Renaldo

by James McCreath

  complex in all of England at a site in West Ham. The ‘Memorial Recreation

  Ground’ was to house a stadium with a capacity for over one hundred thousand

  spectators, as well as facilities for cricket, tennis, and cycling.

  When the grounds opened on the sixteenth anniversary of Queen Victoria’s

  ascension to the throne, it was everything for which Hills had hoped. The

  London press trumpeted that the facility was ‘good enough to hold the Football

  Association Cup final in.’ However, there were problems from the outset.

  Hill’s football team became more competitive each year after moving into

  their own posh grounds, and both the players and their fans were anxious to join

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  the ranks of the professional leagues in order to continue their improvement.

  Hills looked upon professionalism as a form of prostitution, for he strongly

  believed in the purity of amateur sport. He reacted by throwing the would-be

  professionals out of his facility in 1904, then promptly reformed a truly amateur

  squad which had the exclusive use of the Memorial Recreational Ground. The

  displaced team was forced to relocate to a cabbage patch next to Boleyn Castle

  in Upton, a short distance from their former home. Here, they merged with

  Boleyn Castle F.C. and became known as West Ham United F.C. They adopted

  their nickname and symbol from the shipbuilder’s tool, and thence became

  the ‘Hammers.’ This team continued to draw the majority of its support from

  those involved with the shipbuilding trades. The Thames Ironworks amateurs

  and the Memorial Recreation Grounds faded into history, along with their

  authoritarian patron.

  Back in 189, though, Arthur Russell had no such delusions about the

  evils of professionalism as he put together the very first Canary Wharf side.

  After accepting Hill’s challenge and the obligatory wager on a match between

  the shipbuilders and the ‘sea rats,’ as the Thames Ironworks owner referred

  to Arthur’s ragtag charges, the younger man set about town to hire a few

  ‘ringers.’

  Emotions ran high among the hundreds of fans that had turned out as

  the two teams took to the barely passable playing field on Hermit Road in

  Canning Town. Hills was certain that his squad, with two years experience

  under their belts, would wallop the upstart ‘dockies,’ but that was not to be

  the case. Arthur Russell had spent his money wisely on three Southern League

  players, a keeper and two classy forwards. He plugged his defense with rugged,

  burly bruisers that manhandled the shipbuilders at every opportunity. The

  two professional forwards earned their wages that afternoon, each scoring twice

  to give the ‘sea rats’ a 4-1 victory. Arnold Hills left the grounds in a rage

  after learning that he had been duped by young Russell and defeated by those

  ‘professional whores.’ He refused to pay over the wager money to Russell, even

  though there had never been any discussion about the use of such players. The

  two men never spoke again after that day.

  Local support from the cockney residents on the Isle of Dogs was so

  fervent that the team never did disband, joining the Southern League for the

  following season. A site was needed for their own home field, and this prompted

  the enthusiastic twenty-eight-year-old Arthur to ask for an audience with his

  father, Reginald Eastwyck Russell, to resolve the matter.

  Sir Reginald was a no-nonsense businessman who did not suffer fools

  gladly. He had served in the Royal Marines in his youth, as was the family

  tradition, and then had joined his father, Stuart Ridley Russell, in the family’s

  lucrative import-export business. The heart and soul of that affair was located

  on the Isle of Dogs, four miles east of Buckingham Palace.

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  The Canary Islands Trading Company had been founded by a consortium

  of prominent bankers and businessmen to capitalize on the rich and exotic

  bounty that was found in the islands off the west coast of Africa. Thomas

  Stuart Russell, young Arthur’s great-grandfather, had not only been one of the

  consortium’s founding members, but had been the man most responsible for

  convincing the Londoners that there were huge profits to be made from trading

  with the islands.

  Thomas Russell had spent all of his formative years at sea, initially as a

  Royal Marine, and then as the captain of his own merchant vessel as he sought

  to reap the benefits of his earlier nautical education. The riches of the world

  lay at Thomas’ feet, and he was determined to capitalize on his knowledge and

  good fortune.

  Of all the places that he had weighed anchor, none so impressed him as

  the Canary Islands. Due to their relative proximity to England, Russell felt

  that there was a far better chance for trading success in the Canaries than in

  the West Indies, which were several times the distance from London. Rich in

  wine, tropical fruits, spices, sugar, and tobacco, the islands were, at this time, a

  Spanish protectorate. But the King of Spain was anxious to open up commerce

  on the islands. He accepted Thomas Russell’s proposal almost immediately,

  and armed with a trade agreement signed and sealed by his majesty the King

  of Spain, Russell sailed first to the Canary Islands to fill his ship’s hold with

  wondrous cargo, and then on to London to show off his wares and raise the

  capital required to open up this new frontier.

  Thomas Russell had come by his seafaring nature quite honestly. The

  family roots could be traced back to the late fourteenth century, when the

  Russells were thriving wine importers, distributors, and traders. The family

  had settled in Weymouth, Dorset, which was an active mercantile port at the

  time. The Russells were also involved in local politics, sending family members

  to parliament on several occasions.

  In 1506, John Russell, a young, well traveled, multilingual lad with a

  charming disposition, was sent to the Court of Henry the Seventh to act as a

  gentleman usher. The royal court quickly became enamored of young Russell,

  and when seventeen-year-old Henry the Eighth ascended the throne a few years

  later, he entrusted his most important affairs to the talented, yet discreet,

  young man from Weymouth.

  John Russell served his Majesty as a soldier, courier, and intelligencer

  during the wars with France that commenced in 1513. He gathered valuable

  experience and made many important contacts. He lost an eye in combat at

  Morlaix and was subsequently knighted for bravery by the Earl of Surrey.

  Ever trustworthy, Russell’s real work lay in the subtle, unprincipled world

  of international diplomacy. He was increasingly employed as a special envoy

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  of the king, handling the most delicate affairs of state. His faithful service to

  the erratic Henry continued with flawless tact, and in 1539, John Russell was

  raised to the peerage as Baron Russell of Weymouth and made a Knight of the

  Garter.

  Baron Russell continued to serve his master in any capacity required

  of him, including traveling to the continent with Henry’s armies t
hat were

  constantly warring with France. Through the years, he had acquired many

  estates and tracks of land in his native Dorset, and it was to his beloved home

  county that he returned to be by the sea as his health failed in the summer of

  1554.

  His career had spanned four reigns as a trusted courier, soldier, diplomat,

  and administrator. When John Russell died in March 1555, he was accorded

  a state funeral befitting a man of his standing and prominence. The first Earl

  of Weymouth had an immense fortune, as well as his good name to pass on to

  his descendants. Much of the family remained close to their roots by the sea,

  developing a reputation as merchant mariners, traders, and when duty called,

  officers and gentlemen of his Majesty’s Royal Navy.

  Two hundred and forty-three years after the death of the first Earl of

  Weymouth, Thomas Stuart Russell, the tenth Earl of Weymouth, arrived at

  the London dock yards with his tropical treasures. His reputation as a stalwart

  businessman and global navigator allowed him to assemble a consortium of

  enthusiastic entrepreneurs that were eager to invest in such a venture. A site for

  dockage and warehousing was secured on the Isle of Dogs and named ‘Canary

  Wharf’ after the source of their expected riches.

  The Canary Islands Trading Company flourished almost immediately, and

  three generations later, the Russell family was still in control of the lucrative

  operation.

  Now Arthur Russell sat facing the corporation’s chairman, his dour

  father, Reginald. The elder Russell was devoid of any interest in the sport itself,

  but news of Arthur’s sea rats’ thumping of the shipbuilders had the whole

  community abuzz. His son’s passionate plea for the continuation of the team

  and what it would mean to the men that toiled on Canary Wharf was not lost

  on Reginald Russell. The team spirit had already given the locals a focal point,

  a sense of belonging, a community source of pride.

  The work on the docks was thankless, backbreaking toil that could

  easily wither a man’s body and soul. “Football could give the workers strength

  through pride in their team,” Arthur had told his father. Much to the younger

  Russell’s surprise, the elder Russell agreed with him.

  The corporation held a long-term lease on several acres of reclaimed

  marshland southeast of the Wharf, about ten minutes’ walk from where father

  and son sat formulating the future. Despite his enthusiasm, Reginald Russell

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  told his son that all he could do was bring the matter up at the next director’s

  meeting for discussion. He did, nevertheless, assure his son that he personally

  would speak favorably for the proposed ‘Canary Wharf Football Club.’ That

  was more than Arthur had hoped, for he knew that his father was held in great

  esteem by the other directors. Arthur was certain that those men would be

  reluctant to deny their chairman such a request.

  Two weeks later, Arthur Russell was called into his father’s office.

  “Pack your bags, my boy. We are taking a trip north to Glasgow. There is

  an engineer up there by the name of Archibald Leitch. He specializes in stadia

  design and construction. You have your team, Arthur, and soon, you will have

  one of the finest stadiums in London to play in as well.”

  With a howl of delight, the younger Russell embraced his father. Their

  journey to Glasgow was a great success, with the engineer proving both

  approachable and professional. A design was settled on consisting of one main

  covered grandstand in two tiers housing roughly nine thousand seats. This

  section of the grounds would be reserved for people of the carriage trade,

  gentlemen of wealth and influence and their families.

  The main grandstand would have a multi-span roof with the individual

  letters of the word ‘Canaries’ painted on the front of each gable. Reginald

  Russell had chosen the name for the team personally, and also insisted that the

  colors be black and yellow, in deference to their namesake. The balance of the

  stadium would consist of standing terraces on three sides, all uncovered and

  accommodating some fifteen thousand patrons. These were the working man’s

  vantage points, for it was from the terraces that true football fans watched their

  heroes play, or so was the popular belief of the time.

  Total cost for the work was estimated at fourteen thousand pounds, a

  hefty sum in that era. But the Canary Wharf directors were caught up in the

  enthusiasm of their new project and the attention that it was drawing to their

  company in the London press. Leitch, seeing this enthusiasm firsthand on a trip

  to London, suggested to Reginald Russell that the ground be called ‘The Bird

  Cage,’ and sketched two distinctive cupolas resembling traditional bird cages

  on the end spans of the main grandstand roof. The chairman loved the idea,

  and ‘The Bird Cage’ became reality less than a year later.

  One other item that arrived back in London with the Russells was a design

  for the Canary’s team crest. Father and son had spent the entire trip home

  designing and refining the perfect logo. The end result of their collaboration

  centered around a bold, black, letter ‘C.’ Inside the initial proudly rested a black

  ship’s anchor, representative of the team’s seafaring roots. To add a dash of color,

  Arthur suggested that the anchor be set on a field of blue, as close to the color

  of the sparkling Atlantic Ocean off the Canary Islands as possible. When the

  graphic artists in London transferred the rough sketches and ideas produced by

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  the Russells to finished form, the result was uniformly praised by the team’s

  board of directors and adopted as the official team crest and corporate logo

  forthwith. The same crest would be worn on the Canaries’ jerseys right into the

  last quarter of the new century.

  That new century ushered in the Canaries’ rise to the football league

  division two, and three years after that, promotion to the first division. The

  team had done all that was expected of it and more, giving the residents and

  workers of the Isle of Dogs a focal point that would shine some light on their

  dreary, workaday lives. The Canaries were the talk of the town, at least that

  part of the town, and sellout crowds became a Saturday tradition at The Bird

  Cage.

  Young Arthur had proven to be a shrewd and resourceful manager. Each

  year, the team climbed steadily up the league ladder, until finally in 1913, the

  Canary Wharf Football Club won their first Football Association Cup. It was

  a triumph that would bring the last rays of sunshine to Arthur Russell’s days

  in England.

  With the outbreak of the First World War, the Canary Wharf manager

  rejoined his old Marine Battalion, the Fourth, and served his country for the

  next four years. Then, on April 23, 1918, during an attack on the German

  submarine base at Zeebrugge, Belgium, Major Arthur Grainger Russell was

  killed in action during the bloody, but successful operation.

  The tragic news of Arthur’s death was too much for seventy-nine-year-

  old
Reginald, who suffered a stroke within hours of the telegram’s delivery

  and passed away within a fortnight of his son. It had been the formation and

  ongoing operation of their beloved Canaries that had bonded father and son

  together, turning an icy, distant relationship into one of true love and warmth.

  The rest of the Russell family knew this for a fact, and in their honor, a bronze

  statue depicting the founding father and son team was erected outside the main

  grandstand entrance to the Bird Cage shortly after the end the war.

  The family mantle was passed to Arthur’s eldest son, twenty-eightyear-

  old Elliott Stuart Russell. The hostilities had also touched Elliott, who had

  been mustered out of the Royal Marines two years earlier after suffering the

  loss of his left arm, when his ship was sunk by one of the Kaiser’s U boats.

  The missing limb did not hinder Elliott Russell from fathering a son,

  born Reginald Arthur Nelson Russell, in the fall of 1919. Elliott had sired

  three daughters before the great conflict had commenced, and he was elated to

  finally have an heir to his title and business interests.

  It was his business interests that totally preoccupied Elliott Russell, and

  the fortunes of his football team were left to hired managers. Working with

  a reduced budget and with minimal interest from the executive suite, the

  fortunes of the postwar Canaries soon hit the skids. They were relegated to

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  the league second division in 1922, where they languished for the next nine

  seasons. Attendance suffered as a result, and the bottom-line attitude of their

  chairman, Elliott Russell, nearly caused the team to fold in the early 1930s.

  It was primarily the avid interest of Elliott’s only son that convinced him to

  keep the team afloat, even though the world was suffering through the Great

  Depression.

  Trade and commerce were severely affected by the global economic woes,

  and the profits of the Canary Wharf Trading Company were no exception.

  Thousands of workers were laid off from their jobs on the docks and from the

  seafaring vessels. But in spite of all this gloom, the amazing fact was that those

  same discarded workers turned to the football club to relieve their personal

  woes. Attendance at The Bird Cage actually increased in the first three years of

  the depression. By 1935, the Canaries were in a position to challenge for their