"Willow" A Novel by Wayland Drew, Film by George Lucas; Food in the Logging Camp

Willow, The Novel by Wayland Drew film by George Lucas

A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS - AND EVERY ONE OF THEM HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH A GOOD BOOK

TRACING BACK, BOOKS HAVE ALWAYS BEEN PROJECT SOURCES

     "THE VISION FORMED. BAVMORDA APPROACHED THE CRUCIBLE. IT HAD FILLED WITH MILKY FLUID, AND IN IT SHONE THE FACE OF FIN RAZIEL AS SHE HAD BEEN THOSE MANY YEARS AGO, STILL BEAUTIFUL, STILL RADIANT. OUT OF THE HOWL CAME THE GHOSTLY ECHO OF FIN RAZIEL'S VOICE: 'YOU MAY DEFEAT THE CHILD, BAVMORDA. THE MYSTERY OF THE CHILD IS LARGER THAN YOU, AND IN THAT MYSTERY YOUR REIGN WILL END. HERE IS THE SIGN, BAVMORDA.'
     "FIN RAZIEL'S FACE FADED, AND THE MILKY FLUID FORMED INTO A SHIMMERING CIRCLE THAT BAVMORDA KNEW TOO WELL. EYES BLAZING, THE QUEEN LEANED CLOSE TO THAT HATEFUL MARK.
     "LIGHTNING AND FIREBALLS CRACKLED OFF BAVMORDA'S FINGERS AND SLAMMED INTO THE BOWL, RICOCHETING IN ALL DIRECTIONS. THE OPAQUE FLUID SWIRLED INTO FOUL STREAM. WHEN THE BOWL HAD BEEN SEARED CLEAN, THE MISTRESS OF NOCKMAAR RAISED HER ARMS AND UTTERED A SOUND EVEN MORE TERRIBLE THAN HER LAUGHTER - A LONG WAIL OF HOLLOW TRIUMPH. SHE KNEW, AND ALL WHO HEARD HER KNEW, THAT NO MATTER HOW OFTEN SHE MIGHT BLAST THAT VISION IT COULD ALWAYS BE CONJURED AGAIN, FOR ITS ESSENCE LAY BEYOND HER POWER."
     THE ABOVE PASSAGE, COMMENCES THE BOOK, "WILLOW," A NOVEL BY WAYLAND DREW, BASED ON A SCREENPLAY BY BOB DOLMAN, FROM A STORY BY GEORGE LUCAS, OF STAR WARS FAME. THE NOVEL WAS PUBLISHED IN 1988, BY BALLANTINE BOOKS, OF NEW YORK. I HAVE SEEN THE MOVIE AND IT WAS PRETTY NEAT.
     "THEN, WHEN THE CHILDREN WERE SETTLED FOR THE NIGHT, WILLOW EMBRACED HIS BELOVED KLAYA, AND THEY WALKED A LITTLE DISTANCE AWAY FROM THE HOUSE, TO A SPOT WHERE THEY COULD WATCH THE MOONLIGHT ON THE BOUNTIFUL FIELDS OF UFGOOD REACH, AND THE SILVER EDDIES OF THE FREEN. THERE THEY STOOD A LONG TIME IN ONE ANOTHER'S ARMS, CONTENT WITH THAT SIMPLE LIFE, AT PEACE IN THE MYSTERY OF THAT GREEN WORLD."
     A BRIEF BIOGRAPHY IN THE BACK OF "WILLOW," ACKNOWLEDGES WAYLAND'S OTHER LITERARY ACCOMPLISHMENTS; "WAYLAND DREW WAS BORN IN OSHAWA, ONTARIO, AND RECEIVED HIS EARLY EDUCATION THERE. HE BEGAN TO WRITE SERIOUSLY IN HIGH SCHOOL AND CONTINUED WHILE STUDYING ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE AT THE UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO. SINCE GRADUATION HE HAS COMBINED HIGH SCHOOL TEACHING AND WRITING (BRACEBRIDGE AND MUSKOKA LAKES SECONDARY SCHOOL). HE IS THE AUTHOR OF 'THE ERTHRING CYCLE,' A TRILOGY PUBLISHED BY DEL REY BOOKS. MR. DREW AND HIS WIFE GWENDOLYN LIVE IN BRACEBRIDGE, WHERE HE HAS TAUGHT ENGLISH FOR ELEVEN YEARS. THEY HAVE FOUR CHILDREN."
     THIS WRITE-UP DOESN'T LIST HIS OTHER WELL KNOWN BOOKS, INCLUDING "HALFWAY MAN," "WABENO FEAST," "SUPERIOR; THE HAUNTED SHORE," AND HIS EXCELLENT STUDY OF THE ST. LAWRENCE WITH PHOTOGRAPHER, BRUCE LITTELJOHN.
     IN THE BACK OF THE BOOK, THERE IS AN ADVERTISEMENT FOR THE "ALL NEW LUCASFILM FAN CLUB," SO THAT YOU CAN FOLLOW THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF WILLOW AND MADMARTIGAN. THE ADVERTISEMENT IS PICTURED ABOVE.
     MY REGRET IS THAT I DIDN'T GET WAYLAND TO SIGN MY ENTIRE COLLECTION. SHORTLY AFTER I BEGAN WORKING WITH WAYLAND, IN OUR MUTUAL BID TO ORGANIZE THE BRACEBRIDGE HISTORICAL SOCIETY, I STARTED TO COLLECT SOME OF THE BOOKS HE HAD WRITTEN TO THAT POINT. THEN WHEN I MOVED ON TO THE POSITION OF EDITOR, WITH THE BRACEBRIDGE HERALD-GAZETTE, AND ASSISTANT EDITOR WITH THE MUSKOKA SUN, WE WOULD RUN BOOK REVIEWS, AND ANY UPDATES ON HIS CAREER. SO AS THESE BOOKS BECAME AVAILABLE, I TRIED TO COLLECT MULTIPLES OF EACH. I JUST FORGOT ABOUT GETTING THEM SIGNED. AS I USED TO SEE WAYLAND ALMOST EVERY DAY, WALKING FROM HOME TO SCHOOL AND BACK, I JUST NEVER EXPECTED THIS SPRY CHAP WOULD SOON BE UNABLE TO WALK UP HIS OWN STREET UNASSISTED. THE LAST TIME I TALKED WITH WAYLAND, WAS (AS I'VE WRITTEN ABOUT MANY TIMES BEFORE), AT A "MUSKOKA INK" EVENT, FOR REGIONAL WRITERS, DURING A SPECIAL OUTDOOR READING, HELD AT WOODCHESTER VILLA AND MUSEUM, IN BRACEBRIDGE; A PLACE WE HELD WITH CONSIDERABLE FONDNESS, AS WE HAD BOTH BEEN A PART OF ITS CREATION.
     I HAD ENTERED A SHORT NON-FICTION PIECE, IN THE WRITING COMPETITION SPONSORED BY "MUSKOKA INK," THAT YEAR, AND WAS ONE OF THE WINNERS ON THAT OCCASION. WAYLAND AND GWEN HAD BEEN INVITED AS SPECIAL GUESTS. MY STORY WAS ALL ABOUT TORONTO SUN COLUMNIST, PAUL RIMSTEAD, AND IT GOT QUITE A FEW LAUGHS WHEN I WAS ASKED TO READ IT ALOUD, TO THE LARGE CROWD IN ATTENDANCE. RIMSTEAD HAD LIVED WITH HIS FAMILY IN THE BRACEBRIDGE AREA, AND HAD ACTUALLY ATTENDED CLASSES AT THE FORMER BRACEBRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL. HE AND FORMER DETROIT RED WING GOALIE, ROGER CROZIER, USED TO SNEAK OUT OF CLASS, AND VISIT JOE'S BILLIARDS, ON MANITOBA STREET; WHERE RIMMER OF COURSE, USED TO THRASH THE SOON TO BE NATIONAL HOCKEY LEAGUE NETMINDER. THERE ARE A LOT OF STORIES ABOUT RIMSTEAD'S YEARS IN BRACEBRIDGE, AND OBVIOUSLY, A FEW IN THE AUDIENCE REMEMBERED THE YOUNG LAD. AS A CUB REPORTER FOR THE ORILLIA PACKET AND TIMES, HE USED TO HAVE A PRESS CARD ATTACHED TO HIS BICYCLE, AND HE'D FOLLOW ALONG AFTER THE FIRE TRUCKS, TO GET THE BIG SCOOP. THAT WAS, UNTIL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT DECIDED, IT DIDN'T WANT HIM TAGGING ALONG; AND WOULD THUSLY PUT A FALSE LOCATION ON THE CHALK BOARD, TO THROW HIM OFF TRACK. I DIGRESS.
     AT THE END OF MY PRESENTATION, SUZANNE, WHO WAS A TEACHER AT BMLSS WITH WAYLAND, TOLD ME THAT HE HAD BEEN TRYING TO GET MY ATTENTION, TO COME OVER AND HAVE A CHAT. HE WAS SITTING OFF TO THE RIGHT OF THE MICROPHONE, AND WE WERE STANDING AT THE VERY BACK; QUITE A DISTANCE AWAY. WHEN SHE TOLD ME THAT WAYLAND WAS MOTIONING ME, WHICH I HONESTLY HADN'T SEEN, I EXCUSED MYSELF, TO WALK OVER AND SEE HIM. BEFORE I COULD TAKE A STEP, I SAW HIM SLOWLY AND CAREFULLY WALKING TOWARD US. I KNEW HE HAD BEEN QUITE ILL, SO I HURRIED TO HIS SIDE, TO SAVE HIM WALKING ALL THE WAY BACK. HE WANTED, YOU SEE, TO COMPLIMENT ME ON MY STORY ABOUT RIMSTEAD, AND HE WANTED A COPY TO SEND, TO A FRIEND, WHO HAD WORKED WITH THE COLUMNIST, AT THE FORMER TORONTO TELEGRAM. IT RECALLED THE TIME, EARLY IN OUR RELATIONSHIP, WHEN HE COMPLIMENTED A BOOK OF SHORT STORIES, PHOTOGRAPHER TIM DUVERNET, AND I PUBLISHED, IN 1983, ENTITLED "MEMORIES AND IMAGES;" AND I REMEMBER STANDING THERE, WITH MY CHIN AGAINST MY CHEST, WONDERING WHY AN AUTHOR OF HIS ACCOMPLISHMENTS IN LITERATURE, WOULD FEEL THAT OUR BOOK WAS EVEN MILDLY INTERESTING. WAYLAND WAS LIKE THAT AS A MENTOR. IT NEVER MEANT HE OFFERED PRAISE FOR WHAT WASN'T DESERVING, BUT HE BELIEVED IN THE POTENTIAL OF THE CREATOR, EVEN IF THE WORK DIDN'T MAKE THE MARK. HE FIGURED THAT IF YOU WERE WILLING TO PUT IN THE EFFORT, BRAVE THE CRITIQUES, AND SHOULDER THE RESPONSIBILITY, OF MAKING IMPROVEMENTS, YOU SHOULD RECEIVE CREDIT AND ENCOURAGEMENT. THE RIMSTEAD STORY WAS A CASE IN POINT. IT WASN'T A GREAT LITERARY ACHIEVEMENT ON MY PART, BUT IT WAS AN HONEST ATTEMPT TO PORTRAY THE COLUMNIST. IT WAS A CLASSIC EXAMPLE OF THE KIND OF MENTORSHIP HE WAS FAMOUS FOR BESTOWING, ON YOUNG WRITERS HE MENTORED. HE COULD HAVE CRUSHED ME, WITH CRITICISM, ESPECIALLY ON OUR LITTLE BOOK, BUT HE CHOSE TO TAKE A POSITIVE APPROACH; AND GIVE TIM AND I THE VALIDATION WE NEEDED, AS YOUNG ARTISTS, TO CARRY ON WITH OUR CREATIVE PROJECTS. TIM HAS BECOME ONE OF MUSKOKA'S WELL KNOWN AND RESPECTED PHOTOGRAPHERS, AND WELL, I'VE NEVER STOPPED WRITING FOR MORE THAN A FEW HOURS EVER SINCE.
     WHAT WAS NEAT THAT AFTERNOON, AT WOODCHESTER, IS THAT WE HAD A CHANCE TO REMINISCE ABOUT ALL THE WORK, AND NEGOTIATIONS, IT TOOK TO BRING THE MUSEUM TO FRUITION. I RECALLED MEETING WITH WAYLAND AT HIS HOME, BACK IN 1978, TO DISCUSS THE POSSIBILITIES OF FORMING AN HISTORICAL SOCIETY. I REMEMBER THE FIRST TIME WE BOTH STOOD ON THE GROUNDS OF THE BOARDED-UP OCTAGONAL HOUSE, THE FORMER RESIDENCE OF BIRDS WOOLLEN MILL FOUNDER, HENRY BIRD, TRYING TO IMAGINE WHAT IT WOULD LOOK LIKE WHEN RESTORED. IT WAS A LONGSHOT FROM THE BEGINNING, BUT WAYLAND WAS THE MAN TO LEAD THE CHARGE; AND THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT HE DID, SUPPORTED BY CITIZENS LIKE HIGH SCHOOL PRINCIPAL, KEN BLACK, REPRESENTING THE BRACEBRIDGE ROTARY CLUB; THE ORGANIZATION THAT PROVIDED THE PURCHASE PRICE TO ACQUIRE THE WOODCHESTER PROPERTY.    BUT WHAT WE BOTH RECOGNIZED, WITH AN EVER SO MILD, UNSPOKEN RECOLLECTION, OF PAIN AND SUFFERING, WAS THE REALITY THE MUSEUM PROJECT HAD DRAINED THOUSANDS OF HOURS FROM OUR RESPECTIVE FAMILY LIVES, INCLUDING THE PARTNERS WE DRAGGED INTO THE PROJECT. GWEN DREW WAS PIVOTAL IN THE RESTORATION AND MUSEUM DEVELOPMENT PROJECT, AND SUZANNE, MY PARTNER IN THE EARLY 1980'S, HELPED RUN THE MUSEUM AND ITS CULTURAL PROGRAMS, UNTIL 1990, OR SO, DURING THE TIME I WAS THE SITE MANAGER. BUT, ON THAT SUNNY AFTERNOON, IT WAS NICE TO LOOK DOWN OVER THE NEATLY MANICURED LAWNS OF THE MUSEUM PROPERTY, AND SEE PEOPLE COMING AND GOING FROM THE BUILDING, EXUDING SOME CONTENTMENT, THE SITE HAD AFFORDED A PLEASURABLE VISIT. IT'S WHAT WE INTENDED FOR THE PROPERTY A WAY BACK WHEN, BUT FOR MOST OF THE TIME OF OUR MUTUAL ASSOCIATIONS WITH THE PROPERTY, THERE HAD BEEN SO MUCH STRESS TO KEEP THE MUSEUM FUNDED, IN GOOD CONDITION, AND STAFFED, THAT WE NEVER REALLY GOT A CHANCE TO ENJOY IT THE WAY WE SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE. MANY OTHER VOLUNTEERS FELT THE SAME WAY. BUT FOR THOSE FEW MOMENTS, AT THE END OF ANOTHER MUSEUM DAY, AS THE ORGANIZERS OF MUSKOKA INK, BEGAN FOLDING UP THE CHAIRS, AND HAULING THE PODIUM BACK TO STORAGE. IT WAS A BELATED CELEBRATION, I SUPPOSE, FOR BOTH OF US, TO AT THAT MOMENT THINK BACK, AND BELIEVE, WE HAD DONE THE RIGHT THING, BY PUTTING IN ALL THOSE HOURS, TO BRING THIS BEAUTIFUL TREED LOCATION, ABOVE THE CATARACT OF THE MUSKOKA RIVER, BACK TO ITS ORIGINAL GRANDEUR, AS A BRACEBRIDGE SOCIAL / CULTURAL, HERITAGE ATTRACTION. HE PATTED ME ON THE SHOULDER, WE SHOOK HANDS, AND WE WANDERED WITH OUR PARTNERS, BACK UP THE LIMESTONE DRIVE WE HAD BOTH RAKED FREE OF WEEDS, ON NUMEROUS OCCASIONS; AND THEN HEADED-OFF HOME, WITH THE LAST GLIMPSE OF THE OLD HOUSE, FRAMED NEATLY IN THE REAR VEIW MIRROR. IT WAS THE LAST TIME I SAW WAYLAND, AND FOR ME, IT WAS A POETIC LAST OCCASION, ON A PIECE OF MUSKOKA HILLSIDE, THAT AT ONE TIME, HAD FAIRLY OR UNFAIRLY OCCUPIED OUR LIVES.
   THE MUSEUM PROPERTY HAS BEEN CLOSED FOR QUITE A FEW YEARS NOW, AFTER IT WAS DETERMINED, FOLLOWING THE COLLAPSE OF A WRAP-AROUND VERANDAH, THE HOUSE HAD SOME STRUCTURAL ISSUES THAT REQUIRED RE-CONSTRUCTION, AND RESTORATION GENERALLY. ALTHOUGH I HAVE NEVER BEEN ASKED TO CONTRIBUTE IN ANY WAY TO THE REVITALIZATION PROJECT, STILL UNDERWAY, I HOPE THE COUNCIL OF THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE, WILL DO THE RIGHT THING WHEN WOODCHESTER VILLA IS FINALLY RE-OPENED; FOR WHATEVER IS INTENDED AS THE NEW-USE FOR THE OLD BUILDING - MUSEUM OR ART CENTRE. THE RIGHT THING? THERE SHOULD BE A HIGHLY VISIBLE ACKNOWLEDGMENT, POSSIBLY A HERITAGE MARKER, POSTED ON THE PROPERTY,S LISTING THE NAMES OF ITS FOUNDERS, OF WHICH THE NAME WAYLAND DREW SHOULD BE MOST PROMINENT.

FROM LOGGING CAMP COOKERY TO THE HOMESTEAD KITCHEN

One of the finds I hope to make some day, is to secure, with established provenance of course, a collection of handwritten recipes once used in a Muskoka, Algonquin, Haliburton, or Parry Sound logging camp.

I have researched the earliest logging operations in our region of Ontario, Canada, and have been particularly attracted to the "stick to the bones" creations that were baked, boiled, fried and simmered in those rustic camp kitchens. From the famous baked beans set in iron pots (with lids) beneath the hot ash of open fire pits (to simmer and flavor with ash through the day), to the huge pots of stew and soup on the camp stove......from lamb, beef, pork, chicken, venison and fish to fresh, golden brown bread, delicious pies, cakes, and maple syrup enhancements, all day, every day from the smoky camp kitchens, and outdoor ovens and fires.

It has often been noted, in various late 1800's journals I have read, that in order for a logging camp to keep its workers, the food had to be well above average. There were lots of camps operating in this period in rural Ontario, and word got around about which company was providing the best meals to their loggers. It wasn’t uncommon to have women from nearby homesteads, baking an assortment of breads, cakes and pies to transport to the camps, usually by sleigh; as the winter season was the period of the main cut of timber, and the late season haul across the snow to the shores of rivers and lakes for transport to mills; when the waterways of course were free of ice. Many camps did have outside bake ovens for bread. You can imagine what the scent of freshly baked bread and simmering beans would do to a logger with a budding appetite, invigorated for many long hours by sub zero weather conditions.

Lunches were provided to the men out on the cutting sites and while it held them over until their traditionally late dinner, it was a pretty impatient lot that arrived in the oil-lamp adorned dining hall, after a grueling day of cutting and hauling. A number of loggers, who penned journals, noted that in the stews and soups there was often more fat than anything else....and in the morning, if you were to see the large and deep covering of solidified fat on the surface of the cold remains, it might well make you feel nauseous. One observer noted that the fat was not always skimmed off the stew but rather stirred in for the next day’s offering. At that time it was thought the fat content would help the men better deal with the cold and rigors of the outdoor work. As for heart disease amongst loggers, well, there’s very little evidence of coronary problems. You simply had more chance of being killed, or seriously injured by a felled tree than death due to high fat content from the camp fare. From a long term perspective, you’re quite right to ponder if the shorter lives then, had something to do with excesses from the cooks of the day. What happened in the camps generally happened in the homesteads as well, so yes, fat was part of the nourishment considered a dietary requirement to help one survive between meals.

Most camps did keep up a pretty fair regimen of weekly deliveries to maintain vegetable and dairy supplies. So that unless the weather turned particularly violent for a long period, the camp kitchen received regular loads of that autumn’s garden harvest from a variety of suppliers in the closest communities. Homesteaders might have been able to provide meat and fresh eggs but probably didn’t have the vegetable volume to feed a logging camp. They might have sold the camp an array of preserves, jams, pickled items, cranberries etc. Camps used to have a limited pen of livestock to serve immediate needs of meat supply in particular, and it was common for a group of loggers to take to the field, on free weekends, to hunt and fish where possible, bringing back the catch for the benefit of mates and the camp cook.

I have only read one or two entirely negative stories about the culinary shortfalls of these logging camp kitchens. Most of the overviews straddle the line between good and acceptable, and the truth is, when you’re hungry.....as these folks were at the end of a hard day in the cold, culinary excellence would probably be wasted on the inmates anyway. There is particular attention however, at the deserts made for the loggers, and by most accounts, the freshly baked pies were fit for any fine restaurant the world over. All were baked humbly in wood-fired stoves in less than ideal conditions.

Bones were in plentiful supply, and nothing was thrown out until every last molecule of fat, marrow and flavor was drained out for the soup of the day....a hearty mixture of leftovers and filler. There was talk of deceased horses winding up in the brew, as many fell in the line of duty hauling logs, and were, as a rule, used as an available food resource, to make up any particular shortfall in dietary requirements. I’ve only ever read several of these claims but it certainly isn’t far fetched, and in fact makes perfect sense, to utilize every resource in the isolated circumstances these camps were often situated within. While some camps were close to habitations and suppliers, others were far more remote and needed large shipments of supplies instead of the smaller, frequent ones, for those operations near established villages and homesteads.

The most common negative associated with the logging camps and cookery, was the invasive scent of loggers without benefit of daily, weekly or monthly showers. There did seem to be a balance however, between the pungent aroma of workers and the scent of coal oil lamps, woodsmoke from the belching old stove, and the unmistakable smell of wet wool.....from the array of woolen-wear, coats and pants, hanging up to dry. Then there was the welcome permeation of steaming tea and strong coffee. After awhile, it all became irrelevant, except for the wafting aroma of hot food, which always found an eager appetite despite all the other intrusions of life in a logging camp.

Although I have a number of handwritten recipes that came from families who had kin involved in the logging camps of yore, I can’t say with any assurance these baked beans and stew recipes were once in the hands of the camp cook. One thing’s for sure, the camp cooks must have been a stalwart bunch to have endured the rough comments and reactions of so many critics throughout the day, who always had the company of a good and sharp axe should a complaint need to be registered. I have minor evidence of this fear of real and emotional distress, as camp cooks were changed suddenly to avoid camp revolt. There are other instances that the loggers themselves feared the scorn of the cook, and treated them with great respect and spirits (snuck into the camp) if they were available after hours. Heaven knows what a perturbed cook might add to the recipe if aggravated. It was a tough job regardless and turn over was high in some of the larger camps.

It would be a treasure indeed, to one day come upon a handwritten diary, kept by one of these lumber camp chefs, with an assortment of the daily fare that kept loggers well nourished.

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