Saturday, June 30, 2012

Hauntings To Get Rid Of, Thomson To Enjoy

BARGE CONCERT SUNDAY NIGHT AT 7:30pm GRAVENHURST GULL LAKE PARK FEATURING THE BIFOCALS BAND UNDER THE DIRECTION ON NEIL BARLOW. SEE YOU THERE!









A HAUNTING I CAN’T GET RID OF - BUT WOULD KIND OF LIKE TO
I’ve been writing about the paranormal in the Muskoka district of Ontario, since the early 1980's, during the period I was editor of The Herald-Gazette, in Bracebridge. Members of the writing staff always like to have three or four meaty features "in the bag" (composed and ready to use) just in case the ad reps made some last minutes sales, and the pages of the weekly edition were bumped up. Even four more pages could swallow all our reserve copy. I was never very good writing under the gun, especially with a production manager breathing down my neck..... so I was a big believer in banking editorial copy just in case.
I used to delve through the archives downstairs to find story ideas, and there were always lots of out of print Muskoka books to tap into for history-based features. So from my first years in the local news business, when having a lot of surplus copy available made your stock rise, I kept about a half dozen lengthy pieces on-tap. Many of these explored Muskoka mysteries and legends, and did delve five or six times a year on a paranormal event past or present. With the help of an expert photographer, Harold Wright, one of the finest artists I’d ever been professionally associated, we offered Herald-Gazette readers a full page collection of photographs and feature articles regarding local haunts. I think it was about 1981 if memory serves. Harold was able to do a time exposure of a little girl walking across a room, behind a table, and it was a dynamite image to catch readers’ attention. Of all the published work regarding the paranormal here in Muskoka, this feature earned me the most response. More than a few thought I was nuts to attach my name to the "belief in ghosts" thing, yet I never once confessed, at least in the early going, to actually believing in ghosts. It’s one thing to have a sighting and to relay this message but another thing to adamantly confess to "Yes....I do believe in ghosts for sure, for sure!"
Over the years I’ve talked to many people who have had substantial encounters yet they have made it clear....."I don’t believe in such things." Odd? Not really when you think about the stigma associated then (1980's when I began my research) and even now to being one who openly believes in ghosts and their kind.......it’s to be expected someone at home or work will use "nutter" and your name in the same sentence. My wife and I both find that younger folks today are more interested in the paranormal, and as a teacher she is often asked to reflect on ghosts and such......after of course students have read about her encounters with the other side published nationally in Barbara Smith’s book on Canadian Ghosts. The book became available here in the local grocery store and that’s where young staffers were getting hold of the story, and identifying their Mrs.Currie as the story teller. Hers was the recollection of Herbie the ghost-child of Golden Beach Road. Suzanne doesn’t really like to re-tell the story, because she was troubled by it for many years. I found it more fascinating than disturbing but I understand her reluctance to delve into it all again.
I’ve never worried about it frankly because some very significant scholars and researchers, and well versed individuals over hundreds of years have attached their names to widelyl known sightings and experiences. I have many antique and out of print books telling of these amazing ghostly interventions misting forth from castle towers to haunted rectories and chapels. There are thousands of tales of haunted hotels and mansions, ghost-dwelling gardens and forests, spiritually inhabited cemeteries, opera houses, theaters, industrial buildings and the halls of universities and museums. To worry that an individual in my ballywick thinks I’m odd for confessing a relationship with numerous spirited entities doesn’t phase me one bit. As for those who don’t believe in ghosts but have made their sightings known regardless, well, that’s just the kind of information about the paranormal I seek out most aggressively. From a purity level, when I find someone who accidentally came upon a spirit in passage, a ghost standing in a hall, beside a bed, or on the stairs of an old house, and then disregards it as anything particularly serious.....I want to hear as much as possible because it will usually be void of emotion and embellishment.....because afterall, they don’t believe in ghosts; or so they say! They’re going to give me the straight goods without any reason to elaborate or inflate the story.
As I have lived and worked in many locations that were considered "haunted" by something or other, I do suffer from an "amalgamation" syndrome, I believe, and it tends to manifest in reaction at least once a month in a most peculiar way. While I don’t spend every day writing about ghosts, or researching the paranormal, I do spend a lot of time thinking about the many roads and curious places I’ve visited in my life.....call it a foible of the historian/author who finds pleasure in the days of yore more stimulating than the relative commonplace of modern times. The problem I have created in part, is that of pulling composites of these places and circumstances together without really appreciating the snap-back human nature I was tickling. In other words I have arrived, I believe, at a subconscious reckoning of all places....an emotionally contracted, yet awkwardly put together Frankenstein model of all the curious, haunted places I have visited thus far in 53 years. So according to my dreams in analysis, I have defined a location, a nicely contoured and garden-rich property, a Victorian era building which is usually a house, with interior features that are borrowed and spliced into the dreamscape reminiscent of about ten old houses I’ve known intimately. For example, I will dream about a building that for all intents and purposes appears to be the former McGibbon House on Manitoba Street, in Bracebridge, Woodchester Villa (Bracebridge), a family cottage on the shore of Lake Rosseau near Windermere, houses on Ontario Street, Golden Beach Road, Quebec Street and another location on Dominion Street. When set in one of my repeating nightmares, the property is always roughly the same.....there are sprawling lawns and beautiful gardens and the aura is late Victorian. But it isn’t one identifiable property that would let me say...."ah, yes, it is the McGibbon house or Woodchester Villa. It’s all a composite but the grounds are the combination of only several properties unlike my collage impressions of the haunted house, which is composed of numerous architectural details, of many houses and buildings I have been associated over the decades, here in central Muskoka. And although I can honestly claim to be unafraid of paranormal situations and encounters, at least so far in this mortal coil, I do acknowledge that these particular nightmares are in full terrorizing regalia. But there are other common aspects to the events. There is never any conclusion, which is pretty normal as nightmares range, and I’m always the aggressor, trying to rid the building of an attic-dwelling entity that is both unpleasant and dangerous. And I’ve always got this itch to piss the entity off, and I’m no sooner in the house than I’m starting the battle for willpower supremecy. I begin with a pretty good crowd of other folks at the beginning of the dream but finish with nary a soul anywhere near. I have that affect on people in real life.
The nightmares don’t relate necessarily to any research or writing jag I’ve been occupied with at the time, and although I might have had weeks of work to feed the dream-void, I have never been able to link my day-job in this case, to a seeded paranormal-themed dream-state. I can’t recall one of these nightmares that came after writing about the paranormal yet in the memory bank I suppose it’s logical to assume the perceptions and information within, can by the brain’s mischief, be utilized during the period of greatest requirement.....the construction of a really good nightmare to scare the crap out of the unsuspecting sleeper....ME!
The nightmares began about a decade ago and have repeated many, many times since with only small variations. I have no idea what precise involvement seeded and nurtured the repeating theme of the nightmares, and there hasn’t been anything particularly earth shattering in that decade to blame for these oft repeating and unsettling visitations. I will wake up in fear that the end is near......as anyone startles back to recognition they’ve just then been part of a full-fledged incident of night-time terror. I’m anxious, sweating, actively seeking an explanation in mind and by scanning my physical surroundings, with some trepidation whether it was an encounter of a dream state or it was as real as my racing heart beat.
They all start the same. There will be a lead-up scenario that will not resemble anything more than a run-of-the-mill visitation, meeting of friends and associates, in a mundane, non-exciting environs most of which is pretty much an insignificant backdrop. Within a few interesting scenes no better or worse than a made for television movie, I will somehow encounter "The Building." It is most often a house but not always. It is however, always three stories, four including the Attic which is also a constant in these nightmares. As an example, the foyer and initial identifying features usually appear antiquated and cluttered, with large Victorian parlor chairs and massive sideboards, similar to what I used to deal with as museum manager at Woodchester Villa (Bracebridge) every working day. In the dream state there is an oppressive feeling I sense just stepping into this hallway which always has association with an old and steep wooden staircase. There are rooms to the right and left of the staircase but once the decision is made, in the dream haze to climb up toward the attic, there is only one room having importance and that is at the top of the stairs....that attic .....where a particularly nasty and quite invisible entity is holed-up. I have just experienced a huge shiver just thinking about the fear opening that attic door and looking into the dimly illuminated room, expecting the full wrath to bellow forth from that unhappy, rather nebulously appointed beast within.
For whatever reason my mind places me as the conqueror of all evil spirit-kind, which I don’t understand, I do not enter any of the composite buildings of which I have spoken, without full knowledge I’m about to antagonize the wee beastie upstairs. What makes this quite strange on top of all the other weirdness I’m about to relate, is that I do not at any point have a plan to physically oust the paranormal quality and quantity from the attic should I prevail. I will however, attempt to beat the crap of it with my mind. If I win, well, this just simply doesn’t come up in the run of the nightmare, so I really never have any thought of how the entity will be finally cleansed from the house....or just left as an ugly clump of paranormal in the corner of the attic. Before the first step up, and with several folks around me, some I know and others I don’t care to know, I begin concentrating on what I know will anger the lodger most. I start taunting it with a mental push and shove that will eventually become a storm of mind on mind fisticuffs. At first I’m really just toying with the entity to see if I can get a response, which sometimes results in a cold, gusting and loud retaliation that gets my attention.......and the message sent that it’s going to be a long and nasty battle of willpowers.
The closer I get to the upper section of staircase, the more intense my ambition to obliterate the unkown but powerful attic dweller. And as I intensify my focus on what lurks behind the door, the creature roars like nothing I’ve ever experienced or heard.....at least beyond this dream state. It is terrifying yet I can’t stop challenging it until I finally crash through the attic door, confronting the enemy like Hollywood’s "Shane," pounding his way to justice at the expense of every thug in the bar-room. And when I get a glimpse of the spirited force I’m planning to reckon with, it is like the image of the all and powerful Wizard of Oz, and instead of charging ahead....well, I’m staggered by the (always in color) spiritual spectacle. It is amazing to see this manifestation rising from a back wall into a most ominous and unclenching force, as if I was at the ground zero of an F-5 tornado. The point is that I only reach this pinnacle of confrontation, in the attic, once out of every for or five nightmares of this same composition and character. I usually don’t get all the way up the stairs before I awaken in a bath of sweat.
There are a variety of other scenarios that take place around the subject property....stories within stories you might say. It will be well removed from anything spooky at all and then for some unexplained reason the whole mood of the situation will evolve from a pleasant, non-threatening dream to the confrontational "Please excuse me....I have an attic to clean out," emotional roller-coaster. One minute I’m wandering through a beautiful Victorian inspired garden, actually enjoying the scent of many wonderful flowers, and then the next reality is that I’ve entered the house and spotted the staircase where evil apparently always lurks.
As a partial explanation I did have a number of events at Woodchester Villa that did place stairs as the divide between safe passage and the unexpected. In the early years of museum operation, particularly the period of the early to late 1980's, we suffered many false alarms due to the gnawing activity of squirrels in the attic area of the restored octagonal museum building, otherwise known as the "Bird House." There are other stories in this blog collection related to my days at the museum. Well, apparently, the coating on the wiring had a licorice-like taste and it greatly appealed to the critters on cold winter nights when there was nothing else to consume. We would get a call from the alarm monitoring company and meet up with an officer from the Ontario Provincial Police to search the buildings for a potential intruder. There were many late night trips over to Woodchester where we would have to conduct a room by room search, up to the attic, hoping quite frankly to find the house unoccupied. It wasn’t until the alarm wiring was changed that the squirrels stopped their dining habits. So I had more than a few tense moments with officers searching Woodchester, and going up the stairs quietly always seemed so much more dangerous and threatening than searching rooms on the level. I was always looking behind me as if to expecting the intruder to attack from behind as it was where we were most vulnerable. I have had many other staircase incidents in old houses, one actually that involved a paranormal event (documented in this blog series - see McGibbon House), so I can see how this staircase fixation may have been seeded decades ago as being somewhat precarious....no matter what the building.
So there I am "mind-fighting" this paranormal entity which is bigger and more determined than me, and the wind is howling, hair and fur flying, and the ghostly-mortal combat at its peak, and bloody hell......I wake up having done nothing more than earned yet another stalemate in the life and death struggle for attic supremacy. Crazy or what? It will take me about a half hour to settle down after I awaken but once I do slumber again, there is no chance I will revisit the attic in question for a re-match until many weeks and months later.
I think what is so unnerving about the nightmare, is that I truly believe I have the power to battle evil by thought process and rigorous contemplation.....concentration focused like a laser beam on the enemy. Maybe as a writer, and a long time editorialist for the local press, I started to believe my arguments were on the cutting edge of truthfulness, that could penetrate even the hardest shell of my adversaries. Possibly. Yet when I start each quest to oust the rogue entity, I know in advance that at best I’m only going to stir up complacency.....letting the alleged attic beast know I’m a die-hard trouble-maker....which is pretty much my reputation as a regional writer/historian. I usually have to stir the pot awhile before I hear the first sabres rattling above, and long before I get to the attic region of the building, the howling wind and roar of anger hits me on the bottom stairs and continues the bluster all the way to the top. I very seldom catch the creature off guard. It has happened in a few nightmares but it’s not typical. I’ve never been hurt by the entity and I guess it’s safe to say I haven’t hurt it either. Yet we still feel obliged to duke it out.
The fact that I am never successful in ousting the paranormal entity, and I’ve never actually been defeated myself, leaves me pondering the eventual outcome if the nightmares continue. And while I’ve never once recalled saying to the beast "The power of Christ compels you," it’s pretty much that kind of thing I’m blasting forth in these mind waves, and it’s exactly what antagonizes my opponent most. We’re not arguing about housekeeping matters here, or who left the pizza box and crusts on the stairs. We’re determining which creature is the strongest, and there just isn’t a conclusion that makes me feel at all content. Yet I believe that in one of these nightmares, there will be something more conclusive...either I’m going to fob this spirit off to another dimension or it’s going to liquidate this intruder. Who knows? I’ll keep you posted on any new nightmares I’ve had the displeasure of experiencing.
When I talk to my wife about these dreams she doesn’t seem all that surprised. "Well, Ted, you sit here amidst thousands of books, scribbling notes till after midnight, read about ghosts, hauntings and murders and watch movies about the paranormal.....it is more likely an oddity why you don’t have ten times more nightmares than you do!" Suzanne is so sensible about these things. She’s right of course. But it’s what historians and writers do.....can’t see myself changing habits on the off-chance I can reduce my nightmares from attic attacks to triple bogey scenarios on the dreamland golf course....or something like that.
What I’m pretty sure of, is the unfinished nature of my research and the ongoing requirement to re-visit many more attics in old buildings, to square off against my rather nebulous, mystical but all powerful arch rival..... will require the "kicking of each other’s arses" for some years to come. Maybe I’ll sort it out eventually and confront the entity with something more effective than mind-waves. Maybe not. I guess it’s an occupational hazard of delving into the expansive, complicated, perilous dimension of the paranormal. Yet truth be known, I’d much rather live with the frequent nightmares than abandon this most fascinating research.
THE WRITER-ADMIRER AND THE SERENDIPITOUS, STRANGE AND ONGOING RELATIONSHIP WITH THE MYSTERY OF TOM THOMSON
There is a lot to appreciate about serendipity and the researcher/ historian and discovery. In the mind-science realm, much of what we consider to be messages from the spirit-kind, are potentially no more than accidental and coincidental occurrences carrying along a theme of interest. For example, it is known that many of the world’s great discoveries, from medical cures to the landmarks reached by the legends of exploration, had helpful, somewhat accidental, serendipitous interplay.....one discovery, influencing the founding or location of something else.....strangely related but an unexpected find at the time. In my own research work it is pretty much a constant, so much so that I look forward to each prevailing discovery to have great influence on my next most significant gain or enlightenment. I’m seldom disappointed.
When I first turned on to the mystery of Tom Thomson, an artist who helped inspire the future Group of Seven Canadian artists, it was only several weeks into the project.....as a reasonably seasoned historian and researcher, that coincidences started happening all over the place.....and the more I reached into the musty old files containing information on his alleged drowning death in Algonquin Park, during the summer of 1917, the more I became convinced this would be the one project that would be a work in progress for the rest of my life. That was in the mid 1990's, and now in about the 13th year, and many published articles later, I’m nowhere near what I feel is the point of completion. And while there were many, many gains made by serendipitous discovery, there was a nagging and altogether strange sensation that Thomson wanted something more from me.....to keep up the questioning in the public’s mind about his murder. From the first day of research it was clear that the theory of accidental drowning was ill-founded and should never have been allowed to stand. In my opinion, a murderer succeeded in proving that "dead men tell no tales." Until that is..... pesky researchers refuse to accept what history presents as fact and take what ever serendipity wishes to contribute.....to prove or disprove accepted thought. Following are formerly published columns written several years ago, regarding the Tom Thomson mystery, presented by "Curious: The Tourist Guide." It was singularly the most well-read and responded-to series of columns I’d ever written. They are not ghost stories as such but if it is possible for a spirit to reach from the beyond, I have no doubt Thomson’s memory was causing this itch.....and one discovery of inconsistency led to another, and it did become a story about an investigation that was corrupted from its commencement in 1917. 

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Friday, June 29, 2012

David Brown and The Thomson Mystery




Miles David Brown and the Thomson Mystery
Dave Brown, of Hamilton, was not only a well known outdoor educator in Ontario, he was an accomplished historian, book collector of considerable acclaim and had spent many years as a summer camp instructor. He was familiar with the lakes of Algonquin and his canoe had traversed hundreds of miles on these waters in quest of logging relics of which he possessed a significant collection.
Dave was a frequent house guest of hours while up on his camping excursions, and we enjoyed many conversations about nature, history and his favorite subject "outdoor education." Before Dave passed away after a short illness, I had agreed to be his biographer. His was a life well-lived, and he had so many interesting stories about people and fascinating places in this province, and oh so many adventures, that it warranted a much larger study than what I was able to provide without extensive interviews. He passed on just as we were in the planning stage of what was supposed to be a co-operative effort. While I did complete his biography it was only half what it could have been if Dave had been at my side.
I had talked to Dave many times during my early foray into the Thomson research, about whether or not the Canoe Lake Cemetery plot, that was once occupied by the deceased artist, was still "occupied," as was determined in the 1950's, during and impromptu exhumation by William Little, Jack Eastaugh and friends. The grave that was supposed to be empty wasn’t quite.....the broken sections of what appeared to be Thomson’s original coffin was found in the excavation, as were human bones. Everybody including family was surprised by Little’s revelations. I don’t believe they were happy about any of the publicity, and who could blame them. Tom had been a unique and fascinating character in life and his work was gaining huge acclaim at the time of the exhumation. It was obvious any information contrary to what had been accepted fact of his demise would have a sensational zing.
The problem with this is that shortly after Thomson was buried in July 1917, an undertaker by the name of Churchill, was sent by the Thomson family, to remove the coffin with his remains from Algonquin, to be re-buried in a family plot in the Village of Leith, near Owen Sound, Ontario. Churchill wasn’t aware at the time of his arrival at Canoe Lake, that the coffin had already been buried in the plot near Mowat, during a hurried ceremony earlier the same day. There has been concern over the years the undertaker didn’t quite fulfill the terms and obligations he was sworn. It has long been alleged that Churchill had only transported a box of Algonquin earth in the sealed metal casket, having decided not to go to the effort of digging up Thomson’s coffin....although he always denied this allegation. The metal coffin was tightly sealed and according to some witnesses at the funeral in Leith, the box had a musty odor but was never opened to confirm Tom was inside. There is another story that maintains Tom’s father insisted the coffin be opened, and it was, revealing the remains of his son. There are however, suggestions the seal was never broken on the metal casket and definitely not opened.
While we will go into this situation with more detail later in this series of columns, the "two grave" scenario, factors large in the Thomson mystery. According to Judge Little, Thomson is undeniably still buried at the Canoe Lake Cemetery. Even though forensic tests on the skull revealed it to be the remains of a native male and not those of Thomson, there are still concerns the testing did not go far enough before the remains were re-buried in the Algonquin cemetery. The plot in Leith has never been investigated.
Dave Brown was a friend to all, and he knew many folks with long histories at Canoe Lake and in Algonquin Park, from guides, Park Rangers, to cottagers. One evening shortly before his death, after asking me how my research was going on Tom Thomson, he told me quite bluntly that he had it on good and trusted authority, Thomson’s body was still in his original grave as he was committed in July of 1917. When I pressed him for more information he said he couldn’t betray the trust of his sources but said it would be hard to deny that these particular folks had a much closer connection to the circumstances of Thomson’s demise and initial burial. "I just wanted you to know that I have solid information from a number of people I have known up there, who believe Thomson was never moved from Mowat....and that the undertaker hauled back a metal coffin full of dirt to avoid digging the coffin up. To these people it’s not much of a mystery at all....he was injured during a fight, knocked unconscious, taken out onto the lake and dumped to make it look like he drowned. He didn’t. I’m telling you, he’s still in Algonquin Park....sorry I can’t help you any more than this."
Dave wasn’t a story spinner as such. He told a good story but he had the historian’s need for accuracy so when he told me this, while it wasn’t particularly useful to prove or disprove....because I couldn’t follow up with his sources (some were already deceased), it at least gave me some confidence there were dissenters who didn’t buy some of the information about Thomson’s death and burial.
I would have loved to pursue this with Dave but within weeks his condition had deteriorated and there was no chance of recovery. It is really the last full discussion I had with Dave and although it wasn’t a pivotal amount of information it at least let me know I wasn’t a fool to be following this up......as had many other researchers over the decades from Blodwen Davies in the early 1930's onward to Judge William Little and others to the present.

The Inner Storm of Tom Thomson
Note: When I initiated my research foray into the circumstances surrounding the death of Canadian artist, Tom Thomson, which commenced for me back in the mid 1990's, I had no idea that my interest in the story would be self perpetuating and offer no clear final chapter. In reality the story of Thomson has occupied my attention for more than fifteen years. Not solely the mystery of his death but his art work and life. His life is a most fascinating study. From the time I began a more intensive examination of his alleged accidental drowning, there were many splendid examples of serendipity playing a weighty role in discovery. One good source would direct to another, then another, and even unrelated sources often times provided some unexpected Thomson or Canadian art information that did influence the course of research. As an active regional Ontario historian for many decades now, serendipitous discovery is pretty much an anticipated part of the quest for information. We come to count on accidental findings to give us a hand up. Admittedly it can get a little spooky how these connections come about. For most of the first year there were few days that didn't have a Thomson intrusion in one form or another but it was all very welcome.
After my preliminary article on the death of Thomson (drowning, Canoe Lake, July 1917), carried by Muskoka Today, published in Gravenhurst, and then a larger series of columns in The Muskoka Sun in the late 1990's, I was getting help, advice and information from all over and much of it was in support of the murder theory versus the long accepted verdict by a coroner's inquiry, of 1917, that ruled Thomson had drowned. There were times during research and preparation for these columns that I very much felt the artist's presence..... as if he was as interested in my story-line..... as much as the readership was demonstrating, by offering me a plethora of clippings and personal opinions about the cold case. My wife Suzanne said to me one day that it was almost as if Tom was "sending a message from the other side." There are circumstances surrounding this story and these years of initial research, that did seem to border on the paranormal, particularly experienced on a canoe venture to Canoe Lake and a visit to Thomson's memorial cairn on Hayhurst Point. I will present the story of this unsettling traverse of Algonquin's best known lake, later in this blog collection.
This is not a story about Thomson's ghost. Although there have been sightings in the past, one in fact, by a member of the Group of Seven artists visiting the park sometime after his death. It is the accounting of an admirer's mission to shed more light on the Thomson mystery, as others have in the past......and how a wonderful artist's life, his work, and demise affected us, and other researchers intimately close to his story. My work on Thomson has been based on the utmost respect for the artist and I have never once received a penny of remuneration for any of the research and composition work I've published over the past 15 years, the last series running in Curious: The Tourist Guide, over 12 months in 2007. From the time I began working on this story in the mid 1990's, there has never been any attempt to sensationalize or to make a profit from content. It was written with the unfaltering respect and credit for those who broke trail on the research, such as Judge William Little (1970's book The Tom Thomson Mystery) and Blodwen Davies the first writer, in the early 1930's, to question the theory of accidental death versus murder most foul. It is a fascinating and compelling story....a Canadian legend that in some way or other makes it to print each year in some Canadian locale. Each year some camper will tell the story of seeing the ghost paddler on the cusp of nightfall, in that silent traverse of the Algonquin Lakes he was famous for. Most of all, it is out of a sense of awe for his art work, that I continue to find great inspiration to not only follow his canoe path but to re-visit some of the places he haunted, and depicted so powerfully on his wood panels.
The short piece you are about to read was written in the mid 1990's at a time when I had only just begun my research into his mysterious demise. I penned these observations while sitting on the shore of Canoe Lake with my family, watching a storm front-push over Algonquin. Tom Thomson would have adored the scene as it unfolded upon the lakeshore, finding a great deal of power in the confluence between the currents of air and water pounding like fist against this evergreen bordered, etched-rock shoreline. It was from our perspective, a Thomson day in Algonquin!
By Ted Currie
Each bold, smooth, wave of brush stroke, laps dark and deeply into the long furrow of emerging wake. The voyeur can feel its undertow reaching for his soul. The traverse imprints a profound and contrasting depth and breadth of shadow, paint and coloration, as impression whirlpools from the surface into the black confluence of the lake's history.
The paddle is thrust in a furious rage, deep below the surface of the boiling lake. Paint streams in a twist of art, fate and nature in a silhouetted passage across an open, mirrored universe. The manifestation upon the painter’s board began in this violation of event against reflection, as the paddle-stroke evermore propels the canoe toward the open bay.....the twisting event of storm unfurling along the horizon pines.
In this storied sanctuary, in the sage scented basin of legend and spirits, the artist finds the portal to oversee creation. A hallowed place to live and paint, one side in the actuality of Algonquin, the other in the ethereal current of ecstasy. The poet is the artist, the environs the pinnacle of enlightened observation, between realities and illusion, natural heaven and hell.
The devil stirs against a subtle divinity of calm. Above the contoured rocks on the distant shore, actuality is painted an ominous black against green. Demons generate free-will within the cavernous tomb of autumn storm, just this moment blocking away the sun. There is a threatening free-fall earthward of fear and trembling; a deep, vibrating roar beyond the jowls of stormscape. A hard, piercing, rythmic drumming of wind and rain, growing deeply fertile, fueled by the inspiration of still-warm air that spans the lakeland.
The first bite of ill-fame has clearly cut with a dagger point, across the uneven expanse of this once still life. The gale generated whitecaps rage along the blunt rock shoreline. Seeking refuge from the painter’s intent, the wind’s malevolent passion, the canoeist turns sharply back toward shore. The precarious balance between paddler and storm stages mortal and artistic co-habitation. It is the will of artist. The traverse must end. The cyclonic force at the heart of creative storm, will paint, without mercy, without apology, a soon-fatal blow. The paint-board presents this tragic wake, the biography of evasive yet found immortality.
A gallery voyeur has just taken a step-back, mindful that art and artist demand space in which to thrive. What then is this unsafe passage of imagination, but the cruel play now of creator on the unsuspecting?
This thrusting, bitter October wind pounds down against the Algonquin woodland with a brutal force, snapping limbs off the bare old hardwoods and sending the fallen leaves into a filmy crimson sheet, draping across the hazy passage ahead. The deeply rolling waves pummel the canoe, bashing against the stern, the wind and current beneath wrenching the bow toward the sawblade of rock.
It became impossible to make any progress up the shore toward Mowat. The bounce-back of waves off the rocks had become severe, and the only way to avoid capsizing, was to pull into the first shallow inlet. At times the manifestation of wind and whitecaps was so powerful that the wooden canoe seemed to lift fully into the air, a precarious, spirited flight across the peaks and valleys of this unfolding legend.
The irregular, unpredictable, violent thrusts of autumn gale, strike down upon this haunted lake with a murderous, determined, unfaltering stroke. A mournful, darkened sky tumbles along the horizon, the true rage of Algonquin storm yet to unfurl. The shrill and haunting windsong, of air current through the tight embrace of towering evergreens, enchants in a warning voice. There is no safe passage. The sharp slap and cascade of waves upon silvered rocks, the creak and groan of aged docks, holding as schooner planks in high seas, peaks the voyeur’s sense that the spirit-kind are at work, sculpting in essence the bust of a tragic hero.
Adrift in this cauldron of tugging undertow and battering wave, a tightly clenched fist of wind jerks stern then bow, inward hard against the rocks. Long canvas shards engrave windward, giving the appearance of razor-cut paper in the flight of a kite. A clench of malevolent history strikes upward against the wooden hull, now shattered and torn open violently to the flood of dark twisting current. There is an evil succession of crashing waves, a tangle of green serpents diving one through the other, in this constant, wicked caress of nature’s most evolutionary intent. Drowning in this abstraction of legend, the canoe-mate disappears into the fictional depths of our own spirit lake. The challenger of nature, the ignorant transgressor, is overcome today by manifestation of art and artist, brush stroke and inspiration.
The creator stops work abruptly, resting hand and brush on the open paint box, as if he has been suddenly disconnected from prevailing realities. It is necessary to re-acquaint with the storm’s fury, still etching across the white and black contrasted bowl of Canoe Lake. As the overturned canoe, wood against stone, bobs like a corpse in the foaming inlet below, the bare knuckle of storm-surge bashes down like a lover spurned. In the slow but profound fade of life-shade into death, at this precise moment of sacrifice, the protocol of legend has been satisfied. An ominous, transforming darkness encroaches upon the watcher’s soul; brush is returned to oil and board, as if carried by wind and wave; a spirited rush of energy from earth beneath, into conflict, toil and creation.
A poignantly haunted lakeland emerges in this new warm light exposed, over the cold clasping rigor-mortis of life imitating art.
Just when it appears a typhoon might at any moment unfurl from the deepest black of spiraling cloudscape, the trace golden lines of sun enhance in thin cuts, along the deep green and blue hollows of afternoon horizon. Striking imprints, curious painted evolutions of storm and legend, are roughly hewn from contrary environs of wild reality yet enduring sanctuary.
Suspended at this moment is a raw cocktail of vigorous inspiration and sage advisory, the firmly brushed imprint of fiction against actuality; the uncertain oblivion that exists between canoe and storm, reality and impression, and the artist at the mercy of raging emotion. A cold, wicked penetration of arctic air stabs into the flesh, while the warm intoxication of creation keeps artist at task.
In earnest devotion, and unfaltering faith, it is mindfully acknowledged by the creator, the story has been successfully composed. A re-animation of the dead, you might say. A fatal traverse of life and times, captured for posterity. The last brush stroke, an illusion, has chaptered painter within the storm. Fear and trembling, blood and soul, rock and sky, our mutual surrender to Algonquin in transition.
In the glow of a gallery light, the fury manifests anew, as if released in our presence, the passion and glory of ecstasy bestowed.
With every paddle stroke against the current, we revere the legend that brought us here. Faithful, silent witness to the spirit within the storm.
In tribute to Canadian landscape painter, Tom Thomson.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Tom Thomson, Canoe Lake, and Music on The Barge






MUSIC ON THE BARGE ON CANADA DAY - OH PLEASE, OH PLEASE BE A NICE SUMMER EVENING

WITHOUT A MONSOON

     NATURE LOVERS LIKE ME, KNOW THAT THERE IS BEAUTY AND WONDERMENT IN EVERY STORM CLOUD. THERE IS SOMETHING SO POWERFULLY SPIRITUAL ABOUT A THUNDERSTORM, SUCH THAT THEY HAVE INSPIRED WRITERS, ARTISTS AND MUSICIANS THROUGHOUT HISTORY. AS AWE INSPIRING AS THEY MIGHT BE, FOR THE BARGE MANAGER, FRED SCHULZ, THEY ARE THE HARBINGER OF ANOTHER CANCELLED SHOW. SO THIS SUNDAY, HOPEFULLY, NATURE WILL BE SPECTACULAR, IN A SUNNY AND DRY REGARD, BEFORE AND POSSIBLY AFTER…..TO GIVE US ALL SOME WIGGLE ROOM TO GET BACK TO OUR CARS.  JUST NO STORMFRONTS FOR THE SET-UP AND RUNNING OF THE SECOND CONCERT OF THE 2012 SUMMER SEASON. AS THERE WAS A RISK OF SEVERE WEATHER LAST SUNDAY, FRED HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO CANCEL THE PROGRAM, IN AGREEMENT WITH MUSKOKA DISTRICT BAND CONDUCTOR, NEIL BARLOW. EVACUATING THE PARK IN THE EVENT OF A SUDDEN STORM WOULD BE DANGEROUS TO EVERYONE. THERE ARE NO RAIN OUT RE-LOCATIONS THIS YEAR, BECAUSE OF INADEQUATE ALTERNATE SITES.
     SO ON CANADA DAY, (SUNDAY, JULY 1ST) MR. BARLOW WILL TAKE ANOTHER SHOT AT THE GULL LAKE VENUE, BRINGING WITH HIM THE WELL KNOWN AND RESPECTED "BIFOCALS BAND," AND HOPEFULLY A CALM EVENING. IF THERE'S FURY, LET IT BE IN THE MUSIC, NOT THE ATMOSPHERE. FRED WAS UPSET ABOUT LAST WEEK'S CANCELLATION, AND DOESN'T LIKE THE FACT THERE ISN'T AN ALTERNATE SITE, BUT HE DOES HAVE A TEMPORARY RAIN SHELTER FOR BARGE EQUIPMENT AND PERFORMERS, IF THERE HAPPENED TO BE A SHORT, MODERATE RAIN EVENT. WHAT SPECTATORS NEED TO BRING, IF RAIN IS POTENTIAL, IS ENOUGH WATERPROOF GEAR TO LAST OUT A WEE DRIZZLE. LIKE THEY DID AT WOODSTOCK.
     PLEASE COME OUT AND SEE THE NEWLY REFURBISHED BARGE PLATFORM, THANKS TO THE FUNDING BY THE TOWN OF GRAVENHURST, AND THE WORK BY INMATES OF THE BEAVER CREEK CORRECTIONAL FACILITY. THANKS ALSO TO MANY BARGE VOLUNTEERS WHO HAVE HELPED BEHIND THE SCENES. FOR ONE, THE UNOFFICIALLY APPOINTED "BARGE DEBATING SOCIETY." INCLUDED WITH THIS CONCERT ON THE BARGE REMINDER, IS A PHOTOGRAPH OF THE BIFOCALS BAND. HOPE TO SEE YOU AT GULL LAKE PARK, FOR THE RESUMPTION OF A MUSIC TRADITION DATING BACK TO THE LATE 1940'S. WHAT A GREAT LEGACY FOR OUR TOWN. THANKS TO FRED, IT'S STILL "A GOING CONCERN" ALL THESE YEARS LATER.

TOM THOMSON AND ALBERT ROBINSON - A BOOK CIRCA 1937

     "Thomson was a mirror of the wilderness, like one of his own clear northern lakes that reflect with such extraordinary vividness the beauties of the surrounding country and ever-changing skies," notes the small quotation in Albert Robson's 1937 book, simply entitled "Tom Thomson." Following up on the biographical booklets written by Blodwen Davies, art colleague, Albert Robson, adds some additional information to the early study of the Canadian landscape painter…..who had died twenty years before the Ryerson Press, released this small art history.
     "Tom Thomson - painter of our north country - 1877-1917. Except to a very limited number of friends, Tom Thomson is a remote and mystical figure that broke into the art firmament with a sudden and dazzling brilliancy, and then disappeared as suddenly into the great unknown. During the last decade his career has been wrapped in mists of mystery and half truths somewhat obscuring a clear vision of the man and his work. These facts remain, that in March, 1913, Thomson exhibited his first canvas, 'A Northern Lake,' at an exhibition of the Ontario Society of Artists in Toronto. This picture was immediately purchased by the Ontario Government. In July of 1917, his tragic and unexpected death carried away, at the age of forty, a man who in those short intervening years left a profound and lasting imprint on the arts of Canada. The work which he produced during those four years is sufficient to proclaim him, beyond question, one of the most significant painters in the art history of the Dominion."
     Robson writes, "Thomson's truly amazing accomplishment is explainable mainly through the intensely passionate love he had for the lakes, woods and rolling granite-ribbed hills of the country he interpreted so sensitively and so beautifully. He painted the lake country with fiery concentration, rarely traveling farther than his beloved Algonquin Park, where Canoe Lake was his regular headquarters. Other Canadian artists had painted the north country before Thomson; it is both unfair and untrue to say that he discovered it as paintable material. But it is true to say, that he was the first painter really to interpret the north in its various subtleties of mood and feeling, free from influences of European traditions and formulas. His personal knowledge of the country and his inherent honesty, dictated its own technical methods of expression.
     "It is not easy to explain in words, the power and magic beauty of Thomson's sketches. There is subtle insight revealed in the fluency of his expression, and intimate understanding that radiates from every brush stroke, lifting his paintings to the highest level of Canadian artistic achievement. He had that rare inner vision that sees beauty in subjects which would not commonly be called beautiful. Through the windows of his own eyes he interpreted intrinsic truths with unerring accuracy. While many of Thomson's sketches are amazingly facile, there was no conscious striving after cleverness, for cleverness is a superficial quality which casts a fog between us and true beauty of expression. In his work he adhered to the broad base of representation, weaving a selective concrete realism into a lyrical pattern glowing with vitality and sparkling with individuality. Thomson did not travel the well-trodden highways of derivative painting but made trails of his own where no man had stepped before. His passion for the woods was so intense that he could paddle the lakes and streams, and camp under the stars by himself, apparently without any sense of loneliness. The feeling of personal kinship, which he thus gained, resulted in numerous sketches of widely varying moods of the north, not usually observed by the more casual visitor."

IMMERSING IN THE ART OF NATURE

     I will often pull back in my creaking, nearly destroyed chair, and distance these gnarled old fingers from the familiar comfort, of resting on these keys, and pause for a few moments, to think about mornings just like this, paddling along the shore of Canoe Lake, on a slow, meandering traverse to Tea Lake, and the Tea Lake Dam, where Tom Thomson used to fly fish from the rocks below the small cataract. A place I wish to remain in perpetuity with my muse, contemplating the universe and our place within.
     Despite the constant hum of this infernal contraption, that replaced my old manual typewriter, now relegated to a shelf as an ornament, I can easily dream back those soft, tranquilizing sounds of water droplets falling off the tip of an outstretched paddle; the trickle of water at the stern, as the canoe races its reflection to nowhere in particular. The morning mist, on a July morning, is cool and refreshing, as it is haunting and mysterious. A paddler might suddenly come upon the phantom canoeist……Thomson himself, who is said to haunt this Algonquin Lake. There is an enchantment to this scene, I find impossible to explain or translate, such that you might know the same feeling, of being on a parallel traverse, as was once travelled regularly, by one of Canada's best known landscape artists. I could drift dreamily away for an entire day, and feel it was mere moments of time, contemplating the enormity…… the history of this Algonquin paradise, that has inspired a legion of writers, artists and musicians. Its sunrises and sunsets have made poets from non-poets; artists from those who have never sketched a single panel, and created music in the minds of those who have never played an instrument. This is the place where invigoration pours directly into the soul, and great things can happen…..wonderful realities can emerge.
     I wish only to have my muse in this canoe of mine, so that I could show her this portal between actuality and spirituality; and show her what Tom Thomson saw of this world and beyond, within the legend of wild places. It is a strange solitude, that can calm and stroke the restless spirit, while at the same time, expanding the universe with such invigoration for adventure. This is the magic released by the paintings of Tom Thomson. That we can all sit comfortably in the bow of his canoe, and feel the pulse of nature surrounding us, and appreciate the full spectrum of freedom that was his recreation……as his paddle pushes with a curious silence, deep into the lake, to push us further along into our daydream. 
     Here is another previously published feature article, on Tom Thomson, based on research I commenced back in the mid to late 1990's, in preparation for several multi-chapter feature articles for the regional press.

Muskoka Winter –
Spending my time this winter with the memory of Tom Thomson
Back in the mid-1990’s, during a brief writing hiatus, I found myself by strange and coincidental circumstance, delving into the mysterious death of Canadian landscape artist, Tom Thomson. The legendary painter perished in July 1917, the victim of apparent drowning in Algonquin Park’s Canoe Lake. After a CBC documentary in the early 1970's, based on Judge William Little’s theory Thomson had been murdered instead, the arguments were so compelling that I was one of thousands of Canadians who began to see the Thomson misadventure as a cold case instead......some saw it simply as murder most foul with a host of suspects from the cast of characters circa 1917. It was writer and Thomson biographer Blodwen Davies who first raised the suspicion of murder in the late 1920's, while researching his activities in the Canoe Lake community for a future book. She found numerous people who resided around the lake, who also suspected Thomson had run into an adversary somewhere at Mowat (on Canoe Lake) on the night before his over-turned canoe was found floating near shore.
For me, the writer without a project, my interest was sparked (mid 1990's) after I read a biographical column written by well known Algonquin region guide, and trapper, Ralph Bice, published in a Muskoka weekly newspaper. As a long time admirer of Tom Thomson’s art, one column caught my attention moreso than the others in the series. It was a latent rebuttal of a theory put forth many years earlier by Judge William Little, in the text of his then controversial book, "The Tom Thomson Mystery," alleging the artist had been murdered. Mr.Bice, revered for his tales from the bush, contended the artist, who may or may not have been intoxicated at the time, simply fell out of his canoe, possibly while relieving himself mid-lake. He believed it was most likely, as other researchers have similarly concluded that Thomson simply whacked his noggin on the gunnel of the canoe as he fell, being knocked unconscious before actually hitting the water.
It wasn’t just Bice’s column alone that inspired years of preoccupation to find the murderer. It was the collection of strange coincidences that continued to happen during those first two years of research. (Many that still occur today while I continue to delve into reference material about the artist’s life and times) It was one particular coincidence and its spin-off that hooked me early in the Thomson story. It happened shortly after reading Ralph Bice’s column regarding his theory the artist’s death was the result of misadventure. Within a few hours of reading the column, I found an autographed copy of Judge Little’s book, "The Tom Thomson Mystery," on the shelf at the local Salvation Army Thrift Shop, here in Gravenhurst. It could be evidence of serendipity at play but I think in this case it was just plain old coincidence. Or if you believe in the capabilities of the so called "other-side" to communicate with the living, well, maybe Thomson had a plan for this writer without a project! Add to this the fact William Little had only recently passed away. It was from this point that coincidence made up a weighty portion of my work, which has led to numerous feature series in local publications, as well as other papers in Southern Ontario, including online sites. What really generated interest above all else, was that Ralph Bice had written the column about Thomson’s death being finally resolved, at a time when Judge Little could not offer a counter point. After consultation with several members of Judge Little’s family, I let them know that I wanted to defend the "murder" theory put forward by their father, a man I greatly admired, and respectfully re-submit information contained in the Tom Thomson Mystery, to balance, at least locally, what Mr. Bice contended was accidental drowning without the shadow of doubt. I just didn't think it was fair Judge Little couldn't counter these claims being made by Bice. The first short series of articles appeared in Muskoka Today and was well received by the local audience. I began getting all kinds of clippings and stories sent to me over quite a number of weeks, with some insight about the 1917 case I hadn't previously known. Of course it was early in research so this is to be expected.
After the first collection of columns had run as a sort of teaser, and I announced plans for a larger series in the future with more information, I began getting a significant number of letters, envelopes stuffed with old news clippings about Thomson, offers of Canadian art books for reference, and many words of advice both supporting William Little’s murder theory, and just as many on the side of Mr. Bice, convinced Thomson, an unskilled canoeist had simply drowned. There has been considerable debate whether or not Thomson was a skilled paddler. Some maintain he was indeed a proficient canoeist who could handle any serious weather out in the open and there are just as many who claim he was still a green-horn paddler who could easily have made a fatal mistake by being over-confident with his own apparent prowess.
Over a two and a half year span of time, I spent hours each week reading and re-visiting editorial material submitted, and other documents I found on my scrounging missions to libraries and old book shops. I can’t remember the final tally of articles I had published but it added up, by the pound and the hours spent, to be the most I had ever researched or written continuously on one subject. As an editor-columnist for the local press for many years, I was pretty much set on short pieces and summary histories, versus lengthy, over-written and ink burdened chapters "beating about the bush" to get to the bottom line. The Thomson story didn’t have the satisfying feeling I had anticipated, at the conclusion of each one of the specially prepared series; the sense of successful completion a writer normally experiences when the paper, as they say, is "hot off the press," and finally hitting the public domain. It has haunted me in the same way ever since. The job isn’t done yet! I told my wife Suzanne, in an historian’s typical frustrated rant and resignation, (while one day staring over the pile of Thomson clippings and research notes), that "it’s as if Thomson himself is asking me to carry-on and resolve the circumstances leading up to his death." Admittedly there have been moments of frustration when I have sworn-off having anything to do with the story ever again. A period of blunt, honest resignation that I have been defeated by the story......a hiatus which usually lasts about a week before I'm open to possibility again......that somewhere out there the truth exists.....in the grave, in the water, in the copious notes written by someone at some time.
If there’s one over-riding reason I haven’t abandoned the project, in nearly a decade of on-again off-again research, it is in the troubling reality Thomson’s death was a clear instance of "justice denied." While there was evidence he was murdered, a poorly run coroner’s inquest, (without the body…. which had already been buried) hastily ruled the artist had drowned accidentally. His tragic death is entrenched in the history of Canadian art, whether critics care to believe this or not; a mystery, a legend that in many ways, has and will continue to influence impressions of his art work. I would challenge my critics with this question……is there anyone, any art buyer since Thomson’s death, who hasn’t been influenced even to the smallest degree, by what has long been considered a mystery and tragedy rolled into one biographical overview. An exceptional painting, a death unresolved. Even days after the discovery of Thomson’s body in Canoe Lake, those close to the artist made claims about foul play, so the hearsay of murder is, as his death, at a 92 year anniversary.
One of the nation’s best known artists, his work having influenced so much of the national art consciousness of the past century, remains the shade of unresolved, nagging mystery. I have always be perturbed by the fact so little has been done, with the exception of research by William Little and before him, Blodwen Davies, (the first Thomson biographer), to properly address the inconsistencies surrounding his death that were covered-up and ignored by so many authorities and historians ever since. Maybe as some mediums claim of unresolved, discontent spirits, it’s the case Thomson can’t rest in peace until the exact cause of death is determined. I’ve certainly felt like a conduit over this past decade. I feel it’s critically important to keep, in front-line consideration, the important findings of both Davies and Little, both revered for their attention to detail and their characteristic reliability to treat fact reverently, and use the critical approach to prove or disprove a theory. I'm tired of generalizations that are the result of untutored and sloppy opinion that have little if anything to do with hard fact.
As Tom Thomson’s art work continues to attract higher prices at auction, with more record prices anticipated in the future, I’m of the stubborn belief Thomson’s memory deserves as much respect, and as a researcher I believe Canadian art history would be shaken to the core, if it was finally, and totally accepted our most revered artist was murdered, and not the victim of death by peeing (overboard) misadventure,...... as it prevails as accepted fact today in most of the authoritarian biographical texts.
The point of this lengthy little preamble, is to let readers know that I will be spending most of the frigid Muskoka winter, holed-up here at Birch Hollow (our Gravenhurst home), preparing editorial copy for a lengthy series of blogs to recognize the 92nd anniversary of Tom Thomson’s death 1917-2009. It will be the most thorough investigation into the artist’s death to date, and hopefully it will enlighten readers about the inconsistencies of the "accidental drowning" theory, and clearly prove there is enough evidence in the public domain today to finally sink the coroner's report of July 1917.....as unfounded speculation and nothing more.
From the snowy woodlands of Muskoka, farewell for now! More on Thomson yet to come.




Accidental drowning or a case of murder?
The Tom Thomson mystery officially began on July 8th, 1917
By Ted Currie
The water on Canoe Lake this morning mirrors the August sky. There is a deep and limitless blue over silver, wavering in the reflection of paradise on earth. A canoe and paddler silhouettes against the rising sun, as its route crosses a thick background of lush evergreens. It is a haunted lakeland. It’s no wonder Canadian landscape artist Tom Thomson adored this place.
"Mark Robinson (Algonquin Park Ranger) stated that as soon as he heard of the discovery of Tom’s (Thomson) canoe from Charlie Scrim, he began searching the shores of Canoe Lake from Tea Lake dam in the south, up through log-jammed Bonito Lake, a connecting water link between Canoe and Tea Lakes," wrote Judge William Little, in his controversial but well received book, "The Tom Thomson Mystery," published in 1970 by McGraw-Hill.
"The search began the morning of July 11th, and continued during the next four days without the discovery of a single clue. A number of local citizens took part in this time-consuming and intense investigation of every bay, inlet, and portage on Canoe Lake. Mark (Robinson), accompanied by his twelve year old son, Jack, traveled miles through the bush as well as back and forth on the portage to Gill Lake, a few miles to the west of Canoe Lake’s southern shoreline," Little notes of the full scale search for Tom Thomson. There was still some hope Thomson had just gone further afield and would soon make an appearance at possibly the Gil Lake Portage looking for his canoe. There were others who knew it wasn’t like Thomson to abandon his canoe.
"On July 12th George Thomson arrived at Canoe Lake on the evening train. After discussing his brother’s disappearance with Mark (Robinson), who met him at the station, George examined his brother’s canoe and talked with guides and residents of the area. He came to share the general view that it was hardly likely that Tom had come to any grief while on the water, and thought his brother might have left his canoe at a portage while he went to the other side to fish or paint. The mystery was why he would have stayed for so long a period unless he had been hurt or otherwise incapacitated while in the bush."
Judge Little, who had long suspected foul play leading to Thomson’s disappearance, paid attention to the following important details of the failed search: "The guides, particularly George Rowe and Charlie Scrim, were quick to note that Tom’s own working paddle was missing when his canoe was found, and the spare or portaging paddle had been found lashed in a position to portage but had been knotted in a most unorthodox way, as if a much less experienced canoeist than Thomson had tied it. When the guides searched the shoreline they were looking for the working paddle, as well as the artist himself. The paddle was never found which in itself is unusual in view of the concentrated efforts made by the many people working over specific areas. Paddles float."
In the words of Mark Robinson, regarding the failings of the search, "I traveled every day that week in the woods down to the south of us and west of the lake. I covered all that country along with my eldest boy and found no trace of him. I couldn’t find any track or sign of his having crossed Gill Lake. I returned each night and reported to Mr. Bartlett (Park Superintendent). He sent three or four rangers over to help and they traveled the east side of the lake here and the south side, as well as Tea Lake and Tea Lake dam areas. They found no trace of him. Saturday night I’d return late and he (Mr. Bartlett) said; ‘Look Mark, you must be tired traveling so much.’ I said I am but I can still travel more; I’d like to find Thomson. He must have broken a leg or a limb, maybe fallen and injured himself. I have walked all over the bush, I’ve fired shots and I’ve blown my whistle, and he knows my signal with the whistle as well as anyone does, and I have not been able to find him."
In the July 13th issue of the Toronto Globe the headline read, "Toronto Artist Missing In North – Tom Thomson missing from Canoe Lake since Sunday – A Talented Landscapist." The article read as follows: "Toronto art circles were shocked yesterday at the news received from Algonquin Park that Tom Thomson, one of the most talented of the younger artists in the city, had been missing since Sunday and was thought to have been drowned or the victim of foul play. Mr. Thomson was last seen at Canoe Lake at noon on Sunday (July 8th), and at 3:30 in the afternoon his canoe was found adrift in the lake, upside down. There was no storm, only a light wind prevailing, and the fact that both paddles were in place in the canoe as if for a portage, adds to the mystery… Mr. Thomson carried a light fishing rod and this and his dunnage bag were missing." This contradicts earlier evidence that only one paddle was found awkwardly lashed to the thwart of the canoe.
"On July 14th, George Thomson, in preparation for departure on the evening train, gathered up a number of Tom’s sketches that were among his few belongings," noted Judge Little of the elder brother’s decision to leave before the search had concluded. George Thomson’s departure and removal of some of his brother’s art work continued to be a curiosity to writers such as William Little. It didn’t seem right that he had left Canoe Lake without absolute news regarding the disappearance. George Thomson was fully aware that if his brother had drowned, the body would surface sooner or later, considering the water temperature and conditions of the key waterways. It was one day later in fact, that Dr. Howland, on Little Wapomeo Island, in Canoe Lake, had snagged something or other while fishing, which was most likely Thomson’s submerged body. The next day Dr. Howland spotted something floating in the water in the same general location as his snagged fishing line the evening before. Two local guides passing in a canoe at the time, George Rowe and Lowrie Dickson, were asked by the doctor to check out the object floating in a direct line with Hayhurst Point. It turned out to be the bloated body of Tom Thomson.
What would follow is an impromptu medical examination which determined that Thomson had been bleeding after falling in the water, meaning it was most likely he had sustained a severe blow to the head but still had a heart beat when he hit the water. There was no water found in the lungs. Yet by Dr. Howland’s impromtu autopsy report, the artist had without doubt perished by drowning......no serious concerns being raised about the obvious bump on the side of Thomson’s head......and whether it could have been the result of an altercation leading up to his positioning in the watery grave. While it may have been suspected there was more to the story of Thomson’s demise, and some suspicion about foul play, there is no record of murder being suggested at this point, and in fact, it never did arise even at the eventual coroner’s inquiry. What is known, as Blodwen Davies found out more than a decade later, is that a goodly amount of innuendo about murder had surfaced and was still simmering in the Canoe Lake community. Not everyone had bought into the accidental death scenario. What is obvious over the decades however, is that there was a refusal to publicly debate the issue within that community. The mystery broadens.
What would be a pivotal decision in the case, was Mark Robinson’s chagrin about leaving Thomson’s badly decomposing body tied to the Canoe Lake shore awaiting the coroner. He paddled to see his superior, Bartlett, and it was agreed an examination and burial that same day, July 17th, should be conducted in respect for the dead. What this did was deny the official coroner, who would come later, the opportunity to examine the body, rather than accepting the autopsy report from Dr. Howland, who had determined the cause of death as accidental drowning. By time the coroner, Dr. Ranney did arrive that same day, July 17, 1917, Thomson had already been buried in the Canoe Lake Cemetery.
Instead of ordering the body be exhumed which he had ever right to insist, he accepted the report by Dr. Howland, and the observations of witnesses at an inquest.
It will long be my own contention, that when those in attendance refused to speak up, after the coroner invited anyone who had suspicions about other factors that could have led to the artist’s demise,.. the seed of mystery was deeply planted in the Canoe Lake community. Many in attendance knew that Thomson was a capable canoeist and the weather of the day had offered no challenge out of the ordinary for such an experienced paddler. They also knew there had been heated words exchanged with cottager Martin Bletcher Jr., the night before his disappearance, at a mutual friend’s cabin; Bletcher suggesting that Thomson should stay out of his way if he knew what was good for him. In fact, the inquest was held in the Bletcher cottager. And no one raised even one concern Thomson could have been the victim of foul play,...... even though there is evidence some participants at the inquest talked freely of murder, and potential suspects once the official part of the meeting had concluded.
If they had truly been friends of Thomson as many were quick to claim, it might seem their bond of friendship, that would have prevailed upon their honesty at the inquest, had its weakness in the face of an unspecified retribution for speaking their minds. Did they know the killer then and simply refuse to reveal it to the coroner? Or possibly they weren’t Thomson’s friends at all!
The 95th Anniversary of Tom Thomson’s death-
Where is his final resting spot?
"Dr. Ranney had not returned to his home in North Bay to complete his official report of the inquest (regarding the death of Tom Thomson), before Shannon Fraser (Mowat hotelier) received a telegram from a Huntsville undertaker, Mr. H.W. Churchill, saying that he was coming to Canoe Lake (in Algonquin Park), to exhume the body of Tom Thomson. Shannon told Mark (Robinson – a park ranger) of the telegram and both men were puzzled about when this exhumation was to take place, and who ordered it to be done," reported William Little, in his book, "The Tom Thomson Mystery," published in 1970 by McGraw-Hill Ryerson. The up and coming Canadian artist had reportedly drowned on July 8th, and when his body was discovered floating in Canoe Lake, it was hurriedly buried due to its advanced state of decomposition. Or at least that was the reason given. The decision to bury Thomson before the Coroner could examine the body has become one of the pivotal points of conflict that has given the murder theory so much momentum over the years. Not only is it true that "Dead men tell no tales....." "Buried men conceal evidence." While there has been the suggestion that the war-time stresses on the medical community at home, which created manpower shortages in every community, represented at least part of the constraints on Dr. Ranney, (somewhat justifying his refusal to order an exhumation of the Thomson plot), it is still the lingering question in this new century, as it was in the last, that never gets a satisfactory answer. Today this would not have been allowed. In Dr. Ranney’s day it wasn’t allowed either but somehow the Thomson inquiry just kept getting more muddled as time and people came and then left.....with a heck of a mystery spiralling in the wake.
Shannon Fraser’s horse-drawn stagecoach, which had been used to transport Tom’s body to the gravesite (Canoe Lake Cemetery), made regular runs to Canoe Lake Station to meet incoming guests, and also to transport those returning home to trains leaving for the southern parts of the province. Shannon visited the station shortly before 8 p.m. to meet the eastbound train. He made the trip to the station with the coach empty save for a trunk that was to go out on the morning train. He was surprised to be met by a tall dark man dressed in undertaker’s garb complete with bowler hat and long dark coat."
As I stand here now on the shore of beautiful Canoe Lake, the autumn scene this morning is at a stunningly beautiful maturity. The water surface is still and reflective mirroring the tranquility of both heaven and earth. One can easily imagine the lone canoeist in a silent traverse of this autumn paradise, the wake a thin ripple disappearing into the quivering silver of an enchanted lake. Maybe it was the ghost of Tom Thomson paddling that spirit canoe toward a favorite fishing spot. Maybe it was just the mind playing tricks. The natural splendor of this place does it to me all the time. I inadvertently get lulled into complacency at a time when we’re supposed to be investigating a 90 year old cold case. Was Tom Thomson murdered in July of 1917? Some say it was death due to drowning. Others believe it was a whack on the head which led to his death. Murder? Disposal of the body! And so many other mysterious goings on, to this point in our story......but the confluence of interesting details continues.
"Introducing himself, the undertaker announced, ‘I’m Churchill from Huntsville; you received my telegram I expect? I have the metal casket here on the station baggage wagon. If you’ll give me a hand with it we can put it on your coach.’ Shannon eyed the plain metal box and took the lower end in his strong arms and lifted it with considerably more ease than the undertaker. Mr. Churchill’s black valise was placed in the passenger section, while the undertaker himself climbed up beside Shannon on the driver’s seat. ‘You’ll be doing your work tomorrow I expect,’ Shannon averred. ‘Tonight,’ was the terse answer. ‘Tonight?’ exclaimed Shannon. ‘I can’t get you any help at this time of day.’ ‘I don’t need any help, just get me a good digging shovel, a lantern and a crow bar and I’ll do the rest. I want to get out on the morning train and get this coffin off to Owen Sound by tomorrow.’ ‘You’ve got your work cut out for you, and I don’t envy you,’ boomed Shannon, keeping his eyes on the curving road ahead." This passage appears on page 84 of Judge Little’s "The Tom Thomson Mystery."
This is an integral point in understanding the Tom Thomson mystery. The Thomson family wanted a proper burial in their own community cemetery in Leith, Ontario, near Owen Sound. It was an understandable request seeing as they had not been given time to attend the impromptu Canoe Lake burial. What was more than a little unusual was that Churchill planned to exhume Thomson’s body during the night by himself. When Shannon Fraser arrived the next morning the metal shipping container was ready to go, according to the undertaker’s word the night before, although it appeared only a small amount of the grave site had been disturbed by the shovel. It seemed to Fraser an impossible task, for him to have raised a hardwood coffin in a cedar rough box without having made a much larger hole. Mark Robinson, who inspected the site later, also had difficulty appreciating the handiwork of the Huntsville undertaker. When Fraser helped lift box with Thomson’s body onto the cart it didn’t seem much heavier than when he had unloaded it at the cemetery.
It is reported that Park Ranger, Mark Robinson, accosted Mr. Churchill at the train station, according to a chronicle of the events presented in a CBC film documentary circa 1970, asking by what authority he had to remove Thomson’s body from Algonquin Park. Churchill said he had approval from the Thomson family and that was all he needed. The body was loaded onto the morning train and shipped on schedule to Owen Sound and then on to Leith, as it is understood for re-burial. It is believed the casket was never opened by family or the undertaker in charge of funeral preparation. Reportedly comments were made that there was a musty odor permeating from the box, whether that meant its contact with the Algonquin soil or a scent from the body within. There is another story told by a reliable source that Tom’s father had requested the lid be removed from the box so that he could see his son one last time......and the artist had indeed arrived home to Leith.
So why is this integral to the Thomson mystery? In 1956 William Little and three companions, acting on information from a variety of sources who steadfastly believed Thomson’s body had never been moved by Churchill that July night in 1917, decided to seek out the artist’s burial spot in the small Canoe Lake Cemetery. They eventually found the plot and dug up the coffin that had supposedly been removed by Churchill. It was identical to Thomson’s, including the name plate that had been left blank in the rush to get the body buried. There was a skeleton inside, the skull having a hole in the left temple area, consistent with a blow to the head visible on Thomson’s body when examined by Dr, Howland. Had Churchill lied about moving the body to Owen Sound? What was in that metal traveling coffin? Algonquin soil?
Here’s the problem. When the skull was examined by several forensic authorities, relating it to photographs taken of Thomson, it was ruled the body in the coffin wasn’t the deceased artist circa 1917. Who was it then? The Thomson family did not agree at that time, or any time since, to have Tom’s grave in Leith exhumed to prove beyond doubt the artist had arrived home in the summer of 1917….such that it still remains in the minds of many, a controversial delivery from Algonquin Park’s Canoe Lake. William Little, to the end of his life, believed the skeleton found in the Canoe Lake plot was without question, Tom Thomson, which certainly begs the question, "so who is buried in his grave in Leith, Ontario?" Why would Churchill have left the body in the original grave when he could have been exposed by the family in Leith, if they had demanded the coffin be opened…..only to find good old Algonquin soil and nothing else. There is nothing to suggest Churchill was dishonest in any way so it does seem unlikely he would have made this attempt to shortchange the Thomsons of their son, risking certain financial ruination. He probably did know that Thomson was a rising Canadian artist, by news carried in the local Huntsville press after he had been reported missing. Either it is true that the elder Thomson had been satisfied with a viewing of the open coffin or that it had not been opened at all. There was nothing to suggest Churchill hadn’t fulfilled all his obligations. My own opinion of Churchill has changed substantially from my first foray into the story when I believed his actions were less than savory. I do admit believing Thomson’s body was transported to Leith and that Shannon Fraser’s account may have been tainted because, as it turns out, he was one of the prime murder suspects.....possibly having reason to dump on Churchill when questions of Thomson’s body surfaced much later in the ongoing investigation. When Churchill was approached decades later about the transfer of the body, it was apparent his age and prevailing illness contributed to his confusion about the case yet he would not agree to the two grave scenario. He had indeed transported Thomson to Leith. So why is there a skeleton in Thomson’s plot in Algonquin Park? Could it be Judge Little and companions that day had simply dug up the wrong plot and the remains were not Thomson’s? It did take them numerous attempts to find an occupied plot. Was it another man instead? Afterall forensic studies in the 1950's revealed the bones had belonged to a native person, ruling out Thomson. This point was refuted by Little but as far as scientific testing, the case was closed,..... the skull returned to the grave at Mowat.
A number of years ago an undertaker from the Owen Sound area had allegedly offered the Thomson family a free exhumation and reburial in a new coffin, if they would agree to resolve this ages old puzzler.
For many years, during the summer months, cut flowers regularly appeared on his former plot at the Canoe Lake Cemetery, with nary an explanation yet plenty of speculation. In more than ten years working on this story, I have had at least ten times more testimonials that Thomson is still in Algonquin Park, as compared to those believing he had been re-located to Owen Sound by the good Mr. Churchill.
The wind has begun to caress this rock and evergreen shoreline, and the reflective solace of only moments ago, has been diminished in the preamble of an autumn storm. Yet in storm and seasonal change, comes a new, even more profound experience, standing on this Canoe Lake shore, watching the last leaves being ripped from the hardwoods, being dashed onto this now cauldron surface, to traverse in the waves like Thomson, to another place and another time.
Take an autumn visit to Ontario’s enchanting Algonquin Park, and be sure to see the museum and art gallery display at the Visitor’s Centre not far from the east gate. You’ll enjoy a magnificent drive through Algonquin’s painted forests. But watch out for the deer and moose.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

We Are Richer in Art Because of Tom Thomson


ANTIQUING IN MID-LIFE. EXPANSION OF RETAIL BUSINESS ALMOST COMPLETE

     SUZANNE AND I, WITH OUR TWO LADS ANDREW AND ROBERT, USED TO RUN A LITTLE ANTIQUE SHOP, ON UPPER MANITOBA STREET, IN BRACEBRIDGE, BACK IN THE 1990'S. WE HAVE TRAVELLED TO MANY SHOWS, MARKETS AND ANTIQUE EVENTS ALL OVER MUSKOKA, (AND A LITTLE BEYOND) TO SET UP OUR ANTIQUE BOOTHS. FOR YEARS WE WERE REGULAR VENDORS AT THE ANTIQUE BOAT SHOW HERE IN GRAVENHURST. WE HAVE BEEN ONLINE SELLERS OF ANTIQUES AND COLLECTIBLES FOR ABOUT TEN YEARS. WE DECIDED A FEW MONTHS AGO, TO OFFER OUR LADS SOME ANTIQUE ITEMS, TO EXPAND THEIR PRESENT MUSIC SHOP, IN THE FORMER MUSKOKA THEATRE BUILDING, ON GRAVENHURST'S MAIN STREET. SUZANNE AND I HAVE GRADUATED TO THE SENIOR STATUS OF BEING "ANTIQUE PICKERS," THESE DAYS, AND WILL BE HELPING THE LADS KEEP UP THEIR COLLECTIBLE INVENTORY. WE WILL HELP WITH THE SHOP THIS SUMMER, AND BE ON-SITE OCCASIONALLY FROM SEPTEMBER TO NEXT JULY. DEPENDS HOW THE BOYS GET ALONG. THEY'VE BEEN DOING THIS ANTIQUE THING MOST OF THEIR LIVES, SO THEY KNOW THE DRILL INSIDE AND OUT. THEY SHIFTED INTO VINTAGE MUSIC BECAUSE IT'S WHAT THEY ENJOYED MOST ABOUT THE OLD-STUFF ENTERPRISE. BUT THEY KNOW THEIR STUFF, NO MATTER WHETHER IT IS A PAINTING OR A PINE BUFFET. SO THE WAY WE ARE PROGRESSING, AT PRESENT, WE WILL BE OPEN BY ABOUT NOON ON SATURDAY. BUT THE SET-UP?  CRAZY! WE'RE ALL EXHAUSTED. JUST LIKE THE OLD DAYS, OF HUSTLING ALL OVER THE REGION, TO SHOW OUR WARES.  SUZANNE IS NEARING RETIREMENT, AND I'M TURNING NOVELIST (SORT OF, AS A MID-LIFE CRAZY LARK), AND AS WE PLANNED TO SPEND THE BALANCE OF OUR WORKING LIVES, IN THE PROFESSION WE BEGAN IN THE 1980'S, FOR THIS PURPOSE, I GUESS WE SHOULD BE CONTENTED AT THE FULL-CIRCLE ASPECT. WE'RE JUST TOO TIRED AT THE MOMENT, TO APPRECIATE THE FACT WE HAVE DONE WHAT WE SAID WE WOULD AS NEWLYWEDS. SHE USED TO CALL ME "DEAR." NOW IT'S, "HEY, YOU OLD BALL AND CHAIN…..COME ON, LET'S GO!" DROP IN FOR A VISIT SOME TIME THIS SUMMER. 




TOM THOMSON INTRIGUE CARRIES ON TO THIS NEW CENTURY

     CANADIAN ART HISTORIAN / BIOGRAPHER, DAVID SILCOX, GAVE ME SOME GOOD ADVICE ABOUT THE EXAMINATION OF CANADIAN ARTIST, TOM THOMSON. IT WAS A BASIC, HONEST, WELL-TUTORED RESPONSE, IN REGARD TO MY CEASELESS QUESTIONING AND INTRIGUE, WITH THE THOMSON MYSTERY. ITS WAS THAT THE QUALITY AND ALLURE OF THOMSON'S ART WORK, NOT BE ROLLED-INTO THE DEBATE ABOUT HOW THE PAINTER DIED. WHETHER IT WAS THE RESULT OF MISADVENTURE, BY ACCIDENTAL DROWNING WHILE TRAVERSING ALGONQUIN'S CANOE LAKE, OR FOUL PLAY AT THE HAND OF A CANOE LAKE ACQUAINTANCE, DAVID SILCOX PROVIDED SENSIBLE ADVICE. WE MUST NOT OVERLAP THE MYSTERY WITH THE ACTUALITY OF HIS SHORT BUT EXCEPTIONAL ART CAREER. I MUST ADMIT, TO FINDING IT DIFFICULT, TO ATTEND A GALLERY WHERE THOMSON ORIGINALS HANG, AND NOT FEELING THE TRAGIC CIRCUMSTANCE OF HIS BIOGRAPHY. I SUPPOSE IT IS THE PROBLEM OF A NARROW FOCUS, ON THE NEAR-CENTURY-OLD COLD CASE, THAT I STILL FEEL JUSTICE WAS NEVER SERVED, AND A BUDDING CANADIAN ARTIST NEVER REACHED HIS POTENTIAL. THERE ARE THOMSON EXPERTS, I IMAGINE, WHO COULD REFUTE THIS IN A HEART-BEAT, TO CLAIM HE HAD MOST DEFINITELY REACHED A PEAK IN HIS ARTISTIC COMPETENCE, AND EVEN IF HE HAD LIVED TO A RIPE OLD AGE, THE PANELS WE HAVE TODAY MAY NEVER HAVE BEEN SURPASSED BY BETTER WORK. I KNOW WHAT DAVID SILCOX ADVISED ABOUT THOMSON'S WORK IS TRUE. THAT THE OVER-INDULGENCE OF FOUL PLAY THEORIES, AND MYSTERY OVER WHERE THE ARTIST'S REMAINS ARE ACTUALLY BURIED (MOWAT OR LEITH), DOES JADE THE WAY MANY OF US INTERPRET HIS ART PANELS…..AS IF WE SEE THE DEAD ARTIST'S GHOST WANDERING THE GALLERY, LOOKING FOR HIS LOST YEARS. AS I HAVE STATED PREVIOUSLY, I GREW UP THROUGH MY SCHOOL YEARS, WITH A DEEP ADMIRATION FOR THE ART WORK OF TOM THOMSON, AND THE GROUP OF SEVEN ARTISTS. LONG BEFORE I READ AND HEARD ANYTHING ABOUT THE MYSTERY OF HIS DEATH, I PASSED THE TIME IN CLASS, BY LOOKING AT HIS WORK PUBLISHED IN OUR TEXTBOOKS, AND PRINTS THAT WERE OFTEN HUNG FOR DECORATION. IT IS THE REASON TODAY, I COLLECT VINTAGE THOMSON PRINTS AND BOOKS, THAT HAVE NOTHING SPECIFICALLY TO DO WITH THE UNSOLVED MYSTERY OF HIS DEATH. I WOULD LIKE TO OWN ONE OF HIS ORIGINALS, BUT I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO AFFORD THE INSURANCE, FOR THE CURRENT MARKET VALUE. EVEN IF IT WAS THE SIZE OF A POSTAGE STAMP.
     THERE IS STILL THAT NAGGING ISSUE WITH ME, AFTER ALMOST TWENTY YEARS RESEARCHING THE THOMSON BIOGRAPHY. IT RESTS WITH THE FACT HIS DEATH AND THE CIRCUMSTANCES SURROUNDING THAT DAY, IN JULY 1917, AND THE WEEK IT TOOK TO RECOVER THE BODY, HAS NEVER BEEN RESOLVED AFTER 95 YEARS. EVEN THE PART WHERE THERE ARE TWO GRAVES BUT ONLY ONE ARTIST. CONCERNS ABOUT THE EXHUMATION OF THE THOMSON GRAVE, BY A HUNTSVILLE UNDERTAKER, NAMED CHURCHILL, ON ORDERS FROM GEORGE THOMSON, TOM'S BROTHER, SHORTLY AFTER THE INTIAL MOWAT BURIAL, WERE BEING RAISED ALMOST IMMEDIATELY IN THE ALGONQUIN COMMUNITY. FIRST OF ALL, THE CHIEF SUSPECT IN THOMSON'S ALLEGED MURDER, SHANNON FRASER, WAS THE CHAP WHO BROUGHT CHURCHILL AND HIS METAL CASKET TO THE MOWAT CEMETERY THE NIGHT OF THE EXHUMATION. CHURCHILL IS ALLEGED TO HAVE REFUSED FRASER'S ASSISTANCE.
    IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN A POINT OF CONTENTION, AS TO HOW CHURCHILL COULD HAVE RAISED THOMSON'S COFFIN HIMSELF, BY THE LOW GLOW OF SEVERAL OIL LANTERNS. PARK RANGER, MARK ROBINSON, IS SAID TO HAVE CONFRONTED CHURCHILL AT THE RAIL STATION, IN THE MORNING, ABOUT THE METAL CASKET ON A RAIL CART, AS THE UNDERTAKER AWAITED THE MORNING TRAIN BACK TO HUNTSVILLE. ROBINSON, IT HAS BEEN NOTED, WAS UPSET HE HADN'T BEEN NOTIFIED BY THE PARK SUPERINTENDENT, BARTLETT, THAT AN EXHUMATION OF THOMSON WAS GOING TO OCCUR, AND THE BODY REMOVED FOR REBURIAL IN LEITH, ONTARIO. WHAT CONCERNED ROBINSON WAS THAT THE GRAVE SITE HAD BEEN ONLY MODERATELY DISTURBED BY THE EXHUMATION, AND IT GAVE EVERY APPEARANCE OF NOT BEING TOUCHED, EXCEPT FOR THE CASE OF A SMALL HOLE LEFT ON THE PLOT. THERE WERE SUGGESTIONS CHURCHILL HAD THROWN ALGONQUIN EARTH IN THE METAL SHIPPING CASKET, AND HAD NEVER BROUGHT-UP THOMSON'S REMAINS FROM THE MOWAT PLOT. THIS LED JUDGE WILLIAM LITTLE AND MATES, TO DIG UP THE MOWAT GRAVE, IN THE 1950'S, TO SEE IF CHURCHILL HAD ACTUALLY DONE WHAT HE WAS PAID TO DO. THIS UNAUTHORIZED EXHUMATION TURNED UP AN OCCUPIED WOODEN COFFIN.  ALTHOUGH EXAMINING FORENSIC EXPERTS AT THE TIME, AGREED THE BONES DIDN'T BELONG TO THOMSON, JUDGE LITTLE WAS CONVINCED CHURCHILL HAD LIED ABOUT RAISING AND THEN MOVING THE ARTIST'S BODY. HAD FRASER SEEN TO THIS, IN SOME FASHION, NOT WANTING THE BODY TO BE VIEWED AGAIN, IN CASE IT OPENED UP A MURDER SCENARIO, OF WHICH HE MIGHT BE IMPLICATED. THERE IS A SECTION IN THE BOOK, "ONE MAN'S OBSESSION," BY ROBERT MCMICHAEL, OF THE MCMICHAEL GALLERY, NOTING THAT TOM THOMSON'S FATHER, ASKED THAT THE COFFIN BE OPENED FOR HIM, BEFORE THE LEITH RE-BURIAL, AND THAT THE ARTIST'S BODY WAS WITNESSED INSIDE.
     EVEN THOSE WHO ARE STEADFAST IN THEIR BELIEF, THOMSON WAS REBURIED IN THE FAMILY PLOT IN LEITH, ONTARIO (NEAR OWEN SOUND), HAVE A SMIDGEON OF DOUBT. I WROTE ABOUT THIS TO THOMSON AUTHORITY, ROY MACGREGOR, AND SUGGESTED THAT FOR HIS NEW BOOK, "NORTHERN LIGHT," A WELL DOCUMENTED COMPENDIUM OF DETAILS, SURROUNDING HIS LIFE AND DEATH, A FORENSIC EXAMINATION BE DONE ON THE BONES IN THE MOWAT PLOT, ONCE OCCUPIED BY THE ARTIST. THE REMAINS HAD ALREADY BE EXHUMED TWICE BEFORE. ONCE IN JULY 1917, AND THEN AGAIN BY LITTLE AND COMPANY, IN THE 1950'S. A RE-VISITATION TO THE ALGONQUIN GRAVE WOULD ALLOW A DNA TEST TO BE CONDUCTED ON THE BONES, TO SETTLE THE DISPUTE ONCE AND FOR ALL. IT DOESN'T SOLVE THE MYSTERY OF HIS DEATH, BUT IT WOULD SETTLE SOMETHING THAT REALLY SHOULD HAVE BEEN RESOLVED MANY, MANY YEARS AGO. EVEN THE PROVINCIAL AUTHORITIES SHOULD HAVE REACTED, HAVING ONE BODY BUT TWO GRAVES……ONE STILL OCCUPIED IN THEIR PROVINCIAL PARK. WHILE I APPRECIATE THE FAMILY'S SENSITIVITIES IN THIS REGARD, ESPECIALLY OPENING THE GRAVESITE IN LEITH, WHY WOULD THERE BE ANY OBJECTION, WHATSOEVER, TO SUPPORT THE EXHUMATION OF A PLOT THOMSON VACATED 95 YEARS AGO. IN FACT, IT'S SOMETHING THE PROVINCE COULD ORDER AT ANY TIME, IF THERE WAS AN INTEREST, BECAUSE THE FAMILY DOESN'T HAVE A CLAIM TO THE ALGONQUIN SITE. MY QUESTION IS, WHY IS IT FELT, THIS IS BEST LEFT ALONE. I COULDN'T CONVINCE ROY MACGREGOR THAT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA. HE DID HOWEVER, ENLIST THE HELP OF AN ACCLAIMED FORENSIC ARTIST, TO DO A FACIAL RECONSTRUCTION, BASED ON PHOTOGRAPHS TAKEN OF THE ALLEGED THOMSON SKULL, THAT WILLIAM LITTLE HAD DUG UP IN THE MOWAT CEMETERY. YOU HAVE TO BUY MACGREGOR'S BOOK TO FIND OUT HOW THIS HELPED PIECE TOGETHER THE MYSTERY OF TWO GRAVES AND ONE DECEASED PAINTER. IT'S A GREAT BOOK IF YOU'RE A THOMSON FAN.
     I HAVE BEEN GOING THROUGH THE COLOR PANELS, IN THE BOOK, "TOM THOMSON; SILENCE AND THE STORM," WRITTEN BY DAVID SILCOX, AND ARTIST HAROLD TOWN, AND I AM ONCE AGAIN ENTHRALLED WITH THE ARTIST WHO PAINTED THESE ALLURING LANDSCAPES. IT IS INDEED, FAR MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE MYSTERY OF HIS DEMISE. HIS ART WORK INSPIRED ME TO PADDLE THE LAKES AND RIVERS OF ALGONQUIN PARK. I BROUGHT MY FAMILY. WHAT GREAT JOY WE HAVE HAD, EXPLORING THOSE BEAUTIFUL AND INSPIRING LAKES OF ONTARIO. THOMSON'S PAINTINGS HAVE ALWAYS LIVED FOR ME. 
     HERE IS ANOTHER THOMSON FEATURE PIECE THAT HAS BEEN PRINTED IN OTHER PUBLICATIONS OVER THE YEARS.




Tom Thomson’s Algonquin was the depiction of the Canadian North
By Ted Currie
March. A tired old winter holding-on. Yet there is the smell of open earth coming from the hillsides where the sun has been strong and kind. There is the potential a mid-winter snowstorm might soon spiral away the bright cheer of this now sunny lake vista, as Algonquin storms are legendary for their suddenness and intensity. The warm bathing sunglow this morning, in a matter of moments, could be swept into obscurity by wind-driven snow and the darkness of tumbling cloud cover. There is an ominous cloud-bank currently rising behind the horizon evergreens. For the moment, I bask here in this spring-inspired morning sun, and think about the artist who painted transitional vistas such as this, and became as much a legend as the Algonquin landscape he documented.
"Thomson’s sketches had developed with breath-taking rapidity for four years. The climax came in 1917 when he began in early spring to paint a daily record of nature’s changing moods and aspects, even to the flowers. By July, he reported his project as virtually completed. The Frasers at Mowat Lodge saw him leaving in his canoe at noon on July 8 for an afternoon of fishing at Tea Lake Dam. The overturned canoe was found later that day, and his body was recovered on July 16. There were many rumors of foul play and much speculation about how the best-known canoeman of the north could have drowned by accident."
The passage above appears on page 275 of the revered Canadian art history by J. Russell Harper, entitled "Painting in Canada – A History."
In 1925, less than a decade after Thomson’s death, art historian, Newton MacTavish, in the book "The Arts in Canada," wrote the following passage about the artist’s impact on a nation, and on the international art community itself:
"Then came suddenly, in 1917, the news that Tom Thomson had been drowned in Algonquin Park. The occurrence meant, as far as art in Canada is concerned, more than might be suspected, because Thomson, although he lived in winter, in Toronto, almost as a recluse, and in summer as a bush ranger, had a considerable following. For he had attacked the north country with a big and exclusive design. And although he did not teach art, his work was an inspiration to others; and if ever it can be shown that there is in Canada a school of art, the beginnings of that school might be traced back to Tom Thomson."
"I could sit down and cry to think that while in all this turmoil over here there is a ray of light, and that the peace and quietness of the north country should be the scene of such a tragedy," wrote Thomson’s colleague A.Y. Jackson, in a letter to associate painter J.E.H. MacDonald, shortly after he had received word of the drowning. Jackson, at the time, was in England awaiting transport to the battlefront in France, to paint the war record of Canadian soldiers in action, during the concluding years of the First World War. "It seems like the reversing of another tie which bound us to Canada, because without Tom the north country seems a desolation of bush and rock. He was the guide, the interpreter, and we the guests partaking of his hospitality so generously given," wrote Jackson in a letter dated August 4th, 1917." (Letter contained in "Painting in Canada – A History" by J.R. Harper)
Although the winter of 2009 had an early but gentle beginning, the late-winter rage has once again defined in sculpture, the dynamic of a Canadian winter. Standing on the shore of Algonquin’s Canoe Lake, you must not dismiss the remaining weeks of winter potential. It is a most beautiful frozen snowscape, sculpted with the heavy snow and windstorms of February. It was a scene Thomson would have approved, and sought out the right vantage point to more poignantly capture the effects of light and shadow, upon rock, windswept evergreens and late winter sky. It is a curious portal from which to view the natural world. It instills upon the watcher in the woods, a comforting solitude yet offers an immense invigoration of the senses. It was a place of great inspiration to Tom Thomson. Ninety two years ago this rapidly rising figure in Canadian art, was about to make his most intense study of the Algonquin re-awakening which would see the creation of many of his finest paint boards, depicting the colorations of this season of dynamic, vivid re-generation. It would end several months later with his alleged drowning, sometime between the evening of July 7th and mid afternoon July 8th, during a undetermined misadventure on this same lake.
Tom Thomson’s reputation as a representative Canadian artist was emerging slowly by 1917 but there are few critics who would disagree, his ongoing success was virtually guaranteed if he had continued painting past that summer. The fact he died on this brink of fame, and did so tragically and arguably with an added measure of inescapable mystery, has become so intertwined over the years, it is impossible to separate the two aspects of insightful art and sudden demise. If Thomson had died of natural causes, much less attention would have been foisted upon his departure from this mortal coil, and all the focus would have been on his life and art. Like finding a jury member uncontaminated by freely expressed opinion or bias of a particular event, finding an art admirer anywhere who isn’t abundantly aware of Thomson’s sudden and mysterious death, is a rarity today just as it was in the years following the Canoe Lake occurrence.
There are steadfast art historians who wish to remove the circumstances of his death well away from the interpretation of his art panels. Yet a few hale and hearty avengers, in the study of Thomson’s death, feel it is now an inherent, important patina of his work; not to take away from his artistic capability but as a legend within that begs us to take a second look,...... at not only his art but the mortal who so capably captured Algonquin’s natural, supernatural essence. I could stand on this frozen shore all day, feeling the company of Thomson’s spirit. I can easily imagine what it must have been like in that spring of 1917, when the artist first arrived to see that year’s spring emergence from the frozen, barren landscape. He found great beauty in this transition and re-generation of the lakeland.
There are those critics now, just as there were in 1917, and in all the years following his alleged accidental death, who flatly refuse to have anything to do with the so-called "Tom Thomson Mystery," so poignantly and intelligently presented by Judge William Little, in his well known book of the same name. It was the research-based text which formally introduced the full scope of the murder scenario to the Canadian public. His work inspired a landmark CBC film documentary which left little doubt, murder theorists had a great deal of corroborating evidence. In fact, it has been the deniers themselves, who have raised suspicion moreso than the foul play proponents, by their outright refusal to discuss the possibilities,...... on the grounds that it has no business in the discussion or consideration, now or in the future, of Thomson’s body of work. They believe, just as his associate artists agreed in 1917, that the memory of Thomson was not best served dredging up all kinds of nasty allegations warranting unwanted editorial coverage. As this was a profound and purposeful effort to disassociate Thomson from anything criminal, it smacked of a cover-up from the beginning, as uncovered fully by William Little in the late 1960’s. It wouldn’t be the first time that an intentional covering-over of an event, or crime, doubled or tripled the attention of the curious. Dogged investigators couldn’t help but wonder why clear evidence, on the case, was not provided during that summer’s Coroner’s Inquest, held at Canoe Lake.
Many of the participants in the room at that time, suspected Thomson had been murdered but declined to raise their suspicion to the Coroner when given the opportunity. From the day Thomson’s overturned canoe was found in Canoe Lake, the mystery commenced. It wasn’t solely inspired by biographer Blodwen Davies, in the late 1920’s, who was the first to suggest to the public, foul play was the most likely cause of Thomson’s death. It didn’t arrive at the time an impromptu exhumation of Thomson’s first grave, at the Canoe Lake Cemetery, turned up a coffin and skeleton that wasn’t supposed to be there, and it certainly wasn’t created just by the release of the Tom Thomson Mystery. The mystery, and the patina ingrained in the work of Tom Thomson, began moments after his body was found and the rumor mill commenced its momentum of speculation......which has perpetuated through the decades.
In fact there is ample evidence discussion about murder, was taking place before Thomson’s initial burial, prior to the Coroner’s inquest, and those stories carried on from that point, spun and embellished as they become generation to generation. Even if a writer had not touched the story in those early years, it would have emerged into the public domain sooner or later. Too many people had suspicions and were willing to talk about it, or Davies would have had no reason to involve the police in the case in the late 1920’s, during her work on Thomson’s biography. She found numerous individuals in the Canoe Lake community, willing to talk about the possibility a crime had unfolded in the circumstances surrounding Thomson’s death.
One might reasonably conclude there was unresolved guilt, held by many friends of Thomson, who had failed to defend the artist’s honor when afforded the opportunity. They attended the inquest and held their peace so to speak, instead of confessing their suspicions. I’ve heard handed down stories even this past year, from a resident on Canoe Lake, offering unfaltering opinion Thomson was indeed murdered, and the killer was Mowat hotelier, Shannon Fraser. Whether it was Fraser or not, who had a hand in Thomson’s demise, this will be the mission of discovery for a future column. Were they scared of the consequences of fessing-up? Was their bond with the alleged killer stronger than their friendship to Thomson? We’ll examine these questions in future blogs.
It’s getting colder here now and the wind is slicing painfully through my jacket. It has been an invigorating visit to the shore of Canoe Lake, one of my favorite places on earth. Take the time this summer season to visit Ontario’s Algonquin Park, and the legendary Canoe Lake.
Who murdered Tom Thomson?
Ninety two years since artist’s tragic death on Algonquin’s Canoe Lake
It’s only the first of April but there are clear signs here at Canoe Lake, that the Algonquin landscape is ready to burst with spring rejuvenation. The sunglow off the remaining snow-crust is blinding. The sound of tiny cataracts of run-off water is a pleasant harbinger of spring, as are the bird calls and the sign of fresh animal tracks in the decaying mantle of winter snow. I wonder if Tom Thomson might have found this re-emergence of the lakeland worthy of study? A sketch possibly.
In the spring of 1917 he arrived at Canoe Lake, to watch the spring season unfold across the Algonquin Lakes. He found it an interesting season, the summer being too green and lush to give him the color contrasts he found with a barren forest, and a rugged, craggy lakeshore. The spring sky. The powerful storms that etched across this Canadian landscape. He had eager expectations for the spray of vivid colors, associated with the first wildflowers to arrive in the warming soils of the open areas, on the fringe of the forest and bordering the grassy lowlands.
Ninety-two years ago Tom Thomson would have touched this spring released water, and witnessed this heavenly sky backdropping the rich hue of evergreen, the grey of rock against the rising pulse of dark current, tumbling deeply within this legendary lake. I can’t help but to crouch now, out of respect, to touch this water along the beach, just as Thomson would have, when launching his canoe nine decades ago this year.
The purpose of this blog series is to address what I believe has been an injustice to the memory of a great Canadian artist. When I began my inaugural investigation into his death, I attempted to research my way past the accepted conclusion.......to discover something, anything, a trivial detail overlooked by countless others that would help disprove the theory Thomson had drowned accidentally. Most of the reference books about Thomson have been steadfast regarding the circumstances surrounding his death. Accidental. I have felt it was somewhat insulting to assume that Thomson, on an otherwise clear, still day, could have drowned by misadventure, within calling distance of shore. To suggest, as some have written, Thomson was drunk when he left shore, doesn’t fit his profile that summer. As for him having a pee mid-lake, and subsequently toppling out of the canoe, this is on the very edge of ridiculous. There were cottages and folks all over that shoreline, certainly at the time he was alleged to have traversed the lake, so relieving himself wasn’t within character for such a chap known widely as a gentleman.
Bandied about even up to the mid 1990's, is this unfounded, grasping-at-straws assessment, Thomson had toppled out of his canoe while urinating clumsily mid-lake,....... hitting his head on the gunnel of the vessel on the way down into the lake. It is also alleged he was more than a little tipsy before relieving himself, due to the flask of alcoholic beverage he consumed earlier. Most authors stick to the results of the coroner’s report of 1917, which is, in my opinion, a breach of investigative protocol because any one who has studied the events surrounding, and during the inquest, realize justice was not entirely served. So those Thomson biographers who side with accepted opinion, decided to conclude that death was indeed due to drowning, foolishly agreeing with an incomplete inquest.
Blind acceptance of the inquest’s ruling by Thomson researchers to this point, is evidence these authors have dismissed his death as being of little overall importance to the study of his contribution to Canadian art. A few intrepid Thomson admirers have thought enough of the artist to commit to a full and complete investigation; just as Judge William Little detailed in his book, "The Tom Thomson Mystery," and Blodwen Davies before him, in a biography she was writing on Thomson (during the late 1920’s, published in early 1930). Both believed the inquest was shallow and information about the days leading up to his death, and conflicts with area residents, was negligently withheld during the official hearing. The coroner did not have all the information required, to without doubt, attribute Thomson’s death to drowning.
Here’s what’s wrong with acceptance of fact as presented. Canadian art history has been influenced by the mystery from the moment Thomson’s body was found in July 1917, and word initially spread around the Canoe Lake community about the loss of their so-called friend. Even then his mates and even a few enemies pondered the cause of death, and no one (except the Coroner later) believed Thomson drowned. They knew him to be, at the very least, a competent canoeist, who could handle adverse conditions and even an occasional topple-over into the lake. During the day he was supposed to have disappeared, it’s unlikely he would have been under the influence of alcohol, and because it doesn’t take long to get from shore to shore, Thomson had very little reason to relieve himself awkwardly balanced in mid lake, where his body was eventually found.
When the coroner that July did come to the hamlet of Mowat, on Canoe Lake, to conduct the specially called inquest, the examiner discovered Thomson had been buried earlier that same day in the local hillside cemetery. No body! Just the observations made by a doctor, not a pathologist, who originally spotted the floating body, and who later conducted an impromptu lakeshore examination. The body was never taken to dryland for proper examination and in fact, he was prepared for burial, including embalming, right on the island shore where his body had been hauled-upon the day before. So for every author-historian-biographer who has decided to adopt the accidental death theory, and include it for the ongoing distortion of historical record, this is the reason a wrong must be corrected. Thomson did not die as a result of drowning.
Thomson while an emerging talent on the Canadian art scene, by the summer of 1917, was also embroiled in a few personal conflicts, which some well known authors believed could have inspired thoughts of suicide, although this has received thin investigation over the decades. It has also been revealed by an historian in Washington State that Thomson, during his stay there with a brother working in the commercial art discipline, may have generated a child with a prominent Seattle family, and then been forced to make a hasty retreat back to Canada. It has long been alleged that he had another child on the way with a local Huntsville woman, and there is evidence he was preparing to enter into marriage to make the situation right. It is said he reserved an Algonquin cabin as a honeymoon retreat for later that summer season of 1917. It is also known Thomson was in some financial peril despite the fact some of his work was selling and he was living frugally in Mowat. There are a few biographer "busy-bodies" who believe Thomson was owed money and that tension was building over several weeks that spring season, as he made demands for re-payment.
There are literally hundreds of details concerning Thomson’s final days and demise that require forensic scrutiny. After reading every book, article and document I can find about Thomson, and his painting during the spring and early summer of 1917, one can ascertain that he was both content and prolific at his art work, producing many paintboards, and feeling satisfied he had captured the spring re-awakening in Algonquin.
What is also well established is that he could be argumentative and drinking possibly too much for his own good. The evening before he is said to have drowned, he had a serious dispute with an American cottager, Martin Bletcher Jr., which ended with a modest amount of pushing but no actual fisticuffs. Bletcher was considered a suspect in Thomson’s death shortly after the body was recovered. First of all, those who were in company with the artist and Bletcher the night of the argument, remembered the cottager telling Thomson to stay out of his way, if he knew what was good for him. Secondly, it was Bletcher who first spotted Thomson’s over-turned canoe but did not report it immediately to Algonquin authorities. He claimed that it was not uncommon to find overturned canoes in the lake, many having accidentally drifted away from encampments. It was pointed out to Bletcher, by some of his neighbors that only Thomson’s boat had that particular hue of (oil paint) green attached, noting that no one could have mistaken the overturned canoe for anyone else’s property.
It was also rumored about difficulties manifesting between Mowat hotelier Shannon Fraser and Thomson, who resided frequently at the hotel, regarding money owed. I’ve heard both sides, one that Thomson owed Fraser money for lodging and supplies and had refused to make restitution. Other sources have explained it was actually Fraser who owed Thomson, and that because the artist needed the money to proceed with the wedding that fall, the requests for payment became more rigorous. Today it is pretty much accepted thought amongst those who disbelieve the drowning scenario, (despite the accidental death theory mainstream authors continue to publish as fact) that it was Fraser who killed Thomson. Not on purpose, but the end result of a brief, violent skirmish, when Thomson fell in the midst of physical conflict, and struck his head on a stone hearth. As "dead-men-tell-no-tales," Fraser decided to dispose of the body and make it appear as if the artist’s disappearance was the result of poor canoemanship.
A death-bed statement by kin of the Frasers, of Mowat, claimed that Shannon and his wife, in the wee hours of the summer night, dragged the artist’s unconscious body out on the dock and rolled him into the canoe. They then tied their rowboat to the canoe and propelled themselves through the darkness toward a mid-lake target-site to purposely overturn the canoe. What is revealed by William Little’s book is how inept the Frasers were in replicating the canoeing habits Thomson employed, including how one paddle was awkwardly lashed to the thwart and a second paddle that was never found despite an extensive search.
Within only moments of seeing the evidence and visible tampering, and then the condition of the artist’s body, the guides who attended Thomson did not believe it was in any way accidental drowning. Consider the fact that the impromptu autopsy on the island shore, determined that Thomson was still bleeding when he went into the water, not being quite dead when unceremoniously abandoned to the bottom of Canoe Lake.
The mission of this multi-year research project regarding the death of Tom Thomson, is not to sensationalize his death. It is however, to refute completely the idea the artist was the victim of accidental death. In this the 92nd anniversary year of his demise, it is a fitting time to set the record as straight as it can be, without going the complete distance and having his body exhumed for forensic investigation; which would be a much more precise examination today with DNA profiling. Keep in mind there are two graves, one in Algonquin and one in Leith, Ontario, said to possess the artist’s remains. One body, two graves. This is going to be an exciting series of feature blogs. Don’t miss a single one.
In the meantime, make a point of visiting Algonquin Park this summer season, especially this beautiful area of Canoe Lake. There’s lot to do up here, particularly the museum display at the Algonquin Visitor’s Centre. Drive safely and watch for the moose!
92nd Anniversary of Tom Thomson’s death
The spring of 1917 gave Thomson the perfect Algonquin study
I so clearly recall the restorative, invigorating freshness, the post-ice chill of water that day, as I experienced my first touch of the legendary Algonquin Lake. I had spent all that winter season reading about Canadian artist Tom Thomson, and his outright joy living and working in this beautiful and enchanted place. Kneeling down to let the water run through my fingers connected me at last, to one of Canadian history’s most enduring mysteries. How did Tom Thomson meet his end? Was it an accident? Or was it Murder?
My first adventure to Canoe Lake was the beginning of an enduring relationship for our entire family. From the first touch of the lake which we all participated somewhat ceremoniously, on that particular spring day, we have camped, paddled, hiked and motor-toured through the park each season of the year. We would be hard pressed to tell you which season is most impressive, each being magnificent with its own natural adornments. You won’t find a landscape more spectacular than looking out over an Algonquin lowland after newly fallen snow. Just as compelling is the fabulously colored autumn landscape, and then the lush greens and heavenly blue skies of a hot July.
For Thomson, the spring regeneration was an important season to study. He wasn’t particularly fond of a green landscape prevalent in the summer months, so the spring season offered the visual contrast of a stark topography left by recoiling winter, yet the daily rejuvenation of plant life and hardwood foliage across the lakeland. It was in the spring of 1917 that Thomson made an impressive, profoundly ambitious attempt to capture the re-awakening Algonquin woodland. He put together a much more rigorous painting regimen than was his hallmark as a painter, in Algonquin, during the years previous. At the time of his death it is said by some biographers and critics that he had just about wrapped up a complete study of the spring season and was painting less and fishing more. It was as if he appreciated his mission had been successful. A few writers with paranormal overtones believe Thomson was tidying up his painted biography on the brink of his own anticipated demise. There has long been the suggestion Thomson may have taken his own life, although I’m not one who believes this assessment.
Thomson was particularly concerned about the accuracy of his depictions. He demanded the colors be realistic. It is said that when someone would remark of a finished paint board, the colors of a flower, for example, reminded them of a patch of wildflowers they’d seen on a walk, he would appear delighted to hear he had captured the correct hue. When someone would say that his painting of the Northern Lights made one feel cold and alone, he was equally enthralled, as it was very much his intent with the painting, to inspire a spiritual awe in the presence of something so awesome. When a park ranger approached Tom Thomson, while painting a scene from an island on Smoke Lake, and commented that the art panel clearly reminded him of all the natural attributes witnessed while traversing that part of the waterway, the artist invited the gent to partake of a freshly baked blueberry pie; made by Thomson in a crudely fashioned reflector oven.
Thomson had his critics who didn’t care that he was an artist and who wouldn’t have taken a panel if afforded one as a gift. Some acknowledged him when an impromptu meeting took place in Mowat, on Canoe Lake, or on one of the many portages in the vicinity. He wasn’t a friend to all. Thomson was opinionated, some said he was arrogant and argumentative, and a few others make mention that he drank too much and wasn’t beyond becoming physical if that was demanded to defend someone’s honor. Most who knew him felt that he was pretty average. He was generous to those he respected and was well known for handing over studies to those who remarked about liking the art panels. He gave away many paintings, some to people who he believed could benefit sometime in the future, by selling the subject painting.
When Thomson got into a heated argument with Martin Bletcher Jr., on the night before he went missing, it wasn’t an event that stirred much interest amongst the cronies at Mowat. In fact it didn’t even get one moment of scrutiny at the inquest into Thomson’s death, even when the Coroner asked whether any one (of many in the room) had information relevant to the artist’s mysterious demise. Afterall it was noted on initial inspection of the body by Dr. Howland, that Thomson was still alive after disappearing down into the black lake, as he continued to bleed from his ear. Corpses don’t bleed as such.
So seeing Tom Thomson in an argument of one kind or another, as others participated as well, didn’t spark any particular sentiment that this was an isolated or unusual event.
It is reported that Bletcher, a German-American, who cottaged with his family on Canoe Lake, had a disagreement with Thomson regarding events and involvements of the nations embroiled in the ongoing battles of World War. Thomson was said to be sensitive about the war effort, and about his inability to join the ranks of Canadian volunteers because of problems with his feet. Many of his artist colleagues had gone overseas to paint the events on the battlefields, and it was felt by some biographers that Thomson felt guilty at not having a role to play abroad. The context of the argument is largely speculation although at the conclusion Bletcher did warn Thomson to stay out of his way in the future, if he knew what was good for him.
There are others who knew there had been an ongoing conflict over money, going on between Mowat hotelier Shannon Fraser and Thomson, and that it was also at a precarious level prior to the artist’s disappearance. The coroner heard nothing of either conflict at the inquest, even thought there was ample opportunity to raise the matter. It is known that there was grumbling and hearsay before the inquest, even in whispers while it was in session, and again after it was over, something that was picked up by Thomson biographer Blodwen Davies more than a decade after the death. She was so certain that the police would want to know about this now seasoned rumor of foul play, that she helped open up a cold case file. It was quickly dismissed and the file shoved back into the obscurity from which it was "dredged-up," a reference made by some members of the Group of Seven artists upset by Davies’ murder allegations regarding their colleague, Thomson.
In the coming blogs in this series, I will present some of the key facts of the Thomson mystery you are currently not aware, so that you can decide for yourself if justice was served in 1917, when the Coroner, without a body to examine, declared his death was the result of accidental drowning, a shortfall of criminal inquiry that has haunted this case for the past 92 years. And we’ll try to determine Thomson’s final resting place. Currently he is said to reside in two graves. The Thomson family believes he rests in a small cemetery in Leith, Ontario (near Owen Sound), and others believe he was never exhumed and moved in July 1917 (by order of Tom’s brother George after the initial burial), and still rests in vicinity of the old village of Mowat, Canoe Lake. We know for fact there is a skeleton buried in Thomson’s original casket at Canoe Lake, as it was uncovered in the 1950’s by a group of men including Judge William Little, author of "The Tom Thomson Mystery."
Take a motor trip up to Algonquin Park this spring, and put your feet into the sparkling waters of Canoe Lake. There are great places to dine, to hike, swim, canoe and observe. Don’t miss the opportunity to visit the Algonquin Visitor Centre Museum and Gallery, on the way to the East Gate. It’s great for the kids, and there is an impressive Tom Thomson exhibit.
Drive safe, watch for crossing deer and moose, and enjoy the wonderful view!
92nd Anniversary of Tom Thomson’s death -
Was it a case of murder or accidental drowning?
If you haven’t experienced a sparkling June day in Ontario’s Algonquin Park, you’re missing one of life’s truly amazing adventures. Here now on the shore of Canoe Lake, the water laps soothingly up over the sand in a gentle rhythmic wash. There are canoeists preparing for day-trips from the Portage Store dock, and voyageurs checking into the park office to register camping trips into the interior. Those having breakfast in the cafĂ© above the lake, have a fantastic view of the bay and the expanse of this historic Algonquin waterway. I’m here now because of my interest in the Tom Thomson mystery. My wife calls it my obsession. My boys Andrew and Robert don’t really care why they’re in Algonquin, just that we are afforded two canoes and provisions for a day on the water.
It has long been considered fact that legendary Canadian landscape artist, Tom Thomson, drowned in Canoe Lake on July 8th, 1917. It is also recorded that Canoe Lake Hotelier Shannon Fraser saw Thomson alive, "and even checked his watch – 12:50 p.m. – as Thomson set off in his canoe from the Mowat Lodge dock," notes author Roy MacGregor, on page 287 in the softcover reprint, (re-named) edition of "Canoe Lake," formerly known as "Shorelines," an historical novel that came the closest, at the time, to the personal details surrounding Thomson and his love interests that fateful year.
"The presumption has always been that Fraser was the last person to see Thomson alive, and, in fact, the death of Tom Thomson has always been recorded as July 8, 1917. What, however, if Thomson had returned from his afternoon fish and the fight happened on the eighth," asks MacGregor, in the final pages of his book, which updates research into the circumstances surrounding the artist’s mysterious demise. "All Daphne Crombie (a guest at Mowat Lodge) knew was that Tom had gone missing, and since Fraser and (Mark) Robinson (Algonquin Park Ranger) claim they’d last seen him around noon on the eighth, she would have assumed that the fight Annie referred to had occurred the previous evening. Thomson’s canoe, however, was not reported missing until the ninth, and not found until the following day, July 10th. While Robinson’s sighting of Thomson has been used to disprove Crombie’s contention of a fight the night before Thomson went missing, it is entirely possible that both were right if, in fact, Shannon Fraser was lying about the last time Thomson was last seen alive at Mowat Lodge. He may indeed have checked his watch at 12:50 p.m. on July 8, as Thomson paddled away. He may also have had his argument with Thomson later that same day, following Thomson’s return to the Lodge." (2002, "Canoe Lake," Roy MacGregor, McClelland & Stewart, page 287)
Roy MacGregor’s novel, "Shorelines," originally published in 1980, was one of the first books I was told to read, by a book shop owner also interested in the Tom Thomson Mystery. He suggested that MacGregor’s fictional account was particularly close to what had actually happened in both his native Huntsville, in and around 1917, and the circumstances enveloping Thomson in the Algonquin community of Mowat. By MacGregor’s own admission, revealing his own family connection to the Thomson story had a number of personal consequences. "When this book was first published in the spring of 1980, there were still people alive who had known Tom Thomson and had been at Canoe Lake that fateful summer of 1917. I personally know nothing of what happened. I only know, for sure, that this book so upset certain members of my family that it cost our relationship. I understand their response. These are disconcerting speculations, but they can not be ignored if sense is ever to be made of what happened that warm July at Canoe Lake." (Canoe Lake, pg. 289)
If you are interested in knowing more about the final days of Tom Thomson, and wish to be introduced to the characters that played important roles in his life at the time, Roy MacGregor’s book is a necessary beginning. It has long been considered, even by some oldtimers in this region of Ontario, to be a fair account of what actually took place in that last year of Thomson’s life. This book is still available at new book shops, and you can find a copy of the 1980 novel "Shorelines," on either the Advance Book Exchange or in the Out of Print section of online Barnes & Noble.
"Exactly how Tom met his death probably no one will ever know. The following is the account given me (William Little – author of The Tom Thomson Mystery), by Mrs. J.S. Fraser, 1953, with whom Tom was living at Canoe Lake when the tragedy occurred. Tom was staying at Mowat Lodge. On Sunday, July 7, 1917, he made preparations to go to Tea Lake dam to fish, and he left with his lunch at about 1:00 p.m. Mr. Fraser last saw him as he was letting out his copper fishing line while paddling through the narrows to the right of the twin islands. About 3:00 p.m. when Martin Bletcher and his sister Bessie went down the lake in their little put-put motor boat, they saw Tom’s empty canoe drifting near the far end of the second twin island (belonging to Dr. Bertram and Mr. Pirie). They did not stop but on their way back they towed Tom’s canoe to Mowat Lodge and put it in their boat house. Nevertheless, they did not mention the fact, probably thinking it belonged to the hotel on Joe Lake. (Thomson’s canoe was of such a color, nobody who lived on the lake could have confused ownership) Tuesday morning Charlie Scrim discovered Tom’s canoe in Mr. Bletcher’s boat house, and then the hunt for Tom began. (Mrs. Fraser’s account has inconsistencies). The canoe contained Tom’s lunch, some supplies, and cooking utensils, which Tom always carried, while the paddles were placed as if for portaging but this could have been done by Martin Bletcher to hold them in place. The copper trolling line was missing." (Page 220, The Tom Thomson Mystery," William Little, 1970 McGraw-Hill). A question that was never put bluntly to Bletcher was whether or not he knew it was Thomson’s canoe, by its peculiar color (Thomson is alleged to have used his oil paint to color the hull...green). According to Thomson’s close friends there was no way anyone on Canoe Lake could have mistaken the artist’s boat, including Bletcher. Finding Thomson’s canoe adrift should have caused Bletcher, and his sister (also in the boat) to report the event right away, sensing a potential serious misadventure.
One of the most important books regarding Thomson’s demise is the sleuthing expertise of William Little, who takes what Fraser stated above, and the observations of many other witnesses, known facts and events surrounding the mysterious death, and presents a compelling argument that the artist was not the victim of accidental drowning but indeed had been murdered by someone in that Canoe Lake community, whether it was Martin Bletcher Jr., as suspected for many years, or Shannon Fraser, the Mowat Lodge proprietor. This book is also available through online out-of-print book sellers, such as "ABE" and others, should you be interested in reading more about Little’s sleuthing.
"Thomson got his canoe ready for the trip (Sunday, July 8th, between noon and 1 p.m.), and stowed away food and utensils for a meal or two. He had no bread at the cabin so he drew up at Mowat Lodge dock, while Fraser went up to the store for a loaf. Thomson tucked it away under the bow. The morning had turned grey. There was a light east wind blowing, with a drizzle of rain. Thomson bid the crowd that had gathered on the dock a gay farewell and in a very engaging mood set out on his mission," wrote noted Canadian biographer Blodwen Davies, in her 1930’s privately published text simply titled "Tom Thomson."
"Mowat Lodge stood on the shoreside of Canoe Lake. A short distance down the lake and separated from the mainland by only a narrow channel is Little Wapomeo Island, the property of Taylor Statten, who had a cottage on it. At the time the cottage was empty. The channel between the island and the mainland was choked with drowned timber, so Thomson paddled around to the east of Little Wapomeo and its sister island, Big Wapomeo, apparently with the intention of hugging the main shore until he came to the portaging place by which he would cross over into one of the little lakes where big trout were to be found," writes Davies. "When Thomson did not return that night, there was no alarm on the part of any of his friends. If they discussed it at all, they must have concluded that the fish were not biting and that he was challenged to continue. He had food and a ground-sheet."
"The Coulsons of Algonquin Hotel, at Joe Lake, had reported a canoe missing from the foot of the portage at Joe Lake Dam. On Monday morning, (July 9) Martin Bletcher Jr., one of the campers who lived near Mowat Lodge, reported that on Sunday afternoon (July 8) he had seen an upturned canoe drifting between Little Wapomeo and Big Wapomeo, which might be the lost Coulson Canoe. Charlie Scrim, of Ottawa, another camper, and a friend of Thomson, paddled down to have a look at it. There was consternation when he returned and reported that the canoe was Thomson’s. Thomson’s friends were puzzled. That some mishap had befallen him was evident, but the idea of drowning they did not entertain at all. He was too expert a swimmer to come to grief there. The only possible explanation was that he had landed somewhere, gone inland and had an accident – broken leg, perhaps, and his canoe had in the meantime drifted free. A search was organized to cover the adjacent woods and the news was sent out that Thomson was missing." (pg. 95-96 "Tom Thomson", Blodwen Davies).
"The cottage on Little Wapomeo had been rented and just after Thomson’s disappearance, Dr. Goldwin Howland took his family there from Toronto for the holidays. The weather continued to be wet and grey and the newcomers had to keep to the island. The morning of Monday, July 16th, was a little brighter and Dr. Howland took his small daughter out trolling on the lake. It was about nine o’clock when the child felt something heavy on the end of her line," reported Davies. Dr. Howland’s daughter had snagged the body of Tom Thomson. Davies asked the question, "Did Thomson’s body take eight days to rise in a shallow lake in the middle of July?"
It is suspected, by the length of copper line wrapped around Thomson’s ankle, that his body had been connected to some heavy object, to keep it from surfacing naturally, which would have taken less time in, as Davies describes, a shallow lake in a warm summer month. It is likely the copper wire rubbed against another object on the bottom of the lake, and the current’s twisting of the body caused the line to break free of the weight. This detail was one of the contentious issues that led Davies to contact the police, during her research, to suggest they should re-open the case that had been improperly labeled "death by accidental drowning." While it was given minor scrutiny, it was quickly dismissed by police.
"The mystery surrounding Thomson’s death will never be cleared up. Was he drowned in the quiet waters of a small lake? A man who had paddled all over the Park, generally alone, in all kinds of weather, run rapids, and carried his canoe over rough portages and made his camp in the bush in wolf-ridden country? There were theories – suicide, heart attack, foul play, but the verdict was "accidental drowning" – not very convincing; but with no evidence of anything to the contrary, it stands and must be accepted," wrote A.Y. Jackson (member of the Canadian Group of Seven artists) as an inclusion in the text of Davies’ 1967 reprinted text, published by the Mitchell Press of Vancouver. It is possible to find a copy of this book online as well.
In the next blog submission, I would like to present you with a contrary collection of facts and assessments to disprove Jackson’s assertion that there is no evidence to support theories other than accidental drowning. Quite a few writer-researchers have refused to surrender to Jackson’s suggestion, "it stands and must be accepted." Judge William Little for one, believed there was nothing accidental involved in Thomson’s demise. It was a clear cut case of murder and its cover-up. Join me for a stunning look at one of Canada’s best known legends. Will it ever be solved? I believe so!
Take a trip up to Algonquin Park this summer, and visit some of the locations that Tom Thomson captured on his paint boards, particularly in the area of beautiful Canoe Lake. Don’t forget to visit the Algonquin Visitor Centre where there is an impressive Thomson display, amongst many other historical and nature displays to enjoy.
Drive safely and enjoy the amazing view. Watch for the moose!