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Bram van Stockum (standing in back) and
his wife and two first-born children, Hilda and
Willem
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On this date in 1935, Abraham Johannes ("Bram") van Stockum died in the Hague.
He was married to Olga Emily Boissevain on August 28, 1906 in Naarden (the location of the Boissevain home, Drafna) and had three children with her. He was born in Lisse, Netherlands,
on July 3, 1864.
As a naval officer, based on the records and letters that survive, Bram
had four distinct phases:
1. His exploits at the Naval Institute and awards
he won as a sailor around that time, during the period 1904-1906.
2. His voyage as a father to the Dutch East Indies,
accepting commissions there from the Dutch Navy, as described in the log of his
voyage to Java, 1908-1910.
3. World War I responsibilities as commander of the
port of Ymuiden, which provides access to Amsterdam via a canal, 1914-1919.
4. A commission by the Queen to investigate the
origins of the Saramacca River in Surinam (Netherlands Guiana, north of Brazil
on the Caribbean coast), in the 1920s.
Hilda van Stockum said: "My parents were not ordinary, which caused them both a great deal of
suffering.”
Bram as a Child, 1864-1906
Dirk Johannes van Stockum, Bram’s father,
was a notary – a combination of a British solicitor and an accountant. He was taciturn,
correct and dull. He did not communicate with his children except to spank them
when they transgressed. Bram does not seem to have cared for his father very
much, though Bram said he always felt sorry for his father when he spanked
him. It really did hurt his father more
than himself, he said, especially as Bram took the precaution of stuffing straw
into his breeches.
Dirk van Stockum and his wife, nee Sophia Clara Emilia Lastdrager, left behind nine
children -- five girls and four boys including Bram. “The girls were pretty and clever, and the
boys had genius," says Hilda van Stockum.
For example, Bram’s brother Willem
became a doctor who “would have gone far if he had not had an unaccommodating
and caustic tongue.” Another brother, Dirk Jr., became a notary like his father.
The third brother Jo went traveling.
The fourth boy, Abraham, was my grandfather.
They called him Bram for short. He was born on July 3, 1864 in a little village
in the west of Holland called Lisse, a place with a great history of elegant
gardens and great estates, an area hardly touched by the industrial age. The main economic engine was the growth of the
cultivation of tulips and other flowers.
Bram’s father died in mid-1908 after
Bram’s first baby, my mother Hilda, was born. Bram and his wife Olga went with
their tiny baby to Java.
Bram had joined the Dutch Navy to
get away. Mom says: “I think he hated
his boarding school and escaped so often that they sent him to the Naval
Institute. He hated that as well, but either
he didn’t get an opportunity to run away or he didn’t try because he wanted to
go to sea.”
Bram was a rebel all his life. It
was a time of intellectual probing and protest, a questioning of everything
hitherto accepted. At catechism Bram did
not last long. He and his three brothers
were sent home with a note from the Dutch Reform minister to their mother: “Although
well behaved, the brothers are no longer welcome in the class because they ask
too many questions,” said the teacher. It did not increase Bram’s respect for
theology and he soon called himself an atheist.
Hilda and her two younger brothers
would sit for long hours listening to Bram’s tales of how he climbed the
village steeple and, looking down from the top, clasping the weather vane, saw
two old ladies holding up their aprons to catch him.
He was a tough inventive boy,
always busy. As a child, his mother had
to bribe him to read a book. Later he developed a love of literature. He built a hut in his father’s favorite tree
that was not discovered till the leaves fell.
Then, says Mom, “there was the devil to pay.” My Mom goes on:
He made a sailing carriage out of a disused baby buggy, in
which he went sailing along the streets.
It frightened the horses into bolting, so the burgomaster forbade him to
use it on public roads. He had to sail
it in the meadow, at one end of which there was a canal. Once Bram left his little sister in the
carriage, anchored it and went to fetch something. Just as he was coming back a gust of wind
uprooted the anchor and blew the carriage full tilt towards the canal. He said he had never in his life run so fast,
but he managed to overtake the carriage and stop it before it rolled into the
canal with his little sister.
Another
story from Hilda::
My father’s talents were all on the engineering side,
although there were van Stockum relatives who ran a bookstore in the Hague and
both employed, and were related by marriage to, Vincent van Gogh and his cousin
Theo. Bram objected to having art imposed on him on a free Saturday afternoon
when he had a million more interesting things to do. His friends were of the same opinion and they
decided to try to persuade the teacher to quit.
It was really disgraceful, though my father loved to tell us all the
tricks they played on the poor man until their end was achieved. [Look for
examples in HvS mss.]
Bram was
very good at breaking windows—he had a sling shot that caused many casualties
until his aim improved over time. Tradespeople would present his mother with a
list of broken windows and his mother would call Bram.
“Now tell me, which ones did you
break?” she’d ask. My Mom reports:
To most of them he would confess but woe if some luckless
tradesman had erroneously attributed a broken window to my father. Then Bram’s indignation knew no bounds and
his mother would refuse to pay for it.
“My boy never lies,” she said. It was quite true, and sometimes I have
wished that he had shown a less rigorous regard for truth. His respect for truth could shatter the most
routine social occasions. If I
remonstrated with Bram and told him that he had hurt someone’s feelings, he was
always very surprised.
“I thought people were above such
pettiness,” he would say.
Perhaps Bram was sent to boarding
school because his family needed a rest, but he was not there long. He once told Hilda that he would not like to
repeat only two periods in his life -- the years at boarding school and the
years at the Naval Institute. From
boarding school he simply ran away, and that settled that. But the Institute he had to put up with.
Twice Bram nearly lost the chance
to become an officer.
The
Explosion (c. 1904). As a student at
the Institute he wanted to test the power of steam (then still a fairly unknown
quantity). He put a sealed tin full of
water in the stove. The resulting
explosion was so great that no one then would believe he had not used
dynamite. All the witnesses however,
testified to only water and this saved him from being dismissed, as it had been
a scientific experiment and not an act of vandalism.
Years
later, when he was a Navy Captain, he met one of his superiors at the
Institute, who was now retired.
“Well, van Stockum,” he said. “As it does not matter any more, won’t you
confess to me that you did use an
explosive that time?” He was amazed to
hear that it had really only been water.
The
Naval Exercise at den Helder (c. 1905). The
second time Bram jeopardized his future was at the mock naval exercises at den
Helder. He was given an “enemy” warship
which had to navigate entry into the port during a mock naval battle. Den Helder is at the most Northern tip of
Holland, where there are many sandbanks.
It was really impossible for the “enemy ship” to break through the
“Dutch” defenses. The searchlights
picked out everything moving in the navigable waters. Bram was angry because the game was stacked
against the “enemy” ship, which made it less instructive.
This was a challenge that Bram could not refuse. He was determined to
get through. He searched among the
waters considered not navigable, and therefore not covered by the
searchlights. He found a stretch of
water that might just be deep enough to let his ship through. He plumbed it and it would just about fit,
without an inch to spare. He took the
terrible risk of bringing this destroyer through this narrow inlet, plumbing
the depth all the time. He said that he
had his heart in his mouth as the plumber called out the depths in rapid
succession.
If he had stranded the valuable
ship on a sand bank it would have meant disgrace, and he knew it. But his calculations were correct and they
just made it. It was the first time an
“enemy” ship had won in those maneuvers.
The whole town of den Helder was full of father’s praise.
My grandmother Olga Boissevain, then
a young girl, was staying with her sister Hilda, whose husband was also a naval
officer. So the first time my mother met
my father, he was the hero of the hour.
It was then, my Mom thinks, that she first fell in love with him.
How
Bram Won the Silver Set. Another
story that Bram’s children loved to hear from him was how he won the little
silver milk and sugar set that stood on our sideboard. It attests to his muscular strength. He was going to go to the races on the river
Maas in the south of Holland and decided to sail there from den Helder along
the north sea coastline above Rotterdam, entering by Ymuiden and so, by inland
waters to the river. Unfortunately, soon
after he set out on his slender sailboat with one mate, a storm arose. To his horror he found that some of the
reefing tackle was jammed, so he could not reef any of the sails. The little boat flew with dizzying speed over
the waves of the North Sea, the tiller held firm by my father’s strong hands.
“Can you swim?” he asked his mate.
“Like a brick, sir,” grinned the sailor.
He had, as usual, complete faith in my father. Bram said that their lives were in fact saved
by the fact that he couldn’t reef his sails.
“We went faster than the waves,” he said. “If one of the waves had caught up with us as
we shot into the harbor of Ymuiden we’d have been done for… they were
mountainous. But we were well
ahead.
The people of Ymuiden could not believe it. “You come from the wrong direction,” they
said. “You cannot have come from the
sea.”
Well, the next day the wind had
abated but all the sailboats had partly reefed sails except my father’s, so he
won the race with ease.
Bram much
regretted the passing of the sailing ships.
He said steamships made a dull mechanical job out of what once had been
an exciting craft.
The
Rice Cooker Invention. One morning
my mother Olga was called to the living room by a pitying servant.
“Isn’t it a shame of the poor
master?” she said. Two enormous mounds
of rice had been poured on the living room carpet and several of mother’s best
pots had holes bored into them. Olga
burst out laughing.
“The master isn’t mad,” she
said. “ He is merely inventing a rice
cooker because I can never get the rice to his taste.” The rice cooker materialized into a beautiful
gray enamel set of pans that fitted into each other, the inner one being
perforated like a colander. It made
beautiful steamed vegetables as well as rice done to perfection, but it was not
a commercial success and our attic hung full of unsold items.
Bram’s
Night-Owl Habits and Logical Brain. Bram’s wife would sometimes be wakened by my father in the
middle of the night, and told to go for a walk with him… he had to tell her about his newest invention. He was a night bird, his brain worked best
after 10 o’clock at night.
“He was tremendously logical,” Olga
said. “He developed my ability to
think. There was one thing about him, if
he saw he was wrong he’d admit it roundly and act on it. But I had to convince him. It took me three weeks of solid argument to
get him to see that it wasn’t right for him to keep his little daughter awake
all night and let her sleep in the daytime, like himself. When he finally saw it, there was no more
trouble.”
The
Guided-Missile Invention and How It Was Ended. Bram must have invented one
of the first guided missiles. His wife’s
description of it sounded horrible to ears not used to modern weapons. You could shoot it off from Amsterdam harbor
and the thing would go unmanned to an enemy harbor and blow it up. Bram was in his first flush of inventive
triumph and it took his wife long evenings of argument till he was convinced
that it was a wicked device and destroyed it.
The
Depth Regulator for Mines. Bram developed
a very successful invention, a depth regulator for mines. It ensured that the mines were neither on top
of the water, where they would be seen, nor at the bottom of the bay, where
they would not be struck by a hostile ship.
However, the invention was stolen from him.
The Dutch government did not want
it, but the Danish government did. The
trouble was that when it came to paying up for the invention the Danish
government produced a document which was supposed to prove that a dead Danish
inventor had already patented the invention.
It was a clumsy forgery, because the document contained pieces of
machinery not existing at the time the patent was supposed to have been taken
out. However, Bram was not able to
appear in court at the time, being on duty at sea, and his friend, who was
appearing in court on his behalf, did not spot this.
So Bram was never paid.
Torpedo Regulator. Mom remembers Bram bending over his
blueprints with the eager face of a little boy constructing an erector
set. There was also a torpedo regulator
he invented and it was considered a long time by the Dutch government. Bram was always buying patents and he
constantly had to go to exercises testing his inventions. The Dutch government had first option on
them, naturally; some were adopted, but not so that we noticed it made much
difference financially.
The
Effect of His Inventions on the Home. Bram’s
home was full of unexpected devices, like a clothespin to balance a lampshade
or a corkscrew driven into a door to pull it where it stuck. He had arranged the drawer of his desk so
that you could only open them by pulling the two outside knobs together. That was beyond the span of little arms and
made his desk safe from children. He
hated locks.
I do
realize the advantages an artist has over an inventor. An artist can create without having to spend
a lot of money.
Marriage. Bram did not marry till he was over 40, which
may explain why his children got on with him so well. He might have been our grandfather. He was an exciting parent to have.
My mother’s love for me and my two
younger brothers was almost a passion, but my father was God then. He had made a special saddle just for me
behind the handlebars of his bicycle and would take me riding. I remember the wind blowing into my face and
the delicious thrill of danger combined with the safe feeling of my father’s
arms about me.
We also had a game: I would stand
on what seemed a dizzying high wall and he would hold out his arms. I was to jump into them and trust him to
catch me. I learned to do it, and he
never missed catching me.
The
Poverty of My Parents’ Early Married Life.
Bram had married on the strength of the money his depth-regulator
for mines would bring him (like Dickens’s Micawber, Bram always saw riches just
around the corner) and he and Olga had therefore rather a thin time of it at
first. My father had done more than
marry on this fortune, he had also piled up debts. Hilda comments:
My mother and my father carried the feeling of riches and
luxury into the poorest conditions. Even
when she could not pay the milkman there was always money for a movie. But that was later--there were no movies when
my mother married--and my father never cared for them. I do not remember ever seeing him in a movie,
though he was very fond of the gramophone and I always bought records for him
on his birthday or at St. Nicholas.
Calli Curci was his favorite singer, and Caruso came second. Whenever I hear the Italian operas,
especially Carmen or Cavallerie Rusticana, I think of my father.
Bram had a habit of anticipating
fortune and regaling his family with stories of what he was going to do when it
fell into his lap. These stories may
have helped make Bram’s wife content with her comparative poverty. For example, my father described a house he
was going to build—its key feature was a private little railway conducting us
from the entrance of the driveway to the front door.
Bram was an inventor and most of
his spare cash (and some that wasn’t spare) went to patents. His wife was glad that he never made money
with his inventions, though he was always expecting to. She shuddered to think what our lives would
have been like if he had been rich. Only
poverty put some limit to his enterprises.
Bram’s
Playhouse. Bram once had enough
money to give his daughter Hilda her heart’s desire, a little playhouse in the
garden. What Hilda wanted was a tiny little house, an exact copy of a real
house, like her grandmother Emily had at Drafna, in her garden, for the
grandchildren. It had imitation brick
walls, a real doorbell and foot scraper, and windows with imitation flowerpots
on them. But my father was thinking more
of a new invention of his, a door which could open both ways. Hilda writes:
It had two handles, and whether you pulled the right or the
left one, it opened. The one window on
the house also opened both ways. My
father thought this a great advantage, but nobody else did and it was grief to
me… for it made it most unlike a real house.
It was also much too big and lacked the charm of my grandmother’s little
house. On the other hand, we could play
in it and were allowed to sleep in it sometimes. So it did give me a lot of pleasure.
Bram’s brother-in-law Han
de Booy was not impressed by the general state of the van Stockum household, as
is indicated by diary entries in 1912 and 1916.
