The actual source of the name Gordon is the parish of Gordon, located in the region of Scotland called Berwickshire. Here, Sir Adam of Gordon, founder of the dynasty, made his ancient home. Sir Adam is well known in the annals of Scottish lore for having reconciled King Robert the Bruce with His Holiness the Pope, thus ensuring a period of peaceful realtions between the English and Roman Catholics.
In gratitude for his achievements toward that peace, the Bruce presented Sir Adam with the deed to the estate of Strathbogie, in what is now Aberdeenshire. In time, Strathbogie would become the homestead of the nobleman's great-great-granddaughter; upon her marriage to Alexander Seton of Seton, he who was of the line of Setons begun by Margaret Seton and Alan of Wilton, she caused her new husband to take the name Gordon. Subsequently, in 1449, their eldest son, also named Alexander, was created Earl of Huntly.
Basically, there are three primary branches of the Clan Gordon, descended from Sir Adam's immediate line: Gordon of Haddo; Gordon of Strathbogie; and that branch of the family to which I, Fergus MacAndrich Lochinvar Gordon, belong --- Lochinvar, of course! During the mid-16th and early 17th Centuries, we Gordons wielded such power in Scotland that our Clan Chieftain was often referred to as the "Cock o' the North." Why, we Lochinvar Gordons in particular had our own Cock o' the North, as well. Y'see, for much of the 14th Century, the region of Lochinvar and Kenmure, from whence our branch of the family took its name, had been exclusively ours tae live, work and play in; and we took great pride in keeping our lands together for as long as we could.But by the early 1740's --- that is to say, some three years before the tragic massacre at Culloden --- the Gordons of Lochinvar were down to their last immediate son, Connor by name. Shortly after Connor escaped across the sea into France, he raised there for a short time his own three sons: Harrison, Michael and Kenneth.
Shortly after their father had passed away, the three lads returned to Scotland in secret, eventually marrying into other Clans. Harrison, eldest of the three brothers, was wed to Catherine, of the line of MacFies of Colonsay, at which point Harrison took the MacFie name, and later witnessed the murder of the last living wolf in Scotland, at the hands of Sir Ewan Cameron of Lochiel, whose family the MacFies had long supported. As for Michael, he had married the fair Lady Miranda, of the MacLeods of Harris and Dunvegan. She soon took the Gordon name, and they eventually settled in England.
That left young Kenneth. As the youngest of Connor's three sons, by tradition he would had to be betrothed into another Clansman's youngest daughter. In this case, her name was Elwyn, daughter of the 22nd Laird of the Clan Rattray.
As you've no doubt guessed by now, Kenneth and Elwyn were to become my parents. While theirs was a happy, prosperous relationship, the rest of the world at large was undergoing a period of unchecked stress and force --- especially in the recently colonized lands of America.
By 1787, when the Constitution of the United States had been ratified, the news had reached the shores of Scotland. And the ramifications of that wonderful document soon had me mother and father questioning what was truly right and wrong about Scottish life, liberty and virtues. And so, in early January 1788, they chose to emigrate to the Colonies, not only to see the new lands for themselves, but also to explore just what kinds of freedoms its people were capable of upholding. The decision could not have come at a more prophetic moment ..... for Elwyn was about to have her baby.
By April 1789, Kenneth and Elwyn Gordon, as my parents now called themselves, had settled comfortably in the village of Port Washington, in New York's Long Island. Since both of them hailed from Scotland, the Gordons accordingly brought with them several reminders of their native land's heritage. One such reminder was that of piobaireachd, the classical music of the Great Highland Bagpipe.
Aye, me father was an excellent piper, having learned the craft fron Connor his father. Many times, Kenneth played a last haunting tune for the villagers of Port Washington, to signal the coming of sunset and the end of another day. To the oldtimers, it was odd to see and hear both Kenneth and Elwyn express their eternal passion for each other in fluent Scottish Gaelic --- a language with which few individuals of that era were familiar.
Still, it was indeed a joyous moment for all when Kenneth announced that he was about to have his first-born son. And on St. Patrick's Day ---- March 17th, 1799 ---- that's exactly what happened. On that day, Elwyn Gordon gave birth to a blue-eyed, red-haired, cuddly baby boy:
Me.
And Father was truly the proudest man in Port Washington!
I first learned the art of piobaireachd at the wee age of 9, and Father taught me to appreciate the joy of playin' the pipes, not to mention treating the instrument itself with dignity and respect. For me father knew all too well the horrors of the dark days of the Proscription of 1746, whereby the bagpipes had been declared to be an instrument of war. As far as me father were concerned, those in power in England wanted to eliminate the Clansfolk because, in me father's own words, "those maniacs knew the Clansmen as no more than mere savages! But the Clansmen knew music when they heard it! And more, they treated the pipes with honor!"
As ye no doubt can tell, Father was of the mind that a good Bagpiper should only play when the spirit of the Highlands truly moves him!
In February of 1840, I eventually opened my own bagpipe-manufacturing business, and soon became a good-hearted and noble friend to the children of the Village of Port Washington, where I was to spend the rest of my adult years on this Earth, until I passed away in Edinburgh in June of 1887, at the age of 89, while I was on a mission to explore the origins of me Gordon forefathers.
Prior to that, those wee young'uns had fun listening to me playing my tunes on me trusty Highland Pipes every afternoon at lunchtime. To those youngsters, I was their auld Uncle Fergus, by which nickname I've happily remained ever since.
In a way, that's how St. Andrew, patron saint of Scotland himself rewarded me upon me entry into Heaven. By his own decree, he proclaimed that from henceforth, I would haunt the Scottish Highland Games of the world, to remind Mortals all over Earth to take pride in their Scottish heritage, so that everyone what had the true Scottish spirit in their hearts would remember!
So that's where I am tae this verra day --- and now, after all this time, Richard Washington and Electric Pirates Entertainment have seen fit tae be givin' yer auld Uncle Fergus a brand-new Bagpipers' Paradise website, tha' I canna bae sharin' wi' everyone. I certainly hope ye guid Mortals will pay me Bagpipers' Paradise a visit or two!
And don't hesitate tae e-mail me, if it be questions or ideas ye may be havin' about the place: blackbeardpirate81@yahoo.com. We'd be lovin' tae hear from ye, a bonnie lot!
