a story
A story, part 19 – Pictures and a bit of history
Published in 1992, I have a copy of the history of Harrow and Colchester South. My Grandfather is listed as a member of Town Council starting in 1934, at the age of 30.
The short write-up says:
William Murdoch came to Harrow as a 21-year-old English immigrant in 1924. He worked as a farm laborer until he started his own Harrow egg business. He and his wife Marie, raised four children. Active membership in church, lodge, school board, town council and literary society made Murdoch an articulate public speaker. In 1943 he was elected Progressive Conservative Member of the Ontario Legislature where he represented Essex South for 20 years. He served under Premiers George Drew and Leslie Frost, and was chosen Speaker of the Legislature.
He worked on the Affleck farm, I know he lived with them for a time. They had chickens and he must have learned that business from the Affleck family.
He opened and operated an egg processing and distribution business which my father worked at and took over until my father retired in about the mid 1980’s.
My Grandfather is listed as a member of Town Council starting in 1934, at the age of 30 until 1940. He was instrumental in bringing water to the Town of Harrow in 1958. He was also a charter member of the Harrow Rotary Club in 1937. I think he was the Grand Mason in this area for a time. The main street in Colchester is named after him, as well as a street in Harrow.
Here are a few pictures of my Grandfather, William Murdoch, given the title ‘Right Honorable’ after his position as Speaker of the Ontario Legislature.
My mom still has the picture given to my Grandfather from parliament (I believe that one still hangs in Toronto in the Legislature). We’re looking into having it donated to a local historical society.
Meeting the King and Queen. A lot of people met the King and Queen as they visited this area a couple of times during his years of service. I know that my grandmother had some private time with the Queen in Niagara falls (the Queen was the first to ‘turn the lights’ on at the Falls and my grandmother was the 2nd), and there are several more pictures of meetings, but this is the only one I have on hand.
It looks like my grandmother has a tattoo on her lower leg – believe me, she didn’t!
It feels good to have this bit of history completed and ‘out there’. Although it does make me a bit sad when I look through all the pictures I have and realize that I may be the only one who cares about the history of our family.
A story, part 18 – the final part
This is the last page of my grandfather’s (incomplete) memoir – I think there is one short story in the file that I will dig up eventually, and I still hope to post some pics soon. For those of you (four) who don’t know… My paternal grandfather wrote these thoughts at the age of 70 in 1974. He is currently aboard the Scythia traveling to Canada from his home in Barrow in Furnace, England at the age of 20… reflecting on his youth. It’s tagged as ‘a story’ if anyone wants to read the entire memoir. Noteworthy is that this last page is spaced differently and there are several spelling mistakes and typos… strange.
My thoughts were carried back to Barrow, where I sang in the choir as a boy, and the service game me a great lift, restoring my confidence and enthusiasm in the purpose of the journey. After the service ended, while I was walking around the deck, the fact that we were nearing the end of the voyage seemed to be creating a feeling of anxiousness among the passengers, something to be felt rather than explained. Groups were gathered together in spirited discussion and moving quickly to the rail if anyone spotted a school of porpoise, jumping out of the water as though to see what was happening on the surface. Everyone was walking and talking at a quicker pace.
Our approximate landing time, and instructions for disembarking had been posted on the various bulletin boards in the morning and passengers were looking anxiously for the first sight of land. They were actually over-anxious, as land was not sighted until the next day. During the night we could feel that the ship’s engines had been cut back considerably, and in the morning everyone was hurrying at breakfast, to get up on deck. Very little could be seen however, as we were enveloped in a dense fog, and the ship’s fog horn was sounding continuously. We were all crowding the forward rail, straining our eyes; and our efforts were soon rewarded. Out of the mist we could see a dull outline as it appeared to rise slowly out of the water and mist. True enough it was land at last, on the seventh day which had a biblical significance. It was not long before the passengers were out on dry land, solid land which did not move, claiming their luggage.
We were all in a great hurry to leave the ship, pushing and shoving, then walking the short distance to the railway station where the train was waiting. This train would take us to our final destination in the western wheat fields where the labours would commence. On the over, we were serenaded bu a group of about twelve young negroes, who were playing an assortment of musical instruments, and singing well-known songs which were popular at that time. I remember only two, ‘Barney Google and his GOO Goo GOogly Eyes’ and ‘Yes, We Have No Bananas’. This welcome raised our spirits and put us in a good mood for our next journey, on land as a change from the sea. The engineer kept blowing the whistle, in a manner which suggested that he was in a hurry and would like to get going. We gave him great encouragement, quickening our steps, and we were soon on the way. With a few more frantic toots from the engineer, the train was packed full of men, and we began to move from the station.
That’s it.
I wish I had more. I wish I knew exactly how he came to Southern Ontario. Hm.
I wonder why he stopped with the sea journey. I would really have liked to read about his travel to and work in Western Canada (or the Prairies). Maybe he became frustrated with typing. Perhaps my grandmother critizised his writing. I can see her disapproving of the mention of alcohol and gambling, encouraging him to add more about church. I’ll never have answers to these questions, but am grateful to have what he did write.
A story, part 18
The soon to be ending adventures of my paternal grandfather who wrote a short (and incomplete me thinks) memoir at the age of 70 in 1974. He is currently aboard the Scythia traveling to Canada from his home in Barrow in Furnace, England at the age of 20… reflecting on his youth. The story is nearly finished, which is probably why I haven’t posted since early October – I really don’t want it to end… it’s tagged under ‘a story’ if anyone wants more background…
I thought about my school days when I was very active, playing soccer, with plenty of swimming in the salt sea water. I also belonged to a temperance group, not of my own choice, but as a part of my parental guidance programme. This juvenile group was known as ‘The Band of Hope’, and we all quite innocently pledged that we would never imbibe in the demon rum or any other alcoholic beverage, as long as we lived. I was also a member of the Baden Power Scout Group of Boy Scouts and a chorister in St. George’s church choir. Piano lessons were thrown in for good measure.
I also remember that is was about this time, near the end of the war, I had my appendix removed. I had suffered pains in what I thought was my stomach on many different occasions which our doctor diagnosed as pleurisy and he prescribed rest with the application of heat. When I had a later attack, he had by this time joined the armed forces and we had a different doctor who said it was my appendix, and he ordered me into the hospital. This doctor must have been right as I had no more pains after the operation. When I was thirteen and in my last year at school, we were marched once a week to the indoor pool, towel and swimming suit under arm, and taught how to swim, although I could already swim reasonably well. We were also marched once a week to the central handicraft school where we were taught to use the hammer, saw, plane, chisel, square and compass, and with these tools we made models out of wood. I remember the first model was a one foot ruler, the second was a tee square, and then on to the more difficult model of a railway signal.
During the time I was sitting on the deck in the sun and breeze, alone with my thoughts, Pat was getting to know men of his own age, and I think he was addicted to the game of crown and anchor. He mentioned a few incidents of the officers breaking up several games. I was quite content to have these periods to myself, and it amazed me how fast the thoughts can fly through the mind. We can think about the good times and the bad, and remember our deepest anxieties about things which never did actually happen.
Although I was enjoying life on shipboard, I knew it was only a passing phase and I became anxious to get my feet on to solid land which would bring me closer to my main objective. Towards the end of the voyage I was greatly impressed by the Sunday service of worship when the captain, resplendent in his gold braids and decorations, assumed the role of clergyman, and a few members of the ship’s orchestra played their band instruments. It was held in the ballroom and it surprised me how well everyone joined in the singing, with so much feeling and volume.
That’s it for today – only one more part left, and I’m certain that one page won’t tell me how he came to Southern Ontario. I know for certain that my grandfather broke his temperance promise, as he apparently had a well stocked liquor cabinet which my grandmother was embarrassed about, and made him hid it in a cubby hole above the stairs to the basement in the Amherstburg home. Ha! I think he always attended church and continued through his life to be a great lover of music, playing for us nearly every Sunday and always at Christmastime. He died when I was about 10 and had advanced Alzheimer’s so I really never knew him (to be well) at all.
Maybe I’ll dig up some pics to post next time or soon.
A story, part 17
The continuing adventures of my paternal grandfather, as he recorded in 1974 at the age of 70.
My early days in Leeds, Yorkshire, where I was born, I remember waiting on the school steps for my older brother Alex, before I was old enough to attend. I recall the time that I was with him when I found a two-shilling piece, and the decision was made to buy a new jug for my mother. The one we were using had a small chip out of the spout and did not pour properly without using extreme care. We had to walk some distance to get home and I nursed the jug very carefully all the way. When I got to our front door I was so nervous with haste and excitement that I banged the jug into the door and broke the spout. It was now just as useless as if it had a hole in the bottom. I remembered the way the two of us used to walk to visit our two aunts on Saturdays. At Aunt Edith’s, Alex used to clean the windows and I cleaned the silverware, for which we received a small welcomed remuneration. Also the walks through the woods on Sundays with the family, picking primroses and bluebells. Although I do not recall the actual incident myself, I later heard my father say many times, that on one of our walks someone handed me a small trumpet for a moment, and all the way home I kept crying, ‘I wanna trumpet, I wanna trumpet.’ I never did have one, but I did get piano lessons later. I remembered my grandmother and the exciting stories she told me about India, where she spent many years of her life as the wife of an army man, who was then deceased. I remember asking on many occasions just what the brass plate meant on her front door, with the words, ‘Certified Midwife,’ but I did not get the answer until several years later. I was told that when my grandfather died, the authorities trained my grandmother to be some kind of nurse. There were many gaps in my memory at this time, as I do not remember anything about our move to Barrow, until I first went to school there.
Barrow-in-Furness was strictly an industrial town situated on the west coast of England about eighty miles north of Liverpool an across the Irish Sea from Belfast in Ireland. The production of steel from ore which was imported from Spain, and shipbuilding were the major industries.
The shipyard built just about everything in ships. Cargo and passenger ships and all types of naval ships such as submarines, battleships, and battle cruisers. After the war ended Britain confiscated the German naval and merchant marine ships which resulted in severe unemployment in Barrow. Fortunately, several naval shops were ordered by Japan and I saw Japanese people for the first time. These were the men who arrived in town in their capacity as inspectors and they must have done their work well, as is evidenced by the fact that Japan leads the whole world in shipbuilding tonnage.
I remembered that during the war, a huge building was erected adjacent to the shipyards docks, and it was a well guarded secret as to what was being built inside. When the war ended, it then became known that a huge airship had been constructed and was actually ready for testing. Great publicity was given to the day when it would be towed out to open water and given the trial run. I felt fortunate to be part of the large number of men and women who would be the first to see its ascent and take off. It was towed out alright and then we waited an extremely long time. Finally, the centre portion of the airship began to rise quite high into the air, but the two ends did not move. The centre went higher and higher while we gazed in wonderment at the peculiar sight. Then the huge dirigible collapsed and flattened out on the water, a complete failure. This must have been a severe blow to the pride of hundreds of men who had worked so hard and enthusiastically on its construction.
Only two more small parts left… I keep forgetting to ask my mom about the good luck piece my grandfather carried…
A story, part 16
The continuing adventures of my paternal Grandfather. He recorded this in 1974, at the age of 70, recalling his youth in England and travel to Canada in 1923. If you are interested in reading the entire story to date, it is tagged, ‘a story’.
I remember that while passing the office of the purser one day, I saw a sign which read, ‘To protect your valuables, deposit with the Purser’. This made me smile to myself, and my hand automatically raised to my left breast. Here in my undershirt, on the inner side, my mother had sewn a small patch pocket, complete with flap and button, and this was my private depository. My valuables consisted of one United States ten dollar bill and one gold sovereign, inscribed with the head of King George the Fifth, and dated nineteen hundred and eleven. My brother, who worked in the bank, had obtained them for me in preparation for my trip to Philadelphia.
These two items were my reserves to be used us emergency, and although I did have to use the ten dollar bill later on the train, I never had to use the sovereign. This had always been my talisman, my good luck gold piece, something very special and prized far above its intrinsic value. On several occasions I was sorely tempted to cash it for immediate spending money, but something always came along to make it unnecessary.
I was very interested in the boat drill which took place on the second day we were at seas. We were given full instructions on how to put on our life saving equipment, and given our own particular place to stand on deck to be ready to board a life boat in case of emergency. I thought about the Titanic, probably the greatest sea disaster in history, sunk after striking an iceberg in 1912, with more than fifteen hundred lives lost. It never entered my mind that a similar situation could arise with the Scythia, although the very next day I wished the ship would sink very quietly to the bottom as I was in the throes of sea sickness. I spent the most of the day in the berth, and Pat brought me some food which I could not eat. However I was on my feet again the next morning and enjoyed a good breakfast.
We have all experienced at one time of another, that while driving the car, or doing repetitious work and even when we are in church, our uncontrollable thoughts take over from the conscious mind. Sitting in the warm August sunshine and watching the waves from the deck of the Scythia, this is exactly what happened to me on many occasions during the crossing. When this happens, we readily recall in vivid detail, events and people from over a long period of time, in a matter of moments. I can recall my many friends who I left behind in England, and whose friendships were valued very highly at the time, were valued even more in retrospect. All previous activities which I had enjoyed in a high degree gained new lustre and a new significance. Staring at the endless ocean and sky, it seemed to sharpen my memory, and my thoughts skipped back to small incidents which I had temporally forgotten.
Well, this is a good place to end, as my typing skills are terrible today! Very frustrating. I’m on the desktop, but switching back and forth between it and the laptop have left my finger to brain communication fuzzy.
On Labour (spelled right, lol) Day week-end, Ancestry.com opened a few of its collections to the public. Although it was a busy week-end for us, I was able to spend some time rooting around passenger lists. I easily found my grandfather’s passenger record! Very cool. I also was able to find my mother’s family to and from Europe (her father was in the army and she lived for a short period of time in France and Germany). I searched my maternal great grandfather’s name (the apparently important dude I mentioned a while back) and in the weirdest coincidence ever discovered that he crossed the Atlantic with his new wife in April of 1956 on the Scythia! Weird! What are the odds? My parents didn’t even meet until about 1959! Ha!
Anyway, this is one thing I found online. I’m probably breaking a trillion copyrights, but oh well. 
Pretty cool eh?
On a side note, I searched and searched for William’s father’s crossing in 1952, and could not find a single thing! If you know me, then you know that it drove me crazy! I even searched for his parents’ crossings, before they dropped the ‘O’ in their last name and zip, zero zilch! ARG! I’ve heard that William’s paternal grandfather was a bit of a shady character, and I laughed out loud when I repeatedly found his name on passenger lists as a convict to Australia! I’m assured that it was not the same person – but it was pretty funny.
When ancestry.com opens their vaults again I hope to search around some more. It was really easy and quite fun (nerd). I’m planning to get a free trial membership in the winter and spend some serious time linking some family trees.
A story, part 15
It appeared that other trains had arrived earlier in the day and deposited their human cargo directly on the ship, but the outgoing tide had made it necessary to move away from the dockside. As we moved into deeper water and caught sight of the ship, Pat let out an excited yell, 'Why it's the Scythia.' he said. On taking a closer look I knew the ship immediately as it had been built in Barrow quite recently, and I had watched it grow under the huge cranes. Since Pat had helped build it, as my father had, he was almost overwhelmed by this coincidence. The gangway was lowered and we were soon on board, when we were directed to the purser who assigned us to our two berth cabin. We were later given our seating arrangements in the dining room, and found out that we were allocated to the second sitting, which Pat said was the best time, especially for breakfast, not as early as the first sitting and not as later as the third. As soon as we were settled in our cabin Pat took me for a tour of the ship, and I knew from what I saw that I was going to enjoy the seven day trip across the Atlantic very much.
If I were to choose any month of the year for an ocean voyage it would be in August, as the weather in this month is most ideal for sailing conditions. This is an event which very few people can enjoy today, as hardly any ships carrying passengers cross the Atlantic. The growing demands on our time and the ready availability of air transportation has almost eliminated this more leisurely and luxurious type of travel. our two berths in the small cabin were quite comfortable and included a porthole. The dining room was well appointed and the food of excellent high quality, and plentiful enough to challenge the most avaricious appetite.
We sailed nothward in the Irish Sea, up the Firth of Clyde and anchored in the deep water outside Greenock. A small tender made a few trips from the shore with more passengers, and we were soon on our way through the beautiful scenery of the Clyde River. Belfast was our next stop where the tender operation was repeated and we were soon on our way around the north coast of Ireland and into the wide ocean of the Atlantic.
It was a carefree and boisterous army of men, English, Irish and Scotch, with many different dialects, about seven hundred strong, all prepared to tackle a new and unknown adventure in the Canadian west. At various times as I looked over their faces, I wondered just what kind of homes they came from and about those they had left behind, which always rekindled my own thought of those I had left behind in Barrow.
There was always great activity on deck such as quoits, shuffleboard and deck tennis. Below deck in the spacious lounges there were always groups playing checkers, dominoes, some chess, along with all the well known cards games. The most interesting game however, was one which was played in many parts of the ship and moved from place as the occasion demanded. This was the well known gambling game of crown and anchor, which was illegal by the ship's rules. My assessment of the game was that a square piece of cloth was pulled out of the operator's pocket and placed on the floor, which soon attracted a small group of players. An accomplice acted as a lookout, and when an officer approached the warning was given, everyone picked up his money, and the operator stuffed the cloth back into his picket, then someone started an argument to confuse the officer. I never saw anyone arrested or taken to the captain, and concluded that while the game might have been declared illegal, it was not particularly banned on this ship.
When this was written in 1974, cruise lines as we know today didn't exist… along with the advances in technology, I wonder if my grandfather would marvel over today's cruise industry – the activities available on today's cruise lines; the excursions available, abundance of balconies, legal gambling, Broadway style shows, low prices, exotic itineraries… I guess it's funny that he enjoyed this mode of travel so much, as William and I love cruises more than any other type of vacation, and have been on 4 together in the last 9 years…
It's interesting for me to know that he sailed on the Scythia , whose maiden voyage was in 1921… (I believe my grandfather's trip was in 1922 – I did think it was 1923, but I can't find that the Scythia made that sailing in 1923…). On ancestry.com there is a recorded passenger with the same name as my grandfather, but of course I'm not a member so I can't access the document… I was thinking of getting the 'free' trial membership sometime in the winter when I'll have tons of time to look over records and the like.
There are only about 2 parts left… I'm still hopeful that I'll find out how he made it to Southern Ontario… we'll see I guess.
A story, part 13
We were at the station in good time the next morning and I was sitting in the coach with my brand new suitcase, well decorated with travel stickers, and containing everything I would need for a journey of five thousand miles by sea and by land. Mother and dad were on the platform, anxious looks on their faces, and I did not feel as joyful as I did previously, it was actually a very sad departure.
Very soon a well built, middle aged man pushed his way into the compartment, quite red in the face and puffing a little, carrying two suit cases. There were marked with stickers the same as mine, and without a word between us we soon had both our heads leaning out of the window. As the train pulled out he waved to his wife as I was waving to my parents, and as we left the station he sat down on one side and I sat down facing him. For quite a long time neither of us spoke. My companion in the opposite seat brought out a package of cigarettes and offered one to me which I politely declined. He asked me my name and told me his was Pat Clarke. I told him I played football with a Pat Clarke, an apprentice butcher, and he went on to tell me Pat was his son. From this point on there was no further restraint and we entered into a lively conversation. He mentioned that he had been employed as a shipwright for many years, but had been unemployed for the past several months, and would try to obtain similar types of work in Canada. I related my reasons for leaving Barrow, and from then on we were as close as if we'd known each other for years. I was already thinking that I was off to a good start in my chance association with Pat Clarke. He insisted that I called him Pat and and not Mr. Clarke as I had first addressed him.
The train rattled on through the luscious countryside and we occasionally caught glimpses of the Irish Sea. The blue water entranced me as it reminded me of the many happy summer months I had spend at Roosebeck, and made me wonder how long it would be before I would be there again.
How quickly we can re-capture in a few moments, pleasant thoughts of the past.
I thought of Bill Dall who I considered my closest friend. He was the organizer, the supplier, the acknowledged brains of our group, and could always be relied upon when the chips were down. With his location at his father's store in the centre of the town, he was the main cog in all our activities, and passed our messages and plans to all others. He was an expert on the running repairs of all types of vehicles, and knew every highway and byway in the area. I was thinking how much I would miss Bill, when my thoughts we cut off sharply by Pat Clarke telling me we were coming into Lancaster. I looked out of the window and noticed a group of about twelve men standing on the platform with suitcases in their hands, and I could tell at a glance that they were heading for Liverpool and Canada. They were accompanied by a host of friends and relatives, and as the train pulled out there was the same frantic waving as long as the eye could see. The next stop was Preston, where a much larger group joined us, and I began to wonder what circumstances and conditions prompted so many to undertake this long and perhaps hazardous journey to Canada and the wheat fields of the west. Most of them seemed to be much older than I was, and I was very glad to be travelling and almost fathered by an older man, who seemed to know his was around.
On out way into Liverpool we passed the Mersey docks stretching along the River Mersey for a distance of about seven miles, which is a great sight, full of ships of all shapes and sizes. Pat told me that freight was landed in Liverpool from all parts of the world and destined to the Midlands, northern England and parts of Scotland, and that cloth of all types, metal wares, machinery and chemicals were only a few of the many goods which would be loaded on the outgoing ships. On leaving the train we were directed by two steamship officials to the nearby dock where a small tender was tied up, which would take us into deeper water where out ship was anchored.
That's it for today – it's hard to stop typing and reading.. I'm finding this very interesting… I think the year was 1923, so my Grandfather would have been either 18 or 19 at the time of his journey.
A story, part 12
When I mentioned my thoughts to Mr. Linton he was very much surprised, but we had quite a chat and he thought there was some merit in the anticipated move. He told me at this time he had always appreciated my work and my presence, and would have kept me on except for the difficulty of George and the current economic situation in Barrow, with the shipyard practically closed down. He surprised me very much when he offered to assist me with my fare. When I informed my parents of Mr. Linton's generous offer they seemed elated at his support and it was not long before they too began to see the situation from my point of view. I visited the shipping office, made the down payment which my parents supplied, filled in all the necessary forms, and was told that I would have to wait until the quota would allow me entry to the States. A short time later I obtained my passport, and I was intrigued by this valuable document. It was signed by Lord Curzon and along with the family crest there was printed the family mottoe, 'Let Curzon hold what Curzon held.'
My father's comment on this was that this type of thinking would change when a labour government came to power. For my part, I didn't care which party came to power, all I knew was that my doubts and forebodings of the past few weeks about the immediate future, were now dispelled. I now had a definite course to follow, and a destination. It never entered my mind that the situation in Philadelphia might be no better than it was in Barrow. I was quite happy in telling my friends I was going to America, and my dad and mother became more interested, even enthusiastic. A dance was held on my behalf, and this farewell dance set me wondering if I was really doing the right thing. I was among good people, there were scores and scores of them and I sometimes felt quite sad realizing I might never see any of them again. When I had difficulties, disappointments or even illness I had already developed a philosophy of telling myself that it could have been much worse, then visualize a situation when it would have been ten times more serious and alarming. So at this time I adopted the attitude that nothing I did would have to be for ever, and that I could always retrace my steps at a later time, if I thought it necessary.
On one of my many visits to the steamship office I noticed a striking poster in the front window the the large red letters, 'Harvest excursion to Canada, low fare.' When I asked for more information I was told that a ship was leaving Liverpool the following week and the total fare would be amply covered by my deposit, as this particular sailing was subsidized by the Canadian government. It was also mentioned to me that sixty days work was guaranteed at $5.00 per day along with a return passage for $75.00. After doing some mental arithmetic I figured this was a real bargain as I could take this trip and come back again, and be no worse off financially.
I then asked if it would be possible to cancel my sailing to the States and go to Canada instead, and the clerk said he would have to get in touch with Liverpool and for me to come back early on the following Monday morning.
I knew however, that I might have real difficulty selling this new departure to my parents, and my main point was going to be the great saving in the fare. My father, who had a great love for the soil almost wished he was going instead of me, and my mother, after long consideration, reluctantly gave her blessing. I could hardly wait for the next few days to pass by and I mentioned to everyone I knew that I could be going to Canada very soon.
Monday morning finally arrived and I was at the steamship office shortly after nine, and I received the information that the last excursion ship would be sailing from Liverpool the very next day and that my passage was booked to go with it. I received tickets, folders and full instructions and hardly recognized my own voice at the sudden turn of events. I rushed home as fast as I could, and mother was quite bewildered when she saw all the information, and I mentioned that I would have to leave the next morning at eight a.m. from the Barrow station, she became quiet and very calm. I felt a little guilty about leaving in such haste, but mother gave me some money and said I would have to go out to buy a suitcase. When I came back she was already gathering things together which included needle and thread, a few buttons, pins, and it seemed to me a lot of little odds and ends which she thought I might need. Fortunately, I had two good suits at the time, and one went into the bag, and I would wear the other one. By the time dad came home the bag was completely packed and when he saw it and heard the news that I was leaving the next morning, he spoke so fast to mother, and reverted to his old Scotch brogue, so that all I knew was that he too was completely excited as I was. I can well remember the evening when everything was quietened down and we were having a quiet but serious talk about all the dangers, temptations, and possibilities that might arise in my travels. I think it was the only time that the three of us together ever had a long quiet chat, and the first time that I felt we were three adults, instead of parents and child.
Oh, this is good… I want to keep going, but it's already a long section, so you all will have to live with the anticipation!
Lord Curzon, (thanks wikipedia) was at the time, the foreign secretary for the British government, apparently having quite a lot to do with India, and also the armistice in 1919.
Thank goodness my grandfather had 2 good suits! What else would one wear when travelling across the ocean?
Barrow in Funace is located 46 miles of 74 kilometers from Liverpool.
Oh, the dangers and temptations!
A story, part 11
In any event my father, no doubt wishing to strengthen my belief in what he was telling me, gave me a couple of books to read. One of them was by Keir Hardy and the other by Ramsay McDonald, both Scots and both socialists. I became quite disheartened and somewhat angry with myself and the whole system, with so many families well established, all their needs well provided for, and a much greater number who almost never knew when their income would disappear. My political thinking veered away from my mother and her conservative views and towards socialistic theories propounded by my father. In was quite obvious that Britain was suffering from a severe economic depression and this prompted many families to migrate, mainly to the United States and Canada, but also to Australia.
A short time later I had to visit a neighbouring dentist to exchange some teeth. We had a male patient who had broken two teeth from his partial plate and when his denture was made, the teeth were selected to match his own quite yellow teeth and we did not have the exact shade to match. It was while talking to Harold Thurston, the apprentice there, that I learned he was going to an aunt and uncle in Philadelphia as soon as his apprenticeship was completed, which would be in a few weeks. I mentioned that I had nothing definite in view, and he immediately invited me to join him in Philadelphia, as he was quite sure we could both do very well there, and further assured me that his aunt and uncle would be glad to look after me until I was properly settled. The possibility of going to the States completely stunned me at first, but the more I thought about it, and after asking Harold many more questions, it slowly seeped into my head that this was indeed worth further investigation. I nursed this information for a time before broaching the subject to my parents, and when I had summoned sufficient courage, I let them know what was passing through my mind. If I had told them that I was contemplating going to the moon the reaction could not have been worse. Impossible, far too young, no experience in the adult world, how could I even entertain such a hare brained idea. In my defense I mentioned that if the war had not ended I would be in the army by now, and I was lucky to have escaped that more hazardous journey.
I think I'll stop here… like I've mentioned several times, I have not read this section any further than what I have just typed, and I think this is obviously a major turning point in my grandfather's life and his story of how he came to Canada… southern Ontario more specifically.
A story, part 10
No, I'm not making this up – this is my paternal grandfather's story as he recorded in 1974, reflecting on his teenage years in Barrow in Furnace, England around the end of World War I.
By this time I had paid Mr. Dall the necessary installments on the bike, and since I was relieved of this expense I purchased a ukulele which was quite a popular instrument at that time. I soon learned to play and it helped out a great deal in passing the time at Roosebeck, and between the visitors and neighboring campers, we had plenty of lively singing. It was surprising how little money we spent as we obtained groceries from our homes, and Bill and the store were a big help in repairing our bikes. The bus was always kept in petrol by the Dall store. None of us smoked after the initial attempts and drinking was unthought of, so there seemed little need for money. It appeared that supply and demand worked out very well, and we were learning to live within our rather meagre incomes. More important than this we were learning how to get along with our friends, our employers, and our customers in the work we were doing, all a matter of growing up.
On the last day of the year 1922 we all attended a dance at Rampside, an area of scattered homes on the coast between Barrow and Roosebeck, where there was a good hall for this purpose. I had never experienced such an enjoyable evening and everyone agreed it was the best dance ever. For me, it was my first New Year's Eve party, which was highlighted by the attendance of a first class orchestra and party favours. It was also the first time I was allowed to stay out until after ten o'clock. The fact that we were all in our later teens and well known to each other, as well as the type of programme which mixed all of us up with everyone else, made it an outstanding event. I think the fact that we all realized we were approaching heavier responsibilities, perhaps moving away, affected our spirits. This seemed to be a unanimous feeling, as we all solemnly agreed to come back to Rampside for the next New Year in 1923. Little did I realize how impossible it would be do this, although I learned later that nearly everyone else did come back, and for many years later.
I was now in the final year of my apprenticeship and my situation with Mr. Linton was beginning to change. It was at this time I learned that he had a brother in law working with him before I started, and after his discharge from the army he obtained a position as a dental technician in another city. Economic conditions in England were extremely depressed at this time and George landed back in Barrow without a job. I think this was the first time I learned from first hand experience that blood is thicker than water, because George was soon deposited in our little lab., and our happy twosome soon developed into a much less happy threesome as far as I was concerned. Our work room was too small for three people, there were arguments between George and Mr. Linton and George soon took over the work he preferred, leaving me the less desirable tasks.
There was a complete change in the whole atmosphere and I lost my former interest and enthusiasm. Mr. Linton must have realized that my situation was more difficult than formerly, or perhaps he was embarrassed by the frequent differences of opinion between himself and George. He suggested that since I was in my final year, I should start looking for another position. After canvassing the local dentists without any glimmer of encouragement and mentioning this to Mr. Linton, he offered me his motor bike and the time off to look further afield. Since he also had a very good car, and knowing that George was in the habit of using the motor bike I made good use of the offer. I did enjoy speeding over the highways and I covered quite a large territory, but I learned that dentists all had the same complaint, the lack of patients seeking dental attention. I also learned that the apprentice system was at the worst a complete fraud and at best a blind alley kind of job leading nowhere. My reason for this conclusion was the discovery that all the dentists I visited in Barrow and the surrounding area had apprentices but no one else. The system appeared to be to use the services of an apprentice and then let him go in order to engage a new apprentice. Since I knew that all the apprentices at the shipyard were always employed as improvers at a higher rate of pay by the shipyard for a further period of two years, and then absorbed into the regular work force at full pay. I was quite disturbed to find myself in a less favourable position. This prompted me to visit the Barrow library to seek further information about the system and it was quite enlightening. I found out that this type of training started thousands of years ago and became very important in the Middle Ages. At that time everything was made either in a small shop or in the home of a skilled workman. The more highly skilled were called the master craftsmen and had several apprentices working with them. The apprentices came to the master craftsmen when they were ten or twelve years old and lived with the master and were fed by him but received no wages. They started by running errands or cleaning up around the shop, and little by little they learned the skills of the craft. My information was that the age of machinery began one hundred years ago and gradually brought to an end of the making of things by master craftsmen and almost ended the need for apprentices. I approached my father with my newly acquired knowledge but he told me not to worry about my findings and my present position, as everything was in the doldrums at that time, and would improve when a new labour government was elected. How strange it is at this time of writing for general improvements with the Trudeau majority government in Canada, as the citizens of the United States look forward to a better future with their president.
Quite the cliff hanger when mentioning New Year's 1923 eh? In 1922, my grandfather for the first time, stayed out past 10pm… he was 18… Can you imagine?!
I think it's funny he took advantage of the motor bike lent by Mr. Linton as a way to get back at George. Ha!
I don't think my grandfather would have been admiring the apprentice jobs in the shipyard, as he mentioned the decline of contracts and job loss after the end of World War I.
Trudeau was Prime Minister of Canada from 1968 to 1979, and 1980 until 1984. When my grandfather was writing this in 1974, it must have been just before the election which was called (because of no-confidence - good God our system is so different from the United States…) and although he was thought to have republican leanings, he must have been my grandfather's nemesis, as he was as conservative as one could be. When my grandfather wrote this, he obviously had no idea of the troubles to come for Canada (referendum, patriation, declining economy – price controls – , minority governments, etc.)… If you ever want a nice light afternoon read, I suggest picking up Trudeau's autobiography… it should be mandatory 3rd grade reading (but really, I liked the guy). In the states, 1974 was when Nixon was 'leaving' the presidency and Ford was coming in.
LG 