The Wonderful Cat Man of Cambridge

20th Century, Britain, Cambridgeshire, People

The Wonderful Cat Man of Cambridge

Walter ‘Snowy’ Farr was a busker unlike any other and has been memorialised in a suitably wild statue.

February 20, 2025

4 minutes

Most memorial sculptures are bronze, figural representations of the deceased. Perhaps a little stylised or exaggerated, but a basic likeness at best. However, every now and again, something stranger rises up.

Much like Nottingham’s beloved xylophone man, other cities across the country have memorialised their local eccentrics in heartfelt and unusual ways. In Cambridge, a city known for its intellectual elite, a tribute to a much-loved local fundraiser takes the form of an abstract series of blobs. While the modern sculpture – unveiled in 2012 – does sit rather innocuously against the old Guildhall, it sits as a bright and cheerful nod to the living city.

Walter ‘Snowy’ Farr was a busker unlike any other. Born in Cambridge, Farr grew up locally and became a road sweeper for Cambridge City Council, also volunteering to maintain the churchyard at St Andrews in Oakington. His first forays into eccentricity were aided by his colleagues on the bins, who gave him various items of clothing and old costumes, from tailcoats to navy uniforms, which he would then wear for his fundraising efforts. According to Vicar James Alexander, “One day he would appear in a Navy uniform and the next day he would be an immaculate gentleman in top hat and tails sweeping the roads. Then he got a couple of old fashioned ice cream carts and gradually built up this Snowy ‘event’ with performing animals.”[1]

Farr lived in the Cambridge villages of Westwick and Oakington and gained some less-than-positive infamy in the local community due to his exterior decorating tastes. Outside his bungalow, he would maintain a busy and chaotic display of flags, teddy bears and toys, alongside a running total of his donations raised. However, this wild display would periodically reduce in size, depending on the ferocity of the local council’s demands.

For decades, ‘Snowy’ would cycle with his madly-decorated cart (he reportedly used old ice cream carts over the years) and his animals, set up at his regular pitch and raise money through donations for photos and simple donations from curious passers-by who were taken aback to see Snowy place a live mouse into his mouth. Most frequently seen in his Coldstream Guards uniform, Snowy and his furry family became part of the Cambridge furniture.

Over several decades, from his pitch at the end of Petty Curry, Farr went on to raise £62,000 for the Cambridgeshire Society for the Blind and Partially Sighted, £28,305 for Camsight, a charity supporting people with sight loss in Cambridgeshire and £33,700 for Guide Dogs for the Blind. For these gargantuan efforts, Farr was made an MBE in 1995 receiving the honour from King (then Prince) Charles.

Many fundraisers go on to raise great amounts for charity, but few are immortalised in sculpture. So how did Farr receive such an honour? Snowy’s outfits were of secondary importance to the mini circus he curated around himself.

Farr, pictured for the Sunday Times in 1970

Farr was often seen in eccentric clothing and surrounded by a menagerie of animals. Sometimes this gathering would include a dog or goat, but his most constant companions were a tame white cat which would sit on his hat, and a few trained mice which would run around the brim. It’s little wonder that people instantly remembered him. The memorial sculpture, designed by Gary Webb, reflects this most famous incarnation, with a loosely designed white cat, sat on a top hat.

When I first heard the story of Farr’s animal friends, shortly after his death, I genuinely thought people were exaggerating , but nope. That was his common state.

Farr’s life was scattered with joyous and ridiculous experiences. In 1977, he led a procession of around 150 children through the streets of Cambridge for a TV pilot. This sounds all well and good until we hear that he took a wrong turn and accidentally Pied-Piper-d hordes of children into the depths of the city.

Despite raising thousands for charity, Farr died with very little to his name, but was so beloved that local undertakers and admirers were keen to pick up the bill and preserve his legacy. His death in 2007 was met with a local outpouring of grief and demands that his legacy be remembered for future generations. Two years later in 2009, the city council confirmed that a statue would be erected in his memory, and in 2012, that became a reality.

***

Liked this post? Then why not join the Patreon clubhouse? From as little as £1 a month, you’ll get access to tonnes of exclusive content and a huge archive of articles, videos and podcasts!

Pop on over, support my work, have a chat and let me show you my skulls…www.patreon.com/burialsandbeyond