

Cody knew that the man-carrying kite had military value,

reconnaissance value.

Because if you could get a man higher, then he could see further.

Yes. So, he tried to sell the patents to the army.

You can imagine, a man with a ponytail

and a funny accent. And his flamboyance, you know. Of course.

It doesn't fit the easily with army discipline.

No, of course. So, this is the sort of response he got.

9th May 1903.

"Sir, with reference to your letters.

"I am directed by the Secretary of State for War to inform you

"that after very careful consideration of your invention..."

dot, dot, dot,

"..it is not proposed to take any further action in the matter,

"the man-lifting kite not being considered suitable

"for army purposes." Yes.

It's so snotty and superior, isn't it? Yeah.

PLUMMY ACCENT: "At the same time I am to thank you

"for communicating with this department."

Well, of course, I'm so much on Cody's side in all of this

and I've got nothing but contempt for these people.

I mean, how did he take rejection?

Well, he just didn't take no for an answer.

He was so convinced he was right and he had a valuable invention

that he would keep banging on and on and on and on.

But, eventually, he is taken on... Oh.

..by the British Army.

It meant that he was around when the services

branched out into airships.

We have here a picture of the gondola of the airship

which was built by the British Army,

and it was called Nulli Secundus, "second to none".

That's Cody, there.

They put him in charge of the engine,

and he was one of the very few people who could start this engine.

Really. So, this is the first example of cowboy engineering.

On Saturday, 5th October 1907,

Cody and his boss flew the airship, Nulli Secundus,

from Farnborough to London.

But while the British were messing around with airships,

the rest of the world was developing aeroplanes.

The American Wright brothers had first flown in secret in 1903,

but kept their designs under wraps for five years.

When they finally demonstrated their plane at Le Mans, France,

on 8th August 1908,

they became international celebrities overnight.

This was the sort of flying that Cody dreamed of.

Whenever he had a spare moment

whilst working for the War Office, he built his own aircraft.

And in Farnborough there's a replica of his first plane.

Is it exactly like Cody's?

Oh, exactly...

..a replica of the very first aircraft to fly in the UK.

Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.

Look at it, I mean, it has kind of pram wheels,

and bits of cloth, and, oh, "Please Do Not Touch," it says.

You know, and just with bits of wood and wire.

I mean, how gutsy must that have been?

I would have loved to have flown in this.

When Cody first flew, first of all, he couldn't have lessons.

Right. It's obvious. Secondly... No-one to teach him. No.

..and, secondly, you don't know whether the aircraft works.

And, thirdly, you don't have an airfield.

But apart from that, it's brilliant.

Apart from that, it's easy, yeah, yes.

I want to show you this.

"The Army Aeroplane. Accident at Farnborough."

You don't mean to tell me that's the first flight.

That's the headline.

"Accident at Farnborough," right, OK.

"The Army aeroplane fell to the ground from a height of 40 feet

"and broke the right wing..."

That one? Yes.

"..during a trial flight at Farnborough yesterday morning.

"Mr Cody, who was sitting in the steering seat at the time..."

Sounds as though he had nothing to do with it.

"..fell with the machine but was not hurt."

Oh, good old boy.

But the press was there, and the photograph was taken.

Hmm. There's the evidence of the first flight.

This is wonderful. British Army Aeroplane No 1.

There's the old boy fiddling around with the joystick.

Absolutely magnificent.

When you take off, you know, flying quarter of a mile,

40 feet in the air, that's brave.

Oh, absolutely, I mean, people would say suicidal.

What guts that took. Yes, right.

What sheer, sheer guts.

And, I mean, how could you have the ability,

self-taught ability, to fly a thing as complicated as this?

What I can offer you is an experience of flying it,

in complete safety.

How could you do that?

Well, this simulator is an exact replica of that cockpit.

So, I'd like to invite you to step in...carefully.

OK. All right. It's quite strong, but...

And what we're going to do, we'll take off, we'll do a 180 left

and then we'll do another 180 left, and find that runway.

Where do we crash?

We shall attempt to get on the runway.

Yeah, you'll be lucky if I can get on the runway.

Well, we'll go flying.

Power coming on...now!

And I want you to do 35 miles an hour, and then pull back.

How do I know how fast it is?

You'll feel the wind in your face.

Cody flew by the seat of his pants.

He had no instrument panels,

no altimeters or speedometers.

I don't seem to be...

There you go, you're airborne now. Oh, yes!

Now don't let it get too steep. Fantastic!

Gentle! That was a bit sharp.

That was a bit much.

But it is tiny little movements, isn't it?

Yes, it is.

I see, I see, I see. Awesome!

Fantastic!

You've already flown for longer than your predecessor.

Cody was in the air for just 27 seconds,

but he made history as it was the first heavier than air,

powered, controlled and sustained flight in Britain.

I'm going to cut the engine now.

Now you are gliding. Keep the nose down a bit, push it, push it.

That's it, not much! Oops.

That's much too much turn.

Oh, Cody would be really cross with me by now.

Ah!

Oh, no!

Aaah!

Crash. Ha-ha!

Have I landed?

That was better than Cody's landing.

Well, that's nice. You didn't break the aeroplane.

Well, what an experience. Wonderful, wonderful.

Well done. Thank you.

So, he's made his first flight in this.

He's crashed. Yes.

What does he do then? He says he'll fly again.

He sets about building the new aircraft

and the new aircraft was ready by the end of January 1909.

Yes. He then went flying again in February.

And then, out of the blue, came this.

"Confidential.

"Sir, I am commanded by the Army Council to inform you that,

"in view of the changes which are contemplated in connection

"with balloons and flying machines,

"it has been decided to terminate the engagement of Mr SF Cody."

Well, why did they..?

Why did they do that?

This was one of the decisions the generals made.

They perceived that it was not worthwhile wasting

defence money on the development of fixed wing aeroplanes

and if people wanted to do that, it should be done

by private individuals at their own expense.

So, what did he do then?

Well, he built six more aeroplanes.

And he earned his living by giving flying lessons,

by entering competitions, by winning prizes.

He did a lot of that, did he? He did a huge amount of it, yes.

There was a round-Britain race.

Yes. And we have some evidence of his popularity with the crowd.

That's one of the nicest pictures I've seen.

Look at the little smile on his face, yes.

He did more to popularise flying in the UK

than anybody before or since, I think.

So now he was plotting all sorts of activities,

including building No.6 aircraft,

which was the water plane and it had wheels fitted to it.

And that's what he used to demonstrate all sorts of principles,

including pleasure flying,

which, again, was a way in which he made his living.

And it was during a pleasure flight

that the final accident took place.

When he died? When it went wrong, yes.

And so this is the newspaper article about the death. Mmm.

Oh this is... I find this really sad now, even now.

"Dashed To Death. Flying Disaster At Aldershot

"Colonel Cody & Passenger Killed."

He was 52 years of age.

Is that it? That's not true, no. He was 46. 46.

Cos he'd put six years on his age.

To match.. Mm-hm.

..my great grandmother.

And she took years off. Yes.

I think it was probably because of the children.

They were hers, not his.

So, on 7th August... 7th, yes.

"The biplane crashed into a clump of trees and was smashed to fragments.

"Colonel Cody was killed instantly."

That's a picture of the fatal wreckage.

"The most tragic feature of the disaster was that Mr Cody's sons,

"Leon and Frank, both saw the accident from their father's hangar.

"He was killed before their eyes

"and they were utterly powerless to help him.

"Leon, who was to have gone up with his father on the fatal trip,

"but gave way to Mr Evans, rushed wildly to the spot,

"despite all efforts to restrain him."

Aww.

"Forcing his way through the cordon of soldiers guarding the place,

"he flung himself across the terribly injured body of his father

"as it rested on a stretcher.

"'Dad..!

"'Dad!' he cried."

But he was there and he, you know, ran over.

This is really, really sad.

Mmm.

Cody had a hero's funeral.

He was buried with full military honours.

More than 1,000 soldiers marched in the funeral procession,

and over 50,000 people came to pay their respects.

John's great-grandmother, Lela,

received a message from King George V,

expressing his sympathy.

In it, the King called her "Mrs Cody",

which cemented the myth that she was married to Samuel.

"In loving memory of Samuel Franklin Cody,

"aviator and inventor,

"who was killed while flying over Laffan's Plain

"on 7th August 1913.

"Also of Lela Marie, his wife.

"Died 5th February 1939, aged 87."

So, she must have been...

My maths is never terribly good.

She must have been 61 when he died.

And he was probably only 46, 47.

It must have been fairly obvious to people

that there was this big discrepancy,

which is why Cody had to pretend

he was older than he was to have had the children that were Lela's.

They couldn't actually have been born

during the time that he was with my great-grandmother.

I wish I had known all these people better,

well, the ones whose lives overlapped with me.

I so would have loved to hear the stories and talked

much, much more to all of them.

Having been out of touch with his mother's family for many years,

John wants to reconnect with another of Lela's great-grandsons,

his second cousin, Peter Cody.

Hello, Peter. Hello, John.

Very, very nice to see you.

Peter has family memorabilia that John has never seen.

I've been delving through the boxes and different things,

and I've got some items here to show you.

This is a little item, Daily Sketch.

Yes. And this is Lela.

She was the first woman in Great Britain to go up into a kite.

Really. In one of SF Cody's man-lifting kites.

My God.

So the first woman to fly in the British Isles...

..in the British Isles was Lela Cody.

Not bad. Yes. Not bad.

But there's an interesting little item here

saying about her life with Cody...

Oh, yeah. ..and things that happened over the years.

"I remember I was up in the air on that occasion

"from ten to fifteen minutes.

"When someone reminded my husband that I was still up in the air

"he exclaimed, 'Good God, yes!'

"and hauled me down.

"Afraid? No, I wasn't a bit afraid,

"I never knew what nerves were in those days,

"especially when with him."

Well, I think he was magnificent,

but, I mean, she wasn't much less magnificent herself, was she?

No. No, no, no.

"He had once said, pointing to a camp fire, that if he told me

"to walk through that fire I would do it and I would willingly too.

"I never disobeyed my husband in anything.

"His word was always my law."

Well, tell that to my wife.

Well, I know who wears the trousers in my house.

I'm so glad you've got these things.

Oh, yes, that's her.

This is an original. Oh.

SF Cody...

..and family. My God, they look handsome.

The family were called "King of Cowboys",

and they performed on stage in his little Wild West Show.

And this is Leon. Yes.

This is grandfather Vivian.

Your grandfather.

And this is Ted.

Oh, yes. None of those were Cody's kids.

They weren't, no. They were Lela's children.

Yes.

And they were... By this man, King.

..by King. Yes.

And they were formed into the Cody family.

When Lela left John's real great-grandfather, Edward King,

she took her three sons with her.

Vivian and Leon were young enough to pass as Cody's children.

Their older brother, Edward, became cousin, Ted LeRoy,

and John's grandmother, Liese, only six years younger than Cody,

was not included in the Cody family at all.

My grandmother, she was the eldest of the four children,

but she didn't play any part in the act.

No, no. She got left behind. She got left behind, I think.

Perhaps she didn't want to. Yes.

It's an intriguing family,

but they all worked together very well, doing sharp shooting now.

It was every young lad's adventure come true.

Imagine, yes.

This is Grandfather, Vivian...

Right. ..as a young lad.

Your grandfather.

What sort of age would you think?

He's probably about seven years old, there.

So, he's very young.

My kid's seven years old, I wouldn't trust him with a rifle. No, no.

But we have one when they were on tour.

Gosh, he looks very kind of Wild West.

And she looks very kind of regal. Yeah.

I've never seen any of these.

Lela. Oh, yes, look, there!

You'll notice round the star of this target,

there are little spheres round there.

And SF Cody would not only just fire at them,

but he would use a mirror

and fire backwards. Good God.

I mean, whatever would the health and safety people make of this?

They would go mad. They would.

I've got another little piece here of Lela.

My God, they're right close up to her!

She wore blood red tights so that it didn't show

she had a little nick, occasionally,

with a bullet, or one of the balls exploded from the target.

Can you imagine that? She was very brave.

Shall I move these over?

Yes, please, John, yeah.

He had some very odd shaped posters printed in those days.

This is, again, shooting.

And this was an actual one used.

Oh! I've never seen this.

"Cody Famous Shooter." Yes.

This shows the glass balls round the little target as well.

She's legless there, I'm afraid, but...

Mind you, she might've had to have a drink,

to stand behind the target.

You never know. Extraordinary.

It was lovely to see my great-grandmother

with all these sort of balmy bulbs around her and everything.

It's absolutely lovely.

I'm really quite moved by it

and I'd like to know more now about how they learned to shoot

and who they all were and what the background was.

Intrigued by the family shooting act,

John is visiting a reconstructed Western town in Kent...

Howdy, partner.

Howdy, John.

..to meet another Wild West showman called Cody,

Tod Cody.

So your Codys are...

Where do they come from?

Our Codys are originally Irish American.

It was C-O-A-D-Y.

From the States? Yeah, yep, yep, yep.

They originated in the States?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. My dad came over here early '50s...

Fantastic. ..and we've stayed here pretty much since, yeah.

What a tradition there.

Well, we just try and keep it going. Yes.

It's hard work now, but we keep it going.

I want to show you some pictures

that I was shown yesterday

of fancy shooting. Sure.

There's my great-grandmother. Yeah.

That's where she stood. Was he really shooting out the bulbs?

Yes, he would have been, because this is a steel plate.

Right.

That would just break up the bullet, flatten it. Yes.

I figure glass bulbs, probably filled with powder.

So they'd puff when they were... Yeah, yeah.

Just a little bit more oomph,

and a little bit more flash.

If it had gone through her head,

that would have killed her. Absolutely.

Here is the little one, Vivian.

And he's got a mirror there and he's...

Through a mirror? Yeah. Yeah.

This is what it was all about, trick shooting.

"I'm going to do stuff that you haven't seen done before with guns."

Let's get organised. OK.

Let's go and find some stuff.

All right, you've shot before, and I know you've been shot at.

So, just want to see how you can shoot.

See if you can take that silver balloon, John,

in the good old-fashioned way - straight shot. OK.

To your shoulder. There we go.

Ready to roll.

Wow! Good shot.

Try that pink now, John.

Go low on the pink, low on the pink.

Oh, John! Oh, another one!

You've got another one, now it's getting smaller!

Now we're talking! OK.

Now it's moving!

Ah, missed.

Again, hit it again, John! It's a moving target now.

It doesn't get harder than this.

Yeah! You the man!

That is outstanding. John, that is real good!

Yes!

I got something for you.

Let me go get this. OK.

I think you're going to like it.

Ta-da!

Oh, I can't shoot my great-grandmother.

We're not asking you to shoot your great-grandmother,

we're asking you to shoot targets, yeah.

I've got one.

Yes, you've got powder down her hair now, OK?

What we don't want is blood.

I think you're good.

How far are we off?

I feel a bit sort of Codyish now. I really do.

Yeah, you better. I'd almost call that ballistic genetics.

I really would.

Good, I'm proud. Thank you, thank you.

I think if I'd hit even a bad picture of my great-grandmother,

I would have felt pretty sick.

I really, really didn't want to hit her.

I've always wanted to know more about Lela.

My great-grandmother's family lived not very far

from where I live in London, in Chelsea.

Her father owned a big stables in Sloane Square,

and she kind of morphed into Lela Cody,

the glamorous bareback rider.

I would love to know more.

John knows that Lela starred in a Wild West melodrama,

performed by the Cody family in various venues across the country,

including the Theatre Royal, Stratford, in East London.

He's come here to find out about Lela's life in showbiz,

from an expert in Victorian entertainment,

Professor Vanessa Toulmin.

Vanessa, there's my great-grandmother,

she's got four kids, she's living in suburban London.

Mm-hm.

What's she doing running away with the circus?

Do you know anything about all of that?

Well, we have to think about

where did your great grandmother meet this dashing American cowboy?

Do you know?

Well, I've got an idea where they could have met.

By the 1880s, you get these incredible venues,

like The London Aquarium, Earl's Court, Olympia.

And these are for massive spectacle shows.

And they would have casts of thousands.

One of the most famous acts at the time was Buffalo Bill,

whose Wild West shows at Olympia drew thousands of people.

Samuel Cody had followed in his footsteps,

bringing his wife Lillian to England in search of fame and fortune.

This is at Olympia.

And this is a show that Cody was in. Yes.

And if you want to have a look...

"The French Exhibition, London, November 1st 1890.

"This is to certify that Mr SF Cody, Junior, and Miss L Cody..."

His first wife. Well, his wife.

"..were specifically engaged for the parts of Lieutenant de Franceville

"and Mademoiselle Louisette in the Arab

"or 'Wild East' Arena Section of this exhibition."

This show had casts of maybe hundreds of horseman and horsewomen.

God. So, they would have been auditioning,

they would have been asking people.

And this is where I think your great-grandmother met Cody.

I think they met,

she was a very accomplished trick rider,

she was a very accomplished horsewoman, wasn't she?

Yes. Well, so I was told. Yes.

And it would have been very unlikely for her to go into that world

without having any background in it.

Well, she could have got it through her father, I suppose.

Yes. Her father dealt and provided horses. Yes.

And it was very common at that time

for the daughters of the people involved to do the demonstrating.

We've got Lela King, Elizabeth King, as she was called...

..sitting there at home, you know.

What did she say to her husband? "I'm sorry, darling,

"I'm just going off to Olympia to take part in a Wild West Show."

Can't have been entirely respectable.

It wasn't seen as going off to a music hall or variety,

it was a place where Queen Victoria went.

Yes. You know? I see, I see.

This is Queen Victoria.

I try to explain it to people and I suppose the equivalent is

the opening ceremony of the Olympics.

It's that kind of show. Oh!

Really? Yes.

But because the shows are so big,

we never can find out all the people who are in them.

So, I can't say a hundred... So, there's no name on a..?

There's no name on a handbill, but I would say that, to me,

that's the most likely scenario.

So, let's look here now.

November, 1891. so it's a year later.

"Fenton Street Drill Hall. Today the Cody family.

"Marvels. The World's Greatest Fancy Shots."

Hmm. Well, that's them, isn't it? Yes.

So that is your family now, isn't it?

That is. That's Lela, plus her kids, and they're performing. Yes.

Think of the resourcefulness of your great-grandmother.

I mean, apparently, you know,

obviously she leaves her husband

and runs off with an American cowboy

15 years younger than her.

Takes her children on the road, leads a fantastic life.

I wonder about poor old Edward King, her husband.

You know, "Evening, Mr King, how's the wife?", you know?

And he's going to say, "Ah, well,"

and he's perhaps thinking about them.

Perhaps as a bloke of a certain age,

I'd have really sympathised with the old boy.

'I've got the feeling that Lela Cody, my great grandmother,

'wanted a bigger, better,

'more exciting life than poor old Edward was capable of giving her.

'I'd love to find out more about Edward.

'He's the one person I've never thought of before now.

'Somehow or another he's starting to exert a bit of an attraction

'and an interest for me.'

John's father told him that his great-grandfather,

Edward King, lived in Chelsea.

John himself lives locally, so he's meeting genealogist Martin Lowe

at Kensington Library to find out more.

I found out yesterday that my great grandmother, Lela,

must have left her real husband, Edward King, by 1891.

OK. I don't know, do you have any further information about that?

Well, from the dates you have mentioned, it strikes me

that the thing to do would be to go back another ten years. Right.

And we'll go to the 1881 Census. OK.

Right. Perhaps he's that one.

Lizzie May.

Lizzie May. Her name was Elizabeth, so perhaps that is it.

She changed her name umpteen times.

Did she? Yeah, well, she was Lela when she was racing around the ring

on bareback, firing guns and throwing knives. Gosh.

So, yeah, I think this is it.

Here he is, Elm Park Road.

Oh, it's only about 200 yards from where I live.

Well, there you go.

Isn't weird that after...?

I've lived in countries

all round the world and I've come back to settle within about

I don't know, 200-300 yards of my great grandmother.

That's a very weird. You've come home.

I've come home, I suppose, yes.

"Edward King, head of the household, married, male, 38,

"retired licensed victualler."

What's that mean, he had a pub?

Pub landlord. Yes, yes.

He was neither deaf and dumb, nor blind, nor imbecile or idiot,

or lunatic. That's a relief... That's always worth knowing.

..since he's my great grandfather.

But he's 38, and he's retired.

Quite young.

Very young. I mean, I'm 30 years older

and I'm still bashing away.

And, I mean, owning a pub

can't have been that hard work.

No, I mean, the normal thing you would expect

would for there to be some sort of illness.

Yes. Or something may have happened.

You don't know what pub he owned, do you?

Well, I think perhaps we need to go back another ten years.

Have a look on the 1871 Census.

So, if we do it for you.

Great. Fantastic.

"Edward King, son, 29." That's him.

Now, what we find here...

"Head of the household, John King", so that's his father.

That's his father.

"John King, Head."

"Age 61, licensed victualler."

So, he was in the pub business.

And it also tells us where the pub was.

Does it? Can you see what that is?

That looks like Keppel Street.

I don't know Keppel Street.

I don't know one in Chelsea.

Well, Chelsea has changed a lot...

It has. ..over the years,

so what we could do is

we could actually look, perhaps, at an 1865 Ordnance Survey Map.

This is a wonderful old thing. Right, so...

Oh, here we go, yes.

So we have King's Road...

Right. ..going down here. Yes.

It was a proper little small town, wasn't it?

It was a working town, dotted with churches,

dotted with pubs, dotted with industry.

Yep. Do we have Keppel Street? There's Keppel Street.

Then down here we have Keppel Terrace.

Now what we'd be looking for now would be a PH,

to signify a public house.

I can see it from here, gosh.

Exactly, right on the corner, on the corner of Keppel Terrace.

Immediately you can see, right behind it,

you have an oil cloth manufactory.

And also next to the pub

you have a Wesleyan Chapel.

So you can choose which way you want to go when you leave work.

God or the Devil, as some might say.

Anderson Street is still there.

You know, the street's going to be there, isn't it?

They don't change streets. That's right.

And then we can perhaps try and locate it, what it is now

and even see if the pub's still standing.

That would be wonderful.

OK, that's the King's Road. There's Anderson Street.

Well, there's this little one called Tryon Street.

Tryon Street. That's it.

Yes, and that's the one, isn't it? Keppel Street, isn't it?

OK, so if we enter in "pub, Tryon Street, Chelsea."

Yeah, OK.

The Queen's Head. Top one. Good Lord.

The pub where your ancestors lived is still there.

John wants to discover what happened

in the ten years between 1871 and 1881,

why his great grandfather, Edward, left the pub he had run

with his father, John King, and retired from his life as a landlord.

Hello, Elsa.

He's arranged to meet genealogist, Elsa Churchill,

at what was his family's pub, the Queen's Head.

Looks as though two of my ancestors ran this pub

in their different ways.

John King and his son, Edward King, who's my great-grandfather.

Well, the pub is absolutely central to the family's life.

So here we've got Edward.

My great-grandfather. Yes.

This is his birth certificate. So he's born December 1841.

"Occupation of father - licensed victualler.

"10 Keppel..."

Terrace. "..Terrace."

So he was born here?

He was born in this building. Oh, really, how extraordinary.

So, basically, his whole life started out in this pub.

And then he learned his trade,

and he's working with his father.

Yes. As a publican,

he would have been in the centre of a thriving business and a community.

Pubs were so integral to the life in their community.

And a publican is a good living.

But life in the pub didn't stay that great. Oh?

Cos you've got them in the 1871 Census,

and I know they were here earlier.

Well,

this is what we know about John, the father. Oh, yes.

This is a death certificate.

22nd June 1872.

Gosh, look at this.

"He died violently. Poisoned, accidentally."

"Postmortem." Mm-hm.

And the information comes from the Middlesex Coroner, Thomas Diplock.

Let's see what the coroner's said in the newspaper reports.

The Victorian journalists...

..invariably report gory deaths.

They sold newspapers.

I'm in the wrong side of the business, aren't I?

I ought to have been doing this.

June 29th 1872.

Oh, yes, "Fatal case of accidental poisoning.

"An old man named King,

"the landlord of the Queen's Hotel, Keppel Street, Chelsea

"has been poisoned through the carelessness of his son."

Oh, God.

"Mr King, who had been taking medicine, went out for a drive

"and during his absence his son sent the waiter

"to a neighbouring chemist's

"for some oxalic acid with which to clean the metal counter."

So just there.

"He gave the waiter one of his father's empty medicine bottles,

"and afterwards placed the bottle with the poison in it

"on a shelf in the bar."

"When the father returned from his drive, he took up the bottle,

"swallowed some of the poison, and fell down dead in the bar."

Yep, absolutely.

I've seen people in Iraq,

killed by that kind of poison,

dropped from the air by Saddam Hussein,

and it's instant but while it happens, it's pretty nasty.

You wouldn't wish it on anybody. No.

Certainly not on your great-great-grandfather.

So, I'm really sorry about poor old John King.

But, I mean, doesn't it sound just a bit suspicious?

Obviously, the coroner would have gone over

the question in his mind or in the case,

whether the son actually left it there

because he wanted to take over the Queen's Head.

And here you've got the inquest.

Oh, yes, "Inquest on Mr King."

Here we are, "The deceased son, Mr Edward King, was recalled,

"having had to retire before his examination was complete,

"in consequence of his distressed mental condition."

So, he was very upset. Yep.

"The witness was again

"so overcome by his feelings he had to be led out of the room.

"The coroner and jury were perfectly agreed

"that the occurrence was a result

"of misadventure and a verdict to that effect was recorded."

Well, they certainly believed...

They believed him.

Did he leave a will? Have you found a will?

Well, what you would do is look in the Probate Court Records

for 1872, anyone called John King leaving a will.

Oh, yes, there it is. The one that's of interest, here.

"Effects under £800." Mm-hm.

"Administration with the will of the effects of John King,

"late of the Queen's Head,

"was granted at the principal Registry to Edward King, the son."

So, yes, we know that John King did leave some money.

But... Not much. Could you retire on that?

It's the equivalent, I suppose, of one or two years' average salary.

Let's go on to see what else we can find out about Edward

after the will was proved.

This is a marriage certificate. January 22nd, 1873.

So the year after the old boy keels over in the pub.

Six months, almost.

Six months, it is, yes.

Edward King marries Elizabeth Mary

Davis, my great-grandmother,

who became known as Lela.

He's 32, she's 19, so there's a 13-year age gap.

He's a licensed victualler now, so he's taken over.

He's inherited some part of the 800 quid.

He can afford to marry.

They're certainly...

Oh, yes. ..going to do what married couples

would do in the Victorian period. Here's the birth...

Oh. Now, who's this? Lizzy Caroline Merear.

Now, this must be my grandmother.

Registered as Lizzy.

So, there we go. She was know as Liese.

Liz, well yes.

L-I-E-S-E.

Oh, and then he's a licensed victualler still,

and they're here.

They're at Keppel Street.

And now because Edward King is such a common name...

Mmm. ..no-one's really been able to track him down properly,

in the later censuses.

He seems to almost disappear off the radar, until he actually dies.

Ah. So we've got his death certificate.

So there is his death. 1904.

He's 62 and he dies of chronic Bright's disease and hepatitis.

What is Bright's disease?

It's some kind of chronic kidney disease. Oh.

A disease of the kidneys.

Maybe too many tots.

It's something that...

"Have one for yourself barman," you know. Possibly. Mmm.

So, this is 1904.

He's been ill with Bright's disease for 13 years.

So that was 1891.

He must have been starting to get ill

when Lela, his wife, left him with the kids.

Maybe she left him because he was ill.

Life is not going well for this man, is it?

It isn't, it isn't.

But then we have

"The informant, AE Whittall, son-in-law,

"present at the death."

Now, that was my grandmother's married name,

and she didn't go off with the circus. Really? No.

So Edward was living with his daughter

and son-in-law by this time. Yes.

I feel really very sad about poor old Edward King.

Been dumped, you know, and he's got health problems,

going down in the world.

I feel really quite sympathetic towards him.

Does make me wonder, too,

whether he didn't pick the wrong girl to marry, slightly.

Just when he needed her most,

she was careering around looking for somebody,

and she found Cody and she took all but my grandmother

on to the Wild West Shows and everything.

When Lela left Edward for Cody,

she took her three sons

but left John's grandmother,

Liese, behind.

Liese never took part in the shows

and was written out

of the Cody family stories,

so what little John knows about her is through hearsay.

I always believed, through what my father told me,

that there was a big rift between my grandmother,

whose name was Liese, and her mother, Lela, Lela Cody.

I'm really keen to know more now about my grandmother.

I've never seen any photographs of her at all,

wouldn't know what she looked like.

But, I mean, that's all a complete blank to me.

One reason why I don't know anything very serious

about my grandmother and my grandfather

is that when my father's marriage to my mother broke up

that just divided the two parts of my family.

And I was really never, never very close

to anybody on my mother's side after that.

John is visiting another cousin, Tony Reed.

They haven't seen each other since John's mother's funeral.

Tony. Oh!

Hello. It's a long...

It's very nice to see you after all these years.

A long, long time. Come in.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Unlike John, Tony has childhood memories of their grandmother.

The thing is, Tony, I know absolutely nothing whatsoever

about our grandmother, Liese.

I only knew her when I was very young.

I was about eight years old when she died.

But, I mean, she was marvellous to my sister and I.

And what did she look like?

Well, here we have...

Oh, my God!

..photographs of Liese.

Is that her? That's Liese.

What a nice-looking woman.

And this is a postcard, is it?

This is a postcard.

Yes. Madam Cody.

So, she calls her mother

"Madam Cody". Cody.

Well, well. "Dear Lela." Ah, but she calls her Lela there. Yes.

Which is kind of interesting, isn't it? Isn't it? Yes.

"Give my best love to the dear boys." Her brothers. Yes.

Presumably. "And yourself. Yours, Liese."

My father said that Lela, Madam Cody,

used to say to her daughter,

"You're so ugly, I can't believe that you're my daughter."

Have you heard any stories like that?

Well, I've heard this business of, "You're big and ugly."

Mmm, that's right, "You're so big."

And I could never believe it, especially having seen her.

Lela didn't seem to like girls very much.

She much preferred the boys.

Mmm. Perhaps not the most loving of mothers.

No, she had another side to her, it seems. Yes.

I'm beginning to see really a different side to the whole thing.

She obviously was a really sweet woman, Liese.

Because she had her father to live with her, and he died,

and can't have been very well.

You know, she obviously looked after him,

and so did Arthur Whittall.

Grandfather. Grandfather, and your grandfather too.

And mine, yes. Arthur Whittall.

Oh, gosh, he's tremendous, isn't he? Isn't he?

It seems to have been an extremely happy marriage.

Oh, was it?

Well, I have two letters

and it's not so much what it actually says,

but the manner in which it's written.

"From your loving husband,"

and asking after the family and all sorts of little nuances

that give the impression that they were extremely happily married.

And, of course, at this stage...

Oh, gosh!

And that is your mother.

And that's my mother.

That's Viva, and that is?

Leonie. That's our aunt, your aunt and my aunt.

At this stage your mother has not been born.

And this is your mother's birth certificate.

Oh, yes. Oh, yes!

"29th July 1906, Joyce Lela Vivian.

Father was "Arthur Ernest Whittall, deceased."

Well, this is his death certificate. Oh.

Arthur Whittall died 21st August 1906.

So, what's that? That's 23 days after my mother was born. Mm-hm.

And her birth and his death were registered at the same time.

23rd August, 23rd August.

It's the same day.

Poor Liese.

And how did he die, do you know?

What does it say? "Cause of death - enteric fever."

I was always told that this was at a TA Camp. Ah.

And he drank infected water.

Good Lord.

What a tragedy.

Dear, oh, dear, and he was only 32. Yes.

And, of course, her world falls to pieces.

Falls to pieces.

So, she has to be taken in somewhere.

Yes, so who took her in?

The Cody family.

Did they? Yes, but I suspect that it was Grandpa Cody... Yes.

..rather than Lela...

that said, "We must do something about this."

Yes, I'm sure you're right.

It sounds like something Cody would do. Some big-hearted gesture. Yes.

After Arthur Whittall died,

Liese and her three daughters,

Viva, Leonie

and John's mother, Joyce,

were reunited with the rest

of the Cody family.

Liese and her three daughters went to live with Cody and Lela,

in Farnborough.

And this is the census return for 1911.

"SF Cody, aeronautical engineer, 49."

Now was that genuine? Well...

according to my calculations, I think it was...

..44

would be more accurate. Would it?

And Lela Cody was supposedly 48

and she was a lot more than that, wasn't she?

58. 58!

"Lela Cody, wife, 48." Liar.

"Married.

"Completed years the present marriage has lasted...30 years."

Well, they weren't married anyway. Weren't married, no.

And a resident of Spain.

This is a load of nonsense, isn't it?

Leese Whittall, so that's our grandmother? Yes.

It's spelt slightly weirdly.

We're told "cousin".

She... No cousin, no, nonsense,

cos she was Mrs Cody's daughter.

It's like any lie. You tell a lie

and the next thing you know it's got worse. Yeah.

And you have to keep lying more.

And so the whole thing snowballs. Yes.

Until your children are your cousins, and things like this. Yes.

You know, I mean, all this sort of...

Obviously Liese was a great embarrassment.

Yes, I suppose...to Madam Cody.

Indeed, yes.

"Put her down as 'cousin.'" Yes.

"And 'housekeeper.'" Yes.

I wonder if she was the housekeeper, though.

I wonder if she did look after them, and...

Oh, she did other things as well.

Did she? Well, yeah, this is a section here

showing some of Cody's team.

This, of course, is Liese.

Is Liese, yes, yes, yes.

She helped with the planes.

No! Did she?

I have here a letter.

This is from Auntie Leonie.

"Mother used to make the silk covering..." Oh, there we are.

"Mother used to make the silk covering

"for the wings of the aeroplanes

"and she worked at a treadle machine at the back of Grandpa's big shed.

"Mama never got appreciation

"in either of the books that were written,

"but it was she who made the wings for the planes,

"and Grandpa gave her permission to take us,

"only one at a time, to spend the day at Laffan's Plain,"

where Cody did his flying.

"Those were gala days to us and Mama always dressed us in our best,

"and especially washed our hair so that we should do her proud."

Gosh, I'm amazed.

Oh, here.

You don't think that that's our grandmother, one of those, do you?

Well, it's difficult to tell, isn't it?

I think that that might be her...

Yes, yes, yes.

..in this one. Yes.

Good Lord.

How do you know all these things? Cos your mother told you, I suppose?

Er, yes, you ask your mother.

Your mother and Leonie.

When they died, we tended to keep their memorabilia.

Yes, so you got all the stuff.

That's right, yes.

And this is, of course...

Oh, there's my mother.

That's right, yes.

And that's Liese. Yes.

Ah, I haven't seen a picture of my mother that...

..you know, a new picture of my mother for a very long time.

Mmm. And here's another picture...

Oh, yeah. ..of your mother.

Oh, yes. And who's that, then?

That's Leonie.

That's Leonie. Our aunt, your aunt and my aunt.

That is absolutely lovely.

You know, I've got a picture of myself

and my mother standing at the same gate.

Gosh.

Some of my earliest memories were here.

Smelling wallflowers and things. Yes.

It's quite melancholy, actually, all of this.

But it's a strange old family to come from, a bit, isn't it?

Well, it is a bit odd. It is a bit odd.

But I feel, thanks to you, I've kind of rediscovered Liese.

Who was just always a sort of nothing and a nobody,

as far as I could make out.

On the contrary, I mean, she's a really interesting, charming,

charming woman.

And I must say, just seeing these pictures of my mother,

also very, very moving.

There's quite a lot to digest here.

I found this very complicated family...

..and now I feel I'm much better aware of the forces that made me.

I feel an awful lot closer to my mother now.

Seeing those photographs of her really did...

..bring it all home so much.

I felt dreadful that I'd sided with my father against my mother

and it kind of built up this tremendous burden of guilt, I think,

on both our parts, that kept us separate.

Now, I'd just go straightaway.

The worst thing is to know that it's too late.

I'm determined, absolutely determined to make sure

that my family doesn't allow distances

and separations to grow up, cos they don't do you any good.

Terribly corny to say it,

but, I mean, it is a fact of our lives.

Don't let the gaps grow.

You know, shrink them.

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