Hilda & Gilbert: Tales from two Streatham Cemeteries

Egg-on-face update:  

So, since posting this blog last year, I’ve discovered the sources I’d originally relied on when researching Hilda Wilson (the World’s Fattest Woman in 1936) were incorrect.  It was widely reported in newspapers at the time that she was buried in Streatham Cemetery but she’s actually in Streatham Park Cemetery (which explains why we couldn’t locate her when we visited the former)!  

If anyone wishes to visit her, the address is Rowan Road, Streatham, London SW16 5JG.   Sincere apologies for the misinformation.

By Sam

It’s a pleasure to contribute to the Cemetery Club’s blog!  For my first post, I’m not going to venture into the history of London’s cemeteries and the ever-growing need for burial space. I don’t need to, as this topic has already been covered in the excellent existing posts by Sheldon, Christina and Caroline.

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Crocuses in October?

Instead I’m going to offer up a couple of interesting characters I located in Streatham Park Cemetery (address above) and Streatham Cemetery (Garratt Lane, London SW17 0LT).  These two cemeteries are entirely different entities but very much worth a visit – more interesting characters from Streatham Park Cemetery will follow!

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Hilda Wilson (d1936) – Streatham Park Cemetery

A rather unconventional entertainer was interred at Streatham Park Cemetery on a dry and mild New Year’s Eve day in 1936.  A special platform was erected at the edge of the 4ft wide grave, the largest ever dug at the cemetery, and an additional six cemetery staff members were needed to help ease the huge coffin onto the pall. Surrounded by her fellow circus performers who came to pay their respects, this was the final resting spot of Mrs Hilda Wilson, 1936’s self-proclaimed “World’s Fattest Woman”.

Tod Browning’s film “Freaks” had provoked such public revulsion four years earlier but, even before that, the British and American public had already bought into question the morality of these once hugely popular ‘freak shows’.  By the 1920s and 30s, the silver screen began eclipsing the allure of the circus with its featured human oddities and freak show audiences dwindled.

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Could this downturn in popularity have prompted 63-year old Hilda Brown to relocate from Berlin to try her luck at the Fun Fair in London’s Haymarket in mid-December 1936?  A living exhibit, she was 5’3” but weighed in at 46 stone with a waist that was 3 yards in circumference.  The widow of fellow carnival attraction John Wilson (a.k.a. “The English Giant”), Hilda had arrived in England only a fortnight earlier – no doubt she considered her fellow performers the closest thing she had to friends and family.

Travelling around London was problematic for Hilda, as the standard English rail carriages simply couldn’t accommodate her and she was forced to commute in the guard’s van.  While appearing at the Fun Fair on that fateful December day, Hilda collapsed and never awoke.

In death it reportedly took eight men to carry her body to the mortuary where it was determined that a pituitary gland disorder was responsible for her size, putting such strain on her 23oz heart that it could no longer support her frame.  The cause of death was recorded as “myocardial degeneration and adeposis”. Rather dramatically, the funeral very nearly didn’t take place as Hilda’s financial interests were still tied up in Germany, but luckily Hilda’s circus family generously chipped in to defray the cost of her burial.

She is located in grave 33346, square 24.

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Capt Gibb Mapplebeck (d1915) – Streatham Cemetery

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Captain Gilbert Mapplebeck, image from Great War London.

Gilbert “Gibb” William Roger Mapplebeck’s only calling was to be a pilot.  Even before the devastating outbreak of WWI Gibb had already learned to fly, earning his Royal Aero Club’s flying certificate at the tender age of 19. Following his father’s career path as a Liverpool dentist was not on the cards for Gibb who, at 6’3″, was “possessed of a personal charm that endeared him to many”. Within the next two years, Gibb’s skill and courage made him a real life ‘Top Gun’ who enjoyed such distinctions of flying in the RFC’s seminal reconnaissance mission in August 1914, and later becoming the first pilot to bomb enemy lines in Flanders.

Not long afterwards, Gibb had the dubious honour of being the first British pilot to be injured in aerial combat. During a 6,000ft dog fight, he was hit by the rifle bullet of a German plane which sliced through the back of his right thigh, exiting the inner thigh and grazing his groin.  Against all odds, Gibb managed to reach British lines before lapsing into unconsciousness as the plane slowly filled up with his own blood.  Excellent medical care (involving multiple surgeries) and sheer force of will ensured his survival and 22-year old Gibb was awarded a DSO in the New Year’s Honours.

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In March 1915 he spearheaded the first ever nocturnal air raid ever undertaken but things didn’t go according to plan.  Shot down over Lille and ensuring his survival only by burning what remained of his plane, Gibb laid low in a wood for three days before finding sanctuary in an abandoned house, sustaining himself only with the chocolate he carried with him.

Once again though, Lady Luck was on Gibb’s side – he happened to speak fluent French and charming the locals, he disguised himself a peasant as he made his way through France back to England, all while tearing up his own Wanted posters issued by the enemy.  Eventually passing through Holland to return to London, Captain Mapplebeck arrived on 4th April, presenting himself at Farnborough later the same day.  The man was unstoppable!

Gibb’s reputation as a daredevil preceded him and he performed mid-air tricks and stunts which sometimes got him into a spot of bother with his superiors (on one occasion he was disciplined for looping the loop in his plane.  As one does).  Whether or not this ‘devil may care’ attitude contributed to his death, we’ll never know.  On Tuesday 24th August 1915, Gibb was stationed in Kent testing a Morane Saulnier Type N “Bullet” fighter plane when, to the horror of witnesses, the aircraft banked, made a sharp right turn and then nose-dived straight into the ground.

Captain Gibb Mapplebeck was killed on impact, two days short of his 23rd birthday.  The Board of Inquiry found that “the accident was due to the machine ‘spinning’ on a heavily banked turn, the pilot not having sufficient height to regain control before hitting the earth.” Gibb’s possessions were returned to his family and he was buried with full military honours in Streatham Cemetery at 11h45 on Saturday 28th August 1915.

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So highly regarded were her son’s heroics that his mother received personal condolences from Lord Stamfordham on behalf of King George V himself.  The message read, “His Majesty knows what gallant and distinguished services he has rendered during the war, and deeply regrets that a young life of such promise should have been thus cut short.”

Hilda and Gilbert – we salute you.

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About misssamperrin

Long standing cemetery tour guide, lover of all things Victoriana (especially mourning customs, social history and quirky characters), The Ruts, All Hallows Eve and dogs.
This entry was posted in Biography, History, London, Military, War. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Hilda & Gilbert: Tales from two Streatham Cemeteries

  1. Two poignant stories. Fascinating reading.

  2. Great posts and great photos – enjoyed reading it.

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