My father was William Jackson Perkins, solicitor, CBE & MC (First World War). He died in England. My mother was Millicent Edith Whitehouse, grand-daughter of Sir [James] William Whittall.

My father arrived in Turkey with the Army of Occupation around 1919/20 and was offered a job by Harry Pears in his law firm in Istanbul (Harry Pears was married to Gertie [Gertrude Anna] Whittall). I think he had already studied and completed a law degree before the call up during WWI. Very quickly (1924) the capitulations were rescinded by the new Republican government in Turkey and so his professional law career came to an end. He stayed in Turkey and became an advisor to foreign firms that wanted to do business in Turkey. His main activity was as an advisor to find suitable lawyers with whom these firms could do business with. His final law case was to act on behalf of the Swedish registered ship owners of ‘Naboland’ who were involved in the collision and the rapid sinking of the Dumlupınar submarine in the Dardanelles on April 1953, where 81 submariners had died and his findings did not please the Turkish authorities. Shortly after that he left for retirement in England.

My father went to Karaköy [old views] to work by paddle steamer (the earlier generation went by row-boat with a kayıkçı). He also insisted on leaving Moda and going to the islands, mostly Burgaz (Antigoni), in the summer.

Father was frightfully keen on food and drink: tiny fillet stakes which were very delicious and a lot of Greek/Turkish food. Fasullaria (runner beans in olive oil), dolma (stuffed peppers, tomatoes, courgettes), fried courgettes and pilav (rice) including iç-pilav (with chicken livers) and a lot of fish, quail and woodcock dishes. We also had wild boar from shoots which were arranged.

My maternal grandparents were Canon Francis Cowley Whitehouse and Florence Philippa (Florry) Whittall. Grandfather was sent by the diocese to Constantinople and he married one of Sir William Whittall’s many daughters. She was quite a character: she nursed the lice-ridden Balkan war victims - a tough little lady.

I can remember also the Tower house, but that was pulled down when I was around 8, presumably when Granny (Edith Anna Whittall nee Barker) died in 1935. I remember being taken by my mother to say goodbye to ‘Big Granny’ before going to Antigoni for the summer (little granny was Florence) and she said ‘Goodbye little Philippa, I will not be seeing you again’ and I asked my mum why she said that. During the time of the capitulations, Granny was called by the servants of the house stating there were soldiers at the gates wishing to get in. She calmly took her parasol, walked up to the gates and told the soldiers they couldn’t come in as this was ‘British property’. And they left!

On another occasion when a Turkish Pasha Mahmut Muhtar Pasa, who lived next door, was in trouble and went over the wall of Sir William Whittall’s garden, Sir William took the Pasha’s fez off, placed a panama hat on him, and walked arm in arm with him so the Turkish troops could only see two Europeans strolling, saving the man. Over time Sir William Whittall saved a lot of fugitives, mostly Greeks and Armenians. Many of these minorities fearing for their lives were spirited off by boat to the nearby British ships to take them to safer harbours.

During Sir William Whittall’s funeral all the locals, of all denominations, lined the road in their droves as his carriage was pulled. Also, as the funeral cortège passed Haydarpasa railway station on its way to the cemetery, the officials of the railway and workers stopped work to pay their respects to the deceased.

I was born in Mektep Sokak, Moda, Istanbul. During the war years we lived in Fenerbahçe. One neighbour in Moda was Kenny Whittall junior [Kenneth Edwin La Fontaine Whittall]. In front of the house were a line of carriages (phaetons) and people went down to Kadiköy by this method or in a ‘talika’ – a little box on wheels with 2 people facing each other: but this method was rather bumpy. I remember Nico, the Greek carpenter, on the corner of Mektep sokak. My father had a cook, maid and a gardener, the first two being Greek ladies, the latter a Turkish man, whose son still lives in the area and I am in touch with.

My education was at home with an English governess, Miss Lyne. She and her 2 sisters who were also governesses are buried in Haydarpaşa. Their father, Sgt Lyne, was saved by Florence Nightingale, for many years was the cemetery custodian and is also buried in the cemetery [listing]. These ladies also taught a few Turkish children and they impressed the parents with their fine English manners. I was also given French lessons by a French lady from the village whose name escapes me.

A lot of my education was through my father who would read to us for hours (Kipling, Dickens, Scott etc.). I got sent to school in England when I was 12. As it was the start of the war, we all had to go, but my father stayed behind (he was helping at the Embassy [the British Consulate – Pera House]), so my parents were separated for 6 years.

I had a lovely childhood. In winter we used to go for walks in the ‘fields’ in Moda (the seafront of Moda that went round a corner towards Kadikoy and the first big building was Uncle Edwin’s house followed by his father’s house, the Tower - these houses blocked the coastal road) [old views] (down almost to the pier and then along the coast past Edwin Whittall’s house, facing Seraglio Point). From time to time we were taken on elderly relatives’ yachts, which was very exciting.

Parties were mostly within the family. I can’t remember being taken anywhere such as fairs, but I do remember being taken to the shooting box (country house) of my grandfather at Alemdağ (both Uncle Edwin [Frederick Edwin Whittall] and Uncle Willie [William James Harter Whittall] Whittall had one).

I remember going to the lying in state to see the body of Atatürk in the morning in Dolmabahçe Palace in 1938. That evening we kids were going to go with Uncle Reggie [Reginald La Fontaine Whittall]: fortunately this plan was altered for some reason, as that evening the soldiers closed the heavy marble gates of the Dolmabahçe Palace, the unsuing rush to get in with people pushing from the back resulted in the crushing of people to death of a lot of people.

The Couteaux family were family friends who lived in town (Şişli). My sister, Glen, and Anne-Marie Couteaux were great friends. Gaby Couteaux (the father of Anne-Marie), originally from Belgium, a walloon, ran a prosperous import and export business. Later they moved to Fenerbahçe up the coast beyond Moda.

I recall Uncle Edwin having a great vegetable and fruit garden. He also had a wonderful collection of roses and tulips.

There was a moored yacht, the Ipar, belonging to the Moda Yacht Club on which we would go out for day excursions with Greeks, Armenians, Jews and Turks. The Moda Deniz Kulübü was very exclusive - it still survives today but not in the same building and it is no longer a yacht club. It is now called the Moda Kulübü. The original club still stands (2011) as a wreck at the beginning of Moda pier. The only other things surviving from the old days are the former Greek restaurant ‘Koço’, still called that despite being Turkish owned for the past 50 years, near the pier and opposite the old Deniz Club and sligtly above it. Underneath this restaurant is the ‘ayazma’, the tiny Greek Orthodox chapel with the image of a saint, a survivor from the past.

I remember the Aunt Gertie Pears, the wife of Harry Pears who was a beautiful woman even later in life. I can remember the daughters but not her husband who presumably was already dead when I was a child.

I returned to Turkey after the War, already engaged and married a year later in at the All Saints Moda, where I was also baptised, a church built by my great-grandfather and the local Anglican community.

After the war I did probably 2 trips a year in Turkey with Sidney Nowill, mostly climbing mountains such as Uludağ, Erciyas, Ararat, and the Taurus which were my favourite. I still retain close links with the country with yearly trips still continuing.

Interviewed on 27 May 2011 - Click for images from Philipa Threadwell’s family archive:

submission date 2011