The Edmund Fitzgerald

“Keep us, our God; for your ocean is so wide and our boat is so small.”







It was 35 years ago this month that the Edmund Fitzgerald sank with all hands on board.

This is my tribute.

The Fitzgerald left Superior, Wisconsin, at 2:15 p.m. on the afternoon of Sunday, November 9, 1975, under the command of Captain Ernest M. McSorley. It was en route to the steel mill on Zug Island, near Detroit, Michigan, with a full cargo of taconite ore pellets.

The Fitzgerald joined a second freighter under the command of Captain Jesse B. "Bernie" Cooper, Arthur M. Anderson, destined for Gary, Indiana out of Two Harbors, Minnesota. The weather forecast was not unusual for November and the National Weather Service (NWS) predicted that the storm would pass just south of Lake Superior by 7:00 a.m on 10 November.

The SS Wilfred Sykes loaded opposite the Fitzgerald on at the Burlington Northern Dock #1 and departed at 4:15 p.m. about 2 hours behind the Fitzgerald. Captain Dudley J. Paquette of the Sykes predicted that a major storm would cross directly across Lake Superior instead of the NWS forecast that it would pass with less intensity to the south.

From the outset, Paquette chose a route that avoided the worst effects of the storm by using the protection of Lake Superior’s north shore. The crew of the Sykes followed the radio conversations between the Fitzgerald and Anderson during the first part of their trip and overheard their captains decide to take the regular Lake Carriers’ Association downbound route.

Paquette reported that on 10 November after 1:00 a.m., he overheard McSorley say that his ship was working so much that he had reduced his RPMs. Paquette said he was stunned to later hear McSorley, who was not known for turning aside or slowing down, state, “We’re going to try for some lee from Isle Royale. You’re walking away from us anyway … I can’t stay with you.”

The Fitzgerald followed the Anderson for the first 10 to 11 hours and then the faster Fitzgerald pulled ahead at about 3:00 a.m. on 10 November.Crossing Lake Superior at about 14 knots (26 km/h; 16 mph), the boats encountered a massive winter storm, reporting winds in excess of 50 knots (93 km/h; 58 mph) with gusts up to 86.9 knots (160.9 km/h; 100.0 mph) and waves as high as 35 feet (11 m). Visibility was poor due to heavy snow. The NWS upgraded the forecast to gale warnings. The freighters altered their courses northward, seeking shelter along the Canadian coast. Later, they would cross to Whitefish Bay to approach the locks. When the storm became intense, the Soo Locks at Sault Ste. Marie were closed.

Early in the morning of Monday, 10 November, the NWS issued a storm warning (expected winds over 48-knot (89 km/h; 55 mph). By late in the afternoon sustained 50-knot (93 km/h; 58 mph) winds were observed across eastern Lake Superior. Anderson was struck by a 75-knot (139 km/h; 86 mph) hurricane-force gust.

At 3:30 p.m., Captain McSorley radioed the Anderson to report that she was taking on water and had top-side damage including that the Fitzgerald was suffering a list, and had lost two vent covers and some railings. Two of the Fitzgerald's six bilge pumps were running continuously to discharge shipped water.

At about 3:50 p.m., McSorley called the Anderson to report that his radar was not working and he asked the Anderson to keep them in sight while he checked his ship down so that the Anderson could close the gap between them. Fitzgerald was ahead of Anderson at the time, effectively blind; therefore, she slowed to come within 10 miles (16 km) range so she could receive radar guidance from the other ship.

For a time the Anderson directed the Fitzgerald toward the relative safety of Whitefish Bay. McSorley contacted the U.S. Coast Guard station in Grand Marais, Michigan after 4:00 pm and then hailed any ships in the Whitefish Point area to inquire if the Whitefish Point light and navigational radio beacon were operational. Captain Cedric Woodard of the Avafors answered that both the light and radio direction beacon were out at that moment.

Around 5:30 p.m., Woodward called the Fitzgerald again to report that the Whitefish point light was back on but not the radio beacon. When McSorley replied to the Avafors, he commented, "We're in a big sea. I've never seen anything like it in my life."

The last communication from the doomed ship came at approximately 7:10 p.m., when Anderson notified Fitzgerald of an upbound ship and asked how it was doing. McSorley reported, "We are holding our own." A few minutes later, it apparently sank; no distress signal was received. Ten minutes later Anderson could neither raise Fitzgerald by radio, nor detect it on radar.


Anderson's Captain Cooper first called the United States Coast Guard in Sault Ste. Marie at 7:39 p.m. on channel 16, the radio distress frequency. They instructed him to call back on channel 12 because they wanted to keep their emergency channel open and they were having difficulty with their communication systems, including antennas blown down by the storm. Cooper then called the upbound saltwater vessel Nanfri and was told that they could not pick up the Fitzgerald on their radar.

Cooper repeatedly attempted to raise the Coast Guard again but was not successful until 7:54 p.m. when they asked him to keep watch for a 16-foot outboard lost in the area. At 8:32 p.m., Cooper all but pleaded with the U. S. Coast Guard to take him seriously that the Fitzgerald had gone missing.[6] Petty Officer Philip Branch would later testify, "I considered it serious, but at the time it was not urgent."

The Coast Guard lacked appropriate search-and-rescue vessels to respond to the Fitzgerald disaster. They asked the big commercial vessels to voluntarily join the search. The Coast Guard asked the Anderson to turn around and look for survivors. The initial search for survivors consisted of the Arthur M. Anderson, and a second freighter, SS William Clay Ford. The efforts of a third freighter, the Canadian vessel Hilda Marjanne, were foiled by the weather. The Coast Guard sent a buoy tender from Duluth, Minnesota, Woodrush, that was able to launch within two and a half hours, but took a day to arrive at the search area.

The Traverse City, Michigan Coast Guard station launched a HU-16 fixed wing search aircraft that arrived on the scene at 10:53 p.m. and a HH-52 helicopter with a 3.8-million-candlepower searchlight that arrived at 1:00 a.m. on 11 November. Canadian Coast Guard aircraft joined the three day search. The Ontario Provincial Police established a beach patrol all along the eastern shore of Lake Superior.

The search recovered debris, including lifeboats and rafts, but no survivors from the 29 man crew.

Although it is among the most well known and the largest vessel lost, the Fitzgerald is not alone on the bottom of the Great Lakes.

In the period between 1816 when the Invincible was lost to the sinking of the Fitzgerald in 1975, the Whitefish Point area has claimed at least 240 ships.


Today

The day after the wreck, Mariners' Church in Detroit rang its bell 29 times; once for each life lost.

The church continues to hold an annual memorial, reading the names of the crewmen and ringing the church bell. On November 12, 2006, two days after the 31st anniversary of the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald, the church broadened its memorial ceremony to include the more than 6,000 lives lost on the Great Lakes. In 2006, the bell at Mariners' Church tolled eight times, not the usual 29: five times for the five Great Lakes, a sixth time for the St. Clair and Detroit rivers, a seventh for the St. Lawrence Seaway and an eighth time for military personnel whose lives were lost.

The ship's bell was recovered from the wreck on July 4, 1995. There was an uproar of controversy when Jeff Stevens, a maintenance worker of St. Ignace, refurbished the bell by stripping the protective coating applied by Michigan State University experts. The controversy continued when the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum tried to use the bell as a touring exhibition resulting in family members of the crew halting the effort by objecting that the bell was being used as a “traveling trophy”.

The bell is on display in the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum in Whitefish Point near Paradise, Michigan. An anchor from Fitzgerald lost on an earlier trip was recovered from the Detroit River and is on display at the Dossin Great Lakes Museum in Detroit, Michigan. Artifacts in the Steamship Valley Camp museum in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan include two lifeboats, photos, a movie of the Fitzgerald and commemorative models and paintings.

On every November 10 the Split Rock Lighthouse in Silver Bay, Minnesota emits a light in honor of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Coast Guard Cutter Woodrush was replaced by a brand new buoy tender in 2001, USCGC Maple. On its maiden voyage, the Maple visited the final resting place of the Fitzgerald and dropped the last Woodrush life ring down to the wreck.

On August 8, 2007, a Michigan family discovered a lone life saving ring on the Keweenaw Peninsula along a remote shore of Lake Superior that seemed to be from the Fitzgerald. It was thought to be a hoax because there are considerable differences in the markings of proven rings found at the wreck site. A later Associated Press article confirmed that the life ring was not from the Fitzgerald.


The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald
By Gordon Lightfoot

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
of the big lake they called "Gitche Gumee."
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
when the "Gales of November" came early.

The ship was the pride of the American side
coming back from some mill in Wisconsin.
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
with a crew and good captain well seasoned,
concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
when they left fully loaded for Cleveland.
And later that night when the ship's bell rang,
could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
and a wave broke over the railing.
And ev'ry man knew, as the captain did too
'twas the witch of November come stealin'.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
when the Gales of November came slashin'.
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
in the face of a hurricane west wind.

When suppertime came the old cook came on deck sayin'.

"Fellas, it's too rough t'feed ya."
At seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in; he said,
(*2010 lyric change: At 7 p.m., it grew dark, it was then he said,)
"Fellas, it's bin good t'know ya!"
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
and the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when 'is lights went outta sight
came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Does any one know where the love of God goes
when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
if they'd put fifteen more miles behind 'er.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
they may have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
in the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
the islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
with the Gales of November remembered.

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
in the "Maritime Sailors' Cathedral."
The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times
for each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
of the big lake they call "Gitche Gumee."
"Superior," they said, "never gives up her dead
when the gales of November come early!"

POW Camp Bowmanville

Originally built in the pre-WWII era as a school for "errant" boys, housing approximately 300 of them. Surrounded by farms, it seemed the perfect place to turn troublesome young boys, into responsible adults. Fate, it would seem, had something else in mind for these idyllic grounds.

When the war broke out in 1939, the Allies discovered that they needed a place to house their many German prisoners of war; a place where they would have difficulty escaping and possibly re-joining their former units. To meet these ends, the Canadian government built, or took over, many locations for use as POW camps. This location, officially known as Camp 30 at the time, was one of them.

The construction of the POW camp was fairly simplistic, all of the existing buildings were used. Wooden barracks, guard towers, and barbed wire fencing were all constructed. The outside perimiter security consisted of two 12-foot-high fences with electric lights every 12 feet and nine guard towers, topped off with approximately 60 miles of barbed wire. The size of the grounds is around 14-acres. Many of those original brick buildings are still standing today.

The camp served as home to German army officers from the Afrika Korps, fliers from the Luftwaffe, and Kriegsmarine officers. The new occupants were transferred from other POW camps at Neys, Fort Henry, Gravenhurst and Britain. In June 1942, the prisoner count was 487 officers, 21 midshipmen, and 135 other men of various rank. Those prisoners were guarded by a force headed by Lieutenant Colonel R.O. Bull M.C., consisting of a large support staff, the Veterans Guard of Canada, nine officers, and 239 other ranks.

By most accounts, things were fairly civil at the camp, barring one large, 3-day incident known simply as "The Battle of Bowmanville.

Lieutenant Colonel James Mason Taylor, Commandant of Camp 30 Bowmanville requested that General major Georg Friemel, the spokesman for the German POWs, have a group of prisoners volunteer to be shackled at about 12:30 PM on 10 October 1943. Friemel’s response was that none of the prisoners would volunteer. The senior German Army officer Generalleutnant Hans von Ravenstein, senior Luftwaffe officer Oberstleutnant Hans Hefele and senior naval officer Korvettenkapitän z.S. Otto Kretschmer were also requested to supply volunteers to be shackled – they declined.

Later that day the German prisoners did not show for roll call. Taylor called for reinforcements from Barriefield and Kingston, which are about 170 kilometers from Bowmanville. The guards at Bowmanville were reactivated WWI veterans called the Veterans Guard of Canada who were too old to fight in battle. They were men who were in their fifties and sixties and not physically capable of taking on the young men who outnumbered them. Although the guards had come to know the prisoners personally and were at ease with them, the prisoners now observed that there was an uneasiness about the guards as they no longer carried their weapons casually.

Lieutenant Colonel Taylor called in his officers and told them that 100 German officers were to be shackled – to use force if necessary. In a brick building that housed a large kitchen Kretschmer set up his resistance headquarters. About 150 officers and petty officers armed with sticks, iron bars, table legs, ketchup bottles, china and stones barricaded themselves inside the brick building. They were prepared for a long siege. In the other buildings similar preparations were being made. Kapitänleutnant Horst Elfe, commander U-93, recalls, “We were determined, but a little frightened too. We thought the Canadians would come in with machine guns and tear gas and grenades, because that is what would have happened in Europe. So we were shattered when we looked from our windows and saw the Canadians marching in with no guns, no gas just baseball bats over their shoulders.”

On Saturday 10 October a contingent of guards armed with rifles with fixed bayonets rushed the kitchen. Prior to the charge the Canadian officers had made a careful inspection to insure that the guards did not have any live ammunition. A pitched battle ensued at the doors and windows with the Canadian guards withdrawing, unable to penetrate the fortifications. The Germans had barricaded the doors and windows with mattresses and cardboard. The guards rushed one of the other buildings and were again beaten off. A third attack against the wooden barracks met with equal resistance. The battle went on for more than an hour. The guards brought axes attempting to chop their way through the fortified doors.

In a counter attack the POW’s exited the buildings and attacked the flanks of the guards with sticks and steel bars. Both sides suffered injuries consisting of broken bones, cracked heads and bloody noses. After a short rest the guards regrouped, attacking with high-pressure fire hoses. Water shot through the windows thoroughly dousing the prisoners. The guards gained a foothold, as the POW’s had no defense against the high-pressure water stream. The prisoners fought back until 6:00 PM. Exhausted, they finally surrendered.

The Germans who were barricaded in the basement of House 5 were forced to leave when the basement was flooded with the water from the fire hoses. As they exited Lieutenant G.E. Brent struck each POW on the head or face with his cane. The prisoners took no action as they were forced to run through a gauntlet of Canadian guards. However, they avowed to address the insult at another time.

Again Generalmajor Friemel was requested to hand over prisoners for shackling. He refused again. The hostilities ceased and by mutual agreement the prisoners returned to their barracks. The prisoners were assembled and Lieutenant Colonel Taylor informed them that he had sent for reinforcements, regular troops from a nearby army camp.

At approximately 7:45 PM, three officers and 50 enlisted men arrived. Taylor addressed the Veterans Guard and the 53 regular army reinforcements. Then the combined force of about 150 men entered the confines of the camp at 9:20 PM. A second convoy under the command of Captain Stevens from the Ordinance Training School arrived at 10:10 PM. Taylor assumed command of the new group and they entered the camp with fixed bayonets. Nothing happened as the POWs remained in their barracks. Taylor reported that everything was calm at 1:00 AM Sunday 11 October.

The large contingent of regular army troops was not expected to arrive until the morning of Monday 12 October. At about 5:20 AM, during a transfer of POWs to the Dutch farm, it was determined that two officers were missing and an “escape plan” was put into effect at 6:40 AM. At about the same time a shot was heard. A guard had taken a shot at the two escaping prisoners who were quickly captured at 7:15 AM.

During the early morning roll call Kretschmer advised the guards that it would be unwise for Lieutenant Brent to enter the compound until the ill feelings of the POWs had subsided. The POWs refused to turn out for the 7:30 AM roll call. Even though he had been warned, Brent entered the compound sometime before 9:00 AM and began walking around with an elderly guard who was well liked by the POW’s. The word spread quickly that Brent was in the camp. Brent and the guard walked around the corner of the House 4 to be confronted by Kretschmer who had been talking with Luftwaffe pilots Oberleutnant Erwin Moll and Major A. von Casimir.

As Brent turned around Kretschmer immediately punched him in the face. At this moment the guard pushed Moll aside and said, “You can’t do that!” trying to help Brent. Moll slugged the guard on the neck to take him out of the action and was immediately concerned that he had severely hurt the elderly guard who was now unconscious. Kretschmer knocked Brent to the ground and beat him soundly in retribution for the previous day’s indignity. They then dragged Brent into House 4. Oberfähnrich z.S. Volkmar König, who was the deck gun officer aboard U-99 with Kretschmer when it was sunk, observed Kretschmer rubbing his bruised knuckles as he entered and was ordered to tie up Brent. König tied Brent’s hands behind his back with strips of cloth. Brent was bleeding from the mouth and nose.

In the mean time the elderly guard recovered from the punch on the neck and gave the alarm. Kretschmer decided to mockingly march Brent to the gate. In doing so a tower-guard opened fire on the group and wounded König. When the rifle firing started Brent hit the dirt. The Germans jumped back inside the barracks leaving Brent behind as the rifle fire kicked up the dust and blew out fragments of masonry from the brick building. Once inside the barracks it was determined that König had received several wounds. They looked out the window just in time to see Brent making a dash for the gate. The remainder of the day was uneventful and König was sent to the hospital to have the masonry and bullet fragments removed and the bullet wound just above his left knee attended to.

On Monday morning, 12 October the regular army troops from Barriefield and Kingston arrived at 5:20 AM under the command of Major D.F. Adams. The young troops who had been undergoing commando training were eager for a little action. In battle dress that included WWI style broad rimmed-helmets, rifles with fixed-bayonets, clubs and fire hoses they stormed the barracks. Armed with fire axes, stones and hockey sticks Kretschmer and his crew, with pillows lashed to their heads, waited for the coming battle. The battle raged with the Germans’ first line of defense purposely giving way, retreating to the barracks.

The Canadians surged forward only to find themselves being attacked by prisoners hurling bricks from the roof of the barracks, forcing the Canadians to withdraw. With 400 troops the Canadians charged the barracks again caving in the doors and windows. The battle continued all afternoon with an ebb and flow. The battle took on the proportions of a medieval siege with the Canadian troops climbing ladders to reach the roofs of the barracks and the Germans repelling the invaders. Fortunately the Canadians had removed their bayonets and decided to physically subdue the Germans. The battle was over by early evening.”


After The War

When the war ended in 1945, all of the camp's prisoners were sent home and the site was returned to its previous use, as a boy's camp. It served this purpose until an undetermined time later, when it was no longer needed and shut down. To the best of my knowledge, the government still retained ownership of the property at this time.

Sometime later, the land and the buildings were rented out by the Peterborough, Northumberland, Clarington Catholic District School Board for use as a school. The grounds housed St. Stephens Secondary School and, for a brief time, St. Joseph's Elementary School.

In approximately 1999, St. Stephens left the property and moved into a new building a short distance away. It was at this time that Great Lakes College bought the land from the goverment, to be used as an international school for Asian immigrants. Students would come to the school to obtain Canadian highschool credits and go on to post-secondary education.

Bizarre Murder

Originally, Great Lakes College (Bowmanville Campus) was owned by a businessman named Thomas Ku. However, he was killed after a bungled kidnap and ransom attempt by two of his students, Zhiyang Suo and Feng Wang. They took him hostage as he was getting out of his car, at his Mississauga home, after visiting the school's campus. While their motive seems to be unclear, many students have complained about sub-standard services at the school, as well as not being offered services promised.

The land is currently sitting abandoned awaiting its fate. Many arson attempts have been made, and the town is attempting to restore it.

Escape from Bowmanville

In 1943, Nazi officials arranged an escape plan for several German prisoners including Otto Kretschmer, a top U-Boat ace in the Nazi army.

The Germans arranged for a U-Boat to pick the prisoners up on September 27, 1943, off the coast of New Brunswick. To meet their deadline, the prisoners began digging a tunnel beneath the POW camp in Bowmanville.

Tin cans and a crude railway system hauled the dirt out of the tunnel and into the attic of one of the camp buildings. At one point, the ceiling of the building that held the dirt collapsed, however, by this time the camp guards and the RCMP were aware of the Germans' plan and chose not to intercept. Closer to the date of escape, the RCMP finally moved in, collapsed the tunnel and seized the POW’s responsible for implementing the plan. Otto Kretschmer did not escape.




A part of the elaborate escape plans life size dummies would be made to fool guards into believing that all POW's were accounted for.



Otto Kretschmer was one of Hilter's favorite's, a U Boat commander responsible for sinking the greatest tonnage of allied shipping. He personally ordered that a plan be put in place to rescue him from Canadian hands. The RCMP however,foiled the effort.




Some of the high ranking Nazi officers held at Camp 30

POW Camp Gravenhurst

Battle ship in a bottle crafted by an unidentified POW at Gravenhurst


Prisoners of War being paraded from the train to their new home at the Gravenhurst POW Camp


German POW's dress for a play they are performing.


A look at the prisoners compound


More prisoners march under close guard


The old POW site in this town north of Toronto is difficult to find. Either people are embarrassed that German prisoners lived there or they don't know much about the camp or perhaps memories have just become terribly hazy. Some German POW came to Gravenhurst for convalescence. The site is perched on and around rocks on the shore of Pine Lake in Muskoka country.

In 1978 the old concrete pilings of the main building remained in addition to a decrepit guardhouse, a tired, lonely old red fire hydrant amidst the weeds and a desolate pump house by the lake. Old bits of roofing material refused to decompose even after thirty five years of abandonment. In the tall brush, I found a well preserved pieced of canvas fire hose with solid brass fittings, but other than that, memories seem to be few at Gravenhurst. In 1998, no physical evidence remains on site.

Spanish Residential School

Throughout the early 20th century, the Roman Catholic Church operated approximately 70 per cent of the estimated 130 residential schools created for educating Indians in Canada. These federally funded schools were set up for Indians who did not have an Indian Day School located within five kilometres of their home.

As seen through the public eye, the schools were a positive move designed to teach aboriginals how to lead aboriginals from a “life of poverty, dirt and ignorance”.

Educated by Jesuit priests or Sisters, the students received moral, academic and industrial training. Classes operated for half the day while for the duration of the day the students would be responsible for the entire maintenance of the grounds including cooking, cleaning, laundry, and farming.

The poor funding provided by the Government meant that the schools had to be as self-sustaining as possible. Children grew their own food, made their own clothes and raised and sold livestock including cattle, chickens and hogs. Children also milled the wheat, baked bread, forged shoes for the horses; cut hides and made shoes and tailored shirts, pants and pajamas.

In the community of Wikwemikong (Ontario) the Jesuit priests ran the St. Peter Claver's Indian Residential School for male Indians. The Daughters of the Heart of Mary operated a school for female Indians based out of the same log cabin.

The boys school operated from the years 1850 until 1911 when it caught fire. The girls school operated from 1862 until the same time, apparently using the same log cabin for a building.

Two new schools were constructed: St. Peter’s Clavier’s School constructed in 1911 with a capacity for 180 boys and St. Joseph’s School for Girls constructed in 1916 with a capacity for 150 girls. The schools were constructed on a 1000-acre lot located at the mouth of the Spanish River. Reverend Joseph Sauve and Father Paquin supervised the building and construction of the new schools that began operation in 1913.

The move from Wikwemikong to Spanish was intentional to remove the children from their Reserves and far away from the parents.


St. Peter Claver's Indian Residential School

The St. Peter’s Indian Residential School for Boys was an impressive three-story structure that contained dormitories, study hall, classrooms, recreation hall, dining rooms, kitchen, lavatory, kitchen, pantry, infirmary, bakery and tailor shop.

Located on the ground of the boy’s school was a windmill, powerhouse and a shoe shop. A large barn held cows, horses and dairy operation. A mill near the river processed corn and wheat. A chicken coop held up to four hundred chickens.

There were approximately 130 boys at the school aged 4 to 16. The school drew Aboriginal children from reserves across Ontario some of the whom were orphans; others committed to the institution as punishment for some misdemeanor; and a few were enrolled by their parents in order to receive some education and training

Despite the luxurious sounding premises, life was anything but luxury. To say that the Government neglected these children would be an understatement. They paid out $129.31 per child annually or $.35 per day, for food, clothing and utilities.

Health care was the responsibility of the Indian Department, yet they were slow responding for medicine, dental care and tonsillitis treatment.

The day began at 6:15 AM, mass followed from 6:45 to 7:45 and then breakfast from 7:30 until 8:00 am.

8:05 to 8:55 was work, 9:00 until 11:55 was school and work. Dinner was served from 12:00 until 12:25.

There was some reprieve from the day’s chores with sports and games from 12:30 until 1:10 and then class/work resumed from 1:15 until 4:15 pm.

4:15 until 4:30 was collation, 4:30-4:55 was work/chores, 5:00 until 5:55 was study hour, 6:00 until 6:25 was supper. 6:30 until 7:25 was once again sports and games time. 7:30 until 10:00 was study time and bedtime preparation.

Beginning January 1931, native languages were forbidden in the school except on Sundays, Thursdays and holidays. The boys (and girls) were punished for speaking in their mother tongue. One school Reverend is quoted as saying, “not a word of Indian is heard from our boys after six months”.

There were instances of sexual abuse perpetrated by senior students against junior students as well as severe physical abuse by staff.


Transition

During the mid 1940’s, St. Peter Claver’s underwent some positive changes. A new Father Superior, R.J. Oliver, was appointed in 1945. With many of the tasks such as tending to chickens and tailoring were becoming obsolete due to machinery, Father Oliver introduced a high school curriculum in 1946 to further help the boys succeed once they graduated, the first Residential school to do so. The rigorous daily work periods were removed.

Around 1947 the school changed its name to the Garnier Residential School for Indian Boys.

In 1948, a joint House of Commons and Senate committee recommended that these residential schools be abolished. The church on the other hand lobbied for them to continue. Despite the committee’s recommendations, the schools remained open.

Almost a decade later the schools were seeing decreased enrollment as Aboriginal children were encouraged to integrate with children in their town’s co-existing schools.

The Garnier Residential School eventually grew too run down and closed its doors in 1958. It was demolished in 2004.


Aftermath

Following a reunion of former students over the civil holiday at the end of July 1988, the Sudbury Star and the Globe and Mail published stories that were critical of the Spanish School. The article focused on the harsh discipline and the negative impact on Aboriginal culture.

On July 11, 1991 an Aboriginal parishoner told his parish priest in the village of Cape Croker that he’d been sexually abused as an altar boy by Father George Epoch, a Jesuit who had worked at the Spanish School.

By January 6, 1993, the Jesuits learned that the Ontario Provincial Police (“O.P.P.”) were investigating allegations at the Spanish School.

A former student, Peter Cooper, retained legal counsel and in a letter dated January 27, 1994, demanded compensation from the Jesuits. In fact investigators hired by the Jesuits determined that there might very well be dozens or hundreds of former students who’d been abused. Cooper’s claim would be one of more than 100 such abuse claims made against the Jesuits.

The Jesuits are currently in legal battle with their insurer who refuses to pay out to the victims. So far the Jesuits have paid out approximately $2 million in settlement costs.

On June 11, 2008 Prime Minister Stephen Harper publically apologized on behalf of the government and the people of Canada for the abuse that occurred residential schools.


St. Joseph’s School

St. Joseph’s was similar in construct to the boys school – it contained classrooms, dining room, play rooms, chapel and sewing room. The girls education consisted of all the elementary schooling as well as home economics, cooking, sewing and personal hygiene
The school was just as harsh as the male school. Students were scolded or strapped for speaking their native language. Girls would sneak off to the lake to hold a pow-wow using a pail for a drum.

Health care was not what it is today. Influenza and pneumonia took the lives of eight boys and eight girls during the autumn of 1918.

St. Josephs closed in 1958. A fire destroyed the school in 1981 although the shell remains to this day.

Burwash Prison

Burwash Prison was located along highway 69. Once fully constructed, the site had the ability to house 1000 inmates but never reached full capacity.

Burwash was a completely self-sufficient town which contained a 20 bed hospital, church, school, staff townsite, power station, post office, blacksmith, tailor shop, skating rink, cemetery, hospital, barber shop and church.

The beginning

On September 14, 1914, the Ontario Government passed an Order in Council to establish the Burwash Industrial Farm. Four days later, the new Superintendant Clarance Fletcher Neelands, Sgt. Norman Sydney Oliver and nine inmates arrived at the Burwash Station. They set up camp and soon thereafter began constructing the first permanent building known as Camp Spruce.

In 1914 construction commenced on the 35,000 acres of land and by the end of the same year 150 prisoners serving sentences of two years or less were transferred to Burwash.

With the First World War, came recession. With recession came crime. The population of inmates grew to 180.

By 1915, a small log camp had been built on the banks of the Wanapitei River and by fall, work had begun on the main camp. It was completed on January 31, 1916.

Until the construction of the cell blocks, prisoners lived in the dormitory located within the townsite.


Growth

The population continued to grow as the Guelph Reformatory was turned into a veteran's hospital and rehabilitation center. The 200 prisoners were transferred to Burwash. Burwash's population grew to over 350 men.

By 1917, a steam powered sawmill (on Mill Lake), shingle and 'sticker' mill were in operations. The mill produced one million feet of lumber at its peak, annually.

During the 1920's when Christmas season arrived, the Salvation Army organized people to sing Christmas carols to the inmates.

Travel to Burwash was primarily by train as there were no roads leading to the site.

In 1933, a road built by the inmates connected the Wanapitei River with Estaire. This road now connected Burwash with other roads to Wanup, Sudbury and Coniston. Burwash was no longer a remote isolated area. In a few years, cars were making it possible for people to visit Burwash and for staff to go shopping in Sudbury.

Once the Trans Canada Highway was built, prisoner escape attempts became more frequent and signs were posted along the highway instructing motorists not to pick up hitchhikers.

Camp Bison

The new $2.6 million Camp Bison was officially opened in a ceremony on June 8, 1960. It accomodated 210 inmates. The name of the camp originated from the numerous wildlife that had been known to roam the property.

The End

On July 10, 1974, Ontario Minister of Correctional Services, Richard T. Potter, announced that the Burwash Correctional Centre would close. The cost to run Burwash was deemed too high, outdated equipment would be costly to replace and Burwash's closure would save the provincial government money.

The last day of operation was February 13, 1975. Residents of the estimated 175 townsite houses were told they would have to vacate their homes. Some residences took their homes with them - literally.

In 1977, a steering Committee was established by the Ontario Government to recommend possible uses for the remaining prison complex and the 35,000 acres of land. This led to the Federal Government purchasing the property in October for $1.8 million dollars.

In July of 1979, the land was leased to the Regional Municipality of Sudbury for a goat farming operation to produce mohair.

In 1990 the government bid on 8000 acres of lad to be used for military training. Some of this training involved using explosives to destroy some of the townsite's homes.

Today

Any buildings left on the site were bulldozed by the government in 1994.

An Ontario Heritage Trust plaque was unveiled at the site on August 6, 2006. Around 2007 the cemetery, overgrown and difficult to find, was cleaned up and a sign posted to mark it's location. There are an estimated 12-20 prisoners buried here many of whom had no family to bury them properly.

Parts of Burwash are still used by the Department of National Defense for training purposes.

Henry Routledge

My great grandfather Henry Routledge was born December 17, 1876 in the town of Clinton in Huron County, Ontario.

He married Charlotte Matilda Ginn on the 25th of August 1897. He was twenty one, she was 2 months older. Their only child, my grandmother Maude Ada Routledge was born on September 18th 1899.

Henry was a devout Baptist and was very active in his church, becoming a deacon. By all accounts he was a kindly and generous father and grandfather but he did instill in his daughter Maude the rigorous values of the early Baptist faith. Mother told us stories about my grandmother’s admonitions about dancing, smoking and drinking.

He was also a life-long member of the Independent Order of Odd Fellows (IOOFF), a group he was active with all his life, serving as Deputy Grand Master for several years before his death.

In 1906 when Maude was about seven years old, the family moved north to New Liskeard.

In the earlier years Henry worked at a number of jobs, and quickly adapted himself to the new community, becoming well known for his horticultural skills and his beautiful lawns and gardens. In fact, in later years his gardens parties in which he would entertain visiting dignitaries including some provincial politicians would be reported in the Temiskaming Speaker in glowing terms. His gardening soil was apparently well sought after. During the spring planting times in the 1920’s and 30’s fellow community residents would be waiting for Henry's ad to appear in the Temiskaming Speaker with his annual sale of extra gardening soil. His wife Charlotte also became a well known figure in the community, becoming very active with the local Girl Guide group. She eventually became provincial commissioner of the movement.

In 1916 Henry was hired by the Town of New Liskeard. He was employed by the public works department and in short order became Public Works Superintendent. A works superintendent, in a small town, in those days out of necessity, wore a number of hats. He not only directed the towns work crews but acted as by-law officer and weed control officer as well as in other capacities. He was also responsible for the purchase and maintenance of town equipment.

Henry was also appointed special constable, no doubt to aid him in his by-law enforcement work, and was an auxiliary policeman. Town council minutes from the late 1930’s show special disbursements of additional pay to him for ‘police work’. He became very well respected as a knowledgeable town employee and it is reported in the records of the New Liskeard town council that on occasion he was called upon to give his advice on the design and specification of various local bridge construction projects.

In august 1938 the then current police chief resigned and Henry was appointed to fill the position until a permanent replacement could be found. He held the job until october 1939. In addition to his new duties as a police officer with the investigations and arrests and court appearances, Henry also managed to keep up with his job as the town's public works supervisor.

His career as public works boss did not always go without controversy. In june 1939 New Liskeard town council devoted one entire session interviewing Henry during the ‘great fire truck debacle’. Apparently an old fire company truck had caught fire and it was decided by Henry that it was beyond any practical use, so he arranged for the town to sell it as scrap to a local farmer.

One of the town councilors caught wind of the transaction, and for reasons that were probably based more on self interest than any sort of ethical concern, launched a bitter attack on Henry. The story occupied the front page of the Temiskaming Speaker for several editions and at times the debate became heated. At one point Henry demanded an apology from the newspaper for what he considered as suggestions that he had been guilty of wrong doing. The newspapers editor quickly responded with an editorial that said in part,"Some apparently read from the article the suggestion that the town foreman was accused of stealing the engine from the town and selling it. Those who know Harry Routledge (sic) know better than that."

It was finally revealed that the town councillor who sat on the fire and light committee had known about and had told Henry that he agreed with the decision to sell the vehicle. He also offered to resign his seat if council felt that he had been remiss in his responsibilites. As it turned out he didn't have to, but he was strongly censured. In concluding the matter the town unanimously sided with their Public Works Director and announced that Henry had indeed, "carried out his responsibilities with customary integrity.”

Henry was also a 1st. Leut. with the New Liskeard Fire Department, and no doubt found himself called out numerous times since the regular fire department was quite small and was for a number of years terribly under funded.

There is a story told that during the 1920’s a photographer was called in to take a photograph of the fire crew. What resulted was not a group shot, as everyone was expecting, but a series of small photos of individual firemen. It was soon learned that the reason for this was that there was only one hat and that each man in turn sat for his picture wearing it.

It would seem that Henry Routledge was held in high standing by the other town workers. Several times, as reported in the local press, he appeared in front of the city fathers petitioning for pay increases for certain of his employees. These were in the days before the famous ‘in camera’ sessions which are now a common and often abused practice when local councils are dealing with employee matters. In those days if your neighbor was called up on the carpet or was about to receive a promotion or pay raise, it would be duly reported in the local press.

In 1931 he assumed the role of protector of his daughter Maude and her four daughters, after she and her husband Laurence Bateson separated.The details of this event are well known in the family.

On July 23, 1937 Charlotte passed away after a long and debilitating illness. Records do not reveal the exact nature of her illness except that she apparently spent her final months in some misery.

On July 31, 1941 Henry remarried to Elizabeth Stuart Edwards, the former Mrs. William R. Campsall, with who she had three children, by then grown up. She was a long time friend of both the Routledge and Bateson families. Strangely, the couple were married in the United Church in the nearby town of Cobalt, even though Henry was long time member of the New Liskeard Baptist congregation.

In 1943 Henry suffered a stroke. It was something that he never fully recovered from and at the time was given a four month leave of absence with full pay from his job as Public Works Director. When that time had lapsed, he wrote town council announcing his intention to resign. The town accepted it, with reluctance, and in August 1943, took the unprecedented step of awarding him a higher pension than the existing town by-law actually allowed, although certainly by today’s standard it would be considered a paltry sum. He would receive $900 a year broken into semi monthly payments of $37.50.

Henry passed away Thursday March 14, 1946. Although he had suffered a stroke three years earlier, it was generally assumed that his health was stable, in fact a few days earlier he was out on the street chatting with friends and appeared fine. He collapsed early Thursday morning and was taken to the hospital where at 9:30 am, he died.

His funeral was a local event. It was held under the auspices of the Odd Fellows at the New Liskeard Baptist Church, which was filled to capacity with friends and relatives and fellow employees. The service was conducted by pastors Rev. E.G Baxter and Rev. William C. Kitto. Pallbearers were friends and former town employees A.J Brown, Jack Shortt, M.G Hansman, Thomas Grills, Alllan Kaye, Thomas Magladery and Charles Byram. He is buried in the New Liskeard Pioneer Cemetery where he lies in peace along with his daughter Maude and great granddaughter Faye Laura Haddow.

Looking back over Henry Routledge’s life, its clear that his was a time well spent. He was a man of integrity, a virtue that was born of his deep faith and an intelligent public servant. He was, and perhaps this is the quality most respected in the family, a caring and loving man who in his later years took on the responsibility of caring for and protecting the welfare of his daughter and my mother and her sisters and making sure that they had the proper social and educational opportunities.

As a result, my mother had a wonderful job at the Haileyburian Newspaper in Haileybury, Ontario where she worked with the famous John R. Hunt (who later became one of my mentors); my aunt Mildred married a very successful farmer and businessman and former reeve of Dymond Township, serving a couple of terms on council herself; and my aunt Helen who along with her husband Elwood Kidd single handedly founded the New Liskeard Cubs Hockey Club in 1954 and then nurtured them along for the next 50 years.The team went on to win ten league Championships, four All Ontario Championships and two trips to the Air Canada AAA Midget Championships, one ending with silver medals in 1997.

Today his contributions to the fast growing pioneer community are largely forgotten - except perhaps for a few relatives.There are no photos of him in the local town office or museum. But there have been few since that have rivalled his energy or his sense of commitment.

John Haddow Arrives In Canada

John Haddow was born September 22, 1884 on the family farm just outside of the hamlet of Dalton-in-Furness, Cumbria, England.

The son of Joseph Haddow and Margaret Elizabeth Dobson, he had two brothers; Arthur born in 1879 and Thomas in 1896. He also had two sisters Lillian and Isabel. We don't know much about the sisters unfortunately. We know that Lillian married James Henry Hamer in Ramsbottom, England in 1896 and that Isabel married David Morrison in 1901 in Salford, Lancashire.

Dalton-in-Furness is located in that northern part of Lancashire on a peninsula that juts out into the Irish Sea. It is north of the main part of Lancashire and because of it’s remote location; in those earlier days the only access to the area was across the dangerous sands of Morecambe Bay, the area was commonly called, “over the sands”.

The remote farming and fishing region had been home to Haddows since the time of William the Conqueror. Because it was at the very north-western corner of his English kingdom, ownership of the area was much disputed over by both Scotland and England.

As the border was pushed northwards the area became more peaceful. In the middle ages the governing group of the area was the monks of Furness Abbey. They owned most of the land and built a number of castles. In the 1530’s the authority of the abbeys began to decline, due in part to the slow dissolution of the monasteries. Up until the time my grandfather was born, farming and fishing were the areas mainstays.

But farming was especially affected by the economic trends of the times. In the early 1870’s declining cereal prices forced farmers away from grain production. Since this had historically provided more work than livestock rising, many laborers found themselves out of a job.

Oceanic steamship trade brought cheaper commodities into the country (sound familiar?) that competed against local goods. During the 1880’s much of the beef consumed in the country was imported. At the same time laws were enacted that changed ownership of much of the farmland forcing laborers and small farmers to seek employment elsewhere.

A large number of these displaced people went in search for work in the larger towns and the cities. Large coal deposits of coal were discovered in the Cumbria area and began development. What may have been seen by some as a possible development, for the farmers it was the death knell. The second largest coal deposits in the United Kingdom were discovered not far from Dalton.

Waste from the coal works were spread throughout the area, making agricultural land almost unworkable. My grandfather’s parents saw their livelihood slip away. If my grandfather had entertained any thoughts of taking over the family farm they would certainly have vanished.

As a teenager, my grandfather traveled around England for a time, but soon found himself back in Cumbria where he landed a job in the shipyards at Barrow-in-Furness working as an ironworker. In 1903 he married my grandmother Elizabeth Agnes Langhorn and in March 1904 their first son Thomas was born. In June 1906, a second child Arthur arrived.

With thousands of people coming into the smelter town looking for work, housing was in short supply, and rents began taking increasingly larger chunks of the weekly pay. Overcrowding led to poor health conditions, illness especially for the poor was common. Lack of medical care, poor working conditions in the factories and shipyards, soon found my grandparents, now with a family, thinking about immigrating to Canada to begin a new life in a new land.

In late March of 1908, John Haddow just 23 years old, and his brother Thomas, set foot on Canadian soil when they temporarily disembraked at the Immigration Inspection Station at Grosse Ile.

He would now have to find a job, save money and arrange to get his small family to Canada. They would not be reunited for another two years

Grandmother Arrives In Canada: The Family Reunites

My Grandmother Elizabeth Haddow left Liverpool on April 6, 1910 aboard the SS Laurentic, bound for Montreal, Canada with her two boys Thomas age 6 and Arthur 3. Also on board was her brother-in-law Arthur Haddow, his wife Isabel and their two sons James and Bert. The cost of the fares for each family was seventy-five dollars.

My Grandfather John Haddow, who was at the time working in the gold mines in Virginiatown, in the District of Temiskaming, had sent money for the travel expenses from the savings that he had managed to squirrel away from his 65 cent an hour miners pay. From the $39 a week pay cheque, the company would deduct his room and board and even with the most frugal lifestyle, save for a pouch of tobacco and some soap, it would take him almost a year to save the $400 that he managed to send home.


In her 85th year, my Grandmother would talk about their trip to Canada. The 3000 mile trip was an adventure, to say the least.The rough seas caused long bouts of sea sickness. But there was plenty of food – if you had the appetite. After days on the rolling Atlantic, the rocks of Newfoundland– although not yet a part of Canada- was a sign that the ocean trip at least was coming to an end.


The immigrant ship steamed past Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island and entered to St. Lawrence River. Before their trip ended at the Port of Montreal there was one stop to make at the Grosse Ile Quarantine Station operated by Canadian Immigration. The Island was located in the St. Lawrence about 30 miles before Quebec City.


Just before the stop the passengers and crew scrambled around getting themselves and the ship cleaned up. Everyone on board knew that their journey could be delayed or even terminated if disease or sickness was suspected or discovered. The doctors checked the passengers for any sign of typhus, cholera, beriberi, smallpox or bubonic plague. That particular year, almost 98,000 passed through the Inspection with 727 ending up being hospitalized and 14 buried in the simple cemetery at the other end of the island.

During my Grandmother’s stop over on the island she may have very well seen the huge celtic cross that had been erected the previous year in memory of the tragedy of 1847 when thousands died at the Island when typhoid swept through the immigrant ships.

Finally on April 14, 1910, the party disembarked at Montreal. From there it was a 450 mile trip by train that would take them through Ottawa, North Bay and New Liskeard, finally stopping at the small village of Dane, the closest railhead to Virginiatown.

The trip was uncomfortable and dirty. When the windows were opened for fresh air, the steam and soot from the engine would blow in. As the train made it’s various stops for coal and water, vendors would board the train selling refreshments. These stops gave the passengers the chance to stretch their legs, but no one dared go too far away for fear of getting lost and being left behind in this vast new land.

Once they reached Dane (now a ghost town) there was the horse drawn coach that would take them the 12 miles to the gold camp and the long awaited reunion of the family.

My Grandparents In The Larder Lake Gold Camps

John Haddow worked at the Kerr Mine in Virginiatown from 1909 to 1912. In that last year my uncle Gordon was born, the first of John and Elizabeth’s children to be born in Canada. That same year also saw the closing of the gold mines. The decline in population was dramatic. By early 1907 over 4000 claims had been staked in the area and nearly 2500 men lived in the camps. But the gold proved to be elusive and by 1911 the gold rush was over and the population of the area quickly dropped to about 400 people. A year later when my grandparents left Virginatown it had become a virtual ghost town with less than 100 residents.

His brother Arthur also left the area and headed south to North Bay where his wife Isabel and their children were staying. While there he worked in the bush camps and on March 23, 1916 Arthur enlisted in the Canadian army and served in Europe. Soon after the war the family would be back in the Temiskaming area and would start farming not far from my grandparent’s place.

In 1922 a horrible fire swept through Temiskaming district taking the lives of 43 people and destroying over 1500 homes. To the south, the town of Haileybury was 90 percent destroyed in what would become one of the 10 worst disasters in Canadian history.

Arthur lost everything and his wife was taken to the New Liskeard hospital with injuries. They would keep struggling until late March 1928 when they packed everything up and returned to North Bay where they remained until Arthur’s death in February 1957. Isabel followed him in 1961.

My grandfather was able to get some free land near the small community of Milberta, in Kerns Township, Temiskaming, through a government settlement act. Eventually they would use some of their own meager savings to acquire more.

The land had no buildings on it when they first arrived, so my grandfather arranged to buy a small vacant house on a neighboring property and dragged it over with teams of horses and rollers. Later as the family expanded, more sections would be added to the farm house.

And additions to the family were not long in coming. My father Wilfred was born in September 1914. He was followed by Roy in 1917, Lillian in 1920 and then Vernon.

In those early years my grandfather would bring home some much needed extra cash by working the winter in one of the nearby logging camps.

The settlement of Milberta was founded 15 years before my grandparents arrived and was situated on a hill that gave a view of the surrounding farms. As settlers began pushing further into Temiskaming’s ‘Little Clay Belt’, the community grew. A post office had opened in 1901, and shortly afterwards a one room school. Other businesses included a mercantile store, black smith’s shop, S. Eplett’s store and the T. Newton Hotel. In 1903 a Baptist church followed by a Presbyterian church. Just after my grandparents arrival in the area a small telephone company was formed.

Throughout the war years John Haddow’s farm grew with large acreage of wheat and livestock that not only included cattle, hogs and chickens, but a very large flock of sheep. As a boy I can remember that shearing time was a big affair at the Haddow farm.

In 1925 tragedy struck the family when the oldest son Tom, just 3 months short of his twenty-second birthday, died of a ruptured appendix. In September of that year Tom had been working as a miner at one of the recently re-opened gold mines in Virginiatown. While in the camp he began to develop stomach pains and as the condition worsened he decided to leave the mine site and head home to Milberta.

The return trip must have been brutal, with the last few miles covered on foot. He arrived home on September 17 and unaware that her son was dying of appendicitis, my grandmother Elizabeth tried a number of home remedies including plasters. When it became apparent that Tom’s condition was getting worse he was loaded onto a wagon and taken the 8 miles into New Liskeard where there was a small hospital.

It was here six days after he had staggered home, that he died. He was buried in the Milberta Cemetery not far from the family farm and would one day be joined by his brother Roy and my father Wilfred Haddow.

Spanish River Rail Disaster

What was at the time the worst accident in the history of the CPR took place about 1 p.m. on Friday, January 21, 1910. The disaster occurred about 37 miles west of Sudbury on the Soo line of the CPR at the bridge crossing the Spanish River.

Coroner Howey, on instructions from Attorney – General Boy through Crown Attorney J.H. Clary, had a jury summoned for 10 a.m. January 26. The jury consisted of John McLeod (foreman), J.R. Bissett, R. Martin, F.M. Stafford, D. Blue, John Higgins, C. Carmichael, D.L. Burns, S. Jessop, H.S. Young, W. Chalmers, L. Laforest, O Tuvor and D. McDonald.

Upon being sworn in, the jury viewed the body of one of the victims. Subsequently, they were taken by a special train to the scene of the wreck.
After several days deliberation, the jury in February reported their verdict and recommendations. They concluded that the derailment was “…caused by the forward truck of the first-class car leaving the track, and plunging over the embankment, followed by the dining and sleeping car; also causing derailment of the second-class car.” However, they were unable to determine the cause of the derailment.
RECOMMENDATIONS

The jury concluded by making three recommendations:
“(1) Are three sectionmen sufficient to keep an eight-mile section in proper condition during the winter time, in the rigorous climate of Northern Ontario?”
“(2) Should openings be placed in the roof of cars, capable of being opened either inside or outside of the car, suitable for the escape of passengers in case of overturned cars.”
“(3) Should emergency tools be carried at convenient places outside of cars as well as inside?”

These recommendations were made after interviewing many officials and employees of CPR.

The train (engine No. 1116, train No. 7) consisted of seven cars – mail, baggage, colonist, second-class, first-class, diner and Pullman. The engineer was George Trelford, of North Bay.

According to contemporary accounts, the second-class car, separated from the colonist in front, turned sideways and struck the iron bridge. The car broke in two – half falling to the ice below, the remainder catching fire. The first-class coach fell to the river and cut through ice a fool thick “as clean as if cut with a saw.” Only three escaped from the first-class coach.
PARTLY IN WATER

The dining car followed the first-class car into the river with the kitchen end remaining out of the water. There were about fourteen in this car including, from Sudbury, W.J. Bell, lumberman; D.M. Brodie, police magistrate and J.H. Wade. Almost everyone in that car was injured. A number drowned.
Conductor Tom Reynolds helped many of the survivors to find hat hooks that enabled them to stay above the water. He broke a window, surfaced, and then proceeded to help a young boy and Mr. Brodie escape through a ventilator. Eventually, a hole was broken in the roof to bring out the remaining survivors.

The Pullman car also went over the embankment and turned on its side. Most were injured, but none fatally.

A traveler and a brakesman hurried to Nairn, five miles from the accident, where the nearest telegraph office was located. Dr. Arthur, of Sudbury, was there and immediately was taken to the wreck by freight engine. Drs. Patterson, Cook, McCann, Torrington and Mulligan were brought from Sudbury on a special train. Over 20 survivors were taken to hospital in Sudbury.

As often is the case with disasters, rumors were prevalent. The story was told of injured bodies cremated – in the burning car. This was denied.
Also, for several days, a rumor circulated suggesting there was another coach yet undiscovered in the river. The order book in Sudbury soon dispelled this story.

The belief prevailed that a very strong current at the bridge had swept bodies downstream. This tale was corrected by the Spanish River at Espanola.
FROM WIDE AREA

The list of dead included people from Norway, and from Wisconsin, Montana, Minnesota, Michigan, the territory of Washington and from Ontario, Quebec and New Brunswick.

Included among the dead were George McDougal, of Copper Clif; Agnes Milroy, of Cache Bay; Lomie Theria, of Nairn; George Roseback, of Webbwood, and Dr. Allan McLellan, of Sudbury.

George Roseback, CPR fireman, was in the first-class car. He had recently insured his life to take effect at 12 o’clock noon on the day of the accident. Less than 1 ½ hours after the policy was in effect he was dead.

Dr. McLellan, in the first class coach, had arrived in Sudbury about a year before the tragedy with his young bride, to whom he was married just a year on the day before the accident.

The injured from Sudbury included D.M. Brodie, who had three broken ribs and cuts on the head; J.H. Wade, with a number of cuts and bruises, and W.J. Bell, listed as seriously injured.

Times of tragedy are usually not without their heroes and heroines. Accounts praised conductor Reynolds, who with a badly bruised leg and head custs, worked for hours after the wreck. It was to be after 8 at night before he made it to the American Hotel in Sudbury and had his wounds dressed.
AIDED THE INJURED

Half a dozen men “…who themselves had done 10 men’s work” spoke highly of a Mrs. H.A. Linall, of Winipeg. The windows were broken in the Pullman and it was converted into a temporary hospital. There, “with a little tin full of whiskey and strips torn from her cloth”, Mrs. Linall aided the injured.

She tended to one man who was “brought in with practically the whole top of his skull lifted off.” Finally, she was persuaded to rest. However, on her way to the headquarters she passed a caboose which had been rushed up from Nairn and had become a form of ambulance. She then tended the wounded there.

The Spanish River train wreck of 1910 was to take over 40 lives. The worst accident in the history of the CPR would also undoubtedly deeply scar the survivors. As is often the case with accidents of this nature, the best and worst characteristics of mankind are present. Also, details subside with the passage of time. Probably we will never know the full horror, the complete details of the train wreck of 1910. Yet, it still constitutes an “important chapter in our history.”

A Soldier Remembers

When I was younger, I suppose like many of my generation, I had a difficult time relating to those men that I’d see stiffly marching by on their way to the local cenotaph on so many cold Remembrance Day mornings.

I’m not sure when that all changed .. when it got personal.

It could have been one day as I was watching my sons playing basketball at the local field, perhaps that day as I sat on my son’s deck and watched my grandchildren play, grateful for the wonderful life that had made this all possible and confident of the future that lay ahead.

At some point I realized that had it not been for the courage of those old men that I had watched on so many of those cold mornings, my life would have been so much different. If those men had not taken up a rifle as Canadian soldiers, in a struggle that was for nothing less than the survival of civilization, then the horrors of war would have fallen to me and perhaps my sons.

So, I have many people that I have to be thankful for. Some of those men are Bill Humphrey of Brampton and his brothers.

Bill was raised in Toronto’s inner city during the depth of the depression, the hard times, the times of food stamps, of scrimping to have just enough for an especially meaty soup bone.

At the outbreak of the Second World War, Bill just barely into his teenage years watched as his brothers Robert and John enlisted in the Canadian Army, much as their Dad had done in the First World War.

All this was too much for Bill, and his mother, already heart sick with worry over the safety of Bill’s older brothers, relents to his pressure and signs papers that attest - incorrectly - that young Bill Humphrey is of military age. In fact he was only 15 and a half.

Before long Bill is wearing the uniform of the Royal Canadian Infantry Corp - the RCIC. His sweetheart Bernice, later to become his wife of 63 years, has a war time job in a cigar manufacturing plant and manages to keep Private Humphrey in smokes, much to the envy of his army buddies.

Bill received the full training of a Canadian combat soldier. From the grueling forced marches, to rifleman and bayonet skills. With his fellow soldiers, he was even dropped into the forests of the Parry Sound district to fight the inferno of the August 1945 bush fire.

Bill, along with his company was set to be shipped overseas, when news was received that some of the troopers were underaged. Bill along with several others were left at the barracks while their comrades leave.

Bill remained in the service but his war would be fought in Canada.

Bill has his Father’s and brother John’s medals - along with his own - in a wooden display case in his basement recreation room. He says that he’s very proud of his family, but he needn’t have said that, the hint of water in his eye’s and the slight cracking of his voice, as he talks about those war years, says volumes.

So today, like every other November 11th, Bill has freshly polished the family military medals and taking the case upstairs, places them near the family television. As images and sounds of the Remembrance Day memorial from Ottawa fills the room, Bill Humphrey remembers.

Private Harmsworth

I was passing in front of the Harmsworth Hardware Store in downtown Brampton, and is my custom, glanced into the display window, expecting to see the collection of old tools that are usually on display there.

But this morning it was something different that awaited me.... A portrait of a young man, smartly clad in World War I dress uniform was prominent in the center of the window. Around him were strewn poppies and a display of medals, a military walking stick, and a telegram from the Canadian Military, informing James and Jane Harmsworth that their 21 year old son Henry Earl Harmsworth, of the 5th. Canadian Mounted Rifles, was killed on August 20, 1918 and that he was buried in Rouen, France.

Across the street, at the City Hall Cenotaph, plans were being made for this years Remembrance Day.

Chairs were being moved about, sound systems checked out ..... and I watched ..... thinking about Private Harmsworth