Private John Robert Howarth
6279 1/4th Loyal North Lancashire Regiment
Killed in Action 9th September 1916, aged 25
Lived at 30 Clifton Street
Commemorated on the Thiepval Memorial, France
Burnley Express 23rd September 1916

Formerly 4623 East Lancashire Regiment , killed by a gunshot wound to the temple. Connected with Brunswick Primitive Methodist Church.Was a door keeper at the Empire music Hall
His brother L/Cpl William Henry Howarth 6th East Lancashire Regiment served in the Dardanelles and then invalided home with dysentry & jaundice.
Brother in law Cpl William Fairburn DOW 26/3/1918.

This is what we know of a life. These photos of “Uncle Jack”, John Robert Howarth, are all that remain, plus a few memories passed down a generation that has passed. My grandmother,Sarannie Mason (born Sarah Annie Howarth), was the youngest of a large family.Jack was the oldest. Grandmother did have a few memories of Jack, she remembered him “doting” over her, and he loved to hear her sing.
Her memories of the Howarth household were of a warm and loving family.They lived at 105 Argyle Street in Burnley, England…and knew hardship.
Their father, Robert Howarth, died four months before grandmother was born (Sept 29th, 1904).
His body was pulled from a canal. There was speculation that his death was alcohol related, and I pass this on, only because the speculation is known.

We also know that he solemnly wound the family clock once or twice a week, as one of his paternal duties.Apparently the welfare state in England near the turn of the last century was minimal.Years later I would wonder why my grandparents seemed to enjoy such odd cuts of meat, tripe and tongue come to mind. I will never forget as a youngster seeing a large cow tongue boiling in one of Grandmother’s pots on the stove. Only years later would I make the connection: these were the cheapest cuts of meat and they were the cuts my grandparents were raised on.

After his father’s death, Jack became the proverbial “man of the house.” Keeping the clock wound, for example, now fell to him. Grandmother remembered that everyone had chores, and the youngest children polished the shoes of the older siblings since the oldest were holding down jobs and bringing in income. It sounds cruel today, forcing youngstersto polish shoes. In their day it was not cruel: such tasks were a necessity.

We know that Jack hand an economic exception to military service. However, he was not immuneto peer pressure. One day he was handed three feathers by some girls, which was a contemporary insult, an accusation of cowardice. The Great War was raging in Europe,and why was he not serving his country? Receiving the three feathers was apparently the last straw, and he enlisted.

We have these two photos of Jack in uniform. He served in the Lancashire Fusiliers (sic), in a unit comprised of many men from the Burnley area. We don’t know whether early in the war or later. We don’t know who wound the clock after he left for the war. The story has it that one day his mother entered the family room, and discovered to her horror that the clock had stopped. Her mother’s intuition immediately kicked in: “Something’s happened to Jack!”

Several days later the family had gathered for a Sunday breakfast. There was knock on the door, very unusual for that time of day. It couldn’t be a mailman, not on a Sunday. Great Grandmother knew in her heart what had happed, and Grandmother remembered very vividly that her mother grew pale and cried out again, “Something’s happened to Jack!” The dignitary handed over the dreaded message: Jack had been killed in action . The day officially listed was the same day that the family clock had stopped.
Several weeks later the family received a letter from a friend of Jack’s in the Army. I pass this on, since we know it described what happened. Jack had been killed by a sniper, shot through the forehead, and died instantly (Since reading about WWI, I’ve learned that those messages were common.“Your loved one died instantly”. I believe that is the message the family received.I’m not sure if it is really true. Nobody had wanted to hear that their loved one’s death was painful and lingering).

The above is all that is known of a short life. Ironically, I know more of Jack than of his younger siblings who lived full lives, although Jack was not the only one who died young. Several didn’tsurvive beyond infancy, twines Herbert and Clifford didn’t survive beyond the ages of two or three,and Isabella died in 1924.
My hope is that this letter is saved, put away somewhere in the attic.

Jack with his mother.

Perhaps a member of a future generation will appreciate reading it. We remember you Jack.

** My mother (Sarannie’s daughter Shirley) remembered the name of Jack Howarth and provided the photographs. My Uncle Ron (Sarannie’s son) knew his unit, the Royal Lancashire Fusiliers.Aunt Carol had the foresight to write down and save a genealogy chart after a conversationwith Grandmother during one of her visits to Wisconsin. It listed Jack’s middle name as Robert.
My Grandmother’s family left England for Canada when she was 16, but she always kept it in fond memory.

The family moved to Windsor, then as a bride she moved to the US.She never stopped loving Burnley and spoke of it often.In fact, she collected the Pendelfin rabbit figures because they reminded her of home.
My Grandparents visited England quite a few times in retirement – and I know they saw the old Argyle house on at least one trip.It was still standing the middle 1970s.

"In the group photo, he is standing on the right.
His younger brother Bill Howarth is standing on the left.
The two seated friends aren’t identified.
Bill also served in the Army but fortunately survived"

(Information and photographs courtesy of his Great Nephew Ron Waters, Texas U.S.A.)