Caryl Phillips - Foreigners

Back in Leamington Spa, the mother of Britain's new sporting hero had listened to the fight on the radio. When reporters eventually beat their way to her door in order to secure a quote, she gathered her wits about her, looked them straight in the eyes, and, reluctant to distinguish between Randolph and her two other fighting sons, she told them, 'I am proud of my sons. A lot of people thought they were nothing. Well, my sons have shown them.' She knew that all of Leamington Spa, and the nearby historic town of Warwick, where Turpin had spent some part of his childhood, was abuzz with excitement. Turpin's mother assured the reporters that either later today, or tomorrow, her world champion son would be coming back home. Before the fight she had heard her son cautiously suggest that victory might mean a new car and a new house for him, but with a mother's instinct she sensed that it would probably mean much more than this for her son. She worried, for she knew that young Randolph did not possess the business acumen to surround himself with the right people, and he was by far the most sensitive of her children, but why worry about this now? Maybe when he came home she might talk to him about things, but her youngest son could be strangely reserved and moody, and she did not imagine that he was about to change.

On 12 July, 1951, less than forty-eight hours after his dazzling victory at the Earls Court Exhibition Hall, Turpin was back in the Midlands where the mayors of both Warwick and Leamington Spa, the two towns that could claim to have produced the boxer, organised a joint reception. Turpin was seated in the back of an open-top black Humber limousine, democratically perched between the mayors of both towns, and he began his victory journey in the narrow medieval streets in the centre of Warwick. He had never heard of these men, but they certainly knew his name and they continually pumped his hand, and slapped him on the back, and posed with him for photographs. A bemused Turpin understood that this was likely to be the way for some time, but this was not a life that he was eager to get used to. The car was twenty minutes late leaving Warwick because, having just arrived from London, Turpin had decided to take a nap and he had overslept. This delay meant that they would be late arriving in Leamington Spa for the official reception, but the mayor of Leamington let the new champion know that he should not worry for they would just tell the press that the car had suffered a punctured tyre.

The journey did not take long, and all along the way people waved and cheered as the Humber limousine glided by. A somewhat shy Turpin followed the lead of the mayors and waved back, and as the car eventually turned into the centre of Leamington Spa the crowds became denser, slowing the Humber's progress almost to a halt. Clearly most people had taken the day off work, for over 20,000 cheering people thronged the streets. Bright streamers and banners were hung from every available place, a brass band was thumping out music, and up above an RAF jet from the nearby base was doing victory rolls and loops in the sky. This was the greatest day in the town's history, and all of this was due to the success of one man. At the sight of their all-conquering hero the crowd began to sing 'For He's a Jolly Good Fellow!' and their overwhelming adulation finally brought a lump to Turpin's throat. Surely all of this could not be for him? The limousine drew to a halt outside of Leamington Spa Town Hall, and Turpin looked up and read the sign that was hanging from the balcony: LEAMINGTON SPA WELCOMES THEIR CHAMPION RANDOLPH TURPIN.

Turpin stared at the banner and had to be prompted to leave the car. He entered the town hall, where the first man to greet him was John 'Gerry' Gibbs, the police inspector who had founded the Leamington Boys' Club, and who first saw promise in the fourteen-year-old Turpin. The new world champion warmly shook hands with his old mentor, and then made his way up to the balcony.

Photographs of Turpin on this special day show a handsome man in a double-breasted beige suit, a smart blue silk shirt, and dapper white shoes. However, Turpin appears to be a little confused. In almost every photograph he seems to be avoiding full eye contact with the camera as though hiding from somebody, or himself. Perhaps the most disturbing photograph of the day shows Turpin flanked by the two lord mayors in a wood-panelled room in the town hall. The mayors pose stiffly in pinstriped suits, while Turpin has his right arm draped loosely around his mother and he supports his young son in his other arm. A feeling of palpable discomfort radiates from the photograph, and nobody seems entirely comfortable on what should be a joyous occasion. The modest new world champion eventually stepped out on to the balcony of Leamington Spa Town Hall, and the roar from the crowd was almost deafening, as was the high-pitched drone of cine and newsreel cameras. The mayor of Leamington Spa urged him forward ('Go on, son') and Turpin took the microphone that was proffered. For a second he looked at the sea of white faces which swam out before him in all directions, and then he began to read from a speech which his manager had prepared for the occasion. 'It was a great fight on Tuesday and I am naturally very proud to bring the honour of the middleweight championship of the world back to England and Warwickshire.' Then Turpin stopped and looked again at the crowds of people before him. 'I must tell you how grateful I am to my manager, my trainer, my family and others who have helped me so much throughout my career. .' Again Turpin stopped speaking, and this time he handed his speech to one of the mayors and addressed the crowds directly. 'Well, I'm not much at making speeches but you all know what I mean. Thanks.' He waved to the crowd and handed the microphone to somebody else. At this point George Middleton led an elderly Beatrice Manley, Turpin's mother, on to the balcony, and Turpin took her in his arms and gave her a kiss. Ailing now for some years, and suffering from a partial loss of eyesight, she was nonetheless the proudest woman in Leamington Spa and she had worn her best hat to prove the point. The coloured baby that, much to some people's disgust, she had given birth to twenty-three years ago in this very town was, on this day, the most famous man in England.

Randolph Adolphus Turpin was born in Leamington Spa on 7 June, 1928, the youngest child of Lionel Fitzherbert Turpin and Beatrice Whitehouse. There were already two older brothers, Dick and Jackie, and two older sisters, Joan and Kathy, but the cash-strapped family were struggling financially in a cramped basement flat in Willis Road. The new addition, who weighed in at 9 lb 7 oz, was the lightest of all Beatrice's children at birth, but he was still, by most standards, a heavyweight child. At a time when Beatrice and Lionel could barely afford food to put on the table the new baby was yet another mouth to feed and, to make matters worse, at the time of Randolph's birth Lionel was in hospital and ailing badly. The prognosis was not good.

Lionel Fitzherbert Turpin was born in Georgetown, British Guiana, in February 1896. He enjoyed a traditional British schooling in the sugar-rich colony on the northeast coast of South America, but the young lad had a yearning to see the world. He arrived in England as a merchant seaman on the eve of the Great War, and by the time Britain declared war on Germany in the summer of 1914, Lionel was ready to sign up. He was eventually sent out with the British Expeditionary Forces to the Western Front where he fought numerous campaigns, including the legendary Battle of the Somme. He survived the slaughter, but towards the end of the war he was badly wounded by a gas shell which burnt his lungs and left a gaping wound in his back. Lionel was shipped back to a hospital in Coventry, where they did all they could to help him before discharging the West Indian to a convalescent home near Hill House in the nearby town of Warwick. Although it was clear to the doctors that the mild-mannered coloured soldier was never going to fully recover, Lionel Turpin was eventually allowed to leave the convalescent home and he attempted to find work locally.