Posted by: alexhickey | April 23, 2014

’tis the season to … ©

two white open boats at anchor laden with wooden lobster pots

Ready for Morning

2:00 AM …
3:00 AM …
3:30 AM … he looks at the clock again. Each minute feels like an hour, each turning of the hour an eternity. Enough of this, he thinks and jumps out of bed, looks out the window into the waning darkness, checking for lights at his buddy’s house, then pours his first black coffee of the day. None of the fishermen in St. Jacques are sleeping well this morning. Today, their lobster pots go in the water!

When the season opens fishermen methodically place their pots in favourite locations, some of which they may have used for years. Once the pots are set there is a required waiting period of forty-eight hours before they can be hauled. The excitement and anticipation of first catch makes this the longest forty-eight hours of the year.
Everyone keeps an eye on the sky, the ocean, the moon, tides and an ear to the weather forecast. Wind is a concern for these Newfoundland lobster fishermen who typically work from relatively small open boats. It also affects catch rates. A wind storm can see pots left in the water for several days and that’s not good for the fishers or the lobsters. A pot that runs out of bait stops fishing; lobsters facing tumultuous water seem not to be on the move as much. A severe storm can result in loss of fishing gear. License limitations on the number of pots allowed make every one precious.

Winds at the start of this year’s season were forecast to be gusting to 60 km. On the north side of Fortune Bay a northerly wind is fair when close to shore; however, it can be a difficult wind to deal with once you are outside the shelter of harbours like St. Jacques. If you are fishing on the southern side of the bay it’s near impossible.

chart showing weather forecast for the week of April 20th to april 25th 2014

Environment Canada 20-04-2014

And what about the moon? More lobsters are caught just before a full moon and tend to decrease as the moon wanes. Research in Australia shows this can increase by ten percent and decrease by five percent with the change of the moon. They think it has to do with more food sources being exposed during the higher tides of the full moon prompting more lobsters to be on the move.

Below is a chart showing the phases of the moon for May, 2014.

phases of moon chart may 2014

May

Check out sea conditions in the St. Jacques/Belleoram area by clicking on tide-forecast. Check out the information broadcast from the weather station located on Sagona Island in Fortune Bay to see what weather conditions are like in St. Jacques on any given day.

Lobster Fishing Area 11 consists of Fortune Bay extending along the south coast of Newfoundland to a point about 15 miles west of Burgeo. In the days leading up to the opening of the season everyone wants to know what will be the opening price for Newfoundland Lobster. The market dynamics around lobster pricing is complex and subject to may variables; however, one indicator which provides a picture of what might be, are the prices in neighbouring provinces of Nova Scotia, PEI and New Brunswick. The Fish, Food and Allied Workers Union tracks the prices in those provinces.

Lobster catches have been good in recent years. This can be attributed to several factors. The number of fishermen has decreased as a result of a government license buy-out program; the total number of pots per license holder has been reduced; and probably most important, the voluntary V-notching of spawning female lobsters as a conservation measure.
The men and women who work in the lobster boats from now until late June are neither Johnny-come-latelies nor dilettantes. They turn their faces to the sub-zero winds that blow in off the North Atlantic, sink their hands into the icy waters of Fortune Bay and have half a day’s work completed by the time most of the rest of us begin our day. At the beginning of the season pots are set in deeper water then moved closer to shore in more shallow water as the season wears on. Early in the season a ten-hour trip is not uncommon; later, that can be reduced to six hours each day.

Early in the morning the sound of outboard motors inform the community that the boats are going out. Tom and Ros, Neil and Marlene, Levi and Tanya, Keith and George, and Edgar and Shayne are much wider awake than the rest of us as they set out for their daily work on the ocean.

Lobster fishing practices have changed over the years. Pots are no longer hauled using the back-breaking hand-over-hand style. Fishermen now use a mechanized pot hauler. The traditional wooden pots that men so carefully crafted throughout the winter months for generations are being replaced by wire mesh structures which require far less maintenance and deliver bigger catches. Soon, broken lobster pots washed up on the beach will be gone from our sight.

broken lobster pot washed up on shoreline

Broken Lobster Pot

Take a look at a video profile of the Newfoundland Lobster Fishery produced by the Newfoundland Fish Food and Allied Workers Union.


Curt Brown of the Gulf of Maine Research Institute filmed a lobster trap going into the water and fishing. In this video you can see the bait bag and a lobster feeding on the bait.

If you’d like to know more about lobster industry check out the links below:

Lobster by Trap – Newfoundland’s South Coast Lobster Fishing Area 11
How Newfoundland Seafood is Fished – Lobster
Department of Fisheries and Oceans Background Paper on Newfoundland Lobster
V Notching: Conserving for Tomorrow by Rose Walsh of the Fish Harvesters’ Resource Centres (FRC)
V Notching Explained
Telling the Difference Between Male and Female Lobsters
Shelling a Lobster
How the Lobster Clawed Its Way Up: A crustacean’s climb from pauper’s fare to modern-day delicacy, by April Dembosky, Mother Jones, March/April 2006 Issue

 

 

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Posted by: alexhickey | April 13, 2014

McAlpine’s Directory – St. Jacques, 1904©

Census reports are a great source of information for historians and those interested in genealogy. Though there are census reports of Newfoundland’s population prior to the 1900’s which one can find online these days they do not provide information on all communities in the country. The south coast of Newfoundland, particularly Fortune Bay, doesn’t show up in great detail in many of these reports.

McAlpine's Directory

McAlpine’s Directory

Published between 1870 and the outbreak of World War I, the McAlpine’s Directories were a series of books published by the McAlpine Publishing Company of Halifax, Nova Scotia, which included lists of businesses and heads of households for communities on the island. They were also published for the Maritime Provinces and Canada. These directories were heavily laced with advertising throughout. They were used to locate businesses and to find names of people to contact in various communities when conducting business or correspondence. They also had the appeal of seeing who lived in the many small communities scattered around the island. Our telephone books of today are similar directories.

Cover 1904 McAlpine Directory, Newfoundland

Cover 1904 McAlpine’s Directory, Newfoundland

St. Jacques Entry, 1904 McAlpne Directory

St. Jacques Entry, 1904 McAlpine’s Directory

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Below is an excerpt from the 1904 McAlpine’s Directory for Newfoundland with corrections for misspelled names in the original. This wasn’t a census, therefore only the ‘heads of households’ were listed. Spouses and children were not included. As a result we cannot get a clear indication of the total population of St. Jacques in that year.
McAlpine’s 1904 Directory – St. Jacques

Burke D J and T , Dennis J Burke, Thomas Burke  General Dealers
Burke Denis  Speculator
Burke Michael Jr.  General Dealer
Burke Patrick O  Sea Captain
Burke Isaac  Sea Captain
Burke Michael J  General Dealer
Burke William T  General Dealer
Burke Patrick J  Carpenter
Burke William  Clerk
Burke Ambrose  Laborer
Burke Patrick D  Sea Captain
Burke Thomas of  D J & T Burke
Burke Denis J of  D J & T Burke
Clinton Charles  Sub-Collector H.M. Customs
Clinton Henry  Tidewaiter
Cluett John W  Fisherman
Cluett Archibald  Fisherman
Dyett Samuel  Fisherman
Dyett James  Fisherman
Dinham Isaac  Sea Captain
Dinham Isaac  Fisherman
Drake John  Fisherman
Evans Thomas  Fisherman
Evans Isaac  Fisherman
Noseworthy John C  Fisherman
Evans Herbert  Fisherman
Evans William  Fisherman
Fiander John  Fisherman
Fiander John T  Fisherman
Fiander James  Fisherman
Fiander William  Fisherman
Gould George  Laborer
Oakey James  Fisherman
Hunt Matthew  Fisherman
Kassip Isaac  General Dealer
Kiddle Philip  Fisherman
Lee William  Fisherman
Lee Robert  Carpenter
Lee Edwin  Fisherman
McCarthy Patrick  Fisherman
McCarthy Robert  Fisherman
McCarthy Michael  Fisherman
McCarthy Joseph  Fisherman
McEvoy Patrick  General Dealer and Telegraph Operator
Murphy Denis  Fisherman
Murphy John  Fisherman
Penny Joseph  Sea Captain
Penny Patrick  Seaman
Piercey Benjamin  Fisherman
Skinner William  Farmer
Skinner James  Fisherman
Skinner Abraham  Fisherman
Staple John  Shoemaker
Tibbo —- Widow of Henry
Tibbo George  Fisherman
Tibbo Alexander  Fisherman
Tuck William  Mail Carrier
Whelan James  Fisherman
Young John H  General Dealer
Young James  Seaman
Young William  Fisherman
Young Hubert  H.M. storekeeper
Young Samuel  Sea Captain
Young Randall  Sea Captain
Young John  Sea Captain

The complete McAlpine’s Director of Newfoundland for the Year 1904 is available online at Memorial University`s Digital Collections. You can download a PDF version of the document by clicking here.

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Posted by: alexhickey | March 26, 2014

“Home is where we start from …” T.S. Eliot ©

Memory is a funny thing. You can be busily doing something and out of the blue springs a memory which causes you to pause and savour the moment, reflect and sometimes smile, then you carry on as before. This happened to me a few weeks ago. I was re-reading a book of one of Newfoundland’s foremost poets, Tom Dawe. In fact it was the title poem of his 1993 collection, In Hardy Country. As I read the first line of the second verse my friend John Burke immediately came to mind. My first reflective thought was, “St. Jacques is John’s Hardy Country.” I hadn’t considered that before despite a long friendship and shared interests among which are the people and events of St. Jacques.
The first two verses of Dawe’s poem In Hardy Country read as below:

For me it is no country overseas,

no Avon, Berkshire, Dorset,
no Hampshire, Wiltshire, Somerset,
no ancient temples, or mounds anymore,
no West Country nappe all manicured now
for a museum trade,
no classical Max Gate drawing-room
where Florence died.

For me, its those drawn outport people

In Bonfire Night,
the nip of a north wind, and mummers’
accordions rising on a moon …
As the fire expires,
the stranger in the kitchen
in spinning a story
about one of the last criminals
to be hanged
out through a courthouse window
For a crowd on Water Street …

A quote which John has used to establish himself to audiences is from T. S. Eliot’s second poem of the The Four Quartets, East Coker, particularly the first line of the last verse which is, “Home is where one starts from.” It is this quote which came to mind and triggered my observation that there is resonance between Tom Dawe’s poem and the works of Thomas Hardy in the life and writings of John Burke as amplified by this explicit sentiment of T. S. Eliot. Below is an excerpt from Eliot’s poem:

Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.

Listen to Eliot read this poem by clicking here.

In an interview with Tom Dawe in 1994 after his collection was published, the MUN Gazette carried a review of the work and posed a question about the title, In Hardy Country, to which he said, “I used the allusion to Thomas Hardy because in his novels and poetry I recognized a lot of the people. He talked about things that were so familiar while growing up in the outport, like Bonfire Night, and Mummering.” These things were part of John’s growing up as well and shaped him as much as they did Hardy and Dawe. Hardy’s sixth novel, The Return of the Native, opens at the scene of a bonfire not unlike many John witnessed and contributed to during his years in St. Jacques.

This all begs the question of “Who is Thomas Hardy?” Hardy was an English poet and novelist who lived in the late 1800’s and set his works in a western part of England he referred to as Wessex. Today Wessex is commonly known as Hardy Country. The connection between Wessex and Newfoundland is one of migration and settlement from that part of England known as The West Country to the new world of Newfoundland. The Wessex Society of Newfoundland, founded by Memorial University Professor Otto Tucker, has this to say about that relationship:

Beginning in the early 17th century, immigrants from the West of England (mainly from Wessex) began to settle in Newfoundland. By the early 1800s they had founded numerous fishing villages and towns and comprised about 60 percent of the resident population. The Wessex component was the largest ethno-European group to settle Newfoundland and Labrador. Most of these immigrants (80-85%) originated in the counties of Devon, Dorset, Hampshire and Somerset, with notable additions from the adjacent counties of Wiltshire, Gloucestershire, and Cornwall. The main embarkation ports were Bristol (whence John Cabot sailed in 1497 to discover the ‘new founde land’ and its prolific cod stocks; and whence John Guy founded the first English colony in Canada at Cupids in 1610), and later Poole, Dartmouth, Teignmouth, Plymouth, and Topsham. By far the largest numbers sailed out of Poole … These place-origins were all part of the recruiting hinterlands of ports involved in the transatlantic migratory fishery and Newfoundland trade carried on from West of England ports for over three centuries.

This video will give you a sense of the countryside where Thomas Hardy lived in Wessex:

Another friend who has read most of Hardy’s works echoes Dawe’s comments, saying that reading Hardy is as though you are listening to people of your own heritage along the south coast of Newfoundland. Anyone who wishes to delve further into settlement patterns in Newfoundland should consult the work of Gordon Hancock in his book So longe as there comes noe women: Origins of English Settlement in Newfoundland.

John Burke was born in St. Jacques on September 21, 1937, the tenth of eleven children of Rita and Tony Burke. At age 13, he left the harbour when the family moved to St. John’s. While John has lived in many harbours since he left St. Jacques all those years ago, as he will tell you without hesitation, there really is only one home for him – St. Jacques.

John, a graduate of Memorial University and the University of Toronto, taught English in several Ontario High Schools between 1963 and 1995. After retirement from teaching, he worked as a Story-Teller and a Motivational Speaker where he drew on the richness of his childhood memories and gave examples of the courage, the steadfastness, resilience and humour of those who influenced him in his early years in St. Jacques. He has led numerous retreats and days of reflection with volunteer and professional groups, all the while drawing upon his “home” in St. Jacques.

john burke performing auts and uncles 1997

John Burke performing Aunts and Uncles, 1997

John returned to St. Jacques in 1997 to attend the South Coast Arts Festival and to present a dramatic presentation, “Aunts and Uncles” – a one-person tribute to those who enriched his life during his childhood years. John’s performance delighted the audience at the Community Centre which was filled near capacity.

John is also a published author whose early life experiences provided him motivation and substance for his writings. He drew upon reminiscences of his childhood for a series which appeared regularly in the Slice of Life column in the St. John’s, NL newspaper, The Telegram. You can get a sense of John Burke’s Hardy Country by reading this excerpt from The Hills of Home, part of a column published in The Telegram on February 11, 2004.

As in every harbour, every hill had a name, as did every path. Some rocks had names too. Three hills defined St. Jacques, the Bottle Hill, the Big Hill and the Winter House Hill. As children, we saw the Bottle Hill as friendly. To this day, from our side of the harbour, it resembles an extinct volcano. In mainland Canada, it would be called a mountain but Newfoundlanders are far more modest. It was simply a hill. The Bottle Hill was a friendly hill. That’s where the good giant lived, we believed. From its shaly peak, on a clear day, one could see straight across Fortune Bay. Because it was a friendly hill, we were allowed to climb up, rock by sedimentary rock, until we reached the summit. There it was customary to flail ones arms and yell, hoping your conquest might be observed by someone across the harbour. Fat chance of that, but try telling that to a 12-year-old boy.

The Big Hill is a mere hillock compared to the Bottle Hill. It is a gently sloping land formation down at the bottom of the harbour, anchored from time immemorial by the Anglican Church. Each autumn, the hill was dotted with berry pickers feasting on its abundance of partridge berries. On the upper reaches of the hill, where it levels off to marshland, pitcher plants and bakeapples grew in abundance.
“Stay clear of the Winter House Hill,” we were warned, “because that’s where the wicked witch lives.” The first snow of winter poured down over that hill. It is the smallest of all the three hills, yet it is the deadliest. I did not venture up the Winter House Hill during the 13 years I lived in St. Jacques. Returning home in the 1980s, fit and in my 40s, I decided I would climb all three hills in one day. In the morning, I scaled the Bottle Hill in jig time. The Big Hill was a piece of cake. But on the Winter House Hill, the wicked witch was awaiting me.

It was a glorious, sunny summer day. The tom-tits were singing in the trees below the hill. Camera in hand, I was about to finish my project, photographing the harbour South, East and West. The lush, marshy ground under my feet gave me the sensation of walking on a deep broadloom. Using the small supple saplings for support, I climbed to the crest, only a narrow rocky ledge. I teetered on the edge, fighting to maintain my balance. Suddenly, the warm, sunny breeze turned frighteningly chilly. I was convinced I heard the wicked witch’s cackle as I fought for my balance.

I could have fallen off the craggy perch, a drop of some 30 feet on the harbour side, or I could have gone tumbling in the mossy undergrowth until I ended up, God knows where, out in the Back Cove. What I was told at age four finally sank in at age 40, “Stay off the Winter House Hill.” I gingerly allowed the trusted saplings to guide me down safely at the side of the rocky ledge. As I cautiously descended to the safety of the moss below, I could still hear that menacing cackle of the wicked witch. I decided that day I would never again venture into her territory. I still do believe in witches and the value of childhood admonitions.

This then is John Burke’s Hardy Country – the hills, people and stories of the community which shaped him as a child and as a man. In turn, his collection of columns, stories and anecdotes centered on childhood experiences in St. Jacques assist the rest of us in knowing life as he knew it enabling us to see in our own lives similarities and nuances which like Thomas Hardy and Tom Dawe help us define for ourselves our own Hardy Country. Today when John reflects on his country, his inspiration and his fondest memories, like many of us Newfoundlanders, his mind takes him to St, Jacques and the hills of his home and like T. S. Eliot, many of us agree, home is where we start from.

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Posted by: alexhickey | March 7, 2014

My Friend George Paul©

What might a young man from St. Jacques do in 1942 when he is told he is too young to enlist as a soldier in World War II?  It’s been a long time since

A man in the uniform of the Newfoundland Ranger Force standing with hands behind his back, feet braced, on a frozen lake with a strip of land in the background. Image is black and white.

Newfoundland Ranger, George Paul

George Paul found himself in that situation.  Today, at eighty-eight, he will heartily chuckle in his deep baritone voice that he immediately signed up for the Newfoundland Ranger Force.

Before I share one of Georges’ stories let me tell you about this man whom I have considered a very dear friend for over twenty years.  George called me one evening many years ago to introduce himself and discuss what he had heard was my interest in the heritage of his home community – St. Jacques.  That phone call has resulted in many hours of telephone conversations in the intervening years as well as countless pages of letters back and forth between us.

Though George is of my father’s generation; in fact he was one of his boyhood friends, our mutual respect for the rich and emotionally laden history of the community we both were born into has allowed us to bridge those years quite comfortably.  I am much richer for the many thoughtful, reflective and historically accurate exchanges of information that have passed between us since we met.

Google map of a coastal harbour showing terrain and green vegetation surrounding the water on three sides.

Enlarge to view the location of George Paul’s home in St. Jacques

The Paul family lived a short distance back from the road at the bottom of what was known as Staple’s Hill, later known as Dyett’s Hill, in St. Jacques.  Today, a Canada Post mail box sits in front of where the house once stood.  The house was next door to what is today, St. Jacques Mini Mart. Click the Google map of St. Jacques on the left to view the location of his house.

George joined the Rangers in 1942, an act which set him on a course which took him to most parts of Canada – east, west, south and north.  During those years he has accumulated a wealth of stories and anecdotes which can keep one enthralled for hours.  One of his earliest postings with The Rangers was in Burin.  It was there he had a close encounter with the Truxton and Pollux disaster , where American troop ships ran aground near Lawn and St. Lawrence on the Burin Peninsula under severe winter storm conditions with enormous loss of life on February 18, 1942.

This was his first posting.  He had assumed duties under Sergeant Ian Glendinning just six months following the loss of the Truxton and Pollux.  After three weeks on the job Sergeant Glendinning went on leave. It was while the Sergeant was on leave that two local boys made a surprising discovery in the Bartlett’s Cove beach not far from the office of the Newfoundland Ranger.

George was summoned from his office in Burin to investigate.  Two men, Mr. P. Penney and Mr. R McDougall, whom the boys had told of their discovery, accompanied him to the beach where they observed what appeared to be a body buried in the sand.  There, with the assistance of these two local residents, this young Ranger oversaw the exhumation of another young man who had successfully enlisted in the Navy of his country, the United States, and now lay

Map of Burin Peninsula showing the raod between the two locations of Burin and St. Lawrence.

Burin Peninsula

dead upon a friendly but foreign shore.   His name was stenciled along the waistband of his navy type fleece lined underwear, otherwise known as “long-johns”, the only garment remaining on him.  Apparently the cold water and cold, salt-laden sand had acted as a preservative, for the body of Seaman 1st Class Private F. L. Edwards appeared as on the day he drowned.  It would be years later that George found out that the initials F.L. stood for Floyd Lee when he read a book by Newfoundland author Cassie Brown, about the Truxton and Pollux disaster, titled Standing Into Danger.

Burin is approximately 80 kilometres from St. Lawrence by road.  Look at the map on the left to see that distance by sea. Click to enlarge.

Private Edward’s body was hoisted on a hand-barrow, a carrying device with handles at both ends of a platform; a transporting implement which was typically used to carry salt fish.  As the men carried the body along a rugged footpath it was challenging to maintain balance and retain their precious cargo.  Word spread quickly of the discovery as is the case among small communities when something like this occurs. As they approached the main road they met the Reverend Parson Clinch of the Church of England Parish in Collins Cove who lent his assistance and advice.

George, being of the Roman Catholic faith, had been contemplating contacting the Catholic priest for assistance; however, as he said to me, “Parson Clinch was of such a tremendous assistance – counsel wise and in other ways”, that he was asked to preside over the burial.

In Georges words,  “It was a Christian burial—that is what I was aiming for; away from that mound of cold, salt-water sand where the sea had deposited its victim—miles and miles and miles from an overhanging cliff where seaman first class, Floyd Lee Edwards, along with others, took refuge from a battered and broken ship until the relentless tide and a gale of wind swept them one-by-one from the ledge of the cliff to which they were confined as I learned later.”

A formal report was forwarded to Chief Ranger Fraser at headquarters in St. John’s which officially marked the end of George Pauls’ responsibilities in this matter.  According to George,  “Parson Clench sent full particulars of the event to authorities in Washington, and sometime thereafter (about two or three weeks later) I had the occasion to be in his company again, and he told me that he had received a nice letter back from President Roosevelt in which he said to thank me personally, for services rendered.”

There was no information on Floyd that could give local authorities a home address or contact whom they could reach with news of the retrieval of his body.   Through the years George Paul has lamented their inability to contact family and let them know that their son was given a decent burial.  He made several attempts by writing officials in the United States and even survivors of the tragedy; however, to no avail.  He received responses to these inquiries thanking him for what he had done and for trying to locate the family.

Newfoundland Ranger George Paul was transferred to Goose Bay, Labrador shortly after this event early in 1943. He returned to the island of Newfoundland in 1945 when he was posted in Grand Bank, again on the Burin Peninsula.  It was then that George learned that the body of Floyd Lee Edwards had been exhumed and transferred from the Ship Cove cemetery to the Roman Catholic Cemetery in Burin and later disinterred again when a U.S. ship visited the area and the remains returned to the United States.  Just where Seaman 1st Class Private F. L. Edwards was laid to rest in the United States I do not know.

Cemetery grave markers on yellow grass, American flags flying, blue sky in background.

Macoupin County Cemetery, Girard, Illinois

About a year ago I revisited this event with George and through research was able to determine that Floyd Lee Edwards was the only son of William and Melissa Edwards of Girard, Illinois.  He was born in 1908; enlisted in the US navy and was assigned to the USS Pollux.  His father had died in 1939 just before the outbreak of WW II.  His mother died in 1951 without ever knowing where her son’s body ended up after the tragedy.

The photo on the left shows the Macoupin County Cemetery in Girard where his parents are buried and where Floyd is remembered for his untimely sacrifice to his country

Near their tombstones there is a stone marker which reads:

EDWARDS, Floyd Lee , W2, S1/C , Navy, USS Pallox(sic), 18 Feb 1942, Girard Cemetery Girard Twp Girard IL

Floyd’s name is included in the Girard Book of the Dead of WWII, of which an excerpt is shown on the right.

page thirteen from Girard, Illinois Boog of the Dead showing a list of soldiers who died in war

Girard, Illinois – Book of the Dead, p. 13.

Though I know nothing of the personality or life of Floyd Lee Edwards, the story relayed to me by George Paul brought a very personal and up-close view of war tragedy on our own shores.  It also spoke volumes to me of the character of my friend and the deep empathy he feels for his fellow human beings.  Whenever I think of this story I imagine that young man from St. Jacques, who too had tried to enlist to fight the same enemy, as he stood observing the process of retrieval as it unfolded before him and I remember the passion in his voice as he told it to me over sixty years later.

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Posted by: alexhickey | February 8, 2014

A Story of a House Part II ©

When a family leaves a house they take with them what they can reasonably expect to make use of in their new house.   Some things just won’t fit, are too cumbersome or have no practical use in the new place so they either get discarded or left behind for the new owners to deal with.  That was no different for Hazel Young’s house which was profiled in Part 1 of this posting.

At which point in time the house became known as Hazel Young’s house I am not certain; however, it occurred sometime between the death of her father and the death of her mother who had been ailing in her later years. When Hazel moved to St. John’s to take up employment as the Director of the Red Cross Hostel, known as Devon House, she judiciously chose what would go and what would stay.  I have seen several dishes and pieces of furniture that once occupied space in the house that were given to close friends prior to her departure.  One large object she didn’t take was prepared for shipment to her by the next family who bought the house after they had moved in.

white snow in foreground with a green two-story house occupying the middle ground with a blue sky in the background.

South View of House

Resettlement happened throughout Fortune Bay in the 1950’s as elsewhere in the province. Some people from smaller communities in Fortune Bay chose to move to St. Jacques.  One of these families was the Osbornes from Red Cove who bought Hazel Young’s house.  They moved in, made friends in the neighbourhood and became part of the community almost immediately.  In very little time folks were no longer referring to the house as belonging to the Youngs.  It had become the Osborne house. Once again the feet of children echoed throughout the rooms and the doors were open to visitors as before.

Minor changes were noted by local residents such as when Uncle Ben moved the back door, changed a window or painted the wooden shingles on the sides of the house.  Aunt Pearl built a small retail store in the garden which generated more traffic than the house had seen in years.  Relatives of the Osbornes came to visit, introducing the neighbours to new acquaintances whom they’d never heard of before thereby extending the reach of the community even further.  The boys’ dad worked away from home on a Department of Fisheries vessel transporting bait to depots throughout the province. Thus there were joyous events when he returned; everyone shared the excitement when Mr. Osborne was coming home. There was also excitement when electricity came to St. Jacques and life took on a different order. Aunt Pearl no longer made ice cream by hand. One year Uncle Ben passed on and the dynamics changed again. A few years later, a decade after moving in, the Osborne family moved again; this time to a growth centre in Placentia Bay, Arnold’s Cove, leaving the house vacant once more.

There were no boards on the windows or no for sale signs in the yard – just an empty house in the midst of a changing neighbourhood.  Friends of the Osborne boys grew up and moved away to study at school or to work.  Other children, too young to know the Osbornes, grew to know it as a vacant house. Then one day word spread through the community that the house would have new residents; an elderly family from Bay du Nord were being resettled to St. Jacques.  The Farrells were coming to town.   Uncle Jack and Aunt Win Farrell along with Winifred’s sister Aunt Gen Lundrigan arrived on the steamer with their belongings and promptly brought lights back to the house at night.

Uncle Jack, as he was known to all though related to but a few, had served as cook on a medical vessel that travelled throughout Fortune Bay, the Lady Anderson.  As a result he was widely known in the community.  His nieces had married in St. Jacques years before and his brother, the renowned teacher Tom Farrell, had already moved to the community a year or so earlier.  Just as before, the house was transformed to become the Farrell house.  Again, minor structural changes were made as the new occupants made the house their home.  Neighbourhood dynamics were different because of their age; however, it took but a short time for the three new neighbours to know everyone by first name.  Aunt Gen, a former post mistress in Bay du Nord, was quite accustomed to daily conversations with folks as they went about their business.  She resumed that role in St. Jacques, chatting up a storm with all ages she encountered. She was as feisty and bold as her sister was quiet and demure.  Uncle Jack was there enjoying his retirement and the many Farrell, Lundrigan and Fitz-Patrick family members who came to visit from other parts of Newfoundland and Canada.

With the passage of time things change and people reach the limits of their lives.  This was the case for the Uncles and Aunts in the Farrell house. With darkened windows at night and no sounds of doors closing throughout the day, the house resumed its pattern of remaining silent and elegant on the side of the road, settling just a bit more on its haunches.

Before long, however, the doors were opening and closing again as a younger family commenced moving from their single story house in the neighbourhood into the old Farrell property. The McCarthys, with young children, carried their personal belongings into the house and spread their ownership throughout the rooms.  Bill and Mabel proceeded to nurture and grow their family inside those walls.  They too made minor structural changes to accommodate their needs and to modernize aspects of the house to changing standards. A brick chimney disappeared, and another shinier one received more extensive use as heating was centralized with a wood stove in the front kitchen. Again, windows underwent changes, particularly the dormers on the second story, which were removed and their openings closed in.  Years flashed by and older children moved out leaving a much smaller family in the large wooden house.  Bill and Mable, with motivation fueled by health issues, moved away to Grand Falls, closing the doors on the house again.

winter scene with a green house in the middle of the image; snow in the foreground and trees covered with snow in the background.

North Side of House

This time the fire had barely cooled in the kitchen stove when news that the house had been sold began to circulate.  Someone from next door, who grew up in the shadow of the house and mingled with most of the families that lived there, had purchased it as a summer home.  A young Hickey man, they said, was going to renovate the place and put it back to what it looked like when the Young’s lived there.  Unlike all previous owners, he didn’t move his family in and occupy the house year round; he went about effecting changes which highlighted the character of the old house.  Walls were exposed to show the original pine boards positioned vertically to create single partition walls; modern wall panels were removed to reveal layer upon layer of multi-coloured wall paper pasted there by generations of different families – a collective effort of branding and identity.

The small veranda which had been removed many years prior, was replaced by a large open deck, designed to celebrate the vista in front of the house; a view which Sam and Martha looked at across the harbour many evenings as the warm, orange-gold of the sun’s rays spread across the walls of their parlour; a view the Osbornes still treasure in their memories; a view the Farrells noted was much different from Bay du Nord but equally as beautiful; a view that the McCarthys were very familiar with.

Memories of the rooms in that house live in many places on this planet; in the hearts and minds of those who either lived inside the walls or visited those who did live there.  It still leans a little, as though pausing to reflect, to remember the voices, the sounds, the feelings, the dreams and the disappointments of those it sheltered.  Each new owner inherited a house which was transformed into a home unique to them; cherished and cared for by them with limited knowledge of those who walked through those same spaces just years before them.  Some things managed to remain, to hold on to the home and give future residents just a glimpse into the lives of its previous owners.  Mr. Osborne had the pleasure of building a packing crate large enough to house an ornate, hardwood horse sleigh and ship it to Hazel Young that harkened back to Victorian times and the nostalgic image of sleighs at Christmas time.  The Farrell’s inherited a wood stove which gave off enough heat to induce drowsiness within minutes of entering their back kitchen as it had done for a couple of generations. The McCarthys found odd dishes remaining on kitchen shelves; dishes that had graced tables and meals bringing nurture to people whose lives were unknown to them.  The latest owner found a newspaper with coverage of the referendum that saw Newfoundland choose to join the Canadian Confederation; a school report card from one of the McCarthy children; and a discarded vintage tobacco tin probably left behind by the Farrells.

Last year I gave my brother assistance removing weeds from what used to be a delicate flower garden on the southern side of the house and found a silver teaspoon created in 1882 in Pennsylvania. It caused me to stop and look around, not for more silverware, but for the presence of all those people who had also stood on that spot, who had sung and cried in the space surrounding me, who had called this house their home; a home unlike any other, special to them and special for years to come.

The Osbornes, Farrells, Lundrigan, McCarthys and Hickeys who have shared this old second empire style of architecture also share a common thread which was anchored to the ground beneath the house when Sam Young and his brothers laid the foundation well over a century ago; a thread of continuity across time, one which extends forward whenever a new set of hands join the greater family whose common heritage is time spent under its mansard style roof.

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Posted by: alexhickey | January 25, 2014

A Story of a House: Part 1©

On the east side of St. Jacques sits a house that has settled on its foundation, looking comfortable in its slightly tilted angle; evidence that it has been there for some time.  It reminds me of sitting in a chair and settling into the cushion, eventually feeling too snug and lazy to move.  Though the house hasn’t moved, several attachments have been removed, the local road has crept closer and closer to its side and families have moved in and out of it for over a hundred years.

young residence located on the east side of st jacques

Former Sam Young Residence St. Jacques

The house has a mansard style roof which today makes it stand out from those surrounding it.  The Mansard roof gets its name from the French architect François Mansart (1598-1666) of the Beaux Arts School of Architecture in Paris, France.  Mansart revived the style which had been popular during the era of French Renaissance architecture. It received another revival in the 1850’s during the reign of Napoleon III, known as the Second Empire.  Since then the Mansard style roof has been frequently referred to as a Second Empire style.  The style became quite popular between the 1860’s and 1880’s in parts of North America, including Newfoundland. View good examples of this style in Newfoundland here. A great number of houses were built with this style of roof following the Great Fire of 1892 in St. John’s.

A Mansard style roof has two slopes.  On the side of the house on the upper story is a gently curving slope accentuated by Dormer Windows. From the top of this curving slope, starting at the eaves, the roof has a low slope which is sometimes locally referred to as a flat roof, even though it has about a twelve inch pitch.  It was the development of roofing materials such as felt which enabled this design to work.  Other materials such as wooden shingles could not allow enough water to run off with such a low slope.

The roof style emerged from a very practical need to expand attic space. Under a peaked roof the slope prevented there being much headroom.  By changing the slope and flattening out the roof, a building gained an almost complete story, making the space much more functional.  On top of that, it looks good.

The dormer windows have been removed from this house giving it a streamlined look.  Other than that, the roof remains as it was, when constructed sometime between

White two story manaard style house surrounded by other similar houses. Grassy area and tree covered hillside in background.

Young family homes in St. Jacques c. 1900

1890 and 1910.  This is one of two identical houses built by the Young family on opposite sides of the road which ran along the east side of St. Jacques leading to the government wharf and Burke’s Cove.  This house was owned by Samuel Young.  The house across the road was owned by Randall Young.  There is a story which says that a third house was to be built for the third brother, John; however, a downturn in the family fishing business brought on by the loss of two schooners within a couple of years curtailed that plan.  Consequently, John lived in an equally as big, but older salt box style house nearby. Their sister, Bertha, lived in a house with a roof style which resembled the Mansards but had a fixed, steeper slope set above the second story making room for an attic space.  This may have been the original family home owned by their parents James and Sarah Young.

Samuel Young’s house overlooks St. Jacques harbour; the living room window still serving up a vista against the hills of the western side highlighted by Bottle Hill and the expanse of water in between.  Directly below, lies the shoreline where the Young Brothers Fisheries company operated.  Their three ‘big stores’, as they were called, have been replaced by contemporary fishing sheds and stages.  The cove where their two and three masted schooners berthed, hosts small fishing and pleasure boats now. Yet, in quiet evenings it is still possible to hear the echoes of anchor chains and water splashes from the work of men securing their homes away from home.

Blue ocean water in foreground. A red two story fishing premise in the lower left. Yellowed grass along a slope beyond the ocean capped by a row of houses. Starting from the left the housea are white, yellow, green and white. A tree covered hillside sits behind the houses.

Sam Young’s House as it appeared in the 1970’s

If we examine the 1921 Census for St. Jacques we see who was living in this house.   There were Samuel J. Young, his wife Martha (Reeves) who was from St. Lawrence and their three children, Hazel, William (named after his great-grandfather) and James (named after his grand-father).  They also had a daughter Ada who had moved to the United States and married before the date of this census.

Samuel Young

Young Samuel J. M Head Married 1863 Sep. 58 St. Jacques
Young Martha (Reeves) F Wife Married 1874 Feb. 47 St. Lawrence
Young Hazel F Daughter Single 1904 Nov. 16 St. Jacques
Young William R. M Son Single 1907 June 14 St. Jacques
Young James R. M Son Single 1909 Sep. 12 St. Jacques

As with every family, children grow up and their parent’s generation passes on. Samuel died on February 18th 1934; Martha died September 18th 1955 in the house where she had spent all of her married life. Ada moved to Flint Michigan, United States; William moved to St. John’s, Newfoundland; James moved to Halifax, Nova Scotia; while Hazel remained at home and cared for her ailing mother.  Following her death Hazel too moved to St. John’s, Newfoundland.  When she did, the final member of the Young family that lived in this house turned the key for the last time.

Over the years there have been descendants of Sam and Aunt Mattie who found their way back to St. Jacques to gaze upon the house, to stare out into the harbour and to reminisce with local residents who remembered them.  Now, there are very few who feel a tangible link to the couple who made a life for themselves and their children in this house.  None was more poignant than the visit of Ada Young’s daughter Margaret who visited the house for the first time in her early eighties.  Expecting to see only a building that once was lived in by her mother who left St. Jacques in 1919, she instead felt what is was like to stand in the garden of her grandmother, pick a budding rose from her grandmother’s rose bush and climb the stairs to a bedroom where her mother slept as a child.

When someone stands in a space and physically connects memories, stories, emotions and dreams together in a single moment there are no words to describe the experience, no means by which the chain of human contact can be expressed.  Such was the instance when Margaret and her daughter came back to the house and once again brought the feet of Young’s across the threshold.

What memories are there in the boards which constitute the walls of a house? What traces of people are left behind in the rooms after they leave? What makes a house the home of ancestors?  What is the story of a house?  This has been a tiny glimpse into the story of Sam and Mattie Young’s house.

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Posted by: alexhickey | December 24, 2013

The Last Light at the End of the Harbour ©

View of St. Jacques harbour from the ocean with houses in the foreground, gren vegetation of grass and evergreen trees. In the background is a larger mountain against a blue sky.

Eastern Side – St. Jacques

There was a time when there were lighted windows in houses from one side of the entrance to St. Jacques Harbour to the other.  From Burkes Cove to Louis ’s Cove, people had cleared trees back from the seashore and claimed it as a place to live.  The eastern entrance to the harbour is now marked by the

remnants of a once majestic breakwater that extended several hundred feet from shore.  The breakwater offered protection to the businesses and houses of the Burke families positioned on the hillside behind it and served to break the southerly waves which frequently find their way deep into the harbour.  The western side is defined by a craggy headland, a natural breakwater, which also offers a degree of protection. It was behind this protection that the Power and Fudge families lived in recent memory.

Today there are fewer people living in St. Jacques and more empty space between many of the houses. No one lives at the entrance to the harbour any more. Each year fewer residents remain who witnessed the glow of kerosene lamps emitting their warm amber glow through kitchen windows after the fall of darkness. At the same time the little community is holding its own with new families lighting new lamps and renewing the lives of older houses, former residents returning after retirement and people moving in from other communities nearby. This year, though, we shall miss the last light at the end of the harbour.

A group of school children of various ages with their male teacher standing in front of a one room white clapboard school house. Photo was taken around 1945.

One room school house in Bay du Nord

Alice Farrell`s arrival in St. Jacques was probably her first trip away from the security and comfort of her home in Bay du Nord.  As the Bar Haven rounded Eastern Point and passed by the breakwater, giving it a respectful distance because of the shoal waters nearby, the schoolhouse, a brilliantly white single story building on the hillside above the old Sacred Heart Church, seemed to wink at her. Here she was, the daughter of one of the patriarchs of Bay du Nord, a man known throughout Fortune Bay and beyond for his leadership and teaching skills, Teacher Tom.  That affectionate title served to not only help distinguish him from the three other Tom Farrell’s in the town, Red Tom, Black Tom and Long Tom, but to afford him respect for his role and contribution to the lives of all its residents. That afternoon she didn`t know that the rest of her life would unfold near the shadow of that old church and that the light from her living room window would be the last light on the eastern side of the harbour for several years.

The arrival of any young woman in town, especially a new school teacher, was bound to raise the interests of young gentlemen and the day Alice stepped onto the wharf one young man named Fred smiled inwardly and nervously looked her way, thinking he had never seen anyone as lovely before; not in his years working on the Andrews Air Force base in Argentia or in Buchans where he had just started a new job.  Whether Alice noticed him or not we don`t know; however, we do know they found the love of their lives in each other and were to spend over fifty years together in the neighbourhood near the end of the harbour.

black and white photograph ofresettled community of bay du nord. A large boulder is seen in the foreground, white two-story houses in the middle ground and a snow-covered hillside in the background.

Bay du Nord, Fortune Bay

Her career as a teacher didn`t last all that long, for soon after marriage children required near full-time attention; yet she defined herself as `teacher` to all of us.  Quite proudly, on many occasions, she slipped quietly from her standing place in the kitchen beside the doorway to the living room to retrieve, from among her treasures stored in the bedroom, a cheque made out to Miss Alice Farrell.  Upon leaving Bay du Nord, Teacher Tom had offered a rather special piece of advice, saying, keep your first cheque, don`t cash it, for if you don`t, you will never be broke. She heeded that advice and in doing so preserved what was to become one of the most tangible links she had to her father.  It was just months before she joined him in whatever place departed teachers gather that she, with a smile of near childish delight, once again retrieved the cheque and told me the story.  She would look at it after telling the story, smile almost imperceptibly and say, perhaps to herself or perhaps to him, `yes, I`ve kept it all these years.`

Like many partners in marriage the relationship goes beyond that which we see as visitors or extended family and is known only to children and even at that is known differently depending on the age and birth order for all relationships change and blossom in different ways over time.  Fred was a storyteller who loved to sit on his straight-back chair at the end of the kitchen table and engage every visitor who crossed his threshold in a yarn and a laugh.  Alice would sometimes sit on whatever chair was empty during those visits; however, as often as not, she would stand and move in the magic triangle between the stove, the fridge and the door to the living room.  She wasn`t shy about injecting herself into a conversation or offering her personal take on the topic under discussion though she didn`t do it at the expense of Fred`s engagement.  Such was their relationship.

The house where Alice spent her last years wasn`t their matrimonial home though it was less than a stone`s throw away from it.  When Fred and Alice married they bought a huge two-story house poised atop the hill guarding the roadway which led to Burkes Cove.  The house had previously been lived in by the family of Anthony J  Burke, better known to townsfolk as Tony Burke, whose family had moved to St. John`s a few years earlier.  If you drive to the end of the road on the eastern side of the harbour and turn around, you will drive in an almost complete circle through where that house once stood.

A stately, imposing structure it was, with high ceilings and spacious rooms and a sturdy staircase rising from the front entrance to the second floor.  A small bridge near the rear was used to gain access to the back porch which was the usual means of entry for everyone. Beyond that door was a bench where Alice made sure the water buckets were full of fresh drinking water, carried daily from the well. In the kitchen she could sit at the end of the table, look to her left and observe the to and fro of marine traffic in the harbour.  A window on the front gave her an unobstructed panorama of the harbour including the area below the hill where she could watch Fred`s dory approach his fishing stage.

It was a big but cold house that, when built, met every criteria of good construction when the accepted standard for winter heating was nowhere near the expectations of Alice and Fred`s generation.  Insulation was not part of the construction plan.  When the house next to them became available due to its owners Joe and Veronica Earle moving to Terrenceville to be near their daughter, Fred and Alice bought it and moved the family next door. The old house was demolished and her view out the Bay restored. In a few years the old Sacred Heart Church was also demolished and her panoramic view of the harbour restored. Alice was a fixture in the living room window, her observation deck for all that happened around her.  In later years she had her telephone located near that window and when in conversation found the window ledge a most convenient place to rest her arms.

I recall, when I was a small child, there were near daily treks out the road, up over Clinton`s Hill, past Mr. St. Croix`s empty house, past the McEvoy`s vacant house, along the carefully constructed rock walls which lined the road above Joe and Bessie McCarthy`s house to Pat and Patricia`s then a final leg past the church to Alice`s house.  I`m not sure if it was the smell of freshly baked bread that lured me in that direction or the welcoming atmosphere I felt in her presence. When I lived in St. Jacques a nightly walk would result in turning around to walk back home once I reached the light shining from Alice`s window.  After I moved away each visit home meant at least one stop to sit and chat with Fred and Alice; to catch up on family news, the latest events in the fishery, to get answers to my many questions about the people they knew during their early years together and the older generations they had encountered along their way.   If the light was on over the door, that was an open invitation to come inside for a visit.

Some years ago when the municipality, out of fiscal restraint, reduced the number of street lights in the town Fred decided to install his own light which was visible from all around the harbour.  The light at Alice`s house now illuminated her neighbourhood at night. By then they were back to the two of them sharing the house. All of the children had moved out gradually until one day they probably looked at each other and wondered where all of the time had gone. It is said that this is the point in the life of a married couple where they get to know each other again. The intervening years between the first child and now were defined by raising children and working for a living; the things that too frequently keep us busy until there is no time left.

Alice Farrell could look back over her life in St. Jacques and see a parade of children come and go through her doors.  She could place her finger on a calendar and show you the date and time that her parents, Uncle Jack Farrell, his wife Winifred and Win’s sister Genevieve moved to St. Jacques as well as when the last person left her home community of Bay du Nord when it was resettled. That calendar also showed when her father and mother moved again; this time to Sydney, Nova Scotia.  Written on it as well was the date her sister Patricia married Fred`s brother Pat, in whose house she stayed when first arriving on the Bar Haven. She could, at a glance, tell you the events of her first day as a teacher in the one-room, all-grade, Sacred Heart School and of the day she and Fred were married.

colour photograph of alice hickey, head and shoulders pose with greenery and water showing in the background.

Alice Hickey

Christmas is a special time of year in most parts of the world and no less so in a small community on the north side of Fortune Bay.  There are social rituals which grow over time and are sorely missed when broken.  One of these is a visit to Aunt Alice who, in childhood days, always cajoled each of us into eating a large slice of dark, moist fruitcake with a crust of snow white icing along one edge and across the top.  Portions of dark molasses, cloves, nutmeg, raisins, currants, red and green cherries as well as a healthy sprinkling of mixed peel combined under her fingertips to create a magical food that always defied description; however, if one should mention Aunt Alice’s Christmas Cake in the company of her extended family everyone would fully appreciate the almost religious feeling we all had for those cakes. As adults we also appreciated the pride she felt at being able to create such delight among us.  That delight carried on to her sharing of artifacts that stood in for Fred in the years after his departure; to the subtle ways in which she kept his presence in her kitchen and in the way she welcomed you into the house anytime you had the time to visit.

Though it could be lonely to live in a house at the end of the road it also meant that when you saw someone approaching there was little likelihood that they would be going somewhere else. This Christmas when I walk up the road to visit relatives I will remember the many other times I walked that route. I’ll remember the gaily decorated evergreen tree in her living room; the sometimes unbearable heat from her kitchen wood stove; the mouth-watering smell of home-made bread; hugs that could have come from someone twice her size; and her parting words, “Now, make sure you come back again.”  In the midst of such fond memories it will be a little sombre not to see her welcoming light at the end of the harbour, especially at Christmas time.

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Posted by: alexhickey | December 8, 2013

Mummering in St. Jacques ©

Mummering has recaptured the imagination of Newfoundlanders again in recent years.  The emergence of a Mummers Festival in St. John`s is an example of this.   The popularity of The Mummers Song by Simani as well as the book, The

mummers song book by ian wallace based upon song lyrics by bud davidge

Mummers Song Book

Mummers Song, by Ian Wallace illustrating Bud Davidge`s lyrics is another.  Look for images of mummers in paintings, sculpture, on coffee mugs, Tee Shirts, and just about any merchandise you can imagine as evidence.  Yet, even though there is always a contingent of Mummers at the Fortune Bay Dance in Mount Pearl at the end of November each year and at the English Hr. West Lions Club Mummer’s Dance on Old Christmas Day, there is limited evidence that Mummering as a social practice in communities has re-emerged in our culture.  What we seem to be witnessing is Mummering as public spectacle in the tradition of the Mummers Play.

The Mummer’s Plays have a long and deserved respect in our history reaching back to the days before our ancestors came here from England, Ireland and other parts of Europe and North America. They are traditional texts involving a short performance by a half dozen or more people playing the roles of King George, The Doctor, The Turkish Knight, and others. It was performed in communities all around the coastline for generations with adaptations to local characters and events.  Most of the time, it was performed inside the house of a host in the community as an impromptu event where those performing the play sought entry and proceeded to establish a space within the room to deliver the play.  Other times it was performed as part of a Christmas Concert in the community. The spontaneity of the Mummers Play is not something that can easily be replicated as a public event intended for subscription-based audience consumption.  Though, The Mummers Troupe, a St. John`s Theatre Troupe created a phenomenon during the seventies’ and eighties with their innovative treatment and performances of the Mummers Play, it still remained public spectacle.  Public events with a mummers theme have a legitimate history in the United Kingdom and in the United States with The Mummers Parade in Philadelphia being a long standing example. This type of event has sowed the seeds for a great deal of the current interest in Mummering as cultural expression.

My experiences and exposures to Mummering has been as social activity carried out among friends, family and community as opposed to performance of a play as such.  Throughout Newfoundland communities the practice of putting on a disguise and visiting friends and relatives existed independent of the mummer’s plays.   Known in some parts of the province as Janneying,  Fooling, or Nalujuit, we knew it simply as Mummering.  It involved dressing up in disguises intended to trick or fool your neighbour or other acquaintance in the community into thinking you were someone other than yourself.   Often this meant switching gender by disguising one’s body through wearing fake body parts and clothing of the opposite sex.  Faces were disguised by donning an old pillow case or lace curtain over the head with appropriate spaces cut for eyes to see to navigate while inside a house.  Outside, the facial disguise was raised for safety reasons when walking in the dark. Occasionally someone wore a manufactured mask or an improvised mask made from cardboard, however, that was not the norm.

three children mummering in costume

Children Mummering

Children did their Mummering early in the evening just after the supper hour and were limited to particular sections of the community as in the parental direction, “You can go from Mrs. Whalen’s house to Mrs. Evan’s house then you must come home.   You can dress up again another night and go to some other houses.”  Beginning on the evening of Boxing Day  and on through the rest of the Christmas Holidays until Old Christmas Day, weather permitting and with parental permission, we attempted to visit every house in the harbour. Starting at the eastern end of St. Jacques where my grandparents lived we would make our way over the road parallel to the old Catholic Church, down over Clinton’s Hill and along the road to Dyett’s Hill; a side trip down the Lower Road, then across Pittman’s Brook Bridge, past Red Rail Hill, Cellar Hill and the Anglican Church until we reached the Barachoix Point. Beyond there we made our way around the Barachoix and over on the Beach.  With all variables considered we usually took the full twelve days of Christmas to achieve that visitation around the harbour.

We carried a split, a piece of dry wood used to start fires in a stove, which was used to knock on the door to each house we visited.  When someone came to the door, in your best falsetto voice or in a voice spoken on an inhaling breath, ingressive speech,  you valiantly stressed, “Any Mummers Allowed In?”  In some parts of the province this was known as mummer-talk or janny –talk.  An entry in the online version of the Dictionary of Newfoundland English has this description:

janny-talk: distorted or ingressive speech of a mummer used as a means of disguising one’s identity.

1969 Christmas Mumming in Nfld 211 When the janneys come to a house they wish to visit, they open, without knocking, the storm-door, stick their heads inside the ‘porch’ and ‘sing out’: ‘Any janneys in tonight?’ in the high-pitched, squeaky voice that janneys always use—’janney-talk.’ T 257-66 Oh yes, ’twas queer talk—janney talk. Some people can’t talk and some of ’em can, you know. Some of them make a queer talk, draw in their voice, and make a queer sound.

two children in mummering costume

Children Mummering

Rarely did you get invited into every house.  Sometimes an adult would answer the door only to be told the family wasn’t finished dinner or the baby was asleep and you cannot come in tonight.  Despite this we would manage to get inside almost every house in the community eventually for we dressed up every night we could and made our rounds, targeting houses that refused us on earlier nights.  When multiple groups were going around, it was not uncommon to maliciously drop a few hints as to who might be among the group coming behind yours.  As children we were treated to cookies, candies, and in some houses Purity Strawberry Syrup and dark fruit cake.  There are stories of mummers playing tricks on those who refused them entry; however, that was not our experience in St. Jacques.

Given the small number of children living in St. Jacques when I was a child and for every generation since then, it now seems highly probable that our hosts could determine rather quickly who we were; however, to their credit, they played along with the guessing game until all identities were learned and all faces exposed.  Such was Mummering for children in St. Jacques.

adult mummer dancing with an adult playing an accordion

Adult Mummers Dancing

Adults reflected much of the same presentations of disguise with somewhat greater emphasis on blurring gender identity.   Efforts for men to be perceived as women took on epic proportions with elaborate constructions to mimic breasts and to accentuate derrieres.  The most bizarre apparatus I ever heard of among women’s disguise efforts was the wearing of a ‘sheep’s purse” between her legs to fool even a boldly groping host.

Typical Mummer Costume

Typical Mummer Costume

Adult visitations occurred later in the evening with greater emphasis on merriment fueled by an accordion, fiddle or guitar and the consumption of either home brewed beverages or Demerara rum doled out in shot-size portions.   The guessing game was very similar to that of child mummers with a little more edginess  attached through sexual innuendo much as is seen in the Mummers Plays.   As the night wore on and the merriment levels of mummers increased it was not uncommon to see the lights suddenly go out as a group of boisterous mummers approached a house.

In every respect Mummering was about celebration of community and social interaction for all ages.  It has its origins in our European heritage and its distinctive flavour in our social nature.  As children we were provided opportunity through Mummering to interact with adults whom we would only casually encounter during the rest of the year; we learned to function as a group where everyone in the group was equal and where everyone looked out for each other. We occupied our evenings engaged in interaction and play, socializing and entertaining, and being children in a culture where a social custom transcended age and social status.

In St. Jacques, as with many rural communities around the coasts, fathers worked in the fishing industry and other occupations which took them away from home for lengthy periods of time throughout the year. However, Christmas was pilgrimage time when all roads led to home!  After being away for months Mummering offered everyone an opportunity to visit, celebrate and catch up on news and missed events as well as blow off a bit of steam in the presence of friends.

Listen to Bud Davidge sing what has become the definitive song about Mummering in Newfoundland and Labrador.

Resources you might enjoy reading.

Web Articles and Stories

Mummering Flourishes in N. L. Homes, CBC, December 23, 2010

Mummering, a Newfoundland Christmas Tradition, The Daily Planet, by Adam Carter, December 02,  2011

Mummering: A Storied Newfoundland Tradition, The Weather Network, by Daniel Martins, December 27, 2012

Mummering on the Rock : A Unique NL Tradition, by Sharon Martin, NL Interactive, December 2007

Mummers & Pagans & Wrens — Oh My!, by Christopher Simpson, Reprinted from Toronto Irish News, 1997

The Mummering Man, CBC Land and Sea Episode, January 1, 2012

Mummering and the Performing Arts in Newfoundland

Mummering in Nova Scotia, by Darcy Rhyno, Life asa Human, The Human Interest magazine for Evolving Minds, Jun 24, |

Journal Articles

 Craig T. Palmer, Mummers and Real Strangers: The Effects of Diminished Isolation on Newfoundland Christmas House Visiting, Vol 8, No 2Newfoundland Studies, Memorial University of Newfoundland, 1992

Joy Fraser, Mummers On Trial – Mumming, Violence and the Law in Conception Bay and St. John’s, Newfoundland, 1831-1863, Shima: The International Journal into Research into Island Cultures, Vol 3, No. 2. pp. 70-88  http://www.shimajournal.org/previous.html

Diane Tye, At Home and Away: Newfoundland Mummers and the Transformation of Difference, Material Culture Review, Volume 68, Fall 2008

Andrea and David Spalding, The Mummers and the Paupers, Canadian Folk Music Bulletin, Volume 28.3, September 1994

Books

Chris Brookes. A Public Nuisance: A History of the Mummers Troupe. St. John’s: Memorial University of Newfoundland 1988. 240 pp $19.95 paper, illus.

Halpert, Herbert and Story, G.M. Christmas Mumming in Newfoundland. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1990. , Ryan, D.W.S. (ed.)

Ryan, D. W. S. Christmas in Newfoundland and Labrador, Jesperson Press, 1988,

Margaret Robertson, The Newfoundland Mummers Christmas House Visit, A Thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of a Masters of Arts Degree, Memorial University, 1979

Pocius, Gerald L. A Place to Belong: Community Order and Everyday Space in Calvert, Newfoundland, McGill-Queen’s Press, 1991

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Posted by: alexhickey | November 9, 2013

John Evans – Newfoundland Mercantile Marine, 1896-1918 ©

It has been said that we carry memories of at least three generations around in our head.  We remember events of our own lives, those of our parents and those of our grandparents either through first hand encounters with them or through shared memories.  Some may have opportunity to know great-grandparents, making it possible to access a fourth generation.  The depth, detail, richness and accuracy of these memories vary with the individual and the age which they acquired them.

We all know people in our communities who seem to have some natural ability to recall events, people and circumstances. Frequently they are older than us and offer many opportunities to converse about the past and the people who populated it.  I have always sought out such people to feed my insatiable curiosity about the hundreds of years that people have lived in St. Jacques. I am fortunate to know and spend hours and days in their presence.  Some of what they shared with me is easily recalled while more is elusive and returns to conscious memory now and then.  That is normal and I am confident that most of the information and memories they shared is intact in my brain waiting for the right time and occasion to emerge.

Remembrance Day, November 11, is always a poignant time to reflect on community members who served in various capacities in the many wars of the last century.  St. Jacques, like numerous other small towns in Newfoundland, offered its residents to war efforts.  Some of these young men and women returned while others were laid to rest on or near battlefields.  Then there were others whose lives were lost and their final whereabouts never known.  This was often the case with men who worked on vessels which plied their trade through enemy waters during times of war.

forget me not flower

Forget-Me-Not Flower

One of these was John Evans.  For years I heard references to John Evans being lost during WW I but none were definitive or clear as to how and where he was lost.  With the years claiming the voices of our elder people we lose our tangible links to those stories.  Technological advances in communication have, however, made it possible to share memories and information which we might otherwise lose with each passing member of the community.  The Internet, with all of its warts, is perhaps one of the greatest communication advances ever made by human kind.  The sharing and documenting capacity of the Internet adds to our human capacity to remember and share those memories.  It also enables us to access information that just a few years ago would have been inaccessible.  For some information it is no longer necessary to travel to various locations to conduct research or to write someone and wait on a response.  The Internet is where I turned to find out more about John Evans of St. Jacques.  This post will take you through that process of discovery.

Though I cannot tell you all of the details of how John Evans was lost during WW I, I can share what I’ve found.  Men from our communities who served on ships sailing in dangerous waters during wartime were considered to be serving in the Newfoundland Mercantile Marine.  As such they are afforded the recognition of serving their country during times of war and are recognized for that service.

John Evan`s name appears in a list of the war dead maintained by the Canada at War, Online War Memorial.  The information on him is incomplete; however, we can see that others died along with him on that day: namely the other seamen on the same vessel. John’s name is also recorded on page 26 of the Merchant Navy Book of World War I victims.  Elsewhere I found a list of people lost from Newfoundland vessels titled Victims of the Sea, on the official website of author Robert Parsons called Atlantic Shipwrecks  which informed me that the schooner on which he sailed was the Elsie Burdette.

two mast schooner

Two Mast Schooner

A search for Schooner Elsie Burdette gives a number of hits with supporting information to explore.  For instance the Canadian Great War Project  page lists the names of the other sailors on the Elsie Burdette and provides an individual profile for each of them.   By clicking on Evans we see his profile and learn that he was born on January 1st 1896 and died on March 30, 1918 at the age of 22 of unknown cause.  It also says he is buried at the Beaumont-Hamel (Newfoundland) Memorial, in France.  This isn’t the case.  What this means is that his name appears on the monument as one of the Newfoundland casualties during the war.  We will explore where he died a little later.  The profile also tells us that he was a sailor and the son of Mrs. Evans of St. Jacques.  Another page found on the Newfoundland Grand Banks site titled, The War Dead of the Beaumont-Hamel War Memorial  – The Newfoundland Mercantile Marine  states that the Elsie Burdette sank off Canary Islands, en route from Oporto to Burgeo, Newfoundland.

burgeo newfoundland

Burgeo, NL

oporto, the port in Portugal where the Elsie Burdette took on a load of salt.

Oporto, Portugal

Tombstone information found in the Anglican Cemetery in St. Jacques tells us that John was the son of William and Mary Evans. William had died just two years earlier at the age of 59.  John’s mother died in 1929 at the age of 67.

My Google Search also provided a hit on Joseph Small’s diary of Burgeo, 1925 – Shipwrecks on Burgeo and Nearby Places transcribed by Bill Crant on the Newfoundland Grans Banks Genealogical and Historical Web Site.   If you read down the page you will see a paragraph about the Elsie Burdette as written by Mr. Small in 1925.

In 1918, the schooner, Elsie Burdett, of Burgeo, one of a fleet of fish carriers of John T. Moulton, commanded by Captain Albert Hann, better known as Bert, sailed from Oporto for this port in April. She had a cargo of salt and sailed in company with the Gordon Moulton, of the same owners. The vessels parted company one evening and all was well. The Gordon arrived in due time, making a good passage and met with no heavy weather, but the Elsie never turned up. From that time to this, nothing has ever been heard from her. How she was lost and just when will never be known. It has been thought that a German submarine may have sunk her. They were in all parts of the Atlantic. Bert was a smart fellow and knew how to handle a vessel, no doubt, but had no learning and carried a navigator, one Evans, of St. Jacques, a single man. The crew of this vessel had one Hatcher of Hunt’s, one Strickland, of the same place and one Collier, a son of Charles Collier. The other man I do not remember. These were all young men, but Bert left a widow and two boys and a girl.

The search showed up a link to the Daily News of 1917 where we can see that on May 24th of that year the newspaper published the information that the Schooner Elsie Burdette, under the command of Captain Cluett, was lost with all hands, totaling six in number.  The name of the skipper conflicts with that given by Mr. Small who says the skipper was Albert Hann.  This discrepancy warrants further research at a later date.

Further down in our search results is another link to a Wikipedia Page titled List of Shipwrecks in April 1918 which has the following information entered under April 3, 1918.

·  Elsie Burdett ( United Kingdom): World War I: The schooner was sunk in the Atlantic Ocean off the Canary Islands, Spain (44°38′N 24°28′W) by SM U-152 ( Kaiserliche Marine). Her six crew took to the lifeboat but were not rescued.[7]

This entry is interesting and reveals several more clues as to what happened to John Evans.   United Kingdom appears here because Newfoundland was not a part of Canada at the time, it was a British Dominion, part of the United Kingdom, an independent country known as the Dominion of Newfoundland.  It also tells us that the Elsie Burdette was a Schooner  probably of the two-mast type which was quite common around Newfoundland in that era.   The entry states that the Elsie Burdette was sunk off the Canary Islands near Spain and provides us with latitude and longitude coordinates so we can go look at the site just by clicking on them.  We knew this in a general way from Mr. Small’s story; however, this entry gives us even more information.  It tells us that the schooner was sunk by a German  U-boat (submarine) and even tells us

german u-boat 152

German U-boat 152

which one – SM-152, which was part of the Imperial German Navy known as Kaiserliche Marine.  The last piece of information leads us to a conclusion about what might have happened to John Evans and the rest of his crew mates when it states, “Her six crew took to the lifeboat but were not rescued.”  There is a discrepancy between dates here as well.   This record suggests the schooner was torpedoed on April 4th, 1918.  If this information was taken from the logs of U-boat 152 then it may be accurate.

The information doesn’t end there though.  A click on the small script number 7 at the end of the entry takes us to a source citation for the information in the Wikipedia article.  If we in turn click on the citation which reads, “ 7. ^ “Elsie Burdett”. Uboat.net. Retrieved 26 October 2012”, we are taken to the page where this information was found by the author. The link takes us to a site called uboat.net which documents German U-boats and information about them. On this page we find out that the Elsie Burdette was built in 1914 at Mahone Bay in Nova Scotia, was operated by Job Brothers & Company Ltd of St. John’s, Newfoundland and was on her way from Oporto, Portugal to Burgeo Newfoundland with a cargo of salt and that she was stopped and sunk off the Canary Islands.  At the time of her loss,

burgeo lapoile export company

Burgeo-Lapoile Export Co.

according to Kyrl Dollimount’s History of Burgeo page, she was owned by Burgeo and Lapoile Export Co.  This is another discrepancy which may be easily explained through the buying and selling or contracting the service of vessels.

We also find out that the Commander of the U-boat 152 was Constantin Kolbe who sunk a total of 43 ships during the war.

  The Google Map below shows the recorded location of the Elsie Burdette when she was torpedoed.

John Evans, like so many young Newfoundlanders who lost their lives during WW I, never came home.  None of us know nor will we likely ever know how far he and his five crew-mates travelled in their lifeboat or if they really did manage to get into that lifeboat.  We just know they were never seen again.

This was, as you`d expect, devastating to family and friends.  The Evans family members now living in St. Jacques still remember him and like the rest of us remember all of the war dead each year in November while thinking of the many young men and women who have volunteered for service in Canada`s Armed Forces and those in countries all around the world.

We read about the causes of conflicts like the Great War in textbooks and watch TV shows which tell some of the stories in other countries, yet, the real stories are told in the lives of people in our own communities who lose someone to war or those who return injured for life.  John Evans did not ask to die in the Atlantic at the hands of an enemy submarine; yet he knew when he signed on as Mate on the Elsie Burdett that they would be sailing through dangerous waters.  Their mission was not to defeat the enemy themselves but to bring back a load of salt so essential to maintaining the fishing economy here in Newfoundland at that time.  It was this economy which provided the resources which government used to support the war effort.   His work and those of others like him in and out of uniform are to be remembered.

Finding out about John Evans, as you`ve seen in this post, took a bit of time.  Most of all what it took was a memory shared with me by people who lived in earlier generations.  That memory, in combination with curiosity and tenacity, led me through a variety of sources which combined to build a more complete picture of John Evans than most of us remember.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them.

Robert Laurence Binyon, 1914

Below are a few links to information about how Newfoundland remembers its war dead.

Where Newfoundland Remembers

Memorial Day – Newfoundland and Labrador

Garden of Remembrance

Forget-Me-Not

Click on the video clip below to hear Bud Davidge sing his song about the Forget-Me-Not.

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Posted by: alexhickey | October 25, 2013

Tom Osborne of St. Jacques ©

tom osborne

Tom Osborne

One of Newfoundland’s longest serving mayors and former resident of St. Jacques has passed the mantle of office to a successor.  Tom Osborne has been mayor of Arnold’s Cove for thirty years and has reached a point in his life where he feels it is time to step back; perhaps slow down a bit.  To his credit he hasn’t fallen out of favour in his adopted hometown, nor is he leaving disillusioned.  Tom is voluntarily stepping aside at a time when a great deal of his efforts as mayor is bearing fruit – leaving at the top of his game.

red_cove-a-resettled _town_in_fortune_bay

Red Cove

Tom is the only member of his family born in St. Jacques; though all of the family refer to it as home.  His parents, Tom and Effie, moved their family to St. Jacques in the late 1950’s from the remote community of Red Cove located inside Great Bay de L’eau, near the mouth of Fortune Bay. Most of the communities in that part of the Bay resettled during that decade.

osborne residence located on the east side of st jacques

Young’s House St. Jacques

The Osborne’s and their extended family purchased a house once owned by the fishing merchant Sam Young located on the east side of St. Jacques Harbour.  The Mansard style house was built after the mid-nineteenth century and housed the Young family until the early nineteen fifties.   The house still stands overlooking the bottom of the harbour where the business properties of the Young’s were once located. A glance out the front window brings one’s eyes to rest on the elegant shape of Bottle Hill across the harbour.

Tom, or”Tommy”, as his childhood friends knew him, cut his teeth with the rest of us climbing the hillsides surrounding the town; wandering along the landwash after the tides dropped; playing near-professional hockey on the open ice of St. Jacques Pond in the winter; and, swimming in the warm fresh water running through the brook in the Barachoix as soon as the first soul was brave enough to venture into the cool stream of early summer.

During the years that Tom grew up in St. Jacques the community was served by two all-grades, one room schools.  In the mornings Tom and his brother would come out of his gate across the road from mine, turn left and head around the harbour to St. Michael’s, while I would also turn left in the opposite direction and make my way up the road to Sacred Heart. Though there were two denominations at work, there was but one neighbourhood and one close group of friends.

It was during high school years, when all of us were adjusting to being bused to a regional high school near English Hr. West that the Osborne’s decided to move, under the government’s resettlement program, to the growth centre of Placentia Bay, Arnold’s Cove.  The rest is history. It is obvious that “Tommy” made a commitment to his new hometown and today should feel proud of the contributions that a young fellow from St. Jacques has made to that town.

recepient of the queens jubilee medal tom osborne

Recipient of Queen’s Jubilee Medal – Tom Osborne

On April 24th of 2013 Tom was presented with the Queen’s Jubilee Medal by the Lieutenant Governor of Newfoundland and Labrador.

The MHA for the area, Mr. Calvin Peach had this to say in the House of Assembly a short time later:

MR. SPEAKER: The hon. the Member for the District of Bellevue.

MR. PEACH: Thank you, Mr. Speaker. I rise in this hon. House today to recognize the Mayor of Arnold’s Cove, Mr. Tom Osbourne.

MR. PEACH:

Tom was born in St. Jacques, Fortune Bay, and his family moved to Arnold’s Cove in 1968 as part of the provincial government’s resettlement program. He was first elected to municipal council in 1977, and has served thirty-two years as a council member, thirty of which he has served as mayor. He is one of the two initial founding members of the Arnold’s Cove area Chamber of Commerce in 1997, and still remains an executive member of the board of directors. He served on school council for five years, and was a leader of Scouts Canada for four years.

On April 24, 2013, I was joined by my colleague, the Member for Mount Pearl North, and their honours, the Lieutenant Governor Frank Fagan and his wife, Patricia, for Volunteer Appreciation Night. On that night, the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee Award was presented to Tom by His Honour, the Lieutenant Governor.

Mr. Speaker, I ask all hon. members of the House to join me in congratulating Tom in receiving such an award, and for thirty-six years of volunteer service.

Like many other communities in Newfoundland, it is not difficult when you travel to find someone who has roots in St. Jacques.  I am certain that there have been many occasions where Tom has been asked where he is from and his response has been, “I’m from Arnold’s Cove now but I am originally from St. Jacques, on the south coast.”

Changing times in Arnold’s Cove, The Telegram, September 14, 2013

1945 Census for Red Cove, Fortune Bay

Town of Arnold’s Cove website

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