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| 1979, My first major front page photograph in The Beacon |
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| 1981 Royal Visit of Princess Margaret and Lady Sarah; Photo by Tim DuVernet, Muskoka Sun |
RUMMAGING THROUGH THE ARCHIVES - YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO FIND
I NEARLY BOUGHT-IT TWICE DURING 1981 ROYAL VISIT
A MISSING AIRCRAFT! RUSSIAN CLAIMS THE CRIMEA AS ITS LOST JEWELL! QUEBEC MAY WANT TO SEPARATE; OUR LOST JEWEL! ANOTHER SNOWSTORM! A NEW AND PROMISING MAYORAL CANDIDATE FOR TORONTO! FREE TRADE WITH SOUTH KOREA! PROVINCIAL ELECTION SOON! PRICE OF GAS, OUT OF THIS WORLD! TAX BILL, GOT IT!
LOTS OF THINGS HAPPENING THAT CAN IMPACT OUR DAILY LIVES. THE TWENTY BUCKS I USED FOR GAS LAST NIGHT, JUST TICKLED THE TANK. THE GUAGE BARELY MOVED. I WANTED TO VOTE AGAINST THE RUSSIANS, IN THE CRIMEA, BUT MY GRAVENHURST RESIDENCE DISQUALIFIES ME. SAVING QUEBEC? I GUESS WE CAN ONLY WATCH FROM THE SIDELINES. MAYOR OLIVIA, I SAY, THE BEST OF THE BUNCH. A METEOR KNOCKED THE PLANE FROM THE SKY? SOMEONE ISN'T TELLING THE TRUTH. MORE SNOW? IT WOULDN'T BE THE SAME WITHOUT IT! FREE TRADE WITH THE EAST; AT THE EXPENSE OF THE WEST! TAX BILL, AS DEPRESSING AS THE LATEST SNOWFALL. SO WHY NOT DIG THROUGH THE ARCHIVES, TO SEE HOW LIFE WAS IN THE GOOD OLD DAYS.
I WAS RUMMAGING THROUGH SOME OLD PAPERS, LAST NIGHT, (SUZANNE WAS DOING OUR TAXES, WITH A PENCIL BEHIND HER EAR, AND DEEP FURROWS ETCHED UPON HER BROW), AND I FOUND THREE OF MY OLD NEWSPAPER SCRAPBOOKS, (OH JOY) THAT I HAD KEPT-UP WITH PASTED-IN CLIPPINGS, FOR THE FIRST THREE YEARS OF MY TENURE, WITH MUSKOKA PUBLICATIONS IN BRACEBRIDGE. IT WAS A BIG DEAL FOR A ROOKIE WRITER TO GET PUBLISHED. HERE I WAS, GETTING PUBLISHED EVERY WEEK, WITH NUMEROUS ARTICLES, FROM IN MEMORIUM RE-WRITES, OBITUARIES, HOCKEY REPORTS, COUNCIL COVERAGE, POLICE REPORTS, TO SOCIAL MUSINGS....TO WHATEVER ELSE THE PUBLISHER DUMPED ON MY DESK, FOR EDITORIAL OVERVIEW. I HATED MONDAY MORNINGS, WHEN I'D GET A BUNDLE OF WET, CRUMPLED, FADED HOCKEY SCORE SHEETS, FROM THE WEEKEND MINOR HOCKEY GAMES, SO BADLY SCRIBBLED, THEY WERE IMPOSSIBLE TO DECIPHER. SOME THINGS DID STAND OUT AND THAT'S WHAT WAS CLIPPED AND PASTED IN THESE BOOKS. I'M KIND OF GLAD I DID THIS, BECAUSE THEY ARE ABOUT THE ONLY RECORDS I HAVE TODAY, OF THOSE FIRST YEARS AS A REPORTER.
I HAVEN'T SEEN THESE LARGE FORMAT B0OKS IN QUITE A FEW YEARS, AND I WAS SHOCKED BY HOW MUCH I HADN'T REMEMBERED ABOUT MY OLD NEWSPAPER DAYS, WHICH BEGAN IN THE VILLAGE OF MACTIER, WHILE WORKING FOR THE MUSKOKA LAKES-GEORGIAN BAY BEACON. THE BEACON IS STILL OPERATIONAL, BUT WAS SHIFTED TO PARRY SOUND, BACK IN THE EARLY 1980'S. THE PICS TODAY, FEATURED ABOVE, SHOW MY FIRST MAJOR FRONT-PAGE PHOTOGRAPH, STILL ONE OF MY FAVORITE. I FORGOT ALL ABOUT THIS PHOTOGRAPH, WHICH OF THE THOUSAND-PLUS I TOOK OVER THE DECADE, THIS WAS THE ONE THAT GOT ME MOST ATTENTION FROM OUR HOME COMMUNITY. IF I REMEMBER CORRECTLY, I THINK I ALMOST WON AN AWARD FOR THE PAPER, BECAUSE OF THIS IMAGE, AT THE PROVINCIAL NEWSPAPER COMPETITION THAT YEAR; BUT AS USUAL, I WAS PROBABLY BEATEN-OUT BY A PHOTO OF A KID OR PET. I WAS JUST DELIGHTED THAT IT TURNED OUT TO BE IN FOCUS. I WASN'T PARTICULARLY GOOD AT THIS, SO MY WORK WAS USUALLY A LITTLE FUZZY, WHICH DROVE A SUCCESSION OF DARK ROOM TECHNICIANS NUTS, TRYING TO UPGRADE THE IMAGES TO USE IN THE PAPER. I BLAMED IT ON CRAPPY EQUIPMENT. I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THIS SOME OF THE TIME. THE OTHER, ON THE SHAKY HANDS OF MY HANGOVER.
FIRST OF ALL, I WAS A CRAPPY PHOTOGRAPHER, AND I DIDN'T OWN MY OWN EQUIPMENT; AT LEAST UNTIL LATER IN MY FIRST YEAR ON THE JOB. THAT'S BECAUSE I HAD NO IDEA I WAS GOING TO BE OFFERED A MEDIA JOB REQUIRING CAMERA GEAR. I HAD APPLIED FOR AN EDITORIAL JOB, AT THE HERALD-GAZETTE IN THE FALL OF 1978, (AND I HAD A TYPEWRITER) BUT THAT WAS ONLY PART TIME, AND THE GIG WAS LARGELY TO REPORT ON THE BOARD OF EDUCATION, AND THE CHURCH BEAT. WHAT I DIDN'T KNOW, WAS THAT ANOTHER REPORTER FOR THE BEACON, A SISTER PUBLICATION, HAD LEFT THE COMPANY, AND MY RESUME WAS STILL ON THE DESK FROM MY EARLIER INTERVIEW. IT WAS WHEN I GOT HOME FROM TORONTO, THAT NEW YEAR'S DAY, THAT I GOT A CALL, ASKING ME IF I'D BE INTERESTED IN A JOB, WORKING FOR THE SMALL CIRCULATION "BEACON." AS I WOULD HAVE TO TRAVEL TO MACTIER DAILY, I NEEDED A CAR AHEAD OF A CAMERA.
SO THE PUBLISHER HANDED ME A VINTAGE MINOLTA CAMERA, THAT APPEARED TO HAVE BEEN USED IN A WAR ZONE, OR HAD BEEN SERIOUSLY IMPACTED, IN A TRAFFIC ACCIDENT, BEFORE I GOT THE GEAR. THE FLASH UNIT NEVER WORKED RIGHT, SO I JUST GAVE UP TRYING. IT COST ME A LOT OF PHOTOGRAPHS, BECAUSE IT, AND THE CAMERA, HAD SO MANY QUIRKS, TO GET USED TO; AND SENSITIVITIES TO COLD TEMPERATURES, AND ANYTHING OVER SEVENTY DEGREES, DURING THE SUMMER SEASON. SO THE FACT THAT I TOOK THE PHOTO OF THE HORSESHOE COMPETITOR, IN MACTIER, AND IT ACTUALLY TURNED-OUT, DURING THAT FIRST YEAR, WAS MY OWN SEMI GRADUATION AS A ROOKIE REPORTER. THE DATE WAS JULY 26TH, 1979. I WAS ALSO LISTED AS THE NEWS EDITOR FOR THAT ISSUE. I WAS A BIG FISH IN A SMALL POND. OR A SMALL FISH IN A BIG POND, DEPENDING ON WHO YOU ASKED.
I DON'T KNOW, ON A PROFESSIONAL SCALE, WHETHER THIS WAS A GOOD PHOTOGRAPH OR NOT, BUT THE FACT IT WAS SELECTED FOR THE FRONT PAGE THAT WEEK, BY THE PUBLISHER HIMSELF, SURE MADE ME FEEL GOOD ABOUT MY POTENTIAL, IN THE BUSINESS OF GATHERING AND RECORDING COMMUNITY NEWS. MACTIER READERS WERE MY HARSHEST CRITICS, AND I MEAN THAT, BUT THEY GAVE THIS ONE TOP MARKS. I WAS A BUM THE REST OF THE YEAR, BUT THIS WAS MY ONE SHINING MOMENT OF 1979. SO I WAS HAPPY TO REDISCOVER IT, IN A PILE OF OLD NEWSPAPER RELICS.
I THOUGHT I'D RECYCLED THE BOOKS A LONG TIME AGO. THESE CLIPPINGS' BOOKS, ARE THE ONLY REMNANTS LEFT OF THOSE YEARS; AS FIVE YEARS AGO, I DID RECYCLE ALL MY PAPER COLLECTION, THAT I HAD KEPT FROM JANUARY 1979. SEEING AS I WORKED FOR MULTIPLE PUBLICATIONS, THESE COLLECTED PAPERS FILLED TWO WALLS OF A BIG STORAGE ROOM IN THE HOUSE. I WAS IN A WRITER'S FUNK ONE SUMMER, AND GOT RID OF THE WHOLE LOT, WITHOUT CLIPPING ARTICLES THAT WERE IMPORTANT. IT WAS ONE OF THOSE SELF-LOATHING SITUATIONS, WE ALL HAVE FROM TIME TO TIME, WHEN YOU ASK GOD "WHAT'S IT ALL ABOUT, ANYWAY?" SO BEFORE I GOT THE ANSWER, I DECIDED TO UNBURDEN MYSELF OF PAST RECORDS. BEFORE SUZANNE CAUGHT ON TO WHAT I WAS DOING, MAKING SO MANY TRIPS TO THE LANDFILL SITE, I WAS DOWN TO ONE BUNDLE OF SPECIAL EDITION INSERTS, I HAD KEPT, BECAUSE IT WAS WHAT I HAD PRODUCED, PRETTY MUCH ON MY OWN, RECOGNIZING THE HOCKEY CAREER OF DETROIT RED WING GOALIE, ROGER CROZIER. SO I KEPT FOUR COPIES AND RECYCLED THE REST. NOW I CAN'T FIND THOSE EITHER.
WHEN I SHOWED SUZANNE WHAT I HAD DONE, OPENING THE DOOR TO AN ALMOST-BARE STORAGE ROOM, SHE WOULDN'T TALK TO ME FOR THE NEXT TWO DAYS. "I ASKED YOU TO CLEAN UP THE PAPERS, NOT GET RID OF THEM," SHE SAID, WHEN THE ANGER FADED. "I OFFERED TO HELP YOU CLIP THE STORIES YOU WROTE, TO REDUCE THE VOLUME. I DIDN'T EXPECT YOU TO JUST DUMP THEM LIKE THAT!" IF YOU HAVE EVER HAD ANYTHING PERSONAL TO DO WITH A WRITER, ARTIST, MUSICIAN, OR ANY OTHER CREATIVE INDIVIDUAL, YOU WILL UNDERSTAND WHAT "FUNK" REALLY MEANS. I'VE KNOWN ARTISTS WHO HAVE THROWN OUT, OR DONATED THEIR BODY OF WORK, INCLUDING STUDIES AND SKETCHES, OUT OF DEPRESSION; AND THEN DEEPLY REGRETTED IT A SHORT WHILE LATER; AFTER WHAT THEY CALLED, A PROFESSIONAL OR CREATIVE "BLOOD LETTING." A SORT OF UN-TETHERING OF A CAREER THAT MAY HAVE BEEN BUNCHING UP ON THEM, OR ANCHORING THEM FROM EXPLORING NEW AVENUES. MINE WASN'T ALL THAT PROFOUND, AT THE TIME, BECAUSE I HAD BECOME MUCH MORE INTERESTED IN ON-LINE WRITING, AND PAPER FILES SEEMED THE LINKS OF CHAINS, FETTERING ME TO A LIFE I NO LONGER LIVED. IT WAS NONSENSE BUT THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS. I KNOW AN ARTIST WHO DONATED HIS ART WORK TO CHARITY, AND THEN KILLED HIMSELF, BUT NOT BEFORE TELLING THE MANAGER OF THE SHOP, "I HOPE YOU HAVE MORE LUCK WITH THIS WORK THAN I DID." I WAS THE ONE WHO HAD TO PRODUCE THE ARTIST'S DEATH NOTICE IN THE PAPER, TO SHOW THE MANAGER, THE TRUE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE ART-WORK FOR SALE IN THE STORE. I WASN'T AT THIS STAGE, BUT IT ISN'T ALL THAT UNCOMMON, TO HAVE THIS PERIOD OF DISTASTE FOR PERSONAL WORK OF THE PAST. SO GETTING THESE BOOKS, WAS A NICE SURPRISE, BECAUSE I WAS WELCOME TO A NEW RELATIONSHIP WITH PAST WORK.
HOW TO GET INTO TROUBLE ON A ROYAL VISIT - GEEZ, LEAVE IT TO ME TO FIND A WAY
I've never written about this before. Frankly, I was pretty embarrassed about the two incidents, because I should have known better, considering I was the editor, and supposedly the role model for our publication. I fell a little short, and it's lucky I wasn't fired. Our staff internalized the misadventures instead, which kept it away from the publisher. We covered for each other, especially the morning after press day, when we'd stay way too long at the press club, and be sick for most of the next day.
It happened during the July 1981 Royal visit, of Princess Margaret, and her daughter, Lady Sarah, to Muskoka, specifically Port Carling and the Lake Rosseau community; including a stay in vicinity of the Village of Rosseau. Muskoka publications, representing The Herald-Gazette, The Beacon and The Muskoka Sun, had four reporters granted security clearance, which took weeks to secure from the federal government. To date, this was one of our most important regional visits, and we wanted everything to be perfect. Those on staff with clearance were John Black, Tim DuVernet, Brant Scott and myself. The photograph of the page feature, on the visit, was from that week's issue of The Muskoka Sun, and Tim DuVernet, one of Muskoka's well known photographers, provided the pics; and I wrote the copy for Editor Bob Boyer. The fun began at the airport. As organized as we assumed we were, understanding all the security protocols, we forgot one of the most important details of a photo-shoot. Where would we store the back-up film canisters?
The photograph on the top left, shows Princess Margaret and Lady Sarah departing the aircraft, at Muskoka Airport. Muskoka's dignitaries await their opportunity to greet the Royal guests. On the left hand side, of the pic, is Lieutenant-Governor John Aird, and our photo brigade was crowded together very close to Aird's back leg. We were all using motor-winds on our cameras, and being quite reckless with the film we were expending. I ran out of film first. I had to whisper to John Black, above the noise of the jet engines, of the Canadian Military plane in the background, that I needed more film. John was the film bank, as at that point, we were winding our own film in the darkroom each week. It had been a sort of austerity measure at the paper, to save a little bit of money. This was an exception, and we couldn't have cared less, if we'd shot a hundred rolls. Even the publisher gave us a little wiggle room that week, so that we would get the best pics of the Royal party, and local dignitaries. Lots of pictures of them, as well.
After John had taken a couple of rolls himself, he let his camera hang loose off his neck, and with me staring at him, nodded that he was going to get the film from his camera bag to his side. At that very moment, I thought to myself, this could appear suspicious behaviour, to the ever-watchful security agents standing right behind us. As soon as John reached back into his camera bag, he felt the bracing grip of a security guard's hand, stopping him from pulling his arm loose; much as if suspecting there could have been a gun inside, or some type of explosive device. It should have been an obvious no-no, but in the heat of the moment, a photographer has to have film wherever it can be secured. And a security guard has to protect the VIPs. Thus the unpleasant impasse. The agent stepped between us, so as not to disrupt the procession, occurring only a few feet away. John had to stand up, and show the security agents (by this point), what he had stored in the bag. John took a few steps back, and I just wanted to be invisible, because it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't insisted on more film. John was able to show the officer what he had been reaching for, and that there was no danger to any of the Royal party, except possibly an unflattering photo. After the party got into the limosine and headed off for Rosseau, John put his camera back in the bag, wiped his brow, and then looked at me, and said, with an unfaltering glare; "Thanks Ted. I can't take you anywhere, that you don't get me in trouble." True enough. On the other hand, it was good to know that security was on the ball.
The second misadventure, occurred in the Village of Port Carling, that Sunday, as Princess Margaret and Lady Sarah attended services at St. James Church. There was a huge crowd gathered on the hillside, and I got there a little late that morning. The Royal party hadn't arrived yet, but the real issue, was trying to pull rank on the spectators, some who had been gathered on site for two hours or more. Of course we expected the press to get preferrential consideration, because we had our security clearance, as reporters, to cover the visit up close and personal. There were hundreds of reporters for the local, regional and national press, including the electronic media. On this morning, I took my position with the rest of the press corp, and if memory serves, I was standing beside CKCO reporter Gar Lewis, a big man with a big camera. I didn't have the best vantage point, for getting a clear shot of the Royal guests. So I started to move a little to the right, and then a little more, and a few feet beyond this. All of a sudden, a man three rows behind me, started heckling, about his blocked view, and others in the zone were also starting to complain about my position just outside the churchyard. But by this time, other reporters had filled the space I vacated. I let the first verbal jabs pass, and probably held my temper for five or so minutes. The rather angry spectator, had encouraged those in his midst to yell at me as well, and there was some pushing and shoving going on, just behind me. I believe there was a low rock wall or something similar, to keep us apart at the front, but because we were all tightly squeezed into a small corner of the property, the divide didn't do much to maintain order, when it became disorderly.
So after awhile, my hangover got the best of me, and I turned to the red faced heckler, and told him, with no polite words whatsoever, to "shut the church door," or something like that. Well, the crowd didn't like my response, and I took a barrage of insults, and of course, I felt compelled to make a few more retorts, that may have been nasty. It was pretty much the same volley of complaints, just with "a return to sender" message. What I hadn't seen, prior to my tenth reply to my wild, frenzied adversary, was the police constable, coming through the crowd on my right. Just as the limosine pulled up out front, the constable grabbed my arm, and pulled me close, for a little chat; let's just say, for the sake of clarification. I can't remember the exact words that were used, but I fully understood the gravity of the situation, when he pointed at the back seat of the cruiser, whispering, "If you say one more word, you're going to keep me company in the car." He then yelled at the rest of the press corp, and told them to move further to the left, and with a mildly exerted push, against my arm, got the extra feet required, so that the complainer in row four, could see the arrival of the princess and her daughter. The officer concluded our little meeting, by saying, "I don't care if you're with the press, buddy, you're not going to cause a disturbance here. So you will not speak another word to the gentleman in the back." I wanted to tell him that my name wasn't "Buddy," and that I was a media giant. But I didn't want to test his patience, which I'd already frayed around the edges of his shiny badge.
I thought about how my press buddies would cover the story, of me being hauled off to the cruiser, and potentially to jail, for being a mouth piece. Seeing as my bosses at the newspaper, represented several of the Muskoka dignitaries, part of this Royal Tour, I was right to assume, an incident like this, would likely result in a shortened media career. It made for some great anecdotes down at the Albion Hotel (Bracebridge) Press Club, that whole week, but to the best of my knowledge, it never made its way back to my bosses. That would have been very unfortunate, considering I was broke at the time, and two months behind on my rent. Of course, most reporters then, were in the same financial distress, and couldn't afford to lose their job. Publishers knew this, and I'm pretty sure, used it to their advantage.
I was only offered a back seat in a police cruiser, twice in my news career. The second time, it was to save my life, after friends at an accident scene, in Milford Bay, decided I shouldn't be taking pictures of their friend, hanging upside down in an overturned vehicle. The guy wasn't hurt, and in fact, he was actually singing, (a little boozed-up) while first responders tried to figure out how to secure the car, perched over the edge of a small sand embankment, and then cut him out of the wreckage. Officer Terry Kidd, invited me into the backseat of his cruiser, to ride out the rest of the rescue, so the audience couldn't get a hold of my camera. Good times. I got the picture and it ran on the front page....so take that!
The only other precarious time, was when I arrived at summer camp, where lightning had caused a structural fire. It was a wicked storm, and the police officer, directing emergency vehicles at the front gate, was in very real danger of being struck by lightning himself. I got out of the car, and stood with him for a few moments, asking some questions about the fire in the camp, and whether or not, he thought I could get access via his permission. He didn't need to say no, because the mob of camp officials, blocked the gate, and motioned for me to get back in my car, and bugger off. I was kind of an a..hole with matters like this, so I started taking lots of photographs, of my greeting party....that didn't look pleased to see me. It turned out to be a small fire, at a camp that liked its privacy. I did the story, and caught some flack as an aftermath. But the officer didn't have to point to the back seat of the cruiser, for my protection.
I'm told by some of my antique cronies, that piles of newspapers from this vintage, can sell for one to two dollars apiece, meaning, well, I recycled about two thousand dollars worth, when I unloaded my personal archives at the local transfer station. Well, at least I've got a few clippings left, out of hundreds of thousands.
It has been a slow, slow day in Downtown, or is it Uptown Gravenhurst, but we've all been catching up on jobs we've put off for the very next snowy, and cold, winter day. Suzanne made an apron and a small cloth purse, as templates for more production this spring. Me, I've been tapping at this keyboard for so long, and hard, this winter, that the letters are almost faded off this new keyboard. That never happened on my old Smith-Corona. See you again soon.
A PERSONAL WEAKNESS FOR THE MAPLE SUGAR BUSH AND MAPLE SYRUP ON A TALL STACK
THE SUGAR BUSH I WANTED TO OWN - WELL, SOME WISHES JUST NEVER COME TRUE
EVERY FEW MONTHS THESE DAYS, BEING TERRIBLY DISSATISFIED AND FRUSTRATED WITH INEFFICIENCIES OF LOCAL POLITICS, AND SUNDRY OTHER MUNICIPAL GOINGS-ON, I GET THIS DEEP-SEEDED, CRAZY URGE TO EITHER WRITE A SCATHING BLOG, WITH AN ACCOMPANYING VIDEO DEPICTING THE WRATH OF EXPLODING FIRE AND BRIMSTONE, OR FINALLY MAKE MY LONG ANTICIPATED ANNOUNCEMENT, THAT BY GOD, I'M GOING TO RUN FOR COUNCIL IN THE NEXT LOCAL ELECTION. THEN I WAKE UP FROM MY ARMCHAIR SLUMBER, COVERED IN SWEAT AND TREMBLING. I COUGH AND SNORT, WIGGLE MY TOES AND FINGERS, AND SATISFIED I HAVEN'T SUFFERED A STROKE, SWEAR TO THE ALMIGHTY, TO NEVER, EVER CONSIDER THIS AGAIN. UNTIL THE NEXT POST MEAL NODDING-OFF. YOU SEE, I HAVE AN INTEREST IN RUNNING FOR POLITICS, BUT A PASSION FOR FREEDOM THAT CAN NEVER BE CAPPED. I COULDN'T SIT IN A COUNCIL CHAMBERS MORE THAN FIFTEEN MINUTES WITHOUT GNAWING MY FINGERS, (OR SOMEONE ELSE'S) TO THE KNUCKLES. SO TO GET THIS NIGHTMARE SCENARIO OUT OF MY SYSTEM, AT LEAST FOR TODAY, I'VE WRITTEN ABOUT ONE OF MY OLDEST PASSIONS IN HISTORY, COLLECTING, AND GOOD TASTE. MY SALVATION THIS TIME, AS IT HAS BEEN MANY TIMES BEFORE, ISN'T SEATED IN A CHURCH PEW…….BUT RATHER IN THE OPEN AIR OF A NATURAL CATHEDRAL……THE MUSKOKA SUGAR BUSH. PLEASE TAKE A STROLL WITH ME.
A LONG-TIME BUSINESSMAN IN BRACEBRIDGE, ONTARIO, READ A FEATURE STORY I WROTE IN THE MUSKOKA SUN, ON A MAPLE SYRUP OPERATION, CO-ORDINATED BY OUTDOOR EDUCATORS, ASSOCIATED WITH V.K. GREER PUBLIC SCHOOL, IN PORT SYDNEY (SITUATED BETWEEN BRACEBRIDGE AND HUNTSVILLE); AND BEGGED ME TO COME OUT TO HIS SUGAR BUSH, LOCATED IN THE THICK BEAUTIFUL WOODS, JUST OFF GOLDEN BEACH ROAD, A SHORT HIKE TO THE SHORE OF LAKE MUSKOKA. JIMMY HILLMAN, WELL KNOWN IN LOCAL CAR SALES, WAS "SUGARING-OFF" AT THE TIME, AND HE WANTED ME TO SEE A TRULY HISTORIC SUGAR SHACK, AND THE OLD WAY OF COLLECTING SAP WITHOUT THE PLASTIC TUBING. METAL SAP PAILS HUNG OF OLD SPILES DRIVEN INTO THE TRUNKS. I BROUGHT ALONG SON ANDREW THAT DAY, WHICH WAS SPARKLING BY THE WAY……AND TODAY REMINDED ME OF THAT OCCASION. IT WAS HEAVEN ON EARTH TO A CLAUSTROPHOBIC GUY LIKE ME.
I HAD WRITTEN, THE PREVIOUS WEEK, ABOUT THE V.K. GREER PUBLIC SCHOOL SUGARING OPERATION, AFTER HAVING TAKEN THE FASCINATING TOUR WITH INVITED STUDENTS, FROM BRACEBRIDGE PUBLIC SCHOOL, WITH YOUNGEST SON ROBERT THIS TIME. THE SUGAR BUSH WAS BEING MAINTAINED BY THE STUDENTS OF THE SCHOOL, WITH ASSISTANCE FROM AT LEAST THREE OUTDOOR EDUCATION TEACHERS FROM THE MUSKOKA BOARD OF EDUCATION. I KNEW JOHN DUNCAN FROM OTHER OUTDOOR EDUCATION STORIES I'D WORKED ON, IN THE YEARS PREVIOUS, SO HE GAVE ME A PERSONALLY GUIDED TOUR, AND UP-CLOSE INSPECTION OF THE SAP LINES RUNNING THROUGH THE SUNLIT WOODS; AND OF COURSE THE VATS OF BOILING SYRUP IN THE NEWLY CONSTRUCTED SUGAR SHACK. I SHOULD NOTE HERE, THAT EVEN AS A KID, I WAS FASCINATED BY THE ART WORK IN OUR SCHOOL TEXTBOOKS, DEPICTING THE SUGARING-OFF TRADITION, AND IT BECAME A FANTASY FOR ME, TO ONE DAY OWN MY OWN SUGAR BUSH. SO WHAT HAPPENED WITH THAT IDEA? I GOT CAUGHT UP IN A ROBERT FROST POEM ABOUT "BIRCHES," AND I'VE NEVER BEEN THE SAME SINCE. WE CALL OUR LITTLE ABODE, HERE IN SOUTH MUSKOKA, "BIRCH HOLLOW," BUT MIXED INTO THE WOODLOT, ARE A FEW NICE MAPLES. NOT QUITE A SUGAR BUSH BUT I'M HAPPY TO HAVE THEM ANYWAY.
WHEN JIMMY READ THE STORY ABOUT THE MORE EFFICIENT SAP COLLECTING SYSTEM, USED ON THE NICELY TREED PUBLIC SCHOOL PROPERTY, AND KNOWING MY CURIOSITY FOR LOCAL HISTORY, HE THOUGHT I WOULD FIND IT INTERESTING TO SEE HOW IT WAS DONE IN PIONEER TIMES. I COULDN'T WAIT. IT WAS ON A BEAUTIFUL MORNING IN EARLY MARCH, THAT ANDREW AND I MET JIMMY AND CREW AT THE GATE OF THE ROAD, THAT LED QUITE A CLIP BACK INTO THE THICK WOODS. I WALKED THE TRAIL, AND ANDREW AND THE REST OF THE CHAPS, MOTORED DOWN THE SNOW-COVERED LANE WITH ALL TERRAIN VEHICLES, LOADED WITH THE GEAR NEEDED FOR THE MORNING'S LABORS. I ENJOYED THE BEAUTIFUL WALK INTO THE SUGAR SHACK. THE MORNING SUN WAS FILTERING DOWN THROUGH THE BARE LIMBS OF THOUSANDS OF MAPLES FORESTING THE GRADUAL INCLINE OF THE PROPERTY. A COUPLE OF TIMES, I JUST HAD TO STOP TO DRINK IT ALL IN…..THE ICONIC CANADIAN HINTERLAND SCENE, THE SMOKE COMING OUT OF THE DISTANT SUGAR SHACK, THE BLUE SHADOWING ON THE SUNLIT SNOW, AND THE AROMA OF MAPLE SYRUP WAFTING THROUGH THE LATE WINTER AIR. OF COURSE IT WAS INTOXICATING, AND IT WAS OBVIOUS MY NOTEBOOK WASN'T GOING TO BE BIG ENOUGH FOR THIS FEATURE STORY. JOINING THE GROUP THAT DAY WERE JIM'S BUDDIES BILL THOMPSON, MR. BLANCHARD, AND HIS SON-IN-LAW, BRIAN MILNE. TWO OF THE MEN WERE ALREADY HAULING PAILS OF SAP TO A CENTRAL BARREL, AND THE OTHER TWO, LOOKED AFTER THE TRAYS OF BOILING SAP ON TOP OF A RAGING FIRE BELOW. JUST THE SCENT OF WOODSMOKE WAS MAKING ME CRAZY HUNGRY, FOR A HONKING-BIG STACK OF PANCAKES. AS THE SAY, NO SYRUP BEFORE ITS TIME. I HAD TO WAIT. AND WAIT. HEY, IT WAS WORTH IT.
JIMMY WAS PROUDEST, THAT DAY, TO SHOW ME SOME OF THE TREEN-WARE (WOODEN PAILS, MOULDS, SPILES) HE HAD SAVED FROM THE FIRST YEARS HE HAD TAPPED THE TREES; AND HAD EVEN COLLECTED A FEW OTHER VINTAGE PIECES, FROM THE AREA, JUST TO SHOW ME THE ROUGH MATERIALS THE PIONEERS WOULD HAVE USED……AND THIS IS WHEN THE ANTIQUE HUNTER "ME" SURFACED, BEING AMAZED AT THE RICH PATINA, AND STILL SWEET AROMA OF THE OLD WOOD RELICS. HE EXPLAINED THAT WHILE HE COULD HAVE OPTED FOR THE TUBE COLLECTION SYSTEM FOR THE SUGAR BUSH, HE AND HIS CHUMS, WHO HAD BEEN DOING THIS FOR DECADES, PREFERRED DOING IT ALL "OLD SCHOOL." I NEVER THOUGHT OF JIM HILLMAN AS A TRADITIONALIST, BUT IT WAS CERTAINLY APPARENT TODAY, HE WANTED TO KEEP AT LEAST ONE FOOT IN THE PAST……AND THIS PLACE GAVE HIM THAT OPPORTUNITY. ANDREW GOT TO SAMPLE THE FARE, AND I WAS GIVEN AN OPPORTUNITY, FOR THE FIRST TIME, OF TASTING A COLD SHOT OF SAP AND IT WAS QUITE NICE. I HAD LOTS OF SYRUP THAT DAY, AND JIM SENT HOME A SMALL CONTAINER FOR OUR FAMILY TO ENJOY. I'VE GOT TO TELL YOU, I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE THAT DAY…….AND THAT WONDERFUL RUSTIC SCENE, OF THE OPEN-FRONT SUGAR SHACK, WITH THOSE HUGE TRAYS OF BOILING AMBER LIQUID, THE WHITE SMOKE ROLLING DOWN THROUGH THE HARDWOODS, THE SUN, SNOW, LIGHT AND SHADOW, MADE IT A TRULY ENCHANTED SCENE, FOR BOTH THE WRITER AND THE ANTIQUE ENTHUSIAST. I WANTED TO BUY THE SUGAR SHACK AND HAUL IT TO MY SIDE YARD. I WANTED TO BE THE KIND OF COMPETENT ARTIST, WHO COULD HAVE CAPTURED THAT SCENE FOR POSTERITY. NO MATTER HOW MANY PHOTOGRAPHS I TOOK THAT DAY, NONE RELAYED THAT ETHEREAL SENSATION OF OPEN SPACES, FREEDOM, AND GOOD POETRY. FOR THOSE FEW PRECIOUS HOURS, I WAS A BARD OF THE MAPLE SYRUP TRADITION. I WANDERED THROUGH THOSE GLORIOUS WOODS, PONDERING THE MEANING OF LIFE, AND WHEN I GOT BACK TO THE SUGAR SHACK, AND TASTED THAT INCREDIBLE AMBER BREW……I UNDERSTOOD…..THE MEANING OF LIFE HAD A LOT TO DO WITH A SUGAR BUSH. AT LEAST FOR ME.
I ACTIVELY SEEK OUT PAINTINGS AND SUGAR BUSH RELICS AS AN ANTIQUE HUNTER
I hate to admit this, but in the past ten years, I have bought and sold a pretty fair quantity of maple syrup and sugaring-off relics from Ontario and Quebec. It has been a ten year period in my life, that frankly, has been full to over-flowing with projects and new directions, and in the frenzy to check off all the "things to do" on my rather lengthy bucket list, I've had less patience for having a long term relationship with any of my prized possessions of once. After burying some close friends and family, and hearing about other associates facing cancer treatments, with poor outlooks, I began loosening my grip on a lot of items I had collected, and assumed would be with me until the end. Among those cherished items were many relics, artifacts and art from my collecting tenure, of maple syrup interests; which in reality have been life-long in nature. I have had some incredible folk-art depictions of the maple syrup industry, especially wood carvings from Quebec, which reminded me daily of a place I wanted to be other than here. I had a dozen paintings of sugar shacks and tapped maple forests, and then one day I thought to myself……."I've enjoyed these pieces for long enough……it's time for someone else to benefit from my years of collecting." In this house today, outside of some photographs taken on my visits to sugar bushes, including Jimmy's, in Bracebridge, I wouldn't be able to find even one book or one tiny wood carving, to remind me of this former passion to possess all reminders of the sugar bush heritage. I'm mad at myself for having done this, but it's one of those things as a writer and antique dealer in the same body, and soul, that happens from time to time, and always with the same kind of end-game regrets. Of course I wish I had it all back. Suzanne reminds me that, because I accepted invitations to Jimmy Hillman's sugar bush, and went with the school students to V.K. Greer Public School, and once to the Kortright Centre for the March Break program in the sugar bush, I've at least got those precious memories for company. You know, it doesn't quell my pangs, for actually, one day, owning a sugar bush, but as Suzanne draws my attention to frequently, these days, she is retiring from teaching this year, and we have to hunker down and be frugal to keep our antique business up and running……and our home out of foreclosure. No money for land, she says, with a nod and a confident smirk, like Stan Laurel, used to give Oliver Hardy. There's not a lot of money left for buying back all the sugar bush relics either, unless they are for re-sale at the shop. Hey, that gives me an idea. I'll just be a dealer of maple syrup related pieces. I'd only truly be happy, however, if I could have a sugar shack like the one Jim Hillman had, to dismantle and rebuild in the middle of our Gravenhurst shop. Suzanne is glaring at me now, because I'm talking to myself as I write these lines.
Suzanne is an old softy when it comes to the sugar bush. Her relative from the Ufford area of Muskoka, is Bill Veitch, and his property has long been the site of the annual Windermere and District Lions Club Pancake Social, in late April, at the Dougherty Road acreage, not far from the Village of Windermere, on the shore of Lake Rosseau. As a reporter for the local press, I always volunteered to cover the event on Bill's property, and the week after, at the Milford Bay property of Don Goltz, where the local fire fighters were in charge of the festivities. I believe this has been re-located in recent years to the Milford Bay community hall. The last time we were at the Goltz farm, it was on a rainy and windy afternoon, and as Suzanne and I were walking back to our picnic table, fully laden with pancakes, sausage and freshly made maple syrup, a gust of wind came up over that bald rock off the pasture, and blew the paper plates up and then forcefully against our respective jackets. I may have cursed God that day. I apologize now for that indiscretion…..but come on……what a terrible waste! Actually, the cooks felt sorry for the reporter and his mate, and got us more food and syrup……as long as I agreed to tell the story in my column the next week……of misadventure; illustrating how silly we looked covered in pancakes and sausages, glued with maple syrup, and their responding act of kindness, to make sure our experience in little old Milford Bay, was given some positive press. They got it. And by golly, they're getting it again, quite a few years later.
I have a real passion, this time of the year, to wander out into some sunlit, smokey, sugar bush, to do it all again. It is the place I'd rather be…….immersed in history, regaled by nature, and impressed by pioneer tradition. Now this is cookery at its most rustic, rural core, and it's something that has to be experienced to be believed. You just can count on relics and paintings of sugaring-off, to fill in all the blanks. This is a sensory perception adventure, so if you get a chance this late winter, early spring, to participate in any sugar bush activities, please, don't delay this intimate relationship with nature. The most "Canadian" I can be, is wandering the trails of a sugar bush in March. Thanks again, for taking the time to visit this blog-site. It's not as good as a sugar bush but suffice to say, my memories, at least, are not for sale. I'm offering them to you for free. We're taking some time off this week, my bride and I, and you never know what sugar bush I might turn up in, while on our hunting and gathering adventure. I'll let you know what we found and witnessed along the way. Drive safely out there. Take some time to enjoy the view. It's precious. Really!
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