Dust to Gold

Chapter Nine

End of War

The war dragged on – seemingly it would never end. Road work time came around again, and with the shortage of manpower, the foreman looked around for help. When his eye lit on me, he offered me the job of driving his team. This man, Joseph Howes, was one of the first homesteaders in the area. In fact, he had returned to Yorkton after building his shack, and guided the Tingleys and Lockharts up to Sheho, and across to this district in 1904. But by wartime, he had sold his land, or more likely just abandoned it, and built a livery barn in Rama. He had a heavy team of horses, his pride and joy, named Bobby and Pride, for working and draying. Then he added a light team, very fast, for taking ‘fares’ from place to place. This was the big team of Clydesdales, and he did not let just anybody handle them so it was a great honour to be asked. I jumped at the chance to earn some money, and Joe said I handled them better than the men he had previously hired. I worked all day, and in the evening was handed my wages; I do not remember how much, but it seemed a fortune to me! Joe paid me in cash – it would be taken off his taxes.

By this time, our local school had been erected, and named “Boxmoor School”, after our farm. My brother-in-law, George Churchill, was a trustee and the [39] secretary-treasurer. He gave me the job of scrubbing the floor as it had become filthy while the carpentry gang were still working on it. I walked down the mile and a half with pail and brushes, drew water from the well to heat; then down on hands and knees to scrub that big hardwood floor. I do remember the remuneration I got for that job – five dollars!, and happy I was to receive it. I doubt it would be possible to find someone to do the job now, by hand, certainly not for such a meagre sum of money. The next week, the new teacher arrived. She was brought out from rama to board with us – too late for me to attend school, as I was now eighteen years old, and the teacher was six months younger than I. But she was a friend and companion for me, and we have remained friends ever since, first by correspondence, then when she married and lived about forty miles away, we were able to visit back and forth. She still comes to see me here in Victoria about once a year.

Now at last the war drew to a close. Those who were spared to return, arrived home. Many did not. James Jolly (“Jolly Jim”) who was so well-liked, lost both legs. He married one of his nurses in England, and we did not see him again. The married men hurried home as soon as discharged, wanting to see their wives and children, get busy on the farm and put in the 1919 crop. Not my brother Cyril! He visited friends all along the way, stayed with a war-buddy and his family at Kenora Ontario, and sent us a large basket of blueberries he had picked – the first time we had seen any of those. But at last in haying time, 1919, he turned up. That winter we had some nice social times, going to concerts, debates and Grain Growers meetings in Rama School. It was nice having Cyril to drive me to these affairs. But brother Leonard was becoming restless. He was married, and had a baby daughter, born in September 1918[1]. He had a frame house built near us on the quarter section Eustace had left. Leonard never was a farmer, anyway. My parents bought the house from him, and he put up a house in Rama near the C N R depot, and operated it as a boarding-house and diningroom[2].

[40] There were not many “boarders”, but the commercial travellers, who travelled from town to town in those days, soon became aware of the fine meals served in Rama, and made a point of being there overnight to have an excellent dinner and breakfast. The train crews, also, heard it was a good place to eat. The freight trains would pull into the siding, and the whole crew come in for a meal, also B and B gangs. So business was really booming for a while, but, though a first-class cook, Len was a poor businessman. He fed his patrons too well, both in quality and quantity, so that grocery bills (even though he bought wholesale) were always a jump ahead of receipts.

My parents had Len’s previous house moved down near the loghouse, but this time on a nice knoll so there was a good, deep, dry cellar; a cement foundation poured, and the “new” house moved onto that. Then a man came from Stoneyview district to raise the roof, and put in a brick chimney! What a change – didn’t we feel grand. My parents, Cyril and I moved in, abandoning the old house which was almost falling down anyway. We were all very happy and comfortable there for a few years, but Len’s business was falling off a bit and his wife was not well, so he yearned to get back to the city where he felt she might be helped. So once again my mother came to his rescue, and with funds from her parents’ estate in England[3] (footnote 2), bought this second house from him to free him, and give him funds to start again in Winnipeg. The boarding house came into my charge to operate; sister Helena came back to help me. I did the cooking, and she took over the housework. But the boom-time came to an end soon after we took over. We had a few boarders – the C N R agent, a schoolteacher, and enough travellers to keep us busy. Cyril was on the farm without our parents. He bought the quarter section Eustace had left to Father. It was paid for by the Soldier Settlement Board (since called the V L A), and left Cyril saddled by debt for life. The money Father divided up between George Churchill and Leonard, to build their houses, while Cyril was left “holding the bag”, which goes to prove how very unfair [41] parents can be without really meaning to be so. Cyril had erected a fine large lumber-barn on his land, just across the line from our house, so house and barn were shared for a few years; then Cyril became engaged to be married to Florence Spencer of Springside, so our parents left the place to him, and moved into the boarding-house, with the addition of a room at the back for their private use. Father did many jobs about the place, also kept a horse and buggy there, so went back and forth to the farm for supplies, thus helping at both ends.

Cyril was married in Springside on December 17^th 1923. It was the twenty-sixth birthday of both him and his bride, so through the years they had this one anniversary to celebrate for the three events. Things went so badly for them on the farm, and it seemed impossible to pay back the loan to the government, that they gave up in 1930, and at the instigation of my older brother and at his urging, they moved to Lethbridge Alberta, where eventually Cyril became a mail-carrier, a job which seemed to suit him exactly, and he was very popular with the people on his routes. But they went through a very hard time before this came to pass, and he told me afterwards that many times he yeared to be back on the farm where they, at least, had enough to eat.

Among those coming to the boarding-house for a meal quite regularly was Charles Lockhart. His father had farmed the land all through the wartime, but soon after Charles’ return, Albert Lockhart returned to Toronto and resumed his old trade. He was a printer with the Ryerson Press, and stayed there until his retirement and death in 1942 or 1943. Charles’ widowed sister, Carrie Paterson, kept house for him until 1921 or ’22, then she too returned to Ontario with her three small children. So Charles started to buy his bread from us, also have his noon meal once or twice a week. One night he drove my sister and me to a concert in Boxmoor School. Helena afterwards went to Cyril’s for the night, so Charles and I drove home alone. It was a very slow journey! And on the way, Charles asked me to marry him. I accepted, and never regretted that decision in all the forty-nine wonderful years we had together. Certainly we had some hard times – who does not? But the love and happiness far outweighed any troubles or hardships.

[42] But to retrogress – one of the local boys had worked for my uncle when quite young, and he and I were childhood “pals”. While he was away in the army, we corresponded regularly, and I rather looked forward to his return to resume the friendship. But he met a girl in England, who promised to come out and marry him. I cannot say that I was broken-hearted over that, as I had never imagined myself as his wife. However, when the English girl did arrive, she did not like the prospect of being a farmer’s wife, he did not even own a farm or have a home to offer her, so she went off to the city, and worked in an office; then later on to Vancouver where she was married, and still lives. In the meantime, I went out with another returned man a few times, but with no intention of marrying him. Then a young man arrived from Leicester, England, to stay with his cousin, a neighbour of ours. I was helping my brother at the boarding house when he came off the train, and came in for a meal. He told me later that he knew right then that I was the girl he wanted to marry. He was a very personable, good-looking man, and we became engaged. He gave me a silver locket, but before the engagement was formalised with a ring, I became rather panicky about the prospect of marriage to him. I was given the chance at a summer job at a camp in Northern Ontario, so borrowed the money for the fare and went. I had a wonderful time, met very nice people, learned to swim, and had a poem printed in the camp newspaper. Then visited friends in Winnipeg on the way home, and from there wrote to Harry, telling him I could not marry him, and returned the locket. He was very bitter about it. He had lost one girl-friend before leaving England. What a blow to his pride to have it happen a second time. He left Rama, and went to Saskatoon to work in a bakery. I did not see him again.

So now I knew what, or who, I had been waiting for. The dear Lord had kept me from making a mistake, and had the very best in store for me, my dearest Charles whom I had known since I was eight years old, but never dreamed of marrying. We were married in the Churchill home on September 28^th 1924. But before telling of my married life, I had better go back, and tell more about the early days, as there is much left out that may be of interest.

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[2] Note from David and Eulene Moores: The boarding house at Rama was, as far as we are able to determine, Uncle Leonard's venture, since he was the chef (had taken a course in cooking). The boarding house was across the road from the C.N.R. (Canadian National Railway) Station, and he was well acquainted with the train-men. (At some point, Uncle Len was also cooking, Margaret Platt thinks, on the C.N.R. trains out of Edmonton.) We do not know when Grandpa took over the boarding house, but we have a picture of it with them, Irene Moores and Lillian Churchill at about age 8 1/2 or 9, and Aunt Helena and Aunt Olive. We have determined that the picture would have been taken about 1927 after Uncle Len had gone to Lethbridge. Margaret Platt remembers visiting, in 1927, the Prince of Wales Hotel at Waterton Lakes where Uncle Len had worked as chef at its opening in 1913. Waterton Lakes is a Rocky Mountain Resort town not far from Lethbridge. Margaret has historical books from the Hotel in which Uncle Len is mentioned. Also, she has a treasured photo of the American owner of the hotel with herself at age 6 (b.1921) in front of the fireplace. Because Cyril and Flossie were not doing well on the farm, Uncle Len persuaded them to come to Lethbridge where Dad was able to find some work and, of course, eventually became a mail carrier, which occupation suited him extremely well. He is still fondly remembered by some of the people who were on his route.