FOLK STORIES PUT THE COLOR BACK INTO HISTORY
IT IS A LONG FORGOTTEN FOLK TALE NOW, ABOUY A FORMER BRACEBRIDGE BUTCHER, WHO THREW AN ADVERSARY OVER THE BIRD'S MILL BRIDGE, BECAUSE AS THEY SAY, DEAD MEN TELL KNOW TALES.
REDMOND THOMAS Q.C. WHO DEFENDED MURDER SUSPECT, GEORGE CYR, FOR KILLING THREE OF HIS FRIENDS, DURING A ROBBERY, HEARD THE MAN'S CONFESSIONAL BEFORE HE WAS HUNG, APPARENTLY TO EASE HIS CONSCIENCE. THE GALLOWS HAD BEEN SITUATED AT THE TOP OF BRACEBRIDGE'S CHANCERY LANE. THOMAS KNEW WHERE THE HANDGUN HAD BEEN HIDDEN BY CYR, WHO THOUGHT HE'D GET OFF THE RAP, IF A "SMOKING" GUN COULDN'T BE LOCATED. HE WAS WRONG. HE WAS BURIED BESIDE THE GALLOWS, IN A BATH OF FAST ACTING LIME, SUPPOSEDLY TO SPEEDILY DISSOLVE ALL HIS MORTAL REMAINS.
FLYING SAUCERS HAVE BEEN REPORTED, IN THE SKIES OVER MUSKOKA, ON NUMEROUS OCCASIONS, IN THE PAST. (WE'LL REVISIT THIS TOPIC IN A FUTURE BLOG.)
ARE FOLK STORIES IMPORTANT TO THE APPRECIATION OF LOCAL HISTORY. WELL, IN MY OPINION, IT WOULD CERTAINLY BE A LOT LESS FUN TO RESEARCH.
WHEN I WORKED AT SOUTH MUSKOKA MEMORIAL HOSPITAL, IN BRACEBRIDGE, AS A SUMMER SEASON PAINTER, TO PAY FOR UNIVERSITY, (CIRCA EARLY 1970'S) I HAD NO IDEA REALLY, WHAT MY FUTURE HELD IN STORE. I HAD AN IDEA THAT IT WOULD INVOLVE WRITING TO SOME DEGREE, AND POSSIBLY HISTORY, BUT IT KEPT BANGING AROUND IN MY HEAD, THAT BOTH PROFESSIONS COULD RUIN ME FINANCIALLY. EVEN BEFORE I GOT STARTED. BOTH PROFESSIONS DID NOT PROMISE BIG PAY CHEQUES, UNLESS I COULD SPECIALIZE, OR BECOME A TEACHER. MY GIRLFRIEND GAIL, AT THE TIME, HAD ACTUALLY SECURED A JOB IN COMPUTER TECHNOLOGY, BEFORE SHE GRADUATED UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO. I HAD A LOT OF CATCHING UP TO DO, CONSIDERING I WAS ON THE JOB HUNT A YEAR BEFORE HER.....WITH NEXT TO NO LUCK. THERE WASN'T A LOT OF DEMAND FOR HISTORIANS JUST THEN. THE MARKETPLACE HASN'T REALLY IMPROVED EITHER.
SO IN THOSE WARM-UP YEARS, I JUST LISTENED AND LEARNED FROM WHOEVER I WAS ASSOCIATED, AT THAT TIME, THAT MOMENT, TO GET SOME ON THE JOB TRAINING. I WAS, YOU MIGHT SAY, AN OPEN CANVAS.
AT COFFEE TIME, TWICE A DAY, I'D HAVE MY CHANCE TO SIT WITH SOME FINE CHAPS, OF SENIOR YEARS, WHO WOULD SWAP STORIES IN OUR ROUND-TABLE BREAKS, AND FOLKS, IT WAS THE BEST EDUCATION IN LOCAL HISTORY I COULD HAVE SECURED ANYWHERE, FOR ANY PRICE. AND YES, IT WAS LIKE AN EXTRA TUTORIAL TO ADD TO MY UNIVERSITY STUDIES IN CANADIAN HISTORY. I HEARD STORIES THAT HUGELY CHANGED MY OPINION ABOUT BRACEBRIDGE AND MUSKOKA HISTORY, EVEN BEFORE I KNEW MUCH ABOUT IT, EXCEPT BY MY OWN IMMERSION AS A KID GROWING UP IN A SMALL TOWN, IN A BEAUTIFUL REGION.
IT WAS WHEN I BEGAN TO APPRECIATE THE OFTEN PROFOUND DIFFERENCES IN WRITTEN AND ORAL HISTORIES; THE FUNDAMENTAL HISTORY THAT WAS IMPRINTED IN BOOKS, AND WHAT WAS MORE LIBERAL AND EXCITING, IN THE ORAL VERSION, OF THE SAME OR SIMILAR STORIES. IN OTHER WORDS, I LEARNED QUICKLY, FROM THEIR TAKE ON COMMUNITY EVENTS, POLITICIANS AND LOCAL NOTABLES, THAT THERE WAS MUCH MORE ABILITY TO BEND TRUTH, AND EMBELLISH, THAN WITH THE SAME STORY SET IN TYPE, AND BOUND INTO A BOOK. WHEN I STARTED WORKING AT THE HERALD-GAZETTE, AND BEGAN MY CLOSE APPRENTICESHIP WITH ROBERT BOYER, A WELL KNOWN WRITER / HISTORIAN, THE LIBERALITIES BETWEEN ORAL AND WRITTEN VERSIONS OF HISTORY, WERE THEN MILES AND MILES APART, EVEN THOUGH THE FACTS ESSENTIALLY REMAINED THE SAME. BOB BOYER WAS NOT A STORY TELLER, AT LEAST IN MY OPINION, AND HE COMMUNICATED WITH ME, WHEN I HAD A PARTICULAR QUESTION FOR A FEATURE ARTICLE, BY HANDING ME A COPY OF ONE OF HIS BOOKS, SO THAT I COULD EXERCISE MY RESEARCH SKILLS, AND FIND THE ANSWER MYSELF.
AT THE HOSPITAL COFFEE SESSIONS, I HAD THE RARE OPPORTUNITY, TO HEAR FOLK TALE INTERPRETATIONS, OF OUR REGIONAL HISTORY, FROM OLDTIMERS, LIKE BILL "WILLY" ANDISON," WHO KNEW EVERYTHING ABOUT LIFE ALONG THE FRASERBURG ROAD; KEN DAWSON, STEAM ENGINE TRACTORS ON THE FAMILY FARM, ART COULSON, LONG TIME RESIDENT IN PURBROOK, FRANK HENRY, HOSPITAL ADMINISTRATOR, WHO CAME FROM A STEVENS BAY ROAD FARM BACKGROUND, BILL BENNETT, WHO MADE ROPE BOAT BUMPERS FOR JOHN NEWARK, DOUG FITZMAURICE WITH A LONG BACKGROUND IN MUSKOKA LAKES, JACK HIGH AND GEORGE JACKSON, WHO WERE MASTER STORY TELLERS ABOUT EVERYTHING RELEVANT TO HISTORY AND CONTEMPORARY LIVING. I NEVER HAD ONE DAY, IN THE COMPANY OF THESE FINE GENTS, THAT I WASN'T TUTORED ABOUT LIFE AND TIMES IN MUSKOKA, PAST AND PRESENT. BUT THESE STORIES WERE NOT QUITE THE SAME, IN THE HISTORICAL CONTEXT, OF WHAT WAS BEING IMPRINTED AND PUBLISHED. BOB BOYER'S PROFILE WAS LEAN AND MEAN, WITHOUT ANY EMBELLISHMENT. IN HIS EYES, HISTORY WAS BEST SERVED BY FACT; NO NEED TO PAD. MY MATES AT THE HOSPITAL, PUT THE COLOR COMMENTARY OUT THERE, ADDING SOME CHARACTER TO THE BLACK AND WHITE OF HISTORY. BY THE WAY, I WAS TOLD EARLY IN MY HOSPITAL YEARS, BY MY BOSS, KEN DAWSON, OF THE MAINTENANCE DEPARTMENT, THAT "WHAT I HEARD HERE, REMAINED HERE, WHEN I LEFT HERE." I DIDN'T NEED TO BE TOLD TWICE. BUT WHAT I LEARNED, UNDER THEIR MENTORSHIP, WAS THAT THERE IS ALWAYS A STORY BEYOND THE BARE BONES, AN HISTORIAN SHOULD AT LEAST BE AWARE OF, BECAUSE EVEN WITH FOLK TALES, THERE WAS HONESTY WITHIN.....IT JUST TOOK A LITTLE SLEUTHING TO GET AT THE BLOATED FACTS.
WHEN I THEN, (AS FOR THIS BLOG), REFERENCE THE WORK OF CAPTAIN LEVI FRASER, I'M NOT SUGGESTING HIS ACCOUNT WAS MORE FABLE THAT FACN, JUST THAT HE IS TELLING HIS STORY, FROM HIS MEMORY OF EVENTS, IN HIS OWN UNIQUE WAY, AS A NAVIGATOR MORE SO THAN A PURITAN HISTORIAN. WE SHOULD HAVE NO REASON TO QUESTION THE FACTS OF THE STORY, BECAUSE HE HAD VERY GOOD RECALL. YET WE HAVE TO APPRECIATE THAT HE WASN'T TRAINED AS AN HISTORIAN, AND HE WAS WELL KNOWN FOR HIS ABILITY TO SPIN A YARN WITH, AS THEY SAY, "THE BEST OF THEM." SO IN THE STORY TODAY, THERE IS A LITTLE OF BOTH. HISTORICAL RECORD AND EDITORIAL LICENSE TO PRESENT THE STORY WITH THE BEST INTENTION. HERE NOW IS THE STORY TOLD OF THE SMALL STEAMSHIP, "LAKE JOSEPH," BETTER KNOWN AS THE "LAKE JOE."
IN THE WORDS OF CAPTAIN LEVI FRASER: "I DO NOT REMEMBER THE SPRING 20 YEARS AGO (CIRCA 1922), BUT IT WAS BY NO MEANS THE EARLIEST OPENING OF NAVIGATION. ONE SPRING, ALONG ABOUT 1900, WE OPENED NAVIGATION ON APRIL 4TH, WITH THE OLD STEAMSHIP, 'LAKE JOSEPH,' FAMILIARLY OR AFFECTIONATELY KNOWN AS THE 'OLD JOE.' ALTHOUGH THE ICE WAS OUT EARLY THAT YEAR, IT WAS IN NO OTHER SENSE AN EARLY SPRING. THE DAYS WERE CLOUDY AND WINDY AND THE NIGHTS BITTERLY COLD. IT WAS NOTHING UNUSUAL TO FIND THE BAYS FROZEN OVER IN THE MORNING FOR A MONTH AFTER WE HAD BEEN RUNNING. THE OLD JOE WAS EXPECTED TO RUN IN THOSE DAYS, TWENTY-FOUR HOURS PER DAY. THAT SPRING WE WERE EXCEPTIONALLY BUSY AND IT NOW SEEMS TO ME THAT WE MUST HAVE BEEN DOING OVER-TIME.
"MANY THRILLING TALES COULD BE TOLD OF THE EXPLOITS OF THE OLD JOE. THERE ARE FEW SHOALS IN THE LAKES THAT HAVE NOT, AT SOME TIME, OR OTHER, COME IN CONTACT WITH HER KEEL. YET SHE INVARIABLY CAME THROUGH WITH SOUND TIMBERS AND UNDAMAGED MACHINERY. THAT SPRING WE HAD LOGS TO TOW FROM VARIOUS POINTS ON THE THREE LAKES. I RECALL GOING INTO A LONG NARROW BAY, BETWEEN JUDDHAVEN AND SANDY BAY FARM, FOR A BLOCK OF CEDAR LOGS ONE HOUR BEFORE DARK. IN ORDER TO CLOSE THE BLOCK WE HAD TO RUN SOME BOOMS BEHIND IT. A LIGHT WIND WAS HOLDING THE LOGS SHOREWARD WHICH MADE THE JOB DIFFICULT AND SLOW. IT WAS NOW GROWING DARK BUT WE NEVER THOUGHT OF LEAVING THE JOB UNTIL FINISHED. JIM MCCONNELL WAS BOSS LONG-MAN, TOM BRUCE WAS MADE AND ASSISTANT LONG-MAN, SO WE THREE WORKED AWAY IN THE FADING LIGHT TO CLOSE THE BOOM. NOW AND THEN A SPLASH COULD BE HEARD AND WORDS NOT LEARNED IN SUNDAY SCHOOL, FLOATED THROUGH THE SEMI-DARKNESS. ALONG ABOUT TEN O'CLOCK WE COMPLETED THE JOB, ADJUSTED THE TOWLINE AND THE OLD JOE STRUCK HER CHUGGING STRIDE FOR AN ALL-NIGHT PULL. THE WIND BY THIS TIME HAD GONE DOWN AND IT WAS FREEZING COLD. MCCONNELL AND BRUCE AFTER REMOVING THEIR WET CLOTHES, WENT TO BED AND I TO THE WHEEL."
THE WRITER RECALLS, "FOUR OR FIVE HOURS LATER, AS WE WERE APPROACHING WHAT IS NOW WIGWASSAN LODGE (TOBINS ISLAND, LAKE ROSSEAU), AT THAT TIME JUST A GREEN POINT, WE ENCOUNTERED FRESH ICE AND HALF AN HOUR LATER, WE WERE AT A STANDSTILL. THE ICE HAD BECOME SO THICK THAT WE COULD NOT PULL THE BLOCK ANY FURTHER, NOR COULD WE GET TO SHORE TO TIE UP. SO WE STOPPED THE ENGINE AND WENT TO BED. I WAS AWAKE AT DAYBREAK BUT WE WERE STILL FAST IN THE ICE. IT WAS SEVERAL HOURS LATER THAT AN EAST WIND AND THE OLD KENOZHA FROM ROSSEAU, BROKE UP THE ICE. WE THEN PULLED THE BLOCK ASHORE, TIED IT UP IN A SHELTERED BAY AND RAN BACK TO BOYD'S MILL TO TAKE A SCOW OF LUMBER DURING THE DAY, AND TOW THE LOGS DURING THE NIGHT. A WEEK LATER WE HAD THE CEDAR BLOCK IN ROWAN'S BAY, BIG ISLAND, AND WERE WATCHING FOR A CALM NIGHT TO TOW IT ACROSS TO GRAVENHURST. ABOUT TEN O'CLOCK ONE MOONLIT NIGHT SOON AFTER, EVERYTHING LOOKED FAVORABLE, SO WE LEFT FOR BIG ISLAND. THE OLD JOE WHEN RUNNING LIGHT WOULD GO FOR MILES STRAIGHT AS AN ARROW WITHOUT TURNING THE WHEEL. SO WHEN WE CAME ABREAST OF GOWAN ISLAND, AND STRAIGHTENED AWAY ON THE GRAVENHURST ROUTE, OUR BOW WAS POINTING DIRECTLY AT CAPTAIN PARLETT'S LITTLE GEM OF AN ISLAND, ONE MILE AHEAD.
"THIS COURSE COULD BE HELD FOR THREE-QUARTERS OF A MILE WITHOUT MOVING THE WHEEL. IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL CLEAR MOONLIT NIGHT, JUST A FAINT RIFFLE OF WIND. EVERYTHING SEEMED QUIET AND STILL. I WAS DREADFULLY WEARY, AND HAD BEEN ON DUTY TWENTY-ONE HOURS A DAY FOR THE WHOLE WEEK, AND NOW THERE WAS NOTHING TO DO FOR A FEW MINUTES BUT TO REMAIN AWAKE AND WATCH THE OLD JOE AS SHE CHUGGED SMARTLY ALONG. COULD I REMAIN AWAKE? I THOUGHT I COULD. I RESTED MY CHIN ON THE WHEEL, WITH MY EYE ON THE LITTLE ISLAND AHEAD. I REMEMBERED ST. ELMO, OFF OUR PORT BEAM; CHIEF ISLAND (DR. BRIDGLAND'S SUMMER HOME) WAS FALLING ASTERN - THEN SOMETHING HAPPENED. THE SCENE CHANGED! INSTEAD OF THE LITTLE ISLAND AHEAD, A HUGE SEA MONSTER SEEMED TO BE RUSHING ACROSS THE LAKE AT A TERRIFIC SPEED, AND MY LITTLE SHIP WAS RIGHT IN ITS PATH. I SEEMED TO BE ALONE ON THE SHIP, BUT I REALIZED THAT WHATEVER WAS DONE HAD TO BE DONE BY ME.
CAPTAIN FRASER RECORDS OF THAT MISADVENTURE, "IN AN INSTANT I WAS ON MY FEET, AWAKE, WITH ALL MY MENTAL FACULTIES FULLY RESTORED. THERE WAS NO SEA MONSTER IN SIGHT BUT A BOAT'S LENGTH AHEAD, LAY CAPTAIN PARLETT'S LITTLE ISLAND, WITH THE OLD JOE RUSHING MADLY FOR ITS ROCK-BOUND SHORE. I GAVE THE SIGNAL FOR FULL SPEED ASTERN BUT REALIZED THAT NOTHING NOW COULD PREVENT THE BOAT STRIKING THE ISLAND. I WONDER IF THE SPEED OR RANGE OF THE HUMAN MIND IN A CRISIS HAS EVER BEEN CALCULATED? IN THE FEW MOMENTS BEFORE THE BOAT STRUCK SHORE, MY WHOLE LIFE SEEMED TO PASS IN MENTAL REVIEW. I REMEMBERED THAT, AS A SCHOOL BOY, I HAD ALWAYS LOVED TALES OF THE SEA, ALWAYS ADMIRED SUCH MEN AS BRAVE JOHN MAYNARD, THE OFFICERS AND MEN OF THE BIRKENHEAD; THE MEN WHO WENT DOWN TO THE SEA IN SHIPS WERE MY HEROES. THEN WHEN AN OPPORTUNITY OFFERED A CHANCE TO GO SAILING, HOW EAGERLY I GRASPED IT. FROM THE BEGINNING I WAS DETERMINED TO MAKE GOOD AND GET TO THE TOP AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. I REMEMBERED THE THRILL OF PRIDE IT GAVE MY DEAR OLD MOTHER WHEN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SECOND SEASON I HAD GONE HOME TO TELL HERE THAT I WAS NOW MATE TO CAPTAIN MORRISON.
"AND NOW, AT THE EARLY AGE OF TWENTY-FOUR, I HAD FAILED WHILE IN COMMAND OF MY FIRST BOAT, WITH THE INK SCARCELY DRY ON MY MASTER'S CERTIFICATE, WHICH ONLY A FEW NIGHTS BEFORE I HAD SO PROUDLY SHOWN TO THE LITTLE GIRL WHO WAS WEARING MY RING. WHAT WOULD SHE THINK OF ME NOW? WE HAD ARRANGED TO SIGN OUR DECLARATION OF WAR AT THE CLOSE OF THE SEASON, BUT THE CLOSE OF THE SEASON NOW APPEARED TO BE COMING TO AN ABRUPT CLOSE AND FOR ME AN IGNOMINIOUS ONE. THE JOE WOULD BE PILED ON THE ROCKS AND IN ALL PROBABILITY A TOTAL WRECK AND PERHAPS LIVES WOULD BE LOST; IF SO A COURT OF INQUIRY FOR ME, STERN-FACED OLD SEAMEN WOULD BARK QUESTIONS AND IN THE END MY PRECIOUS CERTIFICATE WOULD BE CANCELLED AND I WOULD BE A DISHONORED OFFICER, A TERRIBLE PRICE TO PAY FOR TWO MINUTES' SLEEP.
"WHILE ALL THESE MEMORIES WERE PASSING THROUGH MY MIND, THE DISTANCE BETWEEN THE BOAT AND THE ISLAND WAS RAPIDLY SHORTENING, THE INEVITABLE CRASH WOULD COME IN A MOMENT. COULD NOTHING BE DONE? HAD MY GUARDIAN ANGEL FAILED ME? IN THE SHADOW OF SOME OVER-HANGING BOUGHS, HIDDEN FROM THE MOONLIGHT, LAY A GOOD SIZED LOG; ONE END ON THE SHORE, THE OTHER HALF-SUBMERGED IN THE WATER. I NOW NOTICED IT FOR THE FIRST TIME. IF I COULD ONLY SWING THE BOAT SO AS TO HIT THE LOG, IT WOULD AT LEAST SOFTEN THE IMPACT AND PERHAPS SHEAR HER OFF. SOME AGENT WAS AT WORK IN MY FAVOR, PERHAPS SOMEONE WAS PRAYING AND THAT LOG WAS THE ANSWER, FOR IT SURE SAVED THE OLD JOE. SHE STRUCK, CLIMBED HIGH ON THE ISLAND, ROLLED HEAVILY TO PORT, BUT THE LOG WAS UNDER HER KEEL. THE PROPELLOR WAS NOW GETTING A FIRMER GRIP AND SLOWLY THE BOAT BEGAN TO SLIDE BACK, THE LOG ROLLING, BUMPING, GROANING AND GRINDING; THE OLD JOE WAS STEADILY GOING ASTERN. IT SEEMED AS THOUGH SHE WOULD NEVER DETACH HERSELF FROM THAT ISLAND BUT FINALLY, AFTER SEVERAL MORE ROLLS AND BUMPS, THE SHIP WAS ONCE AGAIN FLOATING CLEAR."
LEVI FRASER CONCLUDES, "I RUSHED TO SEE WHAT DAMAGE WAS DONE, BUT STRANGE TO SAY THERE WAS NONE. WE RAN A QUARTER MILE TO WHERE OUR LOGS WERE, DOWN IN ROWAN'S BAY, TIED UP AND WENT TO BED FOR A FEW HOURS. I WAS COMPLETELY EXHAUSTED. I HAVE SPENT MANY SLEEPLESS NIGHTS WHEELING A BOAT DURING THE LAST FORTY YEARS BUT ALWAYS MANAGED TO KEEP MY BOAT FROM DANGER. MANY INTERESTING STORIES COULD BE TOLD OF HAPPENINGS ON OR AROUND BIG ISLAND."
IF YOU HAD ALL KINDS OF EXPECTATIONS, ABOUT THE OLD JOE BEING CRUSHED IN A GIGANTIC SMASH AGAINST THE ROCKS, AND THE OCCUPANTS BEING KILLED IN THE COLLISION, THE BOAT SINKING AS A RESULT, THEN YOU HAVE BEEN MASSAGED BY A WONDERFUL STORY-TELLER, BY THE NAME OF LEVI FRASER.
I DON'T WORK AS AN HISTORIAN, DEALING WITH FOLK TALES ALONE. BUT IT WOULD BE AWFULLY DULL, WITHOUT THEIR COMPANY, DEPICTING OUR REGIONAL CHRONICLE. AS FOR CAPTAIN FRASER'S WORRY ABOUT THE GUARDIAN ANGEL FALLING ASLEEP AT THE WHEEL? GUESS HE WAS WRONG. IT APPEARS HEAVEN MAY HAVE HAD A HAND IN SAVING THE LIVES ON THIS HARD WORKING LITTLE STEAMER, PLYING THE MUSKOKA LAKES.
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