Bracebridge Sketches Revisited; The Town History From a Different Perspective Than You've Read Before

Two of my favourite paintings by William Anderson, the legendary woodsman, painter who was also a barber who had his shop at the south corner of the former Patterson Hotel.

BRACEBRIDGE SKETCHES REVISITED - THE TOWN I REMEMBER, AND STORIES FOR SHARING IN CONTEMPORARY TIMES -

MY BRACEBRIDGE HAD NOTHING AT ALL, TO DO WITH BEING GREAT OR "GREATNESS" - THERE WAS NOTHING INADEQUATE WITH BEING ORDINARY

     My wife knows that I will be writing something or other, one minute before I finally keel over, and cease to be considered at-one with the living. I write because it makes me feel good, and maybe it makes you feel good as well. And seeing as I don't smoke, and I quit drinking a long time ago, and the fact I no longer play hockey, baseball or golf regularly, I feel it's not such a bad thing really, to be addicted to self expression. Of course, some of my enemies and literary critics feel differently. My self imposed retirement, as a blogger, lasted exactly one day. Suzanne warned me this would happen, when I told her on Sunday, I needed a break from Gravenhurst politics. Somehow, like a leaky basement, no matter how much I sealed it up, the water of dissension kept seeping in, and getting my slippers wet. I hate having wet feet. As a kid, we couldn't afford to buy new boots every time I got a hole in them, (which was frequent) so I learned to live with soggy socks, and wrinkled skin. In school, you could follow me from class to class, because of my tell-tale footprints in the hall. This is one part of history I do not wish to re-visit. I honestly needed a break from the pre-occupation with Gravenhurst, as the backdrop for everything we do here, and there, in Muskoka. I still wanted to write, just not about Gravenhurst, at least until after the coming election; because it seemed impossible to get through a blog, that had nothing at all to do with municipal governance, without offering my latest critique. As I have kept the door open, just in case I decide, at the last minute, to run for election, this coming October, I knew it was unethical, at least in my mind, to continue writing; what always seemed to have a political vein, however thin it emerged, each day, from the dark mass of black copy, on a starkly white screen. When it starts percolating up from a blog about antiques, gosh, it's time to move away from the fire.
     Let's be clear about this curmudgeon writer, and this newly revamped blog, which has now reverted back to a purpose, and general interest, to reflect more clearly, what I was writing about back in the early years of the 1990's; right through to the dawn of the new century. My published column then, in a Sunday paper, known as "The Muskoka Advance," was entitled "Bracebridge Sketches," and it was one of my favorites. I've had dozens of published columns, on a wide variety of subjects, up to and including the present, so to remember these sketches as a highlight, means I must have enjoyed writing them. For these blogs, under this banner, I want to make it clear, that I am not following a script, and I have no support, that I know of, from any other historians in the region, many who think of me as a sort of rogue element. I don't belong to any political party, or any fraternal or service club, even any sports association, that would or could influence my opinions on any number of subjects. I am environmentally sensitive but I am not a fanatic. I am a cat owner. How radical can one get, having two cats on your lap, while writing a blog? I don't own even a sliver of property in Bracebridge, so I can't use this blog to advance myself for Bracebridge Council, in the upcoming municipal election; and as far as local politics, I care but, well, I live in a neighboring municipality. And if you think that being a long-time Gravenhurst citizen should limit my capabilities, to comment on Bracebridge history, I should note that I was manager of both Woodchester Villa and Museum, and the Bracebridge Sports Hall of Fame, as well as the author of three Bracebridge related histories, all while living here in tropics of south Muskoka. So don't let my location lead you to believe, I have lesser interest in my former hometown. It's just not true, and I will prove it, over the course of the next year.
     I told my wife and business partner Suzanne, that I wanted to move back to Bracebridge, for an intensive one year writing jag. Well, its a little bit more involved than just re-locating for a year. I actually wanted to spend time at each of the places I have lived, in the past, in order to complete a more thorough retrospective of local history, as I actually lived it! For me that would mean a stay at 129 Alice Street, the former apartment we lived in, up on Hunts Hill (not Huntsville), the former home of Dr. Peter McGibbon, on Manitoba Street, a cottage on Alport Bay, at the end of Beaumont Drive, a Victorian era home, located at the bottom of Tanbark Hill, on what used to be known as Ontario Street, in the former Marrin House, on the corner of Quebec and Kimberly, and the former Herald-Gazette building, at 27 Dominion Street, where I seemed to live while editing papers, into the wee hours, for Muskoka Publication.
    As we are business owners here in Gravenhurst, and have a comfortable little abode we call Birch Hollow, a few blocks away, Suzanne gave me that look of contempt that means, end of discussion; it's not going to happen. So I guess memory and frequent visits will have to suffice, at least for now. But I would really get a kick out of re-visiting all these places again, including Woodchester Villa, which became our second home, when Suzanne and I managed the museum prior to 1990; both Andrew and Robert spent a lot of time playing on the hillside property, and were participants in every program we operated on the historic site, from concerts to the annual strawberry socials. I would love to spend some time at Woodchester as well, because it was where I used to retreat, to write; because it was such an inspiring, spirited place. In fact, I used to sit in the office once used by Henry Bird Sr. himself, overlooking the woollen mill he founded, and built on the upper bank of the Muskoka River, above the cataract of the Bracebridge Falls.
     I am a big fan of Muskoka history, and I have been writing about Bracebridge heritage since 1977, an interest I have continued to pursue with great interest, up to and including the present. Most recently, however, I have found myself becoming weary of local politics, and feeling angry more and more each day, about what I believe are its inefficiencies, and the status quo that seems more the case of reckless endangerment, in the contemporary sense, than creating the flexible dynamic to meet the challenges of the future. I can not say the same about Bracebridge, because I have distanced myself from their brand of politics in recent years. Point is, I did not re-invent Bracebridge Sketches to use it as a political platform, from which to pick on local town council. I no longer live in Bracebridge, and municipal politics must be handled by constituents; not a southern-region historian, butting into the affairs of a former hometown. And to be honest, writing about politics is like carrying an anchor around your neck, and trying to do "the twist". I have never found political critiques of particular interest anyway. As my mother Merle used to say, "Teddy Currie, you get worked up about nothing!" Well, she was half right. Some things are hard to get past if you care about your home region. When I tried to explain the negative realities, of moving the high school out of the centre of town, it was as if I was being blasphemous. When I warned local politicians about moving the town hall, out of the heart of the community, it was the same feeling; as if by objecting, I was cursing the town's future prosperity. Selling off Jubilee Park, and relocating the town's baseball diamonds? It was as if I was the one person who could, with such unharnessed dissension, cloud over the most sunny and bright Muskoka day. It is of little consolation then, to hear the same arguments as I wrote, and expressed in editorials, and in person, during the early years of this new century, coming back in modern day critiques, about decentralization of town facilities; that seems now, as rumor, to be the cause of some of its current economic woes.
    I know why these moves occurred, and what made them seem so perfect, to the obviously positive growth patterns, developing at the time. The one thing they, the enablers, couldn't accept however, was that Muskoka's number one industry is tourism; just as it has been for well more than a century. I believe the movers and shakers thought they could change that economic reality, like thousands of movers and shakers before them. Unfortunately, they changed their focus, and tourism began to be more of a "means to an end," thing, than the most important industry to the welfare of the entire district. The town hall didn't need to be moved to the outskirts, of the urban area, and the new recreation centre could have been built closer to the heart of the town, allowing students to visit local businesses on foot, without requiring taxi service to get there. Of course this distance has had an impact on the economic well being of certain businesses. And town councillors knew this would happen, but were willing to take a chance. They changed history, but not necessarily for the better.
     This is not going to be a political column, because it doesn't need to be, in order to relate a story. This is a promotional collection of stories, that hopefully, will remind readers, who have some stake in Bracebridge, past or present, that it was a positive place of good neighbors once, and remains thus, if one was to take a close look at what makes a hometown a living, breathing, interacting entity. I happen to like its commonplaces, and I intend to explore these characteristics, that inspired me to think of the town as a "great place," to have invested our family future.....when we arrived in Muskoka as urban refugees back in the mid 1960's.

     A few months ago, I read about a group of well-meaning Bracebridge citizens, embarking on a campaign to restore Bracebridge's greatness. If memory serves, and it doesn't always, these days, the group had begun a Facebook initiative, to draw attention, to some of the actual, but mostly perceived deficiencies, being faced by contemporary Bracebridge. I think there was some attention directed toward the main street business community, and the large number of retail vacancies. There were several critiques offered, suggesting that the mature community, may not have been doing as much, as they could, to reverse the trend of negativity. As I hate the idea that us old farts, might in some way, be blamed for being so set in our ways, as to not be able to detect a fresh cup of coffee, from what is cold, and from the day before, I found myself getting perturbed the more I read. The folks who were making the play for a more positive, ambitious, aggressive Bracebridge, while probably very well meaning from the get-go, were making the fundamental error, we historians come upon constantly; let's look for fault somewhere else, find someone else to blame, and throw out all kinds of hypothetical situations, to make the present-tense arguments seem of sensible proportion. When in reality, those who are constructing these inroads, have done so, without thinking it necessary, and important, to talk with those who possess information they need. An historian for example. If a building's foundation has a destabalizing crack, nothing you repair at the top, is going to make any difference to the security of the structure. Maybe it will look more attractive, when it tips over and crashes to the ground. So if any one wants to get to the bottom of a contemporary issue, that's causing some trouble, the best advice is to look down, or look back, as a first step of restoration.
     As I was in the middle of a substantial research project, when these first few articles began hitting the local press, a few months ago, I decided to let it play out for awhile, before, as they say, sticking my oar in to the fray. My first objection, was the suggestion that Bracebridge had in any way, at any time, been considered a "great" community. We have, since the earliest days of settlement, experienced "great" events, and had some citizens accomplish "great" things, including local sports teams, and athletes, but take it from an historian, who has studied Bracebridge, backwards and forwards, since the late 1970's, "great" is not a word I would use to describe my former hometown. I live in Gravenhurst, and I wouldn't describe it as "great" now, or in the past, but that doesn't mean there haven't been "great" moments, and "greatness" by definition, when looking back at history, or describing certain contemporary accomplishments. So I wanted to fire off a letter to the editor, of the Bracebridge Examiner, but I thought it would be too difficult, in a three or four paragraph retort, to explain why "greatness" isn't an attainable goal for any community, past, present or future. What is attainable, for those wishing to look past the obvious, is an acquired understanding of what makes any community dynamic, accommodating, neighborly, progressive, positive, and socially, culturally self sustaining. In other words, instead of trying, and failing, to attain each other's standards of greatness, consider instead, the achievement of being the kind of community that looks after itself, by being robustly, and aggressively good neighbors. I'd rather think of Bracebridge truth be known, as the kind and caring community that helped raise me, and thousands of others, than worry about whether it had been "great" once, and suddenly lost its charm, and position of regional domination. Greatness, to the vested interest, tends to only be measured by success, proportional to the profit and loss scenario. Seeing as Bracebridge has survived through many tougher times than the present, I am more likely to think of greatness, in terms of long-term survival; than any adaptation, that would mistakenly deem economic success as the end-all. Having every store-front gainfully occupied, and more industrial and development investment, does not fill all the requirements of "being a great community." I've known many well off communities in the economic sense, but they all had shortfalls and deficiencies. So be careful what you hope for. A greater community, in my mind, is one that sticks together through tough times and profitable ones, but never compromises on matters of common welfare amongst neighbors. I grew up in a small town that despite its limits to growth, cared about those of disadvantage, as much as they enjoyed their blessings. I count myself and my family amongst this number, on both counts.
      Historians look at these things quite differently based on experience. We've watched economic ravages hurt our Muskoka communities in the past, and for someone like me, it goes all the way back to the late 1850's, when isolation was the lead hardship. So I've got a pretty good grasp of the greatness issue, and where that description could, and can now be applied, and considered historically warranted.
     I am not one to deny the younger generation, their opportunity to critique the modern environs, and us oldtimers, (who seem a tad unmovable) and what may be, in their judgement, wrong with the community initiatives, according to their present ambitions. I found somewhat the same in my era, returning to Bracebridge after university. I wanted to earn my place in local history. I was in my early twenties, when I began the work to establish the Bracebridge Historical Society, and was one of the original board members with fine citizens, such as Ralph Melvin, Wayland Drew, and Wendy Wilson. It was responsible, in part, for the eventual establishment of Bracebridge's first museum, known as Woodchester Villa, and I became the youngest non-family member to be editor, of the local legacy publication, "The Herald-Gazette;" and eventually, associate editor of The Muskoka Sun, a colleague of well known Bracebridge historian, Robert Boyer. My son Robert was named after Mr. Boyer, as that was the degree of respect I possessed, for my mentor in local history. As I began working to research the history of Bracebridge, in my early twenties, I had a chance to work closely with many of the town's historical-types, such as Les Tennant, who shared a huge collection of heritage resources, and photographs, who passed away before we could put his history into book-form. I covered, as a reporter / editor, Bracebridge Council, and got to know some of these legends of municipal governance; memories I still cherish to this day. Names of councillors like Russ Crockford, Ralph Melvin, Norm Harkness, Jim Lang, Aubrey Glass, Jim Boyes and Frank Henry, who to me, were soft spoken elected officials, who always, in my way of looking at municipal politics, looked out for all constituents as being important, not just those who owned property or major businesses. There were others, but we'll get to that as I unwind this blog a bit more, down the proverbial road.
     This will not be a politically motivated, or disguised critique of Bracebridge; or for that matter, a daily review of how the municipality does its day to day business. Believe me, you don't have to look too far, to find out just how firmly imprinted I am, on public record, regarding those developments of the past, that I have vehemently opposed. Yes, right to the point of carrying placards in protest, and writing reims of counter-points, regarding the risky direction the town was taking, in its collective thinking about positive growth. At odds, you see, with my appraisal, about what was progressive and economically suitable, for the town, versus what was sensible proportion and truly sustainable growth. I was against moving town hall from Dominion Street, at the centre of town, and I was opposed to selling off Jubilee Park, on Wellington Street. I have volunteered my services to help with the restoration of Woodchester Villa and Museum, in this most recent troubled time for the historic site, but because I'm more outspoken than council desires of their volunteers, my offer has been ignored. No surprise in this regard. It comes with the territory of being opinionated when it conflicts with a municipalities strategy of deployment. I tend to get in the way a lot, even here in Gravenhurst; I'm not wrong with my opinions, but apparently, wrong for making them public. Well, I have no intention of capitulating any time soon. But my work on this newly redeveloped blog, isn't the planking of a new platform, from which to launch sneak attacks at the governance of my former home town. Quite to the contrary. In keeping with the situation, and this latest media initiated discussion, about "making Bracebridge great again," I will offer some historical insights with a contemporary relevance, to hopefully, after the next year, infill some information, citizen activists, of the younger generation, have over-looked, about what truly makes a hometown exceptional, and a caring, responsive neighborhood, for all constituents, all of the time. But what I'm going to reveal, over time, is what you probably already know anyway. You can't fix what seems wonky today, without taking a careful look back in time, to see how this community developed, as compared to other towns, villages, and hamlets, in the District. While it may not seem that Bracebridge is so much different, socially and culturally, from the other major towns of Muskoka, I'd like to prove the exact opposite; each is unique although we share one of the most beautiful lakelands in the world. The mistake the local media makes, I suppose because of economic realities, is to treat the three main towns as if they are roughly the same, in character; such that sharing Huntsville's news with Gravenhurst, and Bracebrige would make perfect sense. I'm sorry to rain on their parade, but they don't know the regional history very well, if they truly believe, that because you revise a weekly newspaper, to accommodate a wider regional coverage, you can erase that imbedded sense of competition, that is as deep here, as the forest is tall. Gravenhurst citizens have very little interest in what is going on in Huntsville, of a routine nature, and as tradition would have it, Gravenhurst and Bracebridge have a boundary line in common, but honestly, very little else. While the media might assume that it has cleverly minimized that imbedded, traditional sense of competition between the towns, that began from the first shanties carved into the Muskoka woodlands, it is nothing more than an accepted strategy spun around the boardroom table; one that would sink like a stone, if the communities themselves could, if opportunity presented, go back to the old days, of having their own unique publications serving their news, feature and social requirements.
     While I would probably work for free, if given a chance to edit a local newspaper once again, I realize this blog will have to suffice, at least in terms of what I'd like to have at my disposal. It will be a collection of stories about the great days I had being associated with Bracebridge, and what you may not know about the town; because the stories I spin are not ones you're going to read in locally published books. Sometimes they're a little "out there," and "seem like fiction," and a few are, by definition, "a little risque," if you're a conservative thinker, and prefer local hometown history to be bland and uninteresting. This blog will either relate to new readers, as a breath of fresh Muskoka air, or be considered nothing more, than a work of strange, disturbing fiction. Or, on the other hand, it might serve-up a history lesson, that provokes the conservative amongst us; pissing off those, for self serving purposes, who have written about history only to suit their own interests and agenda. I will no doubt relate some stories, that refute the facts about major events, and occurrences, previously set to print. Of this, I offer a preamble apology. I'm predictably unpredictable, in this regard, and I don't write columns in advance. I may take my laptop to an interesting portal on Manitoba Street, like when I holed-up to watch and learn as a kid, possibly where I can still see the famous clock tower of the old federal building, that kept me on time, throughout my young life, and early adulthood. It will be spontaneous but always reverent of the good life I had, and my family experienced, for a lot of decades, starting in the late winter of 1966. The year hometown kid, Roger Crozier, won the Conn Smythe Trophy, for his playoff performance against Montreal. Detroit didn't win the cup that year, but they gave Roger Crozier his own day, a main street parade, and his school chum, Paul Rimstead, one of this country's finest columnists, wrote all about it; and about the times he and Roger used to cut school, holing-up to play pool at Joe's Billiards, on the Queen's Hill, just north of the Patterson Hotel (former Queen's Hotel on Manitoba Street). TALK ABOUT STORIES.
     There are some of my historical cronies who will welcome another opinion on the chronicle of local history, and there will be others cringing at the idea, I might restore my neighborhood nostalgia again, writing about those fascinating old corner stores, like Black's Variety, and Bamford's up on Hunt's Hill, and remember cronies like Fred "Bing" Crosby, and sports fanatic, Randy Carswell, who both were celebrities of our town, without having money, power, or social standing. It was like that back then. We had greeters and well wishers all over the place, and boy oh boy, did it ever have an impact on the quantity of goodwill floating about. This is what I consider our social / cultural heritage, that isn't up to being included in larger, glossy covered town histories. But believe me, these stories are important.
     Please join me again tomorrow, to begin this adventure in earnest.

FROM MY OWN BRACEBRIDGE HISTORY ARCHIVES

What I learned from author-historian Wayland Drew

I believe it was the winter of 1978. The first meeting of the soon-to-be Bracebridge Historical Society, was unofficially held at the home of well known Canadian author Wayland Drew. It was a meeting between a citizen, this writer, who was interested in preserving an historic building in the Town of Bracebridge, (an octagonal home constructed in the 1880’s by former woolen mill owner Henry Bird)……and the second party, at the informal meeting, Mr. Drew, was in my mind, a writer-historian of considerable national reputation, (eg. the landmark text entitled, “Superior, The Haunted Shore.”) That’s correct. I’m so very proud to write that Wayland and I made up the first full planning meeting of the soon to be elected historical society. As an aspiring writer, I was in awe that he would give me a private audience to discuss the possibility of forming a local historical society, to implement a conservation strategy to save Woodchester Villa (the Bird House). I had been attempting to drum up support for a citizen-driven initiative to create a community museum, and Wayland must have thought I had at least a spark of credibility to follow through on the project. He called me over to his house for a discussion about all the possibilities of saving this particular Victorian era home. We worked well together and our plans merged to give rise to a new historical preservation group, and eventually, with a huge commitment of citizen involvement, a newly restored town museum would open on that pinnacle of land above the cataract of Bracebridge Falls. My first position was “Recording Secretary,” which I conducted poorly, but rebounded some years later as President and then site manager. Much of the credit goes to Wayland for negotiating so well for the Historical Society generally, and always being its ambassador.

This editorial segment is not a biographical study of my writer-associate, Wayland Drew, or a re-telling of the work of the Bracebridge Historical Society. There is a story about Wayland I have often repeated in environmental presentations ever since, about the importance of listening and learning from expertise. And while we might all believe we’re the best experts we’ve ever met, I was to learn up close and personal how little I knew about the bigger picture of conservation. This is a story that’s of great importance to this on-line inventory of blog editorials because it is at the root of every entry in one way or another.

Several years into the museum’s operation, a situation arose with the town about the necessity of removing numerous large trees lining the old laneway at the front of Woodchester. If memory serves, the problem was that if any emergency vehicle had required access to the building, via this riverside route, the narrow artery would not allow safe, unobstructed passage particularly for the larger fire-fighting equipment. It probably was the case as well that the large border trees would cause great difficulty for snow removal, important for emergency vehicle access as well. The town public works department had recommended the removal of those trees that limited the width of the driveway, and the recommendation did not sit well with Wayland and several others. At the time Wayland was no longer a director of the Historical Society, but was part of a delegation that attended to object to the cutting.

I sat as a voting director.

As I recall now, Wayland made a sensible, balanced, gentle argument to spare the trees by making accommodations with a rear parking area, offering adequate clearance for the larger emergency vehicles. I don’t remember all the details of that lengthy afternoon meeting, except that I acted as the part of “ass” very well. I shot down Wayland without mercy, suggesting that emergency services access to all corners of the site greatly outweighed the scenic splendor of a few large evergreens to be expended. He wasn’t against making provisions for emergency services in numerous other ways, including carving out some of the embankment, all alternatives being well thought out and workable I might add. He was adamant the trees, having been there for a good part of a century, and being an important part of the Woodchester and Muskoka ambience, deserved to be spared the teeth of the industrial strength chainsaw.

I have no idea now what really generated my opposition to alternatives that would spare the trees. I know it was largely a case of ignorance on my part, and a general immaturity, that I would ever have challenged someone who made such a sensible, researched, community minded presentation. I can still recall the shocked look on his face when I cast forward a resounding reprimand for even thinking about any compromise that would limit entrance to the property; and that afterall, “they’re just trees…..they’ll grow back.” I had shown great disrespect to a person who I had always admired in both historical preservation and conservation of the environment. I voted against the conservation of those trees but the good news is my position wasn’t on the winning side. I believe a compromise was reached and although some trees may have been removed, (I don’t remember exactly the reduced cull), Wayland’s argument made sense to the group at large. Although Wayland never said a word about my indifference to the matter of Woodchester’s natural heritage, he didn’t have to say anything at all. It was an awkwardness in our conservations from that point on but always the result of the unfortunate weight of my own conscience. I should have been wise enough to realize that if Wayland Drew had thought it important enough to interrupt his busy day to discuss several trees in peril, it must be a landmark situation deserving the most clear thinking appraisal in response.

A short time before Wayland passed away, after a lengthy illness, we found ourselves both sitting comfortably in the cool shade of a perfect summer day, during a writer’s gathering held ironically at Woodchester Villa. It was a modest, unplanned homecoming to Woodchester, dealing with writing this time, not history, with nary a chainsaw rattle within ear-shot. I took a turn at the podium to read one of my short stories and following the presentation, Wayland left his seat to congratulate me on the subject of my recitation, a fellow writer, (and student from Bracebridge High School) named Paul Rimstead, well known Toronto Sun columnist who had died a short while earlier. It seemed Wayland and I agreed upon the great talent of the “Rimmer,” and that the world would be disadvantaged without his daily barbs and insights.

At the time Wayland knew his life was being seriously shortened, and as it turned out this was the last time I would talk to this amazing, talented gentleman. I can remember wanting so badly to offer a sincere, belated apology for the great tree-debate of once but foolish pride got in the path of an honest, heartfelt regret. I let him walk away without clearing my conscience about a ill-conceived, childish stubbornness that very nearly cost this beautiful tree-lined property even more of its historic, natural charm.

I have attempted many times since Wayland’s death to make amends with the issue, as if expended ink can make up for what I didn’t accomplish in person. Wayland’s passionate appeal for environmental conservation did however, over so many decades of re-consideration, generate within this writer the first and enduring interest to get involved, and speak out about the reckless destruction of forests, the infilling of wetlands, and the damning realities of urban sprawl across the entire Muskoka hinterland.

I wish I had listened more patiently to the sage advisories of the good Mr. Drew. He wasn’t wrong, and his concerns were just as valid then as today. I seldom if ever visit a Muskoka woodland for a hike, that I don’t tribute the experience and enjoyment, in some way, to the inspiration I received from a true friend of Muskoka. My only wish, as a writer, is that I could one day be as effective and enlightened an author, as the man who challenged me to take up the pen in the first place.

Thank you Wayland Drew. The experiences you shared have not been forgotten, the lessons you taught have not diminished; your passion to protect the environment, is the passion now carried forth by your students.