Crawford was the fourth child of George and Emma Wishart. He had 2 elder brothers and an elder sister. He was 10 years younger than his eldest brother and he was the last survivor of the children.

He was 18 when I was born so he always seemed more like an older brother than an uncle.

The family he came into was a prosperous one living in the south side of Glasgow and for a time in Whitecraigs. The family business, George Wishart & Son  was a grain merchant and flour wholesaler. Crawford’s mother was an Abram. Many of Crawfords characteristics and interests came from her family. Her father had been a sea captain and ship owner and on her mother’s side, the Kerrs had a steam yacht.  All the Wishart boys were daft about boats and the sea. The boys assembled a small boat bought as a kit from Gamages and spent a summer pottering at Sandbraes. His Grannie Abram declared it was dangerous. Having seen the photos it looks dangerous to me too. She waited till the brothers had left for home after the holiday  and had it burned casting its ashes into the sea. Emma, his mother, was a terrific pianist and Crawford learned to play with her as his teacher. I don’t doubt that a great deal of his charm came from her genes as well. His love of a good story and his ability to tell one undoubtedly came from his father who was a marvellous raconteur. Crawford, when telling a story, would alert his listener to the approach of the punchline by pausing for a giggle.

His love of Arran was probably in the genes too. The family always holidayed there somewhere on its east coast.

He was schooled at Belmont House, Glasgow Academy and Gresham House College near Kilmarnock. When the family lived in Whitecraigs he and Morrison Dunbar met. Crawford was 6 and Morrison was 4. A chance encounter on trikes and the start of an 80 year friendship. Both went to Belmont House and despite the two years of school distance the friendship prospered. Crawford had a pet jackdaw called Jackie. Jackie would perch on his handlebars as he cycled to school and would be there waiting when school was over. He went everywhere with Crawford – even on holiday. Eventually he flew off at Whiting Bay and had to be left behind. That is why even today the Arran jackdaws have  a Glasgow accent.

During the war the family’s house in Pollokshields was requisitioned and the family moved, eventually, to a house in West Kilbride. Morrison says it was a wonderful house from which to view departing convoys and Crawford would later talk about witnessing the sinking of the aircraft carrier HMS Dasher after a huge explosion and fire in 1943.  He and Morrison would wage naval battles at West Kilbride with scale model battle fleets. Morrison is unsure whether the main reason that Crawford would win was because he was good or because Crawford always set the rules of engagement. One of Crawford’s passions was making and flying model aircraft, particularly gliders. In his bedroom at West Kilbride he had a fair collection. On one wartime occasion, my mother  staying in the house, trying to be helpful, dusted his models. That turned out to have been a mistake that upset Crawford to such an extent that my mother never ever dusted my models, which all lived to crash another day.

In 1945 he was called up and served in the Royal Signals in Germany and Kenya. At that time too he became interested in gliding, achieving his A, B and Silver C gliding certificates. He had a near thing when first allowed to sit alone in a glider. The exercise involved being towed fairly slowly along the runway keeping the wings level. The idea was to stop before hitting the towing winch. On this occasion though, the winchman must have been confused and he accelerated so that Crawford soon found himself at height and having to drop the cable. Luckily he didn’t panic but using his knowledge from flying models completed a circuit and landing. Sitting, recovering and wondering what sort of a charge he would have to answer for an unauthorised flight he was very surprised to get a round of applause from a much relieved instructor and the other trainees. He volunteered to become an army glider pilot and joined No1 Airborne Glider Pilot Regiment. However the family didn’t share his enthusiasm and was overjoyed when in 1946 the army disbanded the regiment before he had a chance to experience the risks of training and action.

In 1947 after demob he studied business administration at The RCST, The Tech, which became Strathclyde University.  That gave entry to the University Air Squadron. He passed Aircrew Selection Board with the top IQ. He flew Tiger Moths and Chipmunks from Scone and obtained a PPL. At about then he was offered a chance to train as a BOAC pilot. He turned it down and often regretted that he had. He left the Tech suitably qualified and started work with Scottish Amicable, the beginning of a lifetime career in what we now know as financial services. His career took him from Glasgow to Dundee, Aberdeen, London and to the towns of Moffat, Dumfries and Annan where he established what were nearly one- stop shops for financial needs.

He met Betty his wife to be, at a dance in Arran. They were married in 1954, Morrison was the best man, and Betty and Crawford were together for 52 years. Betty died in 2006 after a long battle with cancer and Crawford was devastated. Betty had been highly supportive of Crawford’s interests in every possible way. A prime example was when they lived in the North East of Scotland and Crawford had the idea of designing wooden motor-sailer yachts that could be built by the fishing boat builders. Betty was the public face of The North of Scotland Boat Agency while Crawford, still wholly employed in Life Assurance broking was behind the scenes and designed and had built some 25 of these fine boats.

He moved to Rothesay in 1990. It wasn’t entirely a retiring quiet life. He became the local representative of The Small Ship Society. He would look out for newly arrived yachts and cycle off to the harbour to meet up with them. If they were members he would introduce himself to them and talk about boats. If they weren’t he would introduce himself to them and talk to them  about boats. Boats were a passion. He had vast sailing experience and an encyclopaedic knowledge of yachts and an extensive historical archive. I’ve counted 9 boats that he owned at various times and I may have missed a few. He liked boats to be beautiful – and  his  were. A favourite saying was “She’s a lovely boat”.  I took him with me to see a yacht I was interested in buying. I had reservations  about lack of standing headroom and he told me I should buy her because she was “a lovely boat” and if she had standing headroom she wouldn’t look right and if she looked right she would be right. Well his advice has turned out to have been spot on. Sailing is not without its dangers. In 1952 when sailing off Lamlash in strong winds in a National 12, he and his crew (Nicky Gill?) were thrown into the water when the dinghy capsized. There was no buoyancy in the boat and no lifejackets. They were in the water for a considerable time before they were spotted by Ching Hamilton who organised a rescue. Crawford was in Lamlash Hospital for a week recovering. On another occasion, sailing off Stonehaven, son Robin was sleeping on the foredeck. He would awaken and move position as the boat was tacked. He failed to wake at one tack and rolled off the deck into the sea – but it was quietly done. He awoke to find himself  floating and watching a receding stern. Crawford hadn’t noticed and it took Robin’s brother to raise the alarm and get the recovery in process. I understand that both young Crawford and Robin were heavily bribed with ice cream not to mention the episode to Betty.

His love of beauty extended to music. He was a part of BAKA2, a group that met in his Rothesay flat each Tuesday at the back of two. The repertoire was firmly rooted in the music of the 1920’s and 30’s – maybe just into the first half of the 1940’s. Why? Because the music had rhythm and melody. He was progressive. He had an interest in be-bop with its complex avant- garde chords but only the beautiful sounding ones that could be retrospectively introduced into swing numbers, perhaps not the really interesting but discordant ones. When I was young, my contemporaries might have known Fats Waller as the singer of “My very good friend the milkman” as heard on Housewife’s Choice. I knew Fats Waller from “Alligator Crawl” played by ear, but perfectly, by Crawford.

He liked beautiful paintings too. he was a good painter, sometimes on a heroic scale. When his family moved east my family moved into the house at Newlands that his family had vacated. We found in the basement, in the laundry room, murals of very good looking but scantily clad women. I certainly admired them and they were educational to a young lad with no sisters too, so they remained for years. Later I attended a party at the house behind ours. It had joint hostesses and I hadn’t met the girls who actually lived there.  I was duly introduced and when I said where I lived, these good catholic girls were very shocked to meet me because the murals could be seen distantly from their house through our back  door and windows and they were sure the paintings were nude and just awful. Definitely not proper in Newlands to live with paintings like that on your walls.

His cars too had to be beautiful and thoroughbred. Jaguar, BMW, Aston Martin had all been in the fleet. Gliders were preferred to powered planes because of grace and beauty. And of course Betty was his very beautiful wife.

Crawford was instrumental in starting and funding the research that traced our family roots. Internet developments and the work of The Wishart Society and Col Jack Wishart have added considerably to that base but it needed Crawford’s enquiring mind to get it going.

Crawford and Betty were fortunate to have two sons, Crawford and Robin. There are two granddaughters Kirsty and Emma and a great grandson Cieran and great granddaughter Eilidh. Crawford loved them all. Crawford was a great friend to his nephews and nieces and to their children and grandchildren.

Time at a funeral is limited. The picture that one paints con only be minimalist, the palette is restricted and round the edges the picture is unfinished – it fades off to unpainted canvas. Well, everyone can finish the picture themselves in their own way. But to be clear, Crawford was an intelligent man, a sentient man, an eloquent man a man very interested in fellowship and family.

We’ll all remember Crawford in our own ways for the qualities we admire. For me I’ll remember that there was no day so driech that his presence couldn’t turn it  to midsummer sun and no gathering so dull that his arrival would not turn it into a wonderful party.

Eulogy © George Wishart, 2013