THE SLEEPER THAT WAS A "FREDERICK COZZENS" ART PRINT FROM 1884, DONE FOR THE AMERICAN YACHT CLUB
WHEN YOU'VE BEEN A SCROUNGER, HUNTER GATHERER, PICKER, FLEA MARKET GHOST FOR AS LONG AS I HAVE, YOU DO EXPECT THE OCCASIONAL WINDFALL. BY EXPERIENCE AND MILES TRAVELLED, OUR ODDS ARE RATHER GOOD, THAT WE CAN CHERRY PICK OUR WAY TO BIG AND EXCITING DISCOVERIES.
BUT TRUTHFULLY, I CAN GO MONTHS ON END WITHOUT FINDING ANYTHING MORE EXCITING OUT ON THE HUSTINGS, THAN A COBALT BLUE "MILK OF MAGNESIA" BOTTLE, A MEDALTA CROCK, ENAMEL-COATED ASH TRAYS, A FEW BEER TRAYS…….AND THEN, AS IF FROM A PROVIDENTIAL HAND, THE BARRIERS START TUMBLING DOWN……AND GLOWING ON A SHELF, OR FREE STANDING, WILL BE SOME SPECTACULAR, TOTALLY OUT OF PLACE ANTIQUE OR ART PIECE, THAT SEEMS TO STOP HEART AND BREATHING, BUT FORTUNATELY, IT'S JUST A FEELING AND NOT THE REAL MCCOY. THIS PAST WEEKEND, AS I MENTIONED IN MY LAST BLOG, I SPOTTED A RATHER OUT OF PLACE FRAMED GRAPHIC, HUNG IN THE LOWLY LIT CORNER OF A LOCAL ANTIQUE AND COLLECTABLE SHOP. SUZANNE WANTED TO LEAVE BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T LIKE CROWDS, AND THE PLACE WAS BUSY (GOOD THING HERE IN MUSKOKA). IT CAUGHT MY EYE BECAUSE IT WAS A MARINE DEPICTION, WHICH I JUDGED QUICKLY TO BE A VICTORIAN ERA IMAGE OF A SAILING YACHT, SURROUNDED BY THE PAINTED SIGNAL FLAGS KNOWN BY YACHTING ASSOCIATIONS. IT WAS UNUSUAL AND COLORFUL ENOUGH TO BRING ME A TAD CLOSER FOR INSPECTION. IT WAS PRICED AFFORDABLY, AND IF I WAS RIGHT ABOUT MY HUNCH, THAT IT WAS A CLASSIC, TEXTBOOK "SLEEPER," WELL WORTH THE ASKING PRICE, AND MORE, IT WOULD BE AT THE VERY LEAST, A GOOD INVESTMENT FOR OUR PRIVATE COLLECTION IF NOT LISTED IMMEDIATELY, FOR SALE IN OUR SHOP. SUZANNE WAS DOUBTFUL ABOUT MY CLAIMS, BUT AS SHE ADMITS, I AM THE LEADER IN FINDING ANTIQUE SLEEPERS - ITEMS MISUNDERSTOOD AND UNDER-RESEARCHED BY THE DEALER. GOOD FOR US….A NEEDED SALE FOR THEM. ALL DEALERS HAVE THEIR SPECIALTIES AND WE HAVE TO EXERCISE THEM, EVEN IF IT MEANS SCORING AGAINST AN ANTIQUE COLLEAGUE. IT'S THE RULES OF THE GAME. THEY DO IT TO US. WE DO IT TO THEM. BUT KEEP IN MIND, I DO NOT HAGGLE…..NOT ONCE IN MY ANTIQUE CAREER, NOW SPANNING THIRTY-FIVE YEARS. I PAY WHAT THE DEALER REQUESTS, AND THEY DON'T ASK ME IF I JUST FOUND A HOLY GRAIL EITHER.
I GOT BACK TO THE SHOP, REMOVED IT FROM THE FRAME, AND STUDIED IT FOR A LONG TIME UNDER HIGH POWER MAGNIFICATION. WE WERE ABLE TO DO AN ONLINE SEARCH, AND WITHIN A SHORT TIME, WE FOUND ALL THE INFORMATION WE NEEDED, INCLUDING APPRAISAL OF SIMILAR PRINTS FROM THE TIME PERIOD OF THE MID 1880'S. THE PRINT, THE PRODUCT OF AMERICAN MARINE ARTIST, FREDERICK COZZENS, AND SCRIBNERS CHROMOLITHOGRAPH PROCESS, THE PRINT FOR THE AMERICAN YACHT CLUB WAS RELEASED IN RELATIVELY SMALL NUMBERS FOR MEMBERSHIP CONSUMPTION. THE YACHT DEPICTED IN THE IMAGE IS KNOWN AS THE "YOLANDE," AND WITH THE SIGNAL FLAGS, WAS ORIGINALLY DONE IN WATERCOLOR BY COZZENS….AND ACCEPTED BY THE AMERICAN YACHT CLUB FOR THEIR PROMOTION IN THE SAILING COMMUNITY. IT MEASURES 14.5 INCHES BY 20.5 INCHES FRAMED. THE ESTIMATED VALUE OF THIS ART WORK, IN GOOD CONDITION, WITH ACCOMPANYING LABEL, IS $1,700 AMERICAN. OURS HAS SUFFERED SOME DAMAGE, PROBABLY DUE TO BROKEN GLASS, AT SOME POINT IN ITS HISTORY, BUT NOTHING THAT CAN'T BE RESTORED. STILL, BASED ON CONDITION, THE VALUE IS CONSIDERABLY LESS, FOR US…..BUT STILL, IT WAS A THRILL FINDING OUT WHAT WE HAD SECURED AS ANTIQUE SCOUTS. THERE ARE BIG FINDS BEING MADE ALL THE TIME BUT THOSE FOLKS DON'T WRITE BLOGS ABOUT THEM.
ON THE WEEKEND, I WAS ABLE TO PICK UP A COPY OF "MEMORY'S WALL," THE BIOGRAPHY OF FLORA MCREA(MRS. JOHN) EATON, SIGNED BY THE AUTHOR. THERE ARE ACCOUNTS OF BEING ON THE STEAM YACHT WANDA, NOW IN GRAVENHURST, WITH HER MOTHER-IN-LAW, MRS. TIMOTHY EATON. THIS WAS FOUND IN A REGIONAL CHARITY SHOP. THE JOHN EATON ESTATE WAS IN THE VILLAGE OF ROSSEAU, AND WAS KNOWN AS KAWANDAG.
I WAS ALSO ABLE TO PURCHASE MY SECOND BATCH OF HISTORIC BUSINESS AND CUSTOMER LETTERS, FROM THE FORMER "J.H. ROSS BOAT & CANOE COMPANY," OF ORILLIA, DATED 1914 AND 1915, WITH LETTERS FROM THE FAMOUS VAN BLERCK MOTOR COMPANY OF MONROE, MICHIGAN; FOUNDED BY JOSEPH VAN BLERCK, A MASTER DESIGNER OF MARINE ENGINES, CREDITED WITH BUILDING THE ENGINE FOR THE RACING BOAT, KITTY HAWK, ONE OF AMERICA'S LEGENDARY SPEED RECORD HOLDERS FOR THE TIME PERIOD. THE COMPANY WAS REPAIRING ENGINES FOR ONE OF THE ORILLIA COMPANY'S CUSTOMERS, D. THOMAS REES, OF NEW ORLEANS, OWNER OF "THE REES-SCOTT COMPANY LIMITED, EXPORTERS OF LUMBER, LOGS AND STAVES." HE AND HIS FAMILY WERE COTTAGERS IN THE REGION DURING THE SUMMER MONTHS. THERE ARE A FEW REFERENCES TO THE EARLY TOLL OF THE FIRST WORLD WAR, AND HIS UNDERSTANDING, TO THE ORILLIA BOAT WORKS, THAT DELAYS WITH PARTS AND REPAIRS WAS ACCEPTABLE, GIVEN THE CIRCUMSTANCES AND DEMANDS ON MANPOWER AND MATERIALS, OF THE GREAT WAR. I LOVE GETTING COLLECTIONS OF LETTERS LIKE THIS, AND IT'S A REAL TREASURE HUNT FOR THE HISTORIAN, TO FIND SIGNIFICANT REFERENCES IN THE COPY, RELATED TO THE REGION (LAKE COUCHICHING - LAKE SIMCOE), AND TO WELL KNOWN BUSINESSES EARLY IN THE CENTURY. I PURCHASED A SIMILAR SMALL PACKET OF HANDWRITTEN, AND A FEW TYPEWRITTEN BITS OF CORRESPONDENCE, TWO YEARS AGO, BUT SOLD THEM SHORTLY AFTER, TO A MARINE HERITAGE COLLECTOR……INTERESTED IN THE VAN BLERCH CONNECTION. THESE LETTERS WILL EVENTUALLY BE SOLD THROUGH OUR SHOP WHEN THEY HAVE BEEN FULLY RESEARCHED.
I WAS ALSO, AT THE SAME SHOP, ABLE TO SECURE A 1930'S MAP OF MUSKOKA, WITH THE MAJOR RESORTS IDENTIFIED. THIS IS THE VALUE OF THESE MAPS, MORE SO THAN JUST MAPPING OF THE TOWNS AND VILLAGES. THE MAPPING SHOWS THE NUMBER OF RESORTS STILL OPERATING IN THE 1930'S, AND THE ONES, NOT LISTED BY THIS POINT, THAT HAD CLOSED AFTER LENGTHY RUNS. IT IS NEAT TO HAVE THE 1930'S PROFILED, IN THIS MAPPING, AS A COMPARISON TO EARLIER AND LATER MAPPING, SHOWING THE PROGRESS AND THE DECLINE OF THE SIGNIFICANT REGIONAL RESORT ESTABLISHMENTS. THE MAP WAS PUBLISHED BY GRAND AND TOY FOR THE DEPARTMENT OF LANDS AND FORESTS.
SON ROBERT WAS FIDDLING WITH HIS INTERESTING NEW, REFASHIONED MARINE NAVIGATIONAL LIGHT, ON A SMALL METAL PEDESTAL, AND BOY DOES IT CHANGE THE ATMOSPHERE OF A LOW-LIT ROOM. WE HAS DECIDED TO PUT IT UP FOR SALE, INSTEAD OF KEEPING IT FOR HIS RECORDING STUDIO, AS HE ORIGINALLY THOUGHT IT WOULD WORK AS A WARNING BEACON…..WHEN PERFORMERS WERE WORKING IN THE STUDIO. WE'VE GOT IT ADVERTISED AS A VINTAGE MARINE LIGHT, WITH COLORED GLASS LENS, GOOD FOR WATER TRAFFIC OR, AS IT IS BRIGHT ENOUGH, ATTRACTING THE ATTENTION OF ALIEN SPACECRAFT LOOKING FOR A SAFE PLACE TO LAND. MONDAY, YOU SEE, IS TREASURE-EXAMINATION-DUTY FOR ANTIQUE DEALERS WHO WERE OUT WEEKEND HUSTLING. SO IT'S WHEN WE FIND OUT FOR SURE, IF WE MADE GOOD PURCHASES, OR GOT STUCK WITH DUDS…..OR EVEN A FEW FRAUDS.
THE NEATEST BOOK I WAS ABLE TO GRAB-UP, WAS A HISTORY OF STOCK CAR RACING IN ONTARIO, VOLUME ONE. WELL, THAT WAS PERFECT FOR ME, BECAUSE IT COVERS THE PERIOD OF THE LATE 1950'S AND EARLY 60'S, WHEN MY FATHER ED USED TO TAKE ME TO RACES AT A NUMBER OF SOUTHERN ONTARIO TRACKS, INCLUDING FLAMBORO SPEEDWAY, WHERE I USED TO WATCH JACK GREEDY, MY HERO, IN HIS MODIFIED RACER THAT HAD UPRIGHT WINGS TO IMPROVE STABILITY. I GOT QUITE A KICK READING ABOUT THOSE DAYS, I EXPERIENCED FROM HE BLEACHERS, ALWAYS WITH HOT CHOCOLATE, (WHICH ROUTINELY BURNED MY TONGUE) AND THE SPECIAL SEATING PAD, EACH OF US HAD, TO EASE THE SUFFERING OF WOOD ON THE BEHIND. I REALLY ENJOYED THAT QUALITY TIME WITH MY FATHER, BUT AS GOD IS MY WITNESS AND HIS, I NEVER KNEW WHY HE TOOK ME TO THOSE RACES IN THE FIRST PLACE. I WOULD HAVE ENJOYED GOING TO HOCKEY OR FOOTBALL GAMES. HE DID TAKE ME TO HAMILTON'S CIVIC STADIUM, A FEW TIMES, TO SEE THE TIGER CATS. IT MADE MORE SENSE TO ME THAN GOING TO STOCK CAR RACES, HE HAD VERY LITTLE INTEREST IN RACE CARS, AND IN FACT, WHEN WE USED TO WINTER IN DAYTONA BEACH, FLORIDA, HE NEVER ONCE SUGGESTED, OR OFFERED, TO TAKE ME TO THE DAYTONA 500. WE WERE ABOUT TWENTY BLOCKS FROM THE RACE TRACK. AND WE ALWAYS WOUND UP IN DAYTONA FOR THE MONTH THAT INCLUDED RACE WEEK. WE JUST NEVER MADE IT TO ANY OF THE RACES, EVEN THE LEAD-UP EVENTS TO THE GRAND FINALE. BUT WE WENT TO FLAMBORO. MY FATHER WAS LIKE THAT….FULL OF CONTRADICTIONS, BUT YOU KNOW, I WAS JUST AS HAPPY WITH THE SMALLER TRACK AND FAMILIAR FOLKS LIKE JACK GREEDY, ONE OF ONTARIO'S BEST KNOWN RACE CAR DRIVERS OF THAT VINTAGE. I DON'T THINK I SELL THIS BOOK JUST YET. READING IT, I THOUGHT ABOUT OLD ED, AND HOW HE USED TO GIVE ME ICE CUBES FROM HIS COLD DRINK TO COOL DOWN MY HOT CHOCOLATE. HE REALLY WANTED ME TO HAVE A GOOD TIME….AND ALTHOUGH I HAD A SORE TONGUE FROM HOT CHOCOLATE, AND SHIVERED NON-STOP THROUGH THE EVENT, I DID ENJOY OUR FEW HOURS A WEEK TOGETHER. HE WAS A TRAVELLING SALES MAN FOR WELDWOOD LUMBER IN THOSE DAYS, AND HE LEFT EARLY IN THE MORNING AND GOT HOME LATE AT NIGHT. SO IT WAS NICE OF HIM TO MAKE THE TIME THIS WAY FOR HIS KID…..WHO NEVER KNEW HOW MUCH HE LIKED RACING, TILL HE WAS AT TRACK LEVEL, EATING JACK GREEDY'S DUST.
SIGHTINGS OF TOM THOMSON'S GHOST CANOE NOT UNCOMMON ON ALGONQUIN LAKES
I was thinking about ghost stories, a few minutes ago, and I was ever so subtly reminded of a story I found in Judge William Little's book, "The Tom Thomson Mystery." And at this time of year, my ghost story meanderings are usually about Algonquin, which I consider a very haunted place. But in a good way, of course!
Sunset encounters with the lone Algonquin canoeist. It is said Thomson can still be seen paddling the waters of Algonquin Park. I'm good with that!
My very first trip to Algonquin Park after beginning research on the mysterious death of Canadian landscape artist, Tom Thomson, began and ended at the Tea Lake Dam. It had been one of Thomson’s favorite fishing locations, from the rocks bordering the rapids below the old dam. When I made my way down to the water-side that first day, it was as if I truly expected to encounter in one form or another,... his spirit, still hovering in the mist prevailing over that peaceful Algonquin alcove of water, rock and forest. It was as if for a moment in time, I was allowed to walk into one of his paintings to see from the inside out, how his inspiration had manifested by brush and paint onto board. I sat on a fallen log for a long while, listening to the gentle wash of shallow water rushing over the rocks mid-stream. When the sun burned away the morning vapor, the sunlight dazzled on the water as if there were diamonds tumbling along in the current. My sons threw small stones into the dark water to watch the splash and ripples generate in the sunglow, and giggled when the chilled water penetrated their shoes.....and toes. It was poetry in art. It was the comforting natural embrace of a most beautiful place on earth.....a place you could not casually dismiss, or forget amidst the memories of a million other visitations abroad over a lifetime. Here was the portal into legend, an entrance I willingly stepped through, in my own adventures into contentment, as author David Grayson once wrote about spiritual re-awakening, and explorations in nature.
I’ve spent many hours paddling the Algonquin lakes visiting places that had encouraged his studies and invigorated his ambition to capture stirring lakeland scenes from sunset and storm to spring re-awakening and haunted, spirit-full forests. On cold autumn evenings my wife and sons would sit for hours watching the fanning colors of the Northern Lights, over Tea Lake, another quality of the environment that had intrigued Thomson. There were friends and admirers of his work, who paid particular attention to his sketches of these enchanted rainbow lights, some remarking to him that the scenes were "cold and lonely" in appearance, and that pleased the artist, as this is what he had intended.
Whether we have been traversing picturesque Tea Lake, Canoe Lake, Smoke Lake or our favorite Rock Lake near the east gate, there is always a wonderful lingering aura of Tom Thomson....and many vistas around these lakes, at all times of the year and day, can remind one in a subtle way, of an Algonquin sketch made by his hand ninety two years earlier.
Those long time admirers of Thomson’s powerful landscapes may agree that Algonquin is forever haunted by his lake traverses by grey-green canoe. Pleasantly haunted of course. Each year there is a Thomson sighting.....a lone canoeist paddling gently, just after sunset, heading toward the watcher, only to disappear as strangely as it first appeared on the horizon. In William Little’s book, "The Tom Thomson Mystery," 1970, McGraw-Hill, pages 98-100, there is the first reference to the ghost of Tom Thomson.
There were persistent, year after year claims, all part of the escalating Tom Thomson legend, "that former guides had seen Tom in his canoe in various places in the Park. One such experience is described by a prominent summer resident in Algonquin Park only a few miles away from Canoe Lake. Mrs. Northway, her husband, and daughter Mary were vacationing in their beautiful summer home, Nominigan, on the east side of Smoke Lake. They had as their guest Mr. Lawren Harris, one of the Group of Seven’s leading artists and a close friend of Tom Thomson. Miss Northway recounts the following story, written verbatim as told her by her mother in 1931: ‘It was a very calm day last summer when my guide and I had been in a hidden, hill-locked lake, with the most diabolical modern apparatus to ensnare any unfortunate fish who would be taken in by the flashy advertising on a first class, well-hooked spinner. We had been up at dawn, and had travelled from lake to lake across portages which made my city lungs gasp, and over long stretches of still blue water into ponds where lilies bloomed. The winds had slept all day. We had talked through the hours, my guide and I, for he, as he smoked hand-rolled cigarettes, could discourse on many a thing and could weave tales of adventure or truth in which the incidents were all seen as under a strong magnifying glass.
‘It had been a happy day and ever so lazy. At dusk we were coming home, tired, rested, and at peace with the world. It was a tremendously still evening, you could hear the silence sing against your ear. The hills made strange, statuesque, figures against the haunting orange of the western sky, while the first star set its light akindle, as an altar lamp of the universe against the canopy of the afterglow. Even my guide’s tales had ceased, and through my mind drifted fragments of harmonies as if heard from a far away cello. Suddenly the voice of my guide shattered the silence. ‘They’re coming out to meet us from the portage.’ And turning toward the sunset I saw a man kneeling in a canoe that slowly came towards us. ‘So they are,’ I answered. ‘I guess we are pretty late.’
‘My guide turned from his course in order that we might better meet our herald, now a little less than a hundred yards away. I raised my voice and called and waved my hand, while my guide kept paddling toward the camper. But there was no response, for even as we looked the canoe and its paddler, without warning or sound, vanished into nothingness, and on the undisturbed lake were only our lonely selves and the shrieking loon." Miss Northway, in re-telling her mother’s story stated that "My father and Mr. Taylor-Statten, being practical people, on hearing the tale insisted it had been a mirage, but Lawren (Harris), a theosophist, was sure it was the spirit of Tom Thomson. His rationale was that those who depart before their time continue to haunt the lands they loved. My mother was inclined to accept Lawren’s interpretation much to my father’s disgust. A point that was much discussed but never settled, was what colour shirt was Tom wearing when he was drowned. (The ghost paddler had been wearing a yellow shirt)"
According to William Little, "This story of the phantom canoeist has become part of the saga of Tom Thomson. Lawren Harris, one of the last surviving members of the Group of Seven (now deceased), verified the above experience of his friend."
Maybe you are reminded of this curious presence while sitting at fireside, when you casually glance out onto the lake to admire the final rays of the July sun disappearing below the evergreen ridge. Possibly the sound of wind etching down across the hollows of the rock landscape, singing through the pines and knocking about the leaning birches, will remind you of a painter once. And maybe it will be the sound of water in the deep of night, lapping at the shore, that reminds you of the mysterious paddler, traversing the dreamy solitude, looking for a kindred spirit to awaken to the legend in which he dwells. It is not disturbing at all, to be in company of such an acquaintance.....enriching the grandness of Algonquin.
I would be delighted, absolutely enthralled, to have such an opportunity, to witness this spirited traverse of a misty Algonquin lake. Yet I have never visited this enchanted region of Ontario, and not, in some subtle way, been reminded of Thomson’s enduring stewardship of these magnificent lakes and forests.
Visit Algonquin Park this season and enjoy its spell-binding ambience. Just watch for crossing moose and other park wildlife. And watch for the lone canoeist!
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