Campbeltown in 1901 was a busy and developing town, poised between the old ways of the nineteenth century and the exciting developments of a new century and a new reign. The mail coach was still running to and from Tarbert, drawn by its two horses. You could tell the time by its prompt departure at 6 a.m., and the children who had been playing in the streets all day, with nothing to disturb them but farm carts and an occasional gig, knew it was time to go home when they saw it coming back, down Longrow to Reform Square and round by Cross Street to reach the Post Office at 6 p.m. sharp. It had to take that route until Longrow South replaced the impassable Wide Close in 1910. (And well into living memory, the complex of the Post Office, the Town Hall and the historical site of CampbeItown Cross was the bus terminus, a link with mail coach days which most of us never noticed.)

But by 1901 the world's first turbine steamer, King Edward (named in honour of the new monarch), soon joined by Queen Alexandra, had augmented the already good steamer service to the town. A pleasure excursion to see the great exhibition at Kelvingrove allowed people to leave Campbeltown on board R.M.S. Davaar at 7 a.m., reaching Glasgow, by a special express train from Ardrossan, at 10.25 a.m. (rather quicker than the bus manages today). Tourism was taking off, though the Wee Train to the Pans was still some years away

Kinloch Park had replaced the malodorous Mussel Ebb, though the odour problem wasn't quite solved. There were three hotels, a score of distilleries, half a dozen churches and a cottage hospital. Several fine villas and red sandstone tenements already graced the townscape, with more to come. A splendid Arts and Crafts building housed a new library and museum. William McTaggart was painting every summer in Machrihanish and Carradale. It was a propitious time for Captain Duncan Martin to rent a shop at 14 Main Street, on the comer of Bolgam Street, right on the tourist route from the pier.

Captain Duncan Martin (1855-1915)

Captain Martin, master mariner, is the hero of a famous Campbeltown sea rescue. On a stormy night in December 1908 the ketch Jane from Belfast was foundering in the Loch and the lifeboat, damaged in another operation, was unable to help. Captain Martin commandeered a skiff, organised a scratch crew, and made two attempts to save the men lashed to the rigging of the stricken ship. On the second run two brothers were rescued, though their father had died of exposure. For this exploit Captain Martin received the silver medal of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution, very seldom awarded except to RNLI personnel.

But this was still in the future when he took on the Main Street shop. Over his career he was by turns a fisherman, a ship-owner, and the skipper of the luxury steam-yacht Medea. He was married twice, to Euphemia Sillars and Annie Mathieson, and was the father of six daughters, Aggie, Katie, Effie, Janet, Mary and Barbara, and five sons, one of them lost at sea. A large family to provide for and to see settled in life: it was a responsible and far-thinking paterfamilias who acquired the shop in Main Street to get two of the girls, at least, started on the right path.

The shop

Martin's opened for business on 4 May 1901, announcing itself in the local papers as 'Stationers and Tobacconists', with 'daily and weekly newspapers, etc, supplied'. Family lore has it that the original business was a grocery, not necessarily on the same site. Certainly in the 1881 census Captain Duncan's sister-in-law Agnes Sillars, aged 21, who lived with the Martins in North Shore Street, is described as a grocer. The previous tenant of the shop was Agnes Watson, possibly a grocer and possibly a relation of the Captain's: there are Watsons in the family tree. There are still some threads to be pulled together in this early time.

The Main Street shop appears in a 1903 directory as being kept by A. & K. Martin. They were the Captain's two eldest daughters, Agnes and Katherine, both in their early twenties at this time. Agnes, however, had other fish to fry. She became Campbeltown's first trained midwife, serving from 1912 to 1924, a heroine in her own right as she travelled to remote cottages and flood-isolated houses; once she had to beat the tide to reach Davaar lighthouse before the baby did.

Then, apparently, the fourth daughter, Janet, joined the enterprise, for the listing becomes 'K. & J. Martin'. Janet worked in the shop, but she was being courted by a sailor, and married him in 1912, when she was 26. At some point the business became just 'K. Martin', and certainly from then on Katherine was in sole charge.

That block of Main Street is a Georgian tenement built about 1820 by one John McLean, after whom it was called McLean's Place. Historic Scotland describes it as 'a remarkable survivor' and comments on 'the uniformity of the windows and dormers, which survive intact'.ⁱ A modern estate agent's report puts the total floor area of the shop at a prosaic sixty metres square, but customers remember it affectionately as, somehow, smaller than that: 'the little cluttered shop ... a haven for booklovers'.ⁱⁱ Agnes Stewart remembers it as 'a veritable Aladdin's Cave ... a magic place'. And there's an upstairs floor! This was a total surprise to the present writer when it emerged in the course of research, and, as we shall see, it was a treasure cave too.

The stock

To begin with, the wares on sale were varied to say the least, as early stock books and advertisements make clear. School requisites; stationery; greetings cards; newspapers (until World War II, when that trade was taken over by Keith's farther up Main Street); knitting patterns; playing cards; stamps, albums and accessories; sheet music and instrument parts (continuing into the twenty-first century); violin pegs and strings; maps and charts, most important in a seafaring town. And, since Campbeltown was also a tourist destination, there were children's buckets and spades, and crested china (Arcadia and Goss), a popular souvenir. In the 1930s, charmingly, there's pebble jewellery, the pebbles hand-selected from Machrihanish beach.

There were also postcards, another must for tourists. Latterly these were from the big publishers like Valentine, but at first Martin's published their own. 'I think all the newsagents had their own postcards,' writes Maureen Bell (her grandfather Edward Keith was early in the field) ⁱⁱⁱ 'and perhaps employed photographers ... I've noticed that all the village shops published postcards too.' No definitive list of Martin's postcards has yet been compiled, but they cover most of south Kintyre: the Cauldrons (sic), the Mull, Ki1colrnkeil, Dunaverty, the old houses at the Pans. Most appear to be rural scenes (thus, annoyingly, not readily dateable by cars or costumes), but there are some of the Wee Train, and Martin's seem to have a bit of a monopoly on churches: Castlehill, Lorne Street, Lochend. One postcard deserves special mention, since it prints the full text of the Campbeltown ballad 'Flory Loynachan'. A copy has been found dating from the first years of the twentieth century. 'A highly cultural gesture,' suggests Angus Martin, and evidence of Katherine Martin's early interest in local history, which was to flourish later on.

And let's not forget the plug tobacco, much in demand. Two of Angus Martin's aunts, Carrie and Bella, were employed in the shop during its first half-century, and 'one of them would slip a wee bit extra tobacco to old fishermen she had a soft spot for, when the boss wasn't in the shop or wasn't looking. These would be wee bits that had been cut off to get the weight exact, not lumps purposely removed,' Angus scrupulously adds, exonerating his aunt from criminal charges while giving us a lovely picture from the earlier days of the shop.

But there were always books, and high-quality books, from near the beginning. There's a Collins Shakespeare in the 1907 stock book, and it wasn't necessarily a 'school requisite'; the first printed catalogue of the Campbeltown Library, dated 1899, reveals just how wide and deep were the town's reading tastes. When the shop was cleared in the twenty-first century, works in fine bindings with Walter Crane illustrations were found, dating from before 1914. There was a shedful of works on seamanship, coming up to at least World War II, perhaps finally overtaken by technology but essential in their time. Somebody was selecting the stock with knowledge and care. And with pride: at some point we find the famous little rectangular sticker, one inch wide by a quarter-inch deep, gold on black till 1951 and then white on blue, inside the cover of every hardback book.

Somebody was also a stickler for commas.

By the 1950s advertisements for the shop are unambiguous.

What these small ads never reveal is the person behind the discriminating choice: Katherine Martin, by now an imposing presence known to the whole town as Mrs Johnston.

Katherine (Martin) Johnston (1879-1957)

Her family called her Katie, and, in her youngest sister's description, preserved by the next generation, she had black hair and blue eyes. 'But she got angry if anyone said she looked Irish.' That's a clue to the rest of the description: 'Strong-willed. Most of the Martin women were.' She married John Johnston in 1910 and they had three children, Efric (later Wotherspoon) b. 1913, Margaret (later Webb) b. 1921, and Alistair, b. 1923, who (Captain Duncan's grandson after all) was in the Merchant Navy. There's a gap in the family because John was in the Argylls during World War I. He was gassed; later he was a clerk in the local Unemployment Office. The family lived in Main Street and then Dell Road, also in Royal Avenue Mansions at one time, moving to the attractive lochside house Sandbank in about 1928. This final move settled the family firmly in Dalintober, once a separate fishing community though now part of Campbeltown, to which the Martins historically belonged.

John's granddaughter remembers him as 'a soft-natured man'. Perhaps that, and his possibly uncertain health postwar, account for Katie, married with a family, continuing to run the bookshop, still trading under her own name too. But just as likely she wouldn't have dreamed of giving it up. 'Formidable' is her granddaughter's description. The Johnstons belonged to Castlehill Church but Katie stayed in Loene Street and took the family there; no small declaration of independence for the time and place.

She was clearly a most intelligent woman and her interests were wide, not to say unusual for the time. She belonged to a writers' group. She was vegetarian long before it was fashionable, and keen on fresh air, sun, sea water, and the writings of Marie Stopes. The younger children, when ill, were given herbal remedies, sometimes to the annoyance of Efric who was by then a qualified children's nurse.

Katie was interested and knowledgeable in local history, publishing at least two pamphlets, Southend Through the Ages and Saddell Castle. There is no sign that she belonged to the Antiquarian Society, surely her natural home, but Angus Martin points out that the Society, like many such, was virtually male-dominated until well after World War II. We may perhaps imagine Katie's views on that.

She continued to run the bookshop right through the war years. During the air raid on Carnpbeltown in November 1940, which partially destroyed the Royal Hotel only a few yards from the shop, people were advised to shelter under a lorry. No sheltering for Katie, who decided to walk home. The lorry was machine-gunned.

During the war Campbeltown shops closed at five to save electricity, and most kept these hours in peacetime. Martin's was one of the few which opened till six; regular customers would come in after work, often staying to chat to Katie. Other regular visitors were the local tinkers (as they were always called then, the preferred term nowadays being travelling people). For complex reasons, there was much illiteracy in that community at the time, and the tinkers would take letters to Katie to be read; if any needed answering, she would write the replies. The present writer remembers her about that period, by then white-haired, hawk-faced and always in black, a venerable figure, yet ready to discuss books with a small girl.

Books were ordered by letter when there was a sizeable order in hand, and took a long time to come, but they did come, to everyone's satisfaction. 'It was a slower life,' observes her granddaughter, who also notes 'perhaps a tendency to overstock and perhaps less than perfect order in the stock room. But as a result I had all those interesting finds ... '

These finds were upstairs, in what had once been a selling area and still had a counter (and the mantelpiece of a hearth). Katie's daughter Efric, now widowed, brought her children to Campbeltown for the school holidays, and her daughter, another Efric, has clear memories of that time.

'The ground floor had been reduced in size. The dividing wall was very thin and we could hear the murmur of men's voices from the public bar next door. This added to the mystery and excitement of the shop ... The counter [upstairs] contained many drawers and cubby-holes all of different sizes. You could never be quite sure if you had looked in that particular one before ... There was an amazing revolving postcard stand which must be seven feet high ... It had a door which opened into the interior. Everything was jumbled up and there was always a feeling of what might we find here?'

Young Efric remembers Katie as a fairly stem granny, yet kind enough. All the children got a book from stock for their birthdays, and - they were after all on holiday at the seaside - a new bucket and spade every year. They were allowed to read the books downstairs in the shop too, but - we would expect no less of Katie - 'only if we were very careful and had clean hands. '

Katie died in April 1957. Though she was such a kenspeckle figure in the town, the Courier carried no obituary. In the same month two other well-known and respected local shopkeepers died, and both got a write-up, but they were men. Once again, perhaps we may imagine that Katie might have had something to say.

Efric (Johnston) Wotherspoon (1913-2000)

Katie's daughter Efric - her name a Gaelic cognate of the family name Euphemia - was a nurse in Glasgow and Liverpool before marrying lain Wotherspoon from Gigha (whose family, incidentally, had owned the second ship which grounded during the stormy night of Captain Duncan's exploit). They had three children, Margaret b. 1938, lain b. 1940, and Efric b. 1943. When World War II broke out, lain was in a reserved occupation as an aeronautical engineer, but he volunteered for active service in the RAF. His daughter summarises the story.

'[He] was sent to Bomber Command ... [and] was posted missing from a bombing raid on the night of April 9-10 1945, three weeks before the end of the war. Efric was left to bring up three small children ... Her grit, determination and individuality, which she showed throughout her life, were probably hewn during this period. Her sadness was not allowed to show and her children attest that their childhood was happy with lots of fun and laughter in the house ... During this period, she sent parcels of clothing through the Quakers to help destitute German families and corresponded with them - a measure of her compassionate nature.' ^iv

As we have seen, the family spent holidays in Campbeltown, when Efric helped in the shop. She had gained bookshop experience in Allan's and Jackson's in Glasgow, and moved permanently to Campbeltown in 1951, becoming a partner and taking over on Katie's death.

Her daughter calls her the bookseller par excellence, and her many customers would agree. At home she was always surrounded by books and newspapers; she read all the reviews and stocked what would be wanted. She was on the council of the Booksellers' Association, but her real glory was seen in the shop. She was usually to be found in discussion with readers, not just local ones: holidaymakers would come in year after year and bring her up to date with family events. Agnes Stewart, who was friends with Efric's daughter Margaret, remembers the shop, and that wonderful upstairs room, with particular warmth.

'On rainy days we were allowed to go upstairs. To some people it would have appeared a complete shambles, with piles of books and old sheet music all over every available surface. It was in that magic place that I met some of the poetry of Latimer McInnes and read some of the early books of Angus MacVicar [both local authors]... Of course, I was never allowed to take these books away from the upstairs room, and as a bashful teenager, I would not even have asked to borrow them. Later, when I was earning some money of my own, Efric with her encyclopaedic knowledge could always point me in the direction of something interesting ... It was from Efric that my prize for English, which I won in fifth year, was ordered - a copy of the works of John Keats.... I almost always bought Dad's birthday present from Efric - he was such a 'book person' and she could always find something that would interest him.'

Even if, as her daughter says, 'her life was books', Efric had a rich and interesting life outside the shop. A friend affectionately recalls 'her wonderful selection of large-brimmed hats, and her tribulations with the driving test [which] she sat seven times. [She] was delighted to be interviewed on the subject by Radio Scotland.'^v (She was wont to explain plaintively that she only wanted to drive round the Esplanade, from Sandbank to the shop and back.)

Rather more significantly, she was, as Angus Martin says, 'a veritable fund of local history and genealogy'. She was secretary for many years, and then president, of the Antiquarian Society, and was appointed F.S.A. Scot. She travelled widely, always alert to find a Kintyre connection, adding to her information and her collection of slides for the popular talks she gave all over Kintyre. Such was her local knowledge, says her daughter, 'that the shop became effectively an information exchange for visitors, many from overseas, seeking their roots'. She was still to be found behind the counter well into her eighties, and when she died in 2000 was probably Scotland's oldest practising bookseller.

Later

After Efric's death, her son lain and her daughter, another Efric, took over the family business; lain had been in the book trade, with Collins Publishers, for many years. Sadly he died in 2007. His sister continued to run the shop, but necessarily in tandem with her chartered accountant's practice.

Meanwhile times had become very difficult for independent booksellers. Publishing had been transformed by mergers, and books could now be bought from big bookshop chains and supermarkets at discounts which the independents couldn't match. Perhaps the last straw was the rise of Internet shopping; you could buy your book, again at a discount, without getting up from your chair, let alone walking down Main Street to the little shop on the comer. Martin's closed with regret in July 2012, a hundred and eleven years after Captain Duncan's daughters had opened the shop in the very different Campbeltown of 1901.

Acknowledgments

Warmest thanks are due to Efrie McNeil, without whose ready help and interest this article could not have been written; Angus Martin, who supplied much information, some anecdotes, and pages from his unpublished Martin family history; Mary Davidson, who first suggested it; and John Arbuckle, Maureen Bell, Barbara Harvey, Carol McNeill, Agnes Stewart and Alistair Webb for memories, family lore and glimpses into the world of the postcard collector. Background has been checked in The CampbeItown Book (Kintyre Civic Society, 2003), and mail coach memories are from the late Flora McNeill.

Sources

• i. Quoted in Michael Davis, 'Architectural Campbeltown', The Campbeltown Book (Kintyre Civic Society, 2003), pp. 368-384 (p 378).
• ii. Margaret Macaulay, 'Bookseller and antiquarian: Efric Wotherspoon', Scottish Book Collector 6:11, Winter 2000-01, p. 37.
• iii. Maureen Bell, 'Edward Keith, Postcard Publisher', Kintyre Magazine 62, Autumn 2007, pp. 22-23.
• iv. Obituary, [Glasgow] Herald, 21 November 2000.
• v. Margaret Macaulay; see note 2.

Copyright belongs to the authors unless otherwise stated.

ISSN 0140 0762