At 97, Martin Binysh is the eldest subject to pose for a Deaf Mosaic portrait.
His story offers a fascinating glimpse of life for deaf people in the 1920s and 1930s – a time before most of us were even born.
Martin’s earliest memories are of London streets illuminated by the yellow light of gas lamps, the thrill of stream trains blasting out huge plumes of black smoke. Of houses with outside toilets, and filling the bath with jugs of water heated over a coal-fired stove.
“Back then, life was very different for deaf people,” says Martin. “We didn’t have state benefits, hearing aids, equal rights, social workers, sign language interpreters.”
Born in 1925, Martin attended the Jewish School for the Deaf and Dumb in Balham. “It was an oral school – signs were not allowed in the classrooms. We could only sign when safely out of sight of the teachers, in the playground or dormitories. The teachers had low expectations of us, and we left school with no qualifications at all.”
“We learnt sign language not from the teachers but from those of our classmates who also had deaf parents – they secretly brought their own ‘home signs’ into the school. Such as the Nabarro family who’ve had deaf people in their family tree for several generations. They kept the language alive.”
Founded in the Victorian era, the school didn’t drop ‘Dumb’ from its name until 1934. “Quite right too,” says Martin. “Of course, we deaf are intelligent, not dumb at all. But this was 60 years before British Sign Language (BSL) was even thought of as a language in its own right. At the time, most hearing people had no idea how rich our sign language was.”
When Martin was 14, World War Two broke out. During the ‘Blitz’, tens of thousands of German bombs dropped on London. “It was terrifying, every night there were explosions around me,” recalls Martin. “It wasn’t safe for children to remain at home. So, the school discussed plans to evacuate the pupils to Canada. At first, I quite liked the idea. I thought that if I did go to Canada, I might then travel onwards to Washington DC in USA and study at Gallaudet University – the only university in the world specifically for deaf students. As they used sign language there, it was a chance of getting a proper education.”
“But then a British ship heading for Canada was sunk by German submarines. So, it was too dangerous to travel. I stayed at home to work as a tailor’s apprentice.”
After the war, Martin made his first overseas trip to Belguim – an exotic adventure for a young deaf man when few Britons went abroad.
“There were no jet airplanes back then. My school best-friend Issy Schlisselman and I caught the steam ferry across the channel. I’ve always loved travelling. I’m quick to pick up different sign languages. It’s a myth that sign language is the same all over the world. But as an experienced signer, I can quickly adapt within a few hours to sign with basic fluency in other sign languages.”
“So, there I was in Brussels signing to a deaf man in Belgian Sign Language. Among the many stories he told me was one about a beautiful Jewish deaf woman in Paris that he knew of. The following year, in 1950, I visited Paris and met a group of French deaf people. A woman came up to me and told her story in her native French Sign Language (FSL). She had been a pupil at the Institut National de Jeunes Sourds de Paris – one of the oldest deaf schools in the world. She was originally from Poland but by the time of the War was living in France out of the reach of the Nazis. “It was a good thing too, because much of her family, and the whole of my father’s side of the family too, was murdered during the Holocaust there.”
“Slowly, I realised that this was the very same woman who had been described to me in Brussels the year before! Her name was Ann. We fell in love and got married the very next year, in 1951.”
“I wouldn’t have minded staying on in France to live there, but it would have been difficult for me to find work in France. So, Ann and I came back to London and we made a life together here.”
After Martin’s father passed away, he sold off the family’s drapery business, and became a watchmaker. “I learnt how to assemble and repair wind-up watches made from dozens of tiny cogs and delicate pieces. The old silver watches were so reliable and could last decades if well cared-for. Of course, now people just use mobile phones to tell the time!”
By the 1950s, there was still very little access for deaf people.
“My father bought our first-ever TV set to watch Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation. It was so exciting to sit in our own living room and see live pictures from Westminster. But it was another four decades before TV was subtitled at all. Sometimes Ann and I would go to the cinema to watch the silent films – we enjoyed Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. But eventually, soon it was nearly all talking films with no subtitles.”
“So, Ann and I loved to go to the deaf clubs on Sundays,” recalls Martin. “We had little opportunity to see other deaf people during the working week. We’d sign and sign for hours with our friends, catching up with the news until the club secretary turned off the lights and ushered us outside. But then, we’d all just stand under the streetlamps and sign for another hour!”
“Occasionally, Ann and I would also meet deaf friends on the 4th floor at Lyons Corner House in Piccadilly – with its glamorous uniformed waitresses – for romantic cream teas, cakes, dances.”
“Ann and I were together for 55 years – until she passed away in 2006. She was the love of my life. I still miss her. I carry a small photo of her in my pocket.”
“Of course, I’m now long since retired. I still live independently with my own apartment at a retirement home. I use my Attendance Allowance (AA) to get two hours of daily care support. Someone comes in to make my breakfast, assists me to wash and dress, prepares my evening meal for eating later.”
“My two children are now 70 and 68, they’re senior citizens too! But they’re in good health, keep an eye out for me, while I look after my own paperwork and bills.”
Aside from losing the sight in his left eye and relying on a walking stick, Martin remains in excellent health. I ask him what’s his secret to a long life? “Well, I don’t smoke, I drink only in moderation, at special occasions. It’s very important to keep your mind active, so I like to do the crossword, play Scrabble, and socialise too.”
“The other residents at the retirement home are all hearing people – I can’t easily chat with them. They’re a bit too old now to be learning sign language. So, I like to go out and meet deaf people socially twice-weekly at the Jewish Deaf Association (JDA). The association is not just for Jewish people, it supports all deaf people of all ethnicities in north London’s Barnet area.”
“I may be nearing 100 years of age, but I’m proud to remain an active part of our deaf community.”
______________________________
Credit to Deaf Mosaic www.deaf-mosaic.com/gallery
Story captured in May 2022
