The Ferguson’s Gang
This secretive group of people, raised money to fund restoration
of a number of buildings. They would appear at the headquarters of
the national trust, and hand over cash with instructions as to how
it was to be spent.
They never used their own names, alias’s were used such as Bill
Stickers, Red Biddy, 'Erb the Smasher, See Mee Run, Gerry Boham and
their spiritual head, the Right Bludy the Lord Beershop (or Bishop)
of the Gladstone Islands & Mercator's Projection. Shalford Mill
was one place funded by the gang, here they used to meet to plan
the next plot, records were kept in a book called, the Boo. To add
to the eccentricity they would turn up with a hamper full of
food.
Nobody knew who these masked bandits were. But with each
appearance their notoriety - and penchant for mischievous stunts -
grew. They once delivered money sewn up in the carcass of a goose;
another time £50 notes came attached to miniature liqueurs. Their
campaign continued until around 1940 - but the gang, now all dead,
shrouded their identities for far longer.
Only one member was officially "outed", in an obituary in the
Times in 1996, when she died aged 93. This was Bill Stickers, aka
Dr Margaret Steuart Pollard, a brilliant Sanskrit scholar, Cornish
bard, historian and a great-niece of Gladstone.
Another ally was The Artichoke, aka John Macgregor, a well-known
conservation architect. He came into contact with the gang when
they donated the derelict Shalford Mill in Surrey, of which he
became the tenant.
The Trust gave Ferguson's band access to parts of the building
to hold their clandestine meetings (they kept their number to just
eight, because that was as many as could fit around the millstone).
"They would just appear," recall Macgregor's daughters, Joanna and
Penelope, "often chauffeur-driven. Our parents would say: 'Now,
don't stare, and be on best behaviour.'
"They were a little in awe of the gang. They were such
intelligent women: all tweeds and Lyle stockings. A Fortnum &
Mason van would arrive, and cooking smells would permeate our side
of the mill.
"We could hear them laughing and yelling their battle cry as all
their hands struck the millstone. They would chant in Latin and
dance in flowing robes, staying up all night to greet the four
colours of dawn. We found them fascinating - and just a little
shocking." By the Second World War they had raised £4,500 - a
remarkable figure, and much of it their own, although some was
press-ganged out of friends.
We were in our twenties and it was fun," Sister Agatha recalled.
"We cared about helping to save England and wanted to be involved
in something of permanent value. The National Trust was the obvious
recipient for our schemes as it keeps its properties for the nation
forever."
Or as Bill Stickers put it in her own succinct way: "I done wot
I could while I could."
Shalford Mill was the first place to be a recipient of the
gang.
As you pass by the mill listen for the sound of the ghosts of the
gang, chanting and dancing around the millstone. PLEASE TAKE CARE
TO CONCEAL THIS CACHE AGAIN.