Velma Malcom BEM – Ailsa Heathman
1930 – 2004
Velma Malcom was a big lady; not only was she a physically imposing person, but politically, socially and in sporting life she was one of the most active people of her generation, and a strong leader of the community.
Her father Axel Pettersson was running the old Stanley Arms when Velma was born in 1930, and twelve years later he bought the Rose Hotel where Velma was to spend the greatest part of her life. Pub life would not have been what Velma would have chosen for herself (in fact Ailsa said to me she hated most of it), but it was the Rose was to shape much of her later life.
She was evidently a bright girl, and won a scholarship to the British School in Montevideo in 1944 in the second year that the scholarship was in being. Others in Monte during those first few years included Joan Bound, Bill Etheridge and Rex Browning, and all of them were to go on to make important contributions to life in the Falklands in years to come. She enjoyed her time there, but was also exposed for the first time to the realities of Falklands politics, for it was at this time that Peron started to again lay claim to the Islands, and had all Argentine text books reprinted to restate history for his convenience. This thoroughly annoyed Velma for the rest of her life.
On returning to the Islands Velma was asked to become a school teacher, but she declined. She said that if she had told someone something, and they didn’t remember it or didn’t understand, she would not have the patience to tell them again ! I don’t think we are surprised at that; instead she went to work at the Secretariat.
But her life changed dramatically in 1949 at the age of 19, when her father was tragically drowned in a boating accident at the Murrell. Velma and her mother Beatrice were thrown into the deep end; they had a pub to run in an age when respectable women just didn’t go into pubs. And there would have been some pretty tough characters to deal with. It is hardly surprising therefore that she developed an uncompromising style, that was to last for the next 38 years.
But the Rose was also to be the origin of one of Velma’s great passions in life. In 1943 she first met the personnel making up Operation Tabarin, when they stayed there; this clearly sparked her imagination. These were the people who went South to set up the bases on the Antarctic that subsequently became the British Antarctic Survey. The Rose became the BAS pub in Stanley, and Velma became a friend to those who worked the bases for the next six decades.
Later in life I frequently had her ranting on to me that the studio had once again failed to reported the visit of a BAS ship to Stanley – didn’t these young people know what was important in life ? And Velma was one of a generation of people who felt somehow betrayed and let down, when in 1985 the FIDS were no more. The FI Dependencies were removed from the care of the FIG back to London. What had we done wrong; had we done such a bad job looking after them ? So a message to all of you still involved in the administration of South Georgia and the bases – you had better be sure you are doing a good job, or Velma will be watching you.
Velma married George Malcom on her birthday in 1956, a marriage that was to last forty years until George passed away. It was one of those relationships that seem all too rare these days, where they worked together through thick and thin, good times and bad times – including the occasionally tricky job of bringing up Ailsa. George was a quiet Scotsman, but was a strong character – Velma knew who was boss, and it wasn’t her. When she was asked in 1976 by Governor Jim Parker to be the first woman on Executive Council, something she would dearly love to have done, she declined. George had put his foot down; it would all have been too complicated. Not too many would have got away with that.
There are dozens of great stories about Velma and the Rose. Even some of our most respectable citizens have been ejected from the Rose for singing, being too noisy or drinking too much. You are nobody if you haven’t been called a “blinking article”, or something similar, by Velma. How many of you can remember walking through the old front door, to be confronted with Velma, elbows on the counter demanding to know “What do you want”. It was customer care with a difference – but it worked, it was a thoroughly respectable pub, and you always knew if you had overstepped the mark. And if you heard George whistling, you definitely knew it was time to go !!
The Rose too was a great centre for darts, boasting in its time some of the great teams and great players of the past, and it was a BAS man John Kendall who gave the Kendall cup that is still the league championship cup today. The Rose too had probably the first women’s dart team to play in the league.
As well as being a keen badminton player, Velma was also a good rifle shot at small bore and full bore, and still hanging on her sitting-room wall is a certificate for a possible at 900 yards, shot about 30 years ago before the days of finely engineered barrels. And Velma was for most of her life a keen rider; her race horse Reinbeau was a regular winner at Stanley races for many years, ridden by Neil, and always good for a few bob on the tote. She didn’t race herself, but from a young age right up until the war she rode regularly, particularly to visit relatives at Mount Pleasant and Green Patch.
Velma was awarded the BEM for services to the community in 1978. For years her and George ran the Scottish and country dancing club. And amongst her rich portfolio of other activities was the Girls Life Brigade; when it was formed in 1953 she became their first Captain and continued in that role throughout its life. It was, understandably, with a great deal of pride that she led them on parades at the Queens Birthday, Battle Day and Remembrance Sunday, and especially for inspection by the Duke of Edinburgh during his visit in 1957.
And Velma loved playing cards. Right up until her last departure from the Islands Velma was playing bridge twice a week. Her style of bridge was erratic and belligerent, but fun to play – who could be surprised at that ?
But if Velma is remembered now for her social and sporting contributions, history will remember her for her political activities. She spent most of her life involved in the struggle to keep the Falklands British, and was a moving force in, amongst other things, her opposition to the attempts of the Wilson Government to negotiate sovereignty with the Argentines in the 60’s, seeing off Ted Rowland’s attempts to lead us down that same slippery slope in the 70’s, and deterring Ridley’s disgraceful leaseback proposals in the 80’s. She met and left her mark on a host of others, including Lord Chalfont, Cranley Onslow, Lord Montgomery and George Foulkes, who were left in no doubt what was right and wrong. But with the experience of so much deceit and manoeuvring she never, never trusted the Foreign Office.
Velma was, for most of its life, the Secretary of the local branch of the FI Committee. She provided constant advice and support to the UK Committee, and raised funds locally to keep them in being. She was one of those figures that people relied on to raise a voice if things looked as though they were going wrong. I had the privilege in 1997 to do the eulogy in this church for Bill Hunter-Christie, a man for whom Velma had enormous respect. And I know that he rightly had the same respect for Velma, for her single minded determination, energy and sheer persistence in making sure that no politician, whether local or from Westminster, strayed off the strict line of self-determination and Keep the Falklands British.
Velma and George were of course shipped out to Fox Bay in 1982, along with a number of other trouble makers. I am indebted to Gerald Cheek for the story that, one day during a Harrier raid, she saw through the kitchen window one of the aircraft approaching a fuel dump only a hundred yards or so away; as the aircraft started dropping its bombs Velma threw herself to the floor, with a speed and agility that the other housemates didn’t think possible. It might not have been funny at the time, but subsequently provided endless amusement to the others, who speculated what it would have been like to be in the way.
Velma Malcom was a big lady. Community leader, political activist, and friend of so many of us here today. May she rest in peace.
Mike Summers
August 10th 2004