EVERY community has its tales about local people who in earlier, less sensitive times, would be referred to as “not all there” and Southampton was no exception.

Historians often make the point that it is the eccentricities and personalities of these people which make them well remembered, while those who may be considered more socially important have been totally forgotten.

One of the best known of these local eccentrics in Southampton was the remarkable Bobby McCrackem, an Irishman living in the early days of the 19th century.

A coalman and oysterman, Bobby had a very unusual seaweed-adorned barrow which he pushed in and around Southampton streets.

Only one image, an old, rather faded drawing, remains to this day of Bobby and his cart. The point about Bobby was not merely he sold coal and oysters, but that for the price fourpence (2p) he would give what were popularly known as “farmyard imitations”, such as the sound of grunting pigs, clucking hens, and quacking ducks.

Then for a couple of pennies more Bobby would, according to the records, sing “noisily and excitedly” a selection of Irish songs.

One history book says: “The power, if not the quality, of his voice may be gathered from the fact that a local legend declared that when he shouted: ‘Oysters, four a penny’ at Eling Quay he could be heard in Southampton.

“In point of fact, Bobby was a bit of a nuisance, although harmless enough.

“The children made fun of him. If, when absent from his barrow, delivering coal, urchins amused themselves by cutting a chip from the barrow.

“Bobby would, on discovering the damage, set up such a howl that it would startle every dweller in the whole length of the High Street.”

It was this practice of howling, as well as imitating birds and animals, and singing Irish songs, which at length incensed some of the residents to such an extent that they were determined to get rid of him.

In those days there was a way of managing such convenient disappearances – the dreaded Press Gang.

It was the time of the Napoleonic wars, and the Press Gang’s aid was easily invoked, so over they came from Portsmouth and rounded up the misfortunate Bobby. “His howls following his separation from his beloved barrow may be imagined,” records the history book.

“Some pitied Bobby, but others rubbed their hands at what they considered good riddance.”

Then a curious thing happened.

Not many days had elapsed before Bobby reappeared in Southampton.

People wondered what happened.

Escaped from the clutches of the Press Gang? This was almost impossible.

The secret came out, for when Bobby returned home he found all his goods stolen, so he applied for help to the magistrates, and to them he told the story.

“It seems that one day, when sent aloft at Portsmouth, he slipped, but reached the deck safely, except that the rope, as it slid through his hands, stripped some flesh off,” records the archives.

“Rather than have a temporarily useless man with him, the commanding officer sent him back to Southampton, where he landed to the accompaniment of a few oaths.”

Poor, eccentric Bobby, who lived at Martell’s Passage, was allowed to carry on after that without further interference.

But he met his end in one of Southampton’s beer houses called the Star Tap, where a group of youths paid him to perform his farmyard imitations.

While he was going through his usual routine someone put a poison in his beer and Bobby collapsed.

He was taken to what was then known as the “Cage” at the Bargate, where he died, but no record remains as to where he was buried.