By any measure, the year 1939 was one of the most momentous of the past century. For all time, it will be associated with the outbreak of the Second World War; however, there were other happier events during that memorable year. Heres a question for readers old enough to remember: Where were you on June 13 and 14, 1939? If a sampling of local public opinion is accurate; there is a good chance you were either at the Sackville railway station on the evening of the 13th, or at Cape Tormentine the next day, catching a glimpse of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth.

More than a half century later, trans-Atlantic and trans-continental travel is commonplace. Not so in 1939. Yet even today, statistics of the royal visit are impressive. The King and Queen travelled over 10,000 miles; by train 7,706 miles in Canada, and 1,099 in the United States. Motorcades within and between towns and cities accounted for another 1,200 miles. There was also 300 miles of travel across Canadian waterways. Beyond these statistics there were the two trans-Atlantic crossings by ocean liner. Overall, it was estimated that some 12 million people in Canada and the United States came out to see the royal couple.

Locally, they travelled by rail from Moncton through Dorchester, where the sleek royal train of 12 blue and silver trimmed rail cars slowed, but did not stop. This did not prevent people from gathering at the Dorchester station where a huge bonfire greeted their Majesties. Later on, as the train left Sackville, another welcoming bonfire could be seen, off in the distance, on Beausjour Ridge.

Understandably, security for the royal visit was tight. Lee Lowerisons father, Roy, a CNR employee, was part of the security detail. Lee explained: As a trackman, it was his job to set switches and spike them. Once this was done, he had to stand guard until the royal train passed by. While at his post, the train approached slowly, and Roy was rewarded with a regal wave from Queen Elizabeth, seated in the parlour car, just a few feet from where he was standing.

On arrival in Sackville, at approximately 11 PM; it was estimated that 5,000 people were on hand. As the King and Queen stood on the observation deck at the end of the train, they were greeted by the thunderous cheers of the crowd. To add to the occasion, the Sackville Citizens Band was in attendance. As always, the press reported on the royal attire: The King was dressed in a dark business suit; while the Queen wore a blue outfit trimmed with white. Then, all too soon, the train was on its way to Cape Tormentine.

As it turned out, those who greeted their Majesties in Sackville were lucky. Overnight, the weather turned foul and the forecast for the next day predicted rain. Since the Cape Tormentine stop was to be fairly long, detailed arrangements had been worked out over the previous months. Priority was to be given to Westmorland and Cumberland County school children.

Of the 15,000 people who gathered at Cape Tormentine June 14, 1939, about were young people. Already it was a long day. Crowds started lining up at 4 oclock in the morning and school groups were expected to be in their places by 6;30. Several people described their early morning trek to the Cape. No yellow school buses then… we travelled by truck and were seated in the open on plank benches! By the time they reached their destination rain had started. Since few vehicles had tarpaulins, almost all were quite drenched.

Memories grow dim after the passage of sixty years; however, on one point, all whom I interviewed were united. They did not mind the rain or the long wait! One rcalled: There was so much going on that we were always entertained… the RCMP were everywhere; dignitaries went by in cars, airplanes were flying overhead… there was always something happening. Still another remembered Prime Minister Mackenzie King passing by.

There was also a certain amount of comic relief… one waiting group was entertained by several adults from a nameless community on the Tantramar. Most spectators, young and old alike, were prepared for rainy weather; but not these ladies. This was a royal occasion, and after some serious shopping from Eatons catalog, they were determined to show off new outfits; complete with matching pill box hats and gloves. As the minutes and hours ticked by; their carefully selected apparel became wetter… and wetter. Eventually the pill box hats resembled sodden tams or berets.

Most spectators at Cape Tormentine were rewarded with a clear view of the King and Queen. At 9:30 the royal train slowly backed up the full length of the viewing area. This time the press reported: His Majesty was in naval uniform and the Queen was wearing a blue ensemble trimmed with fur. Suddenly, out from safekeeping came thousands of flags and the cheering did not stop until the royal couple went on board HMCS Skeena. Their Majesties then began the next lap of their tour; crossing the Northumberland Strait to Charlottetown. Enroute they were escorted by three RCAF aircraft. The latter thrilled the Cape Tormentine crowd with a flypast just before heading east across the Strait. One informant recalled: I remember the event as if it were yesterday.

The most remarkable footnote to this Flashback is that Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, continues to fulfill the occasional royal engagement. Born in 1900, Elizabeth Bowes-Lyons pace is slower now. Aided by a walker or motorized chair, she still undertakes those famous walkabouts. Back in 1939, her popularity earned the media nickname: the Queen of Hearts. In 1999, the Queen Mother remains the most popular member of the House of Windsor. It all began on a Canadian tour, sixty years ago.

Many people helped write this Flashback. Following the visit of Princess Anne to New Brunswick in 1998, I began receiving reminiscences of other royal tours and particukarly that of 1939. Thanks to all who provided me with firsthand information. Keep the calls, letters and e-mails coming!

A century ago last month, Canada was in the midst of a federal election. First elected in 1896, the Liberal government of Sir Wilfrid Laurier was seeking a second term. Election day was Nov. 4, 1900. The Conservatives were led by Sir Charles Tupper, the last living Father of Confederation. Now that the 2000 campaign is over, lets take a brief look at the electoral history of this area.

Canada in 1900 was a very different country from today. There were but seven provinces with a population of about 5,300,000. New Brunswickers accounted for 330,000 of the total and sent 14 MPs to Ottawa. One of the contrasts with 2000, was the presence of only two political parties; Liberal and Conservative. Both were contesting the 213 seats in the House of Commons. Public opinion polls were then unknown. Nor were there any photo-ops, sound bites or focus groups!

The Tantramar region formed part of the constituency of Westmorland, which was defined by the county boundaries. From the early 1970s onward it was renamed Westmorland-Kent and covered the two counties. Moncton was not to become a separate riding until later. Presently known as Beausejour-Petitcodiac it now includes Westmorland County, (excluding Moncton, Riverview and Dieppe) along with Kent and Albert Counties.

The lifestyle of 1900 provides another stark contrast. Electricity, mainly for lighting, had arrived in the 1890s, likewise the telephone; however, both were still in their infancy. Local transportation was provided by horse and buggy. Radio, television and the Internet along with present day labor saving devices were uheard of. On the positive side, the Intercolonial Railway could be counted on for longer trips to, lets say Saint John or Boston. A two cent stamp would carry a post card from Sackville to Amherst and see it delivered the same day. Try that in 2000!

Obviously, any means of mass communication was limited in 1900. Newspapers provided the main source of information. The best that could be expected was a story printed one day after the event. Most towns and cities had two newspapers; for example, the Moncton Times and its competitor the Moncton Transcript. This carried over to weeklies which also tended to come in pairs, as witness the Sackville Tribune and its arch rival the Sackville Post.

Negative advertising, so characteristic of the 2000 campaign was unheard of; but partisan newspapers compensated for their absence. Modern political advertising pales in comparison with the impassioned reporting, fiery editorials and brutally frank cartoons of 1900. Another major difference was the limited franchise; women were not to receive the vote until well into the new century.

The best description of early 20th century Canadian politics was written by humorist Stephen Leacock. By profession a mild and mellow Professor of Economics at McGill, he was, at the same time a satirist of all things Canadian. One of his best sketches dissected a federal election campaign in his mythical Missinaba County.

Heres how Leacock portrayed the setting: The division between the Liberals and Conservatives was intense. Yet you might live for a long time in Mariposa, [capital of the county] between elections, and not know it. There were two dentists, one for each party You soon realized that the two newspapers supported opposite parties. There was a Liberal drugstore and a Conservative one.

He went on: Around election time, the Mariposa House was the Liberal hotel, and the Continental was Conservative. Even Mr. Golgatha Gingham, the sole undertaker was, as the natural effect of his calling Liberal, but at election time he always employed a special assistant for embalming Conservatives.

To return to Westmorland in 1900. The decision of Prime Minister Laurier to call a federal election was no surprise. All summer long, local newspapers attempted to place their political party in the best possible light. Seemingly no hint of gossip or possible sign of scandal was left uncovered. In particular, there were whispered rumours concerning two political appointments. There was a New Brunswick vacancy in the Senate and another on the Supreme Court. Would these be filled before the election? Speculation was rife.

The name that surfaced most often was that of Hon. Henry R. Emmerson, Premier of New Brunswick and MLA for Albert County. A Dorchester lawyer with strong ties in Westmorland, could he be lured to federal politics? If so where would he run? Would he be named to the Senate? Would he accept a judgeship? His possible move to federal politics was supported strongly by the Liberal press and questioned by Conservative newspapers. By July, 1900 the latter had reached a firm conclusion that Emmerson would soon accept an appointment to the Supreme Court. How wrong they were.

In order to understand this political speculation, its necessary to sketch the voting history of the riding. Since the defeat of Liberal Sir Albert Smith in 1878, Westmorland had become a federal Conservative stronghold. From 1882 until 1895 it was represented by Sackvilles Josiah Wood. A wealthy lawyer and merchant, he won three consecutive elections, but resigned from the House of Commons in 1895 to accept a seat in the Senate. Later, in 1912 Wood was named lieutenant governor of New Brunswick. In the by-election held Aug. 24, 1895 the Conservative hold continued with the election of Henry Powell. Also a lawyer, he had practiced in both Sackville and Saint John. Re-elected in the general election of 1896, Powell would soon be nominated as the Conservative candidate.

All was quiet in the Liberal camp until Aug. 31, 1900, when the dramatic announcement came that Premier Emmerson had tendered his resignation. He also declared his intent to seek the Liberal nomination in Westmorland. One consideration in this decision was the possibility that the provinces representative in the federal cabinet, Hon. Andrew G. Blair, might soon retire. Blair, by coincidence, had also been Premier before entering federal politics. In the election of 1900 the results in Westmorland were as follows: Emmerson 4,420; Powell 3,734. Westmorland returned to the Liberal fold where it would remain until 1925.

Eventually, Emmerson succeeded Blair as Minister of Railways and Canals in the Laurier cabinet, resigning from this post in 1907. He was re-elected in the federal elections of 1904, 1908 and 1911 and died July 9, 1914 at Dorchester.

In the years since then, the constituency has been represented by 14 MPs. Of these, a number have had strong roots in the Tantramar region. Emmersons immediate successor was Hon. Arthur B. Copp a native of Jolicure. A lawyer, he was a graduate of Mount Allison and Dalhousie Universities and had established a law practice in Sackville. Elected to the House of Commons in a by-election Feb. 1, 1915, he was returned in 1917 and 1921. From 1921 until 1925 Copp served as Secretary of State in the administration of Prime Minister Mackenzie King. Named a Senator in 1925, Copp died Dec. 5, 1949.

The Conservatives held the constituency for a decade after 1925, when MP Dr. O. B. Price of Moncton, was defeated by H. R. Emmerson Jr., son of Hon. Henry Emmerson Sr. The latter was born in Dorchester, and had served overseas in World War I. Westmorland was his from 1935 to 1949. He did not reoffer in the federal election of that year, in order to accept a seat in the Senate. Emmersons successor was Major E. W. George, a farmer from Upper Sackville. During World War II George saw service on the battlefields of North Africa, Italy and Northwest Europe. He retired from politics in 1953.

More recently, from 1972 to 1984 the newly named constituency of Westmorland-Kent elected as its MP, Rt. Hon. Romeo LeBlanc. A native of LAnse-aux-Cormier near Memramcook, he served in a number of federal cabinet posts including Fisheries and Public Works. In 1984 he became a Senator and was named Speaker of the Senate in 1993. From 1995 to 1999 LeBlanc was Governor General of Canada, the first Atlantic Canadian to hold this office.

Fernand Robichaud followed LeBlanc as member for Westmorland-Kent. Re-elected in 1988, he stepped aside for the period 199093 to enable Rt. Hon. Jean Chretien, federal Liberal leader, to enter the House of Commons. Robichaud was re-elected in 1993 and became a member of the Senate in 1997. In the general election of that year Angela Vatour took the seat for the NDP. By this time it was known as Beausejour-Petitcodiac. She later joined the Progressive Conservative caucus.

Since this Flashback is being written well in advance of the federal election of Nov. 27, 2000, readers will have to fill in the most recent results for themselves. There is only one certain conclusion to be drawn from the electoral history of Westmorland. Being an MP for this constituency, greatly increases the odds of being named a Senator!

As the old year draws to a close, it is clear that Yorkshire 2000 marked a significant milestone on the Tantramar. Not only did the celebrations focus attention on the arrival of Yorkshire settlers in 1771–75; an opportunity was provided to review an important episode in local history.

High on any list of Yorkshire legacies was the introduction of Methodism. The majority of Yorkshire immigrants were staunch followers of its founder John Wesley. Not long after their arrival they began the building of chapels. The first was erected at Point de Bute in 1788; followed by Middle Sackville in 1790.

One surviving object from the latter chapel, is a splendid branched candelabra . For many years it was largely forgotten, tucked away in an Upper Sackville barn. In 1975 the candelabra was rescued and painstakingly restored by the late Lindsay Smith. Today, this reminder of early Methodist roots occupies a place of honour in the sanctuary of Sackville United Church. Each Christmas Eve its candlelight glows, adding interest and meaning to the midnight service.

However, candles have a much greater significance than the mere provision of light. The religious use of candles, so much a part of todays seasonal celebrations, may be traced to the beginning of Christianity. Over time candles became symbolic of Christ, the Light of the World, and thus a central part of the Christmas ritual. The season of Advent has inspired the lighting, on successive Sundays, of four special candles. In turn, these represent: hope, peace, joy and love. Later in the Christian calendar, Candlemas Day, a time for the blessing of candles, is celebrated in many churches. It falls on Feb. 2nd., forty days after Christmas.

What type of candles were used in the candelabra when it hung in the Methodist Chapel at Middle Sackville? The answer is provided in: Tamped Clay And Saltmarsh Hay by Cunnningham and Prince. After pointing out that paraffin wax was not available until 1870, they suggest that properly prepared tallow was commonly used; with beeswax and bayberry wax as possible alternatives. Wax made from bayberries was prized because when burned it had a pleasant, piney odour. Since bayberry shrubs were not plentiful on the Isthmus of Chignecto, these candles were reserved for special occasions such as Christmas.

In a recent conversation, Helen Walton recalled early twentieth century Christmas celebrations in Port Elgin. Many of her reminiscences centered around the Candles of Christmas. The tree did not go up until the afternoon of December 24th. My mother was responsible for decorating the metal candle holders went on first. The candles were of different colours and had been made in a twisty mould. Each one was carefully placed so that the flame would not touch the branches. Sparklers went on next and then ropes of stringed popcorn and cranberries. One special decoration consisted of cheese cloth bags tied with ribbon and containing barley candies there was one for each member of the family and a few extras for visitors.

Christmas morning featured the stockings that had been mysteriously filled by Santa Claus the previous night. Helen remembered: There was always a piece of my mothers special raison bread on top. You could count on the toe of the stocking being filled with an orange. This was a special treat, as oranges were scarce in those days. The main feature of Chrismas Day came in late afternoon, when it was time to light the tree. Candles and sparklers were carefully lit and then we stood back in awe and admired the spectacle all too soon it was over.

In the 1920s and 30s the Christmas season was much shorter than today. In the one room rural schools, serious preparations did not begin until after the first of December. Then practise started for the Christmas concert. Gradually, as the date approached, regular classes were suspended and each pupil was given a special task. It might be rehearsing for a drill, dialogue or recitation. Others were preparing decorations for the tree. A few days before the great event, the older boys would go to a nearby woodlot and bring back a Christmas tree along with boughs for trimming doors and windows.

Soon the tree would be decorated in the manner already described by Helen. Following the concert, candles were lighted. As a precautionary measure, a bucket of water or sand was placed nearby just in case. Then Santa Claus arrived and presents were distributed. Once he had disappeared, the candles would be carefully blown out and removed. Another Christmas Concert was had ended.

The Candles of Christmas were much in evidence in a recent event held under sponsorship of the Westmorland Historical Society a members potluck supper at Keillor House in Dorchester. Such an historic home is worth visiting in any season; however, it is never seen to better advantage than at this time of the year. A cheery fireplace fire, hot mulled cider, festive food and good fellowship took on added meaning as dusk fell, and candlelight bathed the house in soft tones. It was easy to drift back, by way of imagination, to the first Keillor House Christmas in 1813.

Another Westmorland Historical Society event, a Christmas Carol Service, rotates among historic churches throughout the County. Appropriately this year, it took place on Dec. 17 in Dorchester United Church. Originally a Methodist congregation, its roots go back to the first Yorkshire settlers in the area. The claim has been made that music was the soul of Methodism; accordingly, hymns composed by Charles Wesley became a natural focal point. A rousing rendition of Wesleys well known carol, Hark The Herald Angels Sing provided a most memorable climax. The President of the Westmorland Historical Society, Alice Folkins and her group of volunteers, are to be commended for their hard work in organizing these special events.

Now that Christmas 2000 celebrations are well underway, the time has come to wish all readers the Compliments of the season!

What does the word Vimy mean to you? I once put this question to a university class in Canadian Studies. At first, I was gratified that the majority could relate the word to one of the crucial battles of World War I.

Disheartening, nevertheless, was the sizable minority who did not have a clue as to the importance of Vimy — once a household word in all parts of Canada. One student’s response was that he used to have a girl friend who lived on Vimy Road in Truro, N.S.

Be assured that this individual quickly learned the reason for the naming of this street. There are more than one hundred physical features, towns, villages and streets across Canada recalling the battle of Vimy Ridge. This fact indicates the deep imprint that the event made on the Canadian people. For example, a railway siding located not far from Sackville was so named. More on this later.

As generations roll on, the events of that far-off Easter Monday, April 9, 1917, are fast receding from our national consciousness. This is unfortunate, not the least because of the heavy casualties suffered by the Canadian Army. In all, 3,598 Canadian lives were lost in this battle alone.

During the spring of 1917 military strategists developed elaborate plans for the capture of Vimy Ridge. The battle proper was preceded by a general bombardment of enemy lines. On the morning of April 9, at 5:30 a.m, in the face of a blinding sleet storm, every gun on the 20-kilometre front opened up. At the same time a series of heavy mines were exploded.

Then the First and Second Divisions of the Canadian Corps led the assault, fighting their way from the foot of the ridge to the crest which dominated the plains beyond. This was the first time that the Canadian Corps had attacked as a national unit, and their important victory was heralded as the biggest single advance on the Western Front up to that time. In the fewest possible words, this was the Battle of Vimy Ridge.

But beyond military significance, there are other reasons for recalling Vimy Ridge. What Canadian soldiers accomplished that day had great symbolic importance in establishing Canadas identity as an independent nation. To understand why, its necessary to sketch briefly Canadas position during World War I.

On Aug. 4, 1914, when Britain declared war on Germany, Canada was automatically involved. At the time the country was self governing internally; however, relations with other countries remained largely under British control. The next four years changed that situation, thakks to Canadas involvement in World War I and the diplomatic skill and determination of the then-prime minister, Sir Robert Borden.

Almost from the outbreak of war Borden encountered resistance by British authorities toward independent Canadian decision making. Canada was expected to train and send its soldiers overseas, provide munitions and supplies, and at the same time, leave overall direction and control to the mother country.

This situation can be best illustrated by an incident early in the war. Canadas Governor General was Prince Arthur, Duke of Connaught. It so happened that he held the rank of Field Marshal in the British army. As such, the prince was not above meddling in Canadian military affairs.

This activity brought him in direct conflict with Prime Minister Borden. Their clash led the latter to wryly observe: There are two types of people who should never be named Governor General; a Prince or a Field Marshal. Unfortunately, the Duke of Connaught is both. Borden was soon calling for the appointment of a Canadian as Governor General and the establishment by Canada of overseas diplomatic missions.

Although years were to pass before these two objectives were achieved, Borden can be credited with laying the foundation for Canadian control over external affairs and eventually our independent status as a nation. As casualties mounted and Canadian heroism and achievement on the battlefield became acknowledged, Borden pressed for more formal recognition of Canadas contribution to the war effort. This was partly achieved in the aftermath of Vimy Ridge. Following this victory, Canadian troops were placed for the first time under the command of a Canadian general, Sir Arthur Currie.

Borden’s hand in dealing with the prevailing British point of view was greatly strengthened by the strong performance of the Canadian army overseas. But his finest hour came at the Paris Peace Conference of 1919. Here Borden led the campaign for separate representation by Canada. He was also largely responsible for the indusion of Canada in the International Labour Organization and the League of Nations. Borden also insisted that Canada sign the Peace Treaty separately from Britain; and further that it should be ratified by the Canadian Parliament. The country was coming of age.

One of the most complete accounts of the Battle of Vimy Ridge has been written by Pierre Berton. Toward the end of his book entitled simply Vimy, he asks some probing questions: Did the achievements [mentioned above] really spring from Vimy? Or was Vimy simply a convenient symbol, a piece of shorthand. .. to stand for a complicated historical process that was probably inevitable? His answer: Does it matter? What counts is that in the minds of Canadians, Vimy took on a mythic quality… and Canada was short of myths……. The loosening of Imperial ties was accelerated by [the war] in general and by the Vimy experience in particular.

First-hand reports by those who survived the red wine of war at Vimy Ridge helped fuel this national consciousness. Many years after the event, one veteran, Fred Robichaud of Amherst, was interviewed by Dr. David Beatty. His recall of April 9, 1917 was crystal clear.

As recorded in Beattys book Vimy Pilgrimage, Robichaud remembered: I went out in the first wave. The weather that morning turned freezing cold, and the sleet which slanted down toward the German lines, blinded many German soldiers… Our battalion, the 25th Nova Scotia Rifles, captured the Turko-Gaben trench at about 7:30. By mid-morning, the wind commenced to blow and the sun broke through. We saw hundreds of gray clad German soldiers hurrying in disarray down the slopes of the other side. Our machine gunners helped hurry them along. Vimy Ridge was ours.

One reminder of the battle was the naming of Vimy Siding, located not far from Frosty Hollow, on the main railway line between Dorchester and Sackville. The siding was the site of a water tower, required in the day of steam engines. A few years later someone carved the inscription Vimy Ridge April 9, 1917 on the face of a granite boulder located at the siding. The only clue to the sculptor were the initials JOR. Eventually the replacement of steam by diesel engines eliminated the need for the siding and the monument was largely forgotten, except by a few local residents.

Some time ago, the presence of the monument was drawn to my attention by Dick McLeod. I immediately added it to my list of topics for future Flashbacks. Later, I uncovered a couple of references suggesting that the inscription was the work of German internees from the Amherst and Sackville Internment camps established during World War I.

This explanation did not ring true on several counts. First, the naming of the siding took place after the war. By this time, the Internment camp was closed. More important, it was highly uniikely that German soldiers, interned or otherwise, would commemorate a battle in which they were soundly defeated. I resolved to continue my research into this mystery and to visit the site someday.

Other priorities intervened and my visit did not take place until last summer. On Aug. 8, I received a call from Bob McLeod Would you be free to make a trip to the Vimy monument tomorrow? I jumped at the opportunity and the next day a group set out from Westcock to travel through the woods to the site of the old railway siding. We were fortunate to have Ken Campbell in the lead, as he was familiar with the territory. Dick, Bob and Charlie McLeod rounded out the expedition.

Thanks to Ken’s skill we reached our objective without difficulty. We found, in addition to the monument described above, that the area had been cleared, some park benches set up and written material on the battle posted for the benefit of visitors. Over 80 years after April 9, 1917 someone had taken the trouble to spend considerable time caring for this site deep in the woods and far from human habitation. Who was it? The mystery deepened.

On my return to Sackville I found part of the answer much more quickly than I expected. Since August 8 was a Wednesday, I picked up my copy of this newspaper. By sheer coincidence, as we had never discussed the topic, Tribune reporter Eric Collard had filed a story explaining the role of John Wightman in caring for the monument and its surroundings. It was Wightman who was responsible for the benches and the neat and tidy appearance of the area. Unfortunately, Eric was unable to uncover the identity of the sculptor “JOR”.

One should never underestimate the readership of the Sackville Tribune-Post! A week later Dave Duncan, of Hamilton, Ont., unraveled the other part of the mystery. In a letter, Dave on behalf of his father Earl Duncan, now 87 years old, was able to verify that the carving was completed by John O’Rourke. Earl worked with his father (Arthur Duncan) at the site and remembered both the monument and its sculptor. Thanks to a series of coincidences, the mystery of Vimy-in-the-Woods was now solved!

On Saturday next, Nov. 11, when we recall ALL those who made the supreme sacrifice in war and in peace-keeeping, let’s pause and remember that emotion filled word Vimy. It’s important for all Canadians.

With the last day of October comes Halloween. In common with many other special days, the celebration is centuries old. Originally, the first of November marked the beginning of the New Year for the Celts, the ancient inhabitants of Britain. It was their belief that this was a time when witches and warlocks were on the loose.

The word itself may be traced to the calendar of the Christian Church and a decree of Pope Boniface IV in the seventh century. It’s simply a shortened version of All Hallows Eve (October 31) and goes back to All Hallows or All Saints Day, which falls on November 1. Halloween with its air of mystery, its costumes and its treats is a favorite time for many children. Adults too can be caught up in the magic of the night; but unfortunately, all too often, this leads to acts of pure vandalism. There are exceptions, as today’s Flashback will prove.

In 1948 Mount Allison University offered a special meal to mark Halloween. Students were looking forward, as one person remembered: to heaping plates of chicken, mashed potatoes smothered in rich brown gravy, with a generous helping of vegetables, all to be followed by pumpkin pie a la mode.

When the day arrived in October 1948, residents of Trueman House noted more than usual activity around the dining area then located in the basement of the building. A CBC truck was parked outside and technicians were scrambling, stringing cables and wires here and there. What was going on?

When the students assembled for dinner even more changes were in evidence. Several faculty members were present, so clearly something important was going to happen. There was a microphone at the head table and two amplifiers were mounted on the wall. Just before the meal began Dr. Donald MacLauchlin, the Dean of Men, rose to make an announcement.

In an apprehensive tone of voice, Dr. MacLaughlin indicated that at 7 PM sharp, a distinguished friend of Mount Allison was scheduled to speak by way of short wave. All this was possible through the miracle of radio and the courtesy of the manager of the CBC transmitter on the Tantramar, Mr. Moe Smith. The mystery was now solved and the special Halloween dinner soon disappeared.

Shortly before seven oclock the tables were cleared, all conversation ceased and an air of expectancy filled the room. Then an announcer with a distinctly English accent spoke: This is London calling in the overseas service of the BBC. Tonight we are speaking to Sackville, New Brunswick, Canada. Are you receiving me Sackville? Just then there was a burst of static, typical of short wave reception. Immediately, one of the CBC technicians responded We hear you loud and dear, London.

Then came the voice of the English announcer: In five seconds we shall bring you the Right Honourable Winston Churchill who will speak to the students and faculty of Mount Allison University assembled for this broadcast. A short pause was followed by the unmistakable voice of Churchill, so well known to everyone in the room.

Churchill extended warm greetings to Canada and Mount Allison University. He then mentioned that he had met your distinguished President Dr. Ross Flemington, while he was Head Chaplain of the Canadian Army overseas during the war. He went on to comment on the importance of education and the extreme good fortune of the students who had the opportunity to attend this noble institution. As one of those present expressed it: we were totally awed by Churchill’s eloquence.

In concluding his remarks Churchill suggested that all assembled should rise and join him in singing the universitys alma mater song: Mount Allison so fair; beyond the marshes there, Above the peaceful scene, she sits enthroned a queen… To the surprise of almost everyone in the room, instead of the strains of the alma mater song, there came though the amplifiers the theme of a popular CBC program After Breakfast Breakdown hosted by the mischievous Max Ferguson, known affectionately as Rawhide.

For all readers under fifty, Ferguson was then at the beginning of his remarkable career in Canadian radio. A critic once commented that Fergusons imitation of Churchill was better than the old man himself The pauses, slurring of certain words and the accent were unmistakably Churchillian. Most certainly, on this occasion almost all, except those who were in the know, thought this to be a live broadcast.

The evening concluded with Rawhide taking his audience on an irreverent tour of the Mount Allison campus aided by a cast of his imaginary characters. Fortunately, there is this other side to the seasonal celebration. It can be a time for practical jokes, harmless pranks and inventive hoaxes. However, just to be on the safe side, I decided that a little verification of this incident was in order. Was there a chance that I was being misinformed by some of my sources?

During his long career, which ended as recently as 1996, Ferguson wrote several books describing his life with the CBC. A check of these revealed his close friendship with Moe Smith, long time director of the CBC facilities in Sackville. The latter figured prominently in Fergusons radio skits as Marconi Moe. Verification was easy as the late Marconi Moes wife, Fran Smith of Sackville, filled in several details of this celebrated Halloween hoax.

Significantly, Fergusons Churchillian broadcast at Mount Allison was but a dress rehearsal for a similar event the following year in Ottawa at the annual Press Gallery dinner. On this occasion, the chairman explained to those assembled (politicians and journalists) that efforts had been made to arrange for Churchill, then visiting in New York, to speak. Unfortunately he could not come; however, the CBC had arranged for Churchill to present his address over the radio.

The rest of the story is best told in Fergusons own words: I recognized this as my cue… I leaned into the microphone concealed in a closet, and sent booming into the room the best facsimile of Churchill’s voice that I could muster. You could hear a pin drop as the vocal hoax rolled out. I spoke of the great pleasure it afforded me to know that my voice was reaching that distinguished gathering whose collective hand rested on the helm of the Canadian ship of state. I larded the speech with every Churchillian expression I could think of and concluded by thanking two public figures for the assistance they had provided me.

Ferguson went on: Men such as your own Prime Minister, Loois Saynt Lorent, from whom I have learned much in the use of the Gallic idiom and your Leader of the Opposition, George Drew from whom Ive learned the power of invective. Ferguson concluded by stating Yet greater than any of these, as a teacher of that magnificent tongue that Shakespeare once spoke, is my pal ole Rawhide

Pandemonium broke loose and all Ferguson could see as he entered the room was the steely gaze of Viscount Alexander, then governor-general, who clearly was not amused. To the credit of the Press Gallery Max Ferguson was given the most exciting ovation he had ever received.

Perhaps the finest tribute paid to Ferguson came on the day of his retirement, December 7, 1996. Writing in the Globe & Mail Christopher Harris gave the following verdict: Max Ferguson helped pioneer a Canadian tradition in political satire that still thrives on CBC radio and television programs such as the Royal Canadian Air Farce, This Hour Has 22 Minutes and Double Exposure.

Although no one could have predicted it, on that long ago Halloween in 1948, an enduring Canadian legend was being launched. If you listen carefully you may hear the seasonal ghosts, ghouls and goblins vigorously applauding.

One of the many family reunions held during Yorkshire 2000 was that of the Fawcett family.

Genealogists believe that this surname originated with a community known as Forcett located not far from the Yorkshire/County Durham border. The original spelling has been translated as: place by a waterfall.

The Tantramar branch of the Fawcett family may be traced to three brothers, John, William and Robert who emigrated from Hovingham, Yorkshire to Sackville Township in 1774.

The third brother Robert, did not remain and soon moved to the United States where he followed the sea and was eventually lost.

Marian Pearl Fawcett was born in Upper Sackville on June 2, 1908, the daughter of C. Fred Fawcett (1886–1918) and Myrtle Wheaton Fawcett (1885–1975).

At 92, Marian earned the distinction of being the eldest of some 180 family members registered at the recent Fawcett family reunion. She is also a direct descendant of William Fawcett I.

I first met Marian on one of her regular summer visits to Sackville. At the time, I was interviewing people who had attended early twentieth century schools.

Her keen memory and recall of detail were most helpful, as she reminisced about her elementary school years in Upper Sackville. Yorkshire 2000 was then in its early planning stages and we made a pact to meet again in August 2000. During the second interview her energy, enthusiasm and joie de vivre, which had so impressed me earlier, were still in evidence. However, this time our conversation took a different direction.

I wanted to explore a life that spanned more than eight decades, two world wars and a depression. What was the secret, not merely of a long life, but one that had its full share of both triumph and tragedy? Early in the interview it became clear that Marians positive outlook began with a happy Upper Sackville childhood. A biographical poem written in 1997 provided further confirmation.

Unfortunately, one event did cast a shadow over these early years.

Her fathers illness and premature death on June 16, 1918, aged 32, was very traumatic.

Only ten at the time, she remembered how her mother, Myrtle Wheaton, coped with four children to rear. As Marian expressed it: It was her courage that never failed her.

And in the end, despite trials and tribulations with disappointments besides; the young family was taught to always hold high the Fawcett family name.

In her late teens Marian enrolled in the Commercial Program at Mount Allison Academy. Here she excelled and was selected by the Principal Vr. J. M. Palmer to work in his office during summer holidays. This secretarial training and related experience was to later stand her in good stead.

On more than one occasion, she was able to find employment in a wide variety of business enterprises. Yet another life sustaining quality became clear during our conversation. When times became tough, and for whatever the reason, she was never afraid to try new things. This meant a number of moves from Murray Corner, N.B. to Tignish PEI, from Amos, Quebec to Midland, Ontario where she worked during the latter part of the Second World War. By then Marian was employed in the office of the Midland Shipyard. Her personal popularity was evident when she was selected to christen a new tugboat built by the firm.

With the invocation of the well known words: I christen this ship, the Rockland. May God bless and guide her, and all who sail on her; followed by the crack of a bottle of champagne, the boat was well and truly launched… I considered this a real honor, she remembered.

Following the end of the war Marian moved to the United States, where she was first employed in the South Boston office of Winchester-Simmons, a well known gun and ammunitions manufacturer. A transfer to Florida meant another change in employment. This time she became office manager in a large medical clinic. Meanwhile, on the personal level, she took out American citizenship, was divorced and remarried. Some 20 years later saw her return northward to Massachusetts, where she has since resided. Marian now lives in a retirement community in Weymouth, Mass. Her two children, a daughter, Joan Bowen and son Brian Dunfield, are nearby, in Weymouth and Braintree respectively. She admitted that they keep an eye on me, but mostly Im able to manage on my own.

One of Marians special pleasures is her extended family consisting of seven grandchildren and four great-grand children. There is little doubt that the strong support provided by her son and daughter and their families has been a contributing factor to her health and happiness.

Her cousin, Shelagh Ward, with whom she stays when visiting Sackville, agrees.

Shelagh stressed that Marians family support has been one key to her long life. A serious setback occured in 1995, when a car accident left her hospitalized for several months. This was followed by a long round of physical therapy before she was mobile once more. At the age of 87 many seniors in a similar situation might have given up; but not Marian. She simply told herself Youre going to make it kid.

She did, and one more obstacle was overcome! As a young girl Marian Fawcett Locke was taught by her mother to knit and crochet-a skill she was never to lose. Over time these crafts were to become another mainstay in a long and productive life.

Each autumn, in preparation for the Christmas season, Marian kicks up a storm with her crafts that range all the way from seasonal candles to jingle bell tambourines to beautifully crocheted doilies mounted on clear glass plates. Another specialty is personalized Christmas cards, one of which I have before me, as I write this column.

When questioned about the role of these hobbies in her life, Marian was explicit. I love my craft work, it gives me reason for living The rocking chair is not for me. Hands busy, I just move from one project to another.

An overview of Marians remarkable 92 years leaves one important conclusion. She had excellent role models in her parents. Although her mother, Myrtle Wheaton Fawcett, was widowed at an early age, the latter instilled in her children qualities of determination, endurance and courage. Its this positive heritage that helps account for her daughters ability to overcome obstacles and to continue enjoying her productive and memorable life.

In addition to Marian Fawcett Locke, a number of people helped me write this column. Thanks are extended to Donna Beal, Mount Allison Archives; Brian Dunfield, Kathy Fawcett Lewis and Shelagh Ward.

An era in Canadian journalism ended on Sept. 26, 1968, when The Family Herald ceased publication. Founded almost a century earlier, the magazine held a special place in the hearts and minds of many generations of readers. Last summer I was given two cartons containing copies dating from the 1930s through to the 1960s.

It took several rainy days at the cottage before I finished browsing through these issues.

More recently, I fell heir to some scrapbooks, in response to a plea to check such items before they were burned or recycled. The majority of articles were about local events; however, I was not surprised to find others clipped from the Family Herald. Although the magazines focus was rural Canada, many subscribers were drawn from towns and cities. When I mentioned todays topic to one of my neighbours, she immediately responded My son used to deliver the Family Herald every Wednesday in Sackville.

The fact that many articles, and in some instances complete issues of the Family Herald were carefully saved, bears testimony to its importance among readers on the Tantramar and elsewhere. Why did the Family Herald appeal to such a wide audience for so many years? My browse provided the answer.

There was something in each issue for every member of the family. The last general editor H. Gordon Green underlined this point. With tongue in cheek he wrote: We have settled quarrels; counselled the lovelorn; found lost relatives; identified exotic rocks, bugs, plants, stamps and coins; resurrected lost songs, doctored sick animals and helped kids with their homework.

Yet this lengthy list did not convey all that was to be found in this remarkable periodical. Beyond two major sections on agriculture and world news the following were typical features: A Home and Fireside department that covered every subject from needlework to cookery; a Maple Leaf Club designed for young people seeking pen pals across Canada and overseas and a weekly column of home spun philosophy by the Observer. Then there was Along the Sports Highway a summary of the week in sport and a comic strip called Juniper Junction. These were rounded out by a well written editorial page and cartoon on some major event in the news of the week.

As if this were not enough, each issue contained a serial chapter from a novel and usually a short story. It is worth noting that some of the best writers within Canada and elsewhere received their start in the Family Herald. Heres a few examples: Gregory Clark; Harry I. Boyle; H. Gordon Green; Grace Livingston Hill; Nellie J. McClung and W. O. Mitchell.

Nor were Maritime writers neglected. Will R. Bird’s short stories were published regularly along with the work of Evelyn Richardson, Thomas Raddall and T. Goodridge Roberts. Among those serialized were the internationally famous Nevil Shute and Sir Wilfred Grenfell.

In the multi-media world of today, its hard to realize that during the heyday of the Family Herald in the 1930s and 40s, newspapers and magazines were the major source of news and information. By the time the magazine ceased publication it was already being nudged aside by radio and especially television. The internet and other present day forms of mass communication were still in the realm of science fiction.

A major reason for the Family Heralds popularity was the calibre of its reporters and journalists. The heart of each issue was News of the Week a summary of Canadian and international events of the previous seven days. For most of the period under review, this section was written and edited by journalist Frank Woodley Page and later Dr. James Eayrs. The latter, a distinguished Canadian political scientist, served on the faculties of the University of Toronto and Dalhousie University. These commentaries, particularly during the dark days of the Second World War, set a high standard for the rest of the magazine.

The largest section of the magazine dealt with agricultural topics. Many columns and features were of a practical nature and stressed the improvement of farming practices. News and reports concerning farmers organizations and major exhibitions were carried. Each year such events as the Maritime Winter Fair and the Royal Winter Fair received full coverage. A section for Young Farmers kept readers up to date on what later became known as the 4-H movement. One popular feature was the Consulting Service, which enabled readers to seek advice from experts on every conceivable topic from veterinary medicine to horticulture to the feeding of cattle.

One explanation for saving back issues of the Family Herald was their later use as program material for various farm groups and organizations such as the Womens Institute. In preparation for an earlier Flashback column, I investigated an important nineteenth century farm organization known as The Grange. During the 1880s and 90s it had lodges in Sackville, Point de Bute, Fort Lawrence and Amherst. The minute book of the Point de Bute Grange noted the frequent use of articles from the Family Herald. In a continuation of this trend, during the mid-twentieth century the National Farm Radio Forum often drew on material from the same source.

Many of the feature articles would be described today as on the cutting edge of journalism. A few examples from the 1960s will illustrate the point: The Hidden Hazards Of Sending Our Water South; Here Come The Agricultural Robots and The Place Of Computers In Agriculture. Such articles also illustrate the futuristic approach of the magazine.

One final impression from my informal survey. The Family Herald always lived up to its billing as Canadas national farm magazine. No section of the country was neglected and this held true for the Tantramar. Topics such as dykeland agriculture and marshland reclamation were often featured.

For part of the period under review the editor was Lyman T. Chapman, a native of East Amherst. In keeping with his Yorkshire agricultural heritage, Chapmans move from the principalship of the Nova Scotia Agriculture College to the editorial chair was an easy one. For several years he wrote an engaging column entitled Chapmans Corner inspired by his family name and that of a community near Port Elgin.

A key question remains. Why did such a venerable institution collapse in 1968? Briefly stated, it was a victim of the times. The magazines demise coincided with the approaching end of the family farm and the trend toward urbanization. Rural readers will be very aware of this trend, as they have witnessed firsthand, the consolidation of land holdings and the rise of the corporate farm. There was also a sudden shift in advertising revenue; always the major source of income for the magazine. Large daily and weekly newspapers were now a better forum for advertisers wishing to reach what remained of the farming population.

New print media, such as glossy theme-oriented magazines helped push the traditional Family Herald to the sideline. The instant popularity of television, played a role in the changes taking place. It is also evident that the magazine had grown tired by the 1960s. Internally, many features were dropped and never replaced. Although the reputation for good journalism remained, readership was slowly slipping away. During the same time period, two other not dissimilar Canadian magazines, The Star Weekly and The Montreal Standard also fell by the wayside.

On taking a final look at my two cartons of samples, I recalled the parting words of editor H. Gordon Green: The Family Herald was undoubtedly the friendliest magazine in Canada Surely no magazine anywhere was ever so close to its readers Not a bad epitaph for any publication!

Few people today will recognize the name of a once-famous American author, Horatio Alger (1832–1899). A century ago, Alger’s rags to riches novels topped best-seller lists and his name was known world-wide. Over time, his predictable plots about intelligent, hard-working boys who became millionaires, fell out of fashion. The subject of today’s Flashback, Amos King Seaman (1788–1864), is also a rags to riches story; but one with a difference. His life gives new meaning to the old saying that truth is stranger than fiction.

The Seaman family was part of the New England Planter migration to the Tantramar. Amos Seaman was born in Sackville Township on January 14, 1788, the son of Nathan Seaman and Zena Thomas. Little is known of his early life; however, it can be assumed that he did not have a very happy childhood. In 1796 Amos made his escape as a barefoot runaway boy, in an old birch bark canoe with a hole in the bow. The reason for his leave-taking is shrouded in mystery. However, we do know that some family contact was maintained, especially with his mother who had taught him to read and write. Later he was joined in business by at least one of his brothers.

Somehow, the young boy was able to paddle a canoe across the treacherous Cumberland Basin, landing at Minudie. Originally an Acadian settlement, the area was then part of the landholdings of J.F.W. DesBarres. Following the Expulsion, a few Acadians returned and it was one of these families, the local ferryman and his wife, who offered a home to the young stranger. Here he earned his living as a chore boy; developing along the way a keen respect for the Acadian people.

Further evidence of continuing family ties may be found in the fact that as a teenager Amos travelled to Boston. Here he lived with his maternal grandparents and obtained a solid basic education. Seamans independent spirit was matched only by his ambition and entrepreneurial drive. In hiking about Minudie he noticed sandstone deposits in the ledges along the coastline. Others before him had quarried such stone for local use, but it was Seaman who saw the potential for a new industry. By 1810, in partnership with his brother Job, he began selling grindstones in Boston. From this point onward Amos Seaman never looked back.

Soon he had acquired sufficient capital to import goods on return voyages from New England. A store and shipyard at Minudie followed shortly afterward. The latter enterprise greatly expanded his horizons and Seaman was able to tap into the lucrative triangular schooner trade between the West Indies, North America and Europe. On May 12, 1814 Amos Seaman married Jane Metcalf, the daughter of a Yorkshire immigrant to the area. By all accounts it was a happy marriage and they were to have a family of 11 children; seven sons and four daughters.

In common with other aspects of his career, Seaman quickly found his way socially and was totally at ease, whether in the drawing rooms of Boston and London, or on the wharf at Minudie. Of an outgoing personality, he numbered among his friends the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–82). There is evidence that Longfellows famous poem Evangeline published in 1847 may have had some input from Seaman. Another literary figure, Thomas Chandler Haliburton (1796–1865) was a frequent visitor to the Seaman estate in Minudie. However, the pinnacle of his social success was reached through an audience with Queen Victoria at Buckingham Palace.

Meanwhile his social activities and occasional dabbling in poetry were never allowed to interfere with business. He formed the Atlantic Grindstone Company and by 1843 had 100 men employed in quarrying Minudie stone for the American market. In addition to grindstones, his firm produced fly wheels which provided momentum for many of the early New England textile factories.

Seaman erected the first steam powered grist mill in Nova Scotia and later added a steam sawmill to his vast operations. In dealing with his workers he developed a reputation as a just and fair employer. Something of a visionary, it was Seamans dream to establish a perfect or Utopian community at Minudie. Toward this objective, he built two churches for his employees (one Protestant, one Roman Catholic); and a school which today has been restored as the King Seaman Museum. His great wealth, accumulated in a trading network that eventually spanned the oceans of the world, also enabled him to maintain a second home, a townhouse on Bostons prestigious Beacon Hill.

However, he seems to have preferred his Minudie estate where he lived up to his self imposed nickname Amos King Seaman. As he recorded in his diary his second name Peck was too small and so he substituted King; a not inappropriate name for someone of his enterprise and wealth. Unfortunately, the Minudie homestead or Grindstone Castle as it was called, fell into disrepair following the Kings death on Sept. 14, 1864.

Following a visit to the ruins in the 1940s Will R. Bird described the melancholy scene: We sat by the front of the old house, its doors gaping wide to all weather, the great tiled hall swept by rain and wind, windows gone and visualized the splendor of those long gone days when a dozen thoroughbred horses would be tethered at the hitching rail, and more than twenty guests seated at the long mahogany dining table Gulls hovered low and gave plaintive calls and the wind was fretful.

What happened to the Seaman empire? Was there no successor within the ranks of his large family? Possibly in compensation for his own lack of formal education, Amos Seaman made certain that his children had the advantage of private tutors. Later they were sent to Kings College, Windsor, or to private schools in England. Unfortunately, three of his children predeceased their father, and on Seamans death, his remaining heirs became hopelessly embroiled in controversy and litigation. His will, described as fiendishly complicated was designed to be fair to all surviving children. Instead, it merely increased family tension. Without a clear heir apparent, the Kings business empire soon collapsed.

Unfortunately we do not have an authoritative biography of Amos King Seaman. His life has had to be sketched from a variety of fragmentary sources. Perhaps the best interpretation (appropriate for an aspiring poet) is a narrative poem by Dr. Peter E. Gunther, a one-time member of the Department of Economics at Mount Allison. Based on careful historical research, the work is noteworthy for the incorporation of four poems by the King himself.

Readers who may be interested in learning more about Seamans remarkable career are encouraged to take a drive to River Hebert and follow the highway to Minudie. There you will find the Schoolhouse Museum flanked by St. Denis Roman Catholic Church and the United Church, all dating from the nineteenth century.

On Aug. 20, 2000 the museum was officially designated by the government of Nova Scotia as a provincial heritage property. The same weekend also saw the Blessing of the Crops Festival and a special mass at St. Denis Church. This event may be traced to the old Acadian village of Minudie when parishioners gathered annually to give thanks for the harvest. A note of appreciation is extended to Roberta Morrison for suggesting todays topic.