John 'Philip' Hawker-obituary-St. George, NB

John “Philip” Hawker

At the Fundy Nursing Home, Blacks Harbour, NB on November 21, 2006 Mr. John Philip Hawker formerly of St. George, NB peacefully passed away. Born in Hermitage, NFLD on February 18, 1921 he was a son of the late Walter and Elizabeth (McTurk) Hawker. A loving cousin and friend, he is survived by cousins; Frederick Hawker of Manchester NH, June Hawker Gorman of Wenhamd MA, John Grebe and David Grebe, who are the sons of Henry Grebe and the late Joan Grebe. He was predeceased by his beloved cousin, Joan Hawker Grebe.

Known as Phil to many locals, he was a beloved storyteller. A well educated man, Phil attended school at Ayer Academy in Ayer Scotland and then went on to receive his degree in Engineering from Acadia University in Wolfville, NS. Prior to his retirement, Phil worked for Connor’s Brothers Ltd as an accountant for 35 years. He had a lifelong interest in model airplanes and flying, electric trains and history.

Resting at the St. George Funeral Home (755-3533), 26 Portage Street, St. George, NB. The service will be held from The Gary E. Waycott Memorial Chapel on Friday, November 24, 2006 at 3:00 pm with Rev. Keith Osborne officiating. Prior to the service, friends may visit and share memories of Phil at the Chapel from 1- 3 pm. In Phil’s memory, donations to a charity of the donor’s choice would be appreciated by the family.

www.stgeorgefh.ca

'Hawker the Talker' was walking encyclopaedia

Mike Mullen

Telegraph-Journal

As published on page C7 on November 29, 2006

Phil Hawker

SAINT JOHN - In St. George, which he called home for most of his adult life, Phil Hawker's penchant for talking world history, quoting Shakespeare and reciting poetry earned him the nickname Hawker the Talker.

To many, including an American cousin who delivered his funeral eulogy, the erudite 85-year-old Newfoundland native who died at the Blacks Harbour Nursing Home on Nov. 21 was the Granite Town's "beloved storyteller."

But to close friend Barbara Robinson, a retired school teacher, he was more like a walking encyclopaedia. "He knew everything," she says. "Who among us was not stopped in their tracks by the incomparable mind of John Philip Hawker? If you had time to talk, you were in for a conversation that reached into most areas of human thought and over any corner of the globe.

"His was a renaissance mind," she adds. "He was as curious about the mechanical world as he was about the world of ideas. He could tell you, in detail, how minerals were refined. He could tell you the source and the outlet of the Zambezi River . . . and how to pronounce Uberleutant (a military title) correctly."

Robinson considers herself "lucky" to have known Hawker.

"He was a man with a remarkable sense of humour," she says. "He needed that and a thick skin, as well, for he lived as a mighty brain in a short body. Lots of people saw only the short stature."

Born Feb. 18, 1921, in Hermitage, Nfld., he was a son of the late Walter Hawker, who became the manager of the Bank of Nova Scotia in St. George, and his wife, Elizabeth (McTurk). Phil Hawker attended school at Ayer Academy in Scotland and earned an engineering degree from Acadia University in Wolfville, N.S. He had a lifelong interest in model airplanes, electric trains and history. Prior to retirement, he worked as an accountant with Connors Bros. Ltd. for 35 years.

June Hawker Gorman of Wenham, Mass., one-half of the Hawker twins who visited back and forth with their St. George relatives as children, says their well-educated older cousin always had an impish and playful side to match the twinkle in his eye.

"To us, he was like the Pied Piper," she says. "When Uncle Walter was manager of the Bank of Nova Scotia, (Phil) showed us how to wire the door handles so Uncle Walter got an electrical shock when he opened the doors. When (Phil) knew the auditor was coming, he painted a bulls eye on the middle of the vault and painted, with an arrow, 'drill here.' "

Before requiring nursing care in 2005, she says Hawker spent his retirement managing his investments and making his daily rounds of St. George, stopping at local eateries for lunch, the bank and the local post office.

Often, says Gorman, her cousin would simply hold court by sitting on a bench and talking to all who came by.

"The townspeople really loved him," she says.