"SEASONS OF THE LILAC," PART NINETEEN - ARCHDEACON GOWAN GILLMOR'S YEARS SPENT IN THE VILLAGE OF ROSSEAU
KNOWING WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO FEEL LONELY AND ISOLATED; GILLMOR UNDERSTOOD THE DESOLATION RURAL RESIDENTS EXPERIENCED
I LEARNED A LOT ABOUT THE HISTORY OF MUSKOKA, BY VISITING THE RUINS OF PIONEER HOMESTEADS. LONG BEFORE I DECIDED TO TAKE UP THE CAUSE OF LOCAL HERITAGE CONSERVATION, ESPECIALLY THE WRITTEN WORD, I STUDIED UP CLOSE, THE REMAINS OF THE PIONEER PERIOD OF REGIONAL HISTORY. I VISITED PIONEER CEMETERIES THROUGHOUT THE DISTRICT, AND I WAS FASCINATED BY THE TYPES OF MARKERS, SIMPLE AND ELABORATE, AND THE INSCRIPTIONS. AT ONE TIME, I HAD A BINDER FULL OF INSIGHTFUL INSCRIPTIONS, ENGRAVED ON TOMBSTONES DATING BACK TO THE 1870'S. MANY STONES DATED FROM THE LATE 1800'S WERE IMPOSSIBLE TO READ, AND I DARE SAY, ACID RAID HAS CONTRIBUTED SOMEWHAT TO THE SLOW EROSION OF MONUMENT FACES. MUCH OF COURSE, HAS BEEN THE RESULT OF MOSS INFILTRATION, REQUIRING A GOOD AMOUNT OF GOUGING-AWAY TO READ EVEN A FEW LETTERS. THE ACTUAL HOMESTEADS, ARE INCREDIBLE PLACES TO VISIT, ALTHOUGH MOST ARE NOW BUILT-UPON WITH MODERN RESIDENCES. THEY WERE SAD PLACES. HAUNTING, LONELY PLACES, WHERE SETTLERS HAD ONCE, PLACED THEIR HOPE FOR A PROSPEROUS NEW LIFE, IN A NEW LAND. THERE WERE MANY STORIES OF SUCCESS AND HOMESTEADS THAT REMAINED IN FAMILY HANDS FROM THE 1860'S AND 70'S TO THE PRESENT. THE STORIES WEREN'T ALL SAD, AND I KNOW OF MANY FINE FARMS THAT GREW FROM THOSE HUMBLE CABINS, AND FIRST SEVERAL ACRES OF TILLED PASTURE. OF COURSE, THERE WERE MANY MORE TALES OF MISADVENTURE, AND HOMESTEAD FAILURE. TODAY, AS A CITIZENRY, IN OUR MUSKOKA TOWNSHIPS, WE SELDOM IF EVER GIVE THE WHOLE PERIOD A LOT OF THOUGHT. WHAT'S THE BIG DEAL WITH PIONEERS ANYWAY? WE CAN'T LIVE IN THE PAST? RIGHT? LOTS OF OUR FAMILY FRIENDS, HAVE MISUNDERSTOOD MY INTEREST IN THIS PART OF REGIONAL HISTORY. THEY'VE JUST STOPPED ASKING ME ABOUT IT, AND THAT'S FINE WITH ME. BUT THEY KNOW ME WELL ENOUGH, TO WATCH WHAT THEY'RE SAYING ABOUT LOCAL ECONOMICS, BECAUSE I CAN SLIP IN A FEW SHARP REMINDERS, ABOUT WHAT CAME FIRST; THE PIONEER PLOW, OR THE INDUSTRIALIST / BUSINESS CLASS?
THE IMPORTANCE OF THE PIONEERING PERIOD, IS THAT THE RURAL CULTURE FOSTERED BACK THEN, IS STILL ENTIRELY RELEVANT TODAY. WHY WOULDN'T IT BE. IN ORDER TO UNDERSTAND THE SOCIAL / CULTURAL / ECONOMIC REALITIES OF CONTEMPORARY MUSKOKA, YOU HAVE TO KNOW HOW IT ALL BEGAN. LOCAL POLITICIANS LIKE TO SPOUT OFF ABOUT THEIR VAST KNOWLEDGE OF THE REGION, YET IF YOU WERE TO ASK THEM ANY QUESTIONS ABOUT ITS FOUNDING YEARS, THEY'D QUICKLY CHANGE THE SUBJECT; AS IF IT DIDN'T MATTER AT ALL. MUSKOKA, AS A PRIME TOURIST REGION IN CANADA, DEPENDS ON THIS SAME RURAL CHARACTERISTIC, TO BACKDROP THE INDUSTRY. COTTAGERS AND MANY RESORTS ARE RURAL ENTITIES. WHAT OUR TOURIST GUESTS WANT TO SEE, IS THE NATURAL BEAUTY OF OUR LAKES AND COUNTRYSIDE; AND LOW AND BEHOLD, WHEN IT COMES RIGHT DOWN TO IT, EVEN OUR LARGER TOWNS, ARE STILL IN THE RURAL CLIME OF THINGS. THE RURAL ASPECTS OF OUR DISTRICT, ARE ALSO OUR MONEY MAKERS. WHAT WAS A HARD ENVIRONMENT TO TAME FOR THE HOMESTEADERS, BECAME THE STAGE FOR A LONG SERVING TOURISM INDUSTRY, THAT EVEN IN FIFTY TO A HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW, WILL STILL POSSESS ITS RURAL CHARM. OF COURSE, THAT DEPENDS ON THE STRONG WILL OF OUR CITIZENRY, AND THE OFFICIALS THEY ELECT; TO MAKE SURE OUR RESOURCES ARE SAFE-GUARDED, AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT ACHIEVED THAT IS COMPATIBLE WITH THIS SAME RURAL CHARM. I WON'T BE AROUND TO PROTEST URBAN SPRAWL BY THIS TIME, SO HOPEFULLY, THERE WILL BE SOME YOUNG FOLKS WHO WILL TAKE UP THE CHALLENGE TO PROTECT MOTHER EARTH FROM THE EARTH MOVERS.
AT THANKSGIVING, I THINK IT IS APPROPRIATE, TO OFFER A HEARTY TOAST, AND ROBUST THANKS, TO THE EMIGRANT HOMESTEADERS, AND ALL THE COURAGEOUS SETTLERS, WHO OPENED UP OUR REGION FOR THE REST OF THE WORLD. THEY DID THIS, AND THEY DESERVE CREDIT FOR GIVING US MUCH OF WHAT WE ENJOY OF A TOURIST ECONOMY TODAY.
THERE WOULD ONLY BE A FEW PEOPLE, OUTSIDE OF THE VILLAGE OF ROSSEAU, AND OF COURSE LONG TIME ANGLICANS, TODAY, WHO WOULD APPRECIATE THE TITLE, "THE TRAMP." THEY WOULD REACT THE SAME, IF ASKED WHETHER THEY HAD EVER HEARD OF ARCHDEACON GOWAN GILLMOR. "NEVER HEARD OF HIM!" GILMOR WAS "THE TRAMP." HE WAS CALLED THIS BECAUSE OF THE HUNDREDS OF MILES, HE TRAVELLED, BETWEEN PARISHIONERS AND CHURCHES, THROUGHOUT THE DIOCESE OF ALGOMA, INCLUDING THE DISTRICT OF MUSKOKA, MUCH OF IT ON FOOT, OR ON SNOWSHOES. HE EVEN LEFT HIS MARK CUT INTO TREES, WHERE HE HAD ONCE PASSED. THE PROBLEM OF COURSE, IS THAT TIME HAS MARCHED ON, AND THE BOOK I CONSIDER ONE OF MY FAVORITES, IS CONSIDERED RARE. SO IT WOULD BE JUST AS RARE TO FIND SOMEONE IN MUSKOKA, OTHER THAN MYSELF AND THE READERS OF THIS BLOG, WHO HAVE A COPY ON THEIR BOOK SHELF; OR HAVE EVEN HELD ONE IN THEIR LIVES. WHAT AN INSPIRING STORY TO BE LOST IN THE HAZE OF TIME, BECAUSE IN SO MANY WAYS, IT'S JUST AS RELEVANT TODAY, AS IT WAS WHEN ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED, IN CANADA'S CENTENNIAL YEAR. HE DIDN'T INTEND TO BECOME A LEGEND. WELL, HE HAD NO SAY IN HOW THE GENERATIONS, FAMILIAR WITH HIS STORY, HAVE REVIEWED, AND COME TO FEEL ABOUT HIS BENEVOLENCE, ON BEHALF OF NOT JUST THE ANGLICAN PARISHIONERS OF OUR REGION, BUT ALL RESIDENTS IN HIS TIME, WHO HE CONSIDERED HIS FLOCK, REGARDLESS OF RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION.
IT WOULD BE IMPOSSIBLE TO KNOW, JUST HOW MANY THOUSANDS OF MILES, THROUGH BUSH, MARSH, OVER HILLS THE SIZE OF SMALL MOUNTAINS, CROSSING DANGEROUS RAPIDS, BY WELL PLACED FOOT AND THOUGHTFUL PRAYER, OVER HUNDREDS OF MILES HIKING ACROSS FROZEN WASTELAND, AND ICED-OVER LAKES; THAT IN THE FALL AND SPRING WERE DEADLY, RIDDLED WITH HOLES, AND A THINNING LAYER BENEATH HIS FOOTFALL. HE KNEW THE CREATURES OF THE FOREST, INCLUDING THE BIRDS, THAT SEEMED TO FOLLOW HIM THROUGH THE TREE-TOPS, AND HE UNDERSTOOD THE INTRICACIES OF NATURE, AND PARTICULARLY THE UNIVERSE, AS IT PRESENTED TO HIM, SLEEPING OUTDOORS, AS HE OFTEN DID, STARING UP BEFORE SLEEP, AT THE SPARKLING HEAVENS. THERE WERE TIMES GOWAN GILLMOR SQUARED OFF WITH IMMINENT DEATH, ONLY TO HAVE GOD DECIDE NOT TO TAKE HIM, SPARING HIM AT THE LAST POSSIBLE MOMENT, IN THAT VAPOR OF TIME, BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH; A HEAVEN-SENT MESSAGE, POSSIBLY, THAT HE WAS NEEDED HERE MORE. THE WOLVES AND BEARS, AND GRASP OF DEEP WATER CHURNING BELOW THIN ICE, WOULD BE DENIED ON MANY OCCASIONS, THE PRECIOUS SOUL OF A MAN, WHO NEVER PUT HIMSELF AHEAD OF ANYONE ELSE; AND WOULD MOST DEFINITELY HAVE GIVEN A HUNGRY PERSON THE LAST OF HIS PROVISIONS; THE FREEZING MORTAL HIS COAT ON A BITTER WINTER DAY.
THIS WAS A MAN, WHO DEFIED DEATH, MORE TIMES THAN HE CARED TO REMEMBER; ESPECIALLY AT RISK ON THOSE HUNDREDS OF OCCASIONS, WHEN HE ENTERED A HOUSE WHERE THERE WAS AN EPIDEMIC, SUCH AS INFLUENZA OR SMALL-POX RAVAGING THE OCCUPANTS. AT TIMES, A WHOLE FAMILY WOULD BE STRICKEN WITH SERIOUS ILLNESS, THAT COULD, AND IN CASES DID CLAIM THEIR LIVES. BUT HE BELIEVED IT WAS HIS DUTY, TO NURSE THE RESIDENTS THROUGH THE DARKEST DAYS OF ILL-HEALTH. HE SAW SUFFERING, AND HE KNEW SUFFERING HIMSELF; ESPECIALLY WITH THE LOSS OF HIS CHILD, JOHN EDWARD, AND THE BREAK-UP OF HIS MARRIAGE, DUE TO HIS WIFE'S MENTAL BREAKDOWN. SHE LEFT ROSSEAU AND TOOK THEIR CHILDREN, AND MOVED WITH HER PARENTS TO WESTERN CANADA, LEAVING HIM TO CARRY ON WITH HIS WORK, ALONE, ON BEHALF OF THE ANGLICAN CHURCH. HIKING FROM THE VILLAGE OF ROSSEAU THROUGH THE WIDER DISTRICT OF MUSKOKA. HIS INSIGHTS ABOUT THE REGION WERE ENLIGHTENING AND REALISTIC, AND HE KNEW THE CHALLENGES TO MEET THE SPIRITUAL NEEDS OF HIS FLOCK, WERE HUGE AND BEYOND THE CAPACITY OF JUST A SMALL NUMBER OF MISSIONARIES, MINISTERS AND PRIESTS, WORKING IN THE FIELD. YET HE DID WHAT HE COULD. TO MANY IN OUR REGION, HE WAS HIMSELF, A GUIDING LIGHT, WELCOMED WITH HARDY HANDSHAKES, INTO THEIR HOMES TO SHARE WHAT EVER MODEST PROVISIONS THE HOUSEHOLDER HAD TO SPARE. HE BROUGHT WITH HIM WORDS OF HOPE. AND IT'S ALSO IMPOSSIBLE TO KNOW, JUST HOW MANY OF OUR EARLY SETTLERS, STAYED WORKING ON THEIR MODEST HOMESTEADS, BECAUSE OF HIS ADVISORIES AND WISDOM BESTOWED. HE PROJECTED STRENGTH YET COMPASSION, BUT NEVER TURNED AWAY FROM WHAT OTHERS FELT WAS AN IMPOSSIBLE CHALLENGE. IT'S WHAT THEY ADMIRED ABOUT HIM. HE DIDN'T EXPECT ANY RELIEF FROM HIS DUTIES, AND NEVER FELT WHAT HE WAS DOING WAS IN ANY WAY EXCEPTIONAL. BRINGING HOPE AND SUPPORT TO HIS PEOPLE GAVE HIM JOY. HE ONLY WISHED HE COULD HAVE DONE MORE TO HELP THEM COPE.
"TO FEED AND PROVIDE FOR THE LORD'S FAMILY"
IN THE 1967 BIOGRAPHY, "GILLMOR OF ALGOMA - ARCHDEACON AND TRAMP," AUTHOR E. NEWTON WHITE, (PUBLISHED BY THE DIOCESE OF ALGOMA, ANGLICAN CHURCH OF CANADA) WRITES OF GOWAN GILLMOR, THAT "THE THREADS OF HIS HOME AND FAMILY FRAYED BEYOND REPAIR." HE RECORDS THAT "GOWAN WENT ON WITH THE FABRIC OF HIS PARISH MINISTRY - THE SERVICES, THE TRAMPINGS, THE VISITING, THE SICK NURSING, THE APPROACH TO CHILDREN. PERHAPS MORE THAN EVER NOW, THE CHILDREN. (HE HAD LOST HIS, WHEN HIS WIFE MOVED WEST). TEN YEARS AFTER GOING TO (VILLAGE OF) ROSSEAU, GOWAN WROTE THIS COMMENT ON THE LIFE HE HAD THERE; 'WE LIVE HERE SOME TWELVE MILES FROM A RAILWAY STATION. THIS MEANS THAT THROUGH THE WINTER WE ARE VERY MUCH ISOLATED FROM THE OUTSIDE CIVILIZED WORLD. NOT THAT WE OURSELVES ARE WITHOUT CIVILIZATION, AND WHAT WE DO POSSESS - AND IT IS CONSIDERABLE, WE ENDEAVOUR TO EXERCISE AS WELL AS WE CAN, DURING THE LONG LIVING SNOW SEASON.' HOW MUCH GOWAN APPRECIATED FRIEND AND FAMILY CIRCLE GATHERINGS, WITH MUSIC, READING, SINGING, DISCUSSIONS AND JUST PLAIN FRIENDLY TALKING, CAN BE GATHERED FROM HIS WRITINGS AND DIARY ENTRIES. ON A VISIT TO THE REVEREND A.J. COBB, AT SEGUIN FALLS, ALONG WITH MR. WILSON OF MAGNETAWAN, 'IT WAS JUST LIKE A SMALL-SCALE CLERICAL RETREAT.' SEVERAL YEARS LATER, ON ANOTHER VISIT TO THE SAME MR. COBB, HE PLAYED SOME VERY DIFFICULT AND BEAUTIFUL PIECES OF MUSIC FOR ME; AND THEN MRS. COBB ACCOMPANIED WHILE HE SANG SEVERAL GREAT SONGS, ONE OF THEM THE 'FINE OLD VICAR OF BRAY.' DID WE HEAR A VOICE; WHAT A WAY TO SPEND AN EVENING!' BUT THERE SPOKE A POOR UNDERPRIVILEGED MODERN."
E. Newton-White writes, "We are told that Gowan's housekeeping methods were unique, and that his cooking was atrocious; one can well believe it from a few remembered visual evidences. Because of circumstances he was batching for a greater part of his ministry, and later on, a good deal of his batching was done in forlorn empty rectories, and parsonage shacks, while he supplied for a vacant parish anywhere, between the Head-of-the-Lake and Gravenhurst. At Rosseau, the ladies of the congregation would clean up the Rectory in his absence - where they might. Part of his study was a spider preserve; not because of a possible feminine abhorrence of spiders, but because they, the spiders, were his friends. Sometimes Gowan would remonstrate with the cleaner-uppers. 'Let the nice dirt be!' Once, finding a lady dusting the Altar, he said, 'Just leave that dust lie, it's holy dust!'
"In his parochial duties, the parish of Rosseau provided Gowan with some very respectable walking mileages. The area was comparatively small as related to his previous charges, but he covered it intensively. On Sunday, he would preach at Rosseau in the morning; walk to Ullswater, via Rosseau Falls, and the mouth of the Skeleton River, 12 or 16 miles (and eating a lunch as he walked); then walk to Bentriverdale (now shrunken to Bent River), or North Cardwell or Windermere, for evening service; then home. With modern changes of road location, the actual distance in now hard to estimate; but made a full Sunday and meant three different sermons - he made no rehashes. When they could, and he would let them, the farmers would drive him from one point to the next, in their old buggies, and with sometimes tired horses. Farming was hard on man and beast in those days also."
The biographer, E. Newton-White records, that "a one time old parishener, says that Gowan preached in a small frame school house near her home, for fifteen years, yet never allowed a collection to be taken up, or anything else given. The epidemic diseases did not spare Rosseau, and Gowan took up his self-appointed duties again. Small-pox broke out in Ullswater, and he closed up the Rosseau Rectory to take up residence there, to minister to the sick. When diptheria was rife in Rosseau, he had his parsonage quarantined and spent all his time among the stricken homes; only stopping when, as he said, 'there are no more throats to look down.' Years later, when preaching in New Liskeard, he told of an episode of that time. Late on very cold and stormy night, word came to him of a family eleven miles down the lake, where eleven children were all down with diptheria. Gowan went into the village, to get groceries and medicine, and some neighbours gathered. As he was pulling on his heavy outgoing clothes, someone said, 'Where are you going now? An' where would I be going but to get these things out.' And swinging his pack, to his back, he stepped out to face the wild storm. Arrived safely, he nursed the family until all were well. That was Gowan's story but we can be sure that he belittled the conditions. After the service, a lady introduced herself to him. She was one of the family, she said, but wanted to correct one of his statements. There were not eleven sick ones, but fifteen!
"Gowan used to tell Rosseau people what he told many others in his long experience, that only he and Death had undisputed entry into the homes where contagion had taken hold; quarantines notwithstanding. Death kept very close vigil while his own presence lent help, hope and consolation. He did not tell them that he often disputed Death's sentry, and many a time was able to bar the door to him. Gowan's diary of those days sometimes noted extraneous matters as this; 'June 22nd, at Rosseau. Voted for Beattie for Provincial Parliament.' Or this, 'June 22nd. at Rosseau. Met Col' O'Brien.' But who was Beattie? Was this the O'Brien of Rebellion days? Did his Irish name gain him Gowan's vote? Seventy years from now, the names of many a politician, now local household words, will be equally in limbo. About voting, Gowan would have made one of his usual kind of observations; 'Voting,' he would say, 'was not nearly as much fun in Canada, as in Ireland. There you fought your way to the polling station, and then you fought your way home again!"
"THE WORD GOD TO GIVE ME SPEECH!"
"Let us try to picture Gowan, once again, as he would have appeared at this time in his life, and as Rosseau knew him. We have said he was tall and upright - a big man. Although he always showed the effect of his R.I.C. training, he had in no sense the military bearing nor the voice; rather those of the Irish gentleman. His clothes were nondescript; with his clerical garb a sort of foundation, he wore whatever made for protection against the elements, and convenience, in his peculiar modes of travel - like the outdoor workers he moved among," wrote E. Newton-White, his biographer.
"His distinguishing badge was his black cloth bag; no one else carried one like it. The prospectors, bushmen and their like carried canvas bags and packsacks; settlers and farmers used bean bags and grain bags. Gowan toted his black bag from the construction days onward, until his final activities in Sault Ste. Marie; and became a well known figure in consequence. Said a Canon friend once, 'I never had a look into that black bag,' (which sounds as though he would have liked to have done that) but I do know that it held his vestments, his Bible, Greek Testament and Prayer Book.' As he said himself, 'Tramps were never known to carry excess gear.' Nevertheless it was actually crammed to capacity, and that would have been with things for the needy, and for his 'fairies.' People who were children in the Rosseau days, say of Mr. Gillmor, things like this, 'I shall always remember him as I used to see him in my growing-up years. His jolly chuckle and cheerful smiling face, which wrinkled all over when he laughed, which was often. And the brogue in his voice when he spoke.' Gowan loved to hear the Irish manner of speech, sounding in the Canadian born. Once during a spell of intensely frosty weather, he was visiting a parishioner family, and told them that he had just been out to see a man, who told him to sit in the dark these nights because, 'the kyle-ile was froze!' The brogue, indeed, seemed always ready to take over in Gowan's speech, even as he read the Prayers and the Lessons - even in the Communion Service itself. His reading with its curious flow of runs and hesitations, always at the same places, made delightful music. As for his sermons, sometimes they were in the brogue entirely. Any mention of his sermons, and speeches, must try to convey his manner of long pauses - or rather, abrupt and lengthy stops, during which the listener could only wonder, as perhaps he had intended; 'What next?' That the method was effective is shown by a Priest, who says he can still remember Gowan's sermons; a fact he regards as remarkable, because he can say the same of no other preacher."
E. Newton-White writes, "Then this at a Synod Meeting, many years after, at which Archbishop Thorneloe announced his impending retirement. In his own speech, Archdeacon Gillmor said, 'The first time I met his Grace, he was at sea! - on the Muskoka Lakes - At Rosseau; I boarded the ship, and he had two bags. When he saw me he put them both down. He came toward me with out-stretched hand. And d'ye know, I have felt the warmth of that handshake ever since'."
The biographer records of his subject, "One to who we are most indebted for memories, and pictures of Rosseau, the unofficial archivist of the Parish; a devoted church-worker and member of one of the first settler families, says of his appearance, 'he peculiar walking gait as he set out on one of this trips. It was as if his head was in a hurry to reach the destination before his body. It was a gait which made for great mileage.' The same lady remembers that Protestant settlers from a distance, would sometimes take Gowan for a Roman Catholic priest; partly because of the large silver cross he always wore. They would address him as 'Father,' when that title was quite unknown among Anglicans, and he would be pleased. One lady remembers her brother always calling him, but respectfully, 'Father Kelly.' He enjoyed that too. The cross he wore was often the subject of questioning by some people in those days. When asked he would explain that his work took him among all sorts and conditions of men, and those who did not respect him as a man, would at least have regard to the Cross.
"The lady of the Parish tells how she once noticed a freshly blazed tree in the bush, well back from the road, she was walking, and went in to see it. She found a Cross cut into the blaze, and above and below it was written, 'The Tramp - His Mark.' Seeing that no kind of axe was part of his equipment, someone else must have blazed the tree, and Gowan made use of it. At Sault Ste. Marie, at least one home of his good friends has a treasured birthday book, in which Gowan hand-entered, for Nov. 22nd, 'The Tramp - His Mark."
In the concluding columns of this series of "Seasons of the Lilac," I would like to carry-on with the final days of Archdeacon Gowan Gillmor, and his relationship with the Village of Rosseau, and Muskoka. Thank you for joining today's blog. I hope you'll have an enjoyable Thanksgiving weekend. Looks like Sunday will be rain-free, nice and sunny. A few moments ago, we had ice pellets and a tad of freezing rain; now just heavy rain and boy oh boy, is it ever dark but it's only three in the afternoon. Maybe snowflurries over night. Gads! Well, anytime after Labour Day, Muskokans aren't surprised by snow on the ground.
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