Tom Thomson Often Gave His Rough Sketches On Board To Those Who Showed Appreciation

THE GENEROSITY OF THE ARTIST HAS OFTEN BEEN FORGOTTEN, AS THE THOMSON MYSTERY SHADOWS OVER THE ARTIST

SIMPLE ACTS OF KINDNESS WERE NOTED BY HIS FRIENDS AND ASSOCIATES

      There was an occasion, when an Algonquin Park Ranger, while patrolling Smoke Lake, noticed a wisp of woodsmoke rising over the evergreens, from an incline looking out over the lakeland. He brought his canoe up onto shore, and hiked quickly up a visible path, to find the source of the smoke. When he came to the crest of the hill, the Park Ranger noticed a man sitting with a paint box and board, presumably sketching the panorama of the lakeshore, as it appeared to him, looking down on the opposite side of this particular peak.
     The Ranger could see the artist was also baking something on top of a small campfire, which had, of course, been the source of the smoke. He walked up slowly, to where the artist had stationed himself, trying not to disturb the work in progress. Tom Thomson had heard his footfall, and without needing to turn away from his work, welcomed his guest to the hillside. They exchanged greetings, and the Ranger explained that he was just checking out the wisps of smoke over the treeline, in case it had been the start of a brush fire. The Ranger, looking at the sketch Thomson had been working on, remarked that his depiction of the scene was exactly what was visible, and the colors used were a perfect match, to what was visible and vibrant at that time of day. Thomson was always pleased to have his work critiqued, as being accurate to the colors nature was prevailing upon the specific scene.
     Thomson, pleased with the compliment, invited the Ranger to find a place to sit, as his blueberry pie, in his specially made convection oven, was in its last few minutes of baking; and he invited his guest to join him for a slice or two. Thomson was also known as being generous with his provisions, and would usually make more than he needed, expecting someone would arrive at his encampment, wherever that happened to be, in need of sustenance. It was also known, that if you admired a piece of his art, where it had been left to dry, he frequently awarded the kind comments with a gift of the subject wood panel (being one of his original sketches). There was one case, when a mother and her child, were standing at the dock, in Mowat, when Thomson paddled his canoe alongside. While he was pulling his supplies and finished birch panels from the canoe, both mother and child were fascinated by his art work. When he was finished unloading, he turned to the woman, and handed her one, but possibly several of the art pieces, and suggested, that one day, they might be worth a few dollars, and that she should sell them, and buy something nice for her child. Even a new pair of shoes. At this time Thomson had no idea what his art-work would be selling for, even later in his lifetime. The woman could have bought a house for her child, if she had been able to wait a few years before selling.
     Thomson was quite willing to help out any friend, neighbor, or associate artist requiring assistance, at some point, with a building or moving enterprise, and wasn't adverse to helping strangers down on their luck, or lost on the trails or waterways of Algonquin Park. If he caught more fish than her required for himself, he was known to give them away with his kind regards. He had known modest proportion, from his own poorer days, so he was generous with those he knew need assistance most. It would be hard to know the exact number of sketches Thomson had given away in his life, but it was what he enjoyed doing; he was his own harshest critic, and it was known of him, having arrived back at Mowat after a sketching trip, to toss the art panels he didn't approve, like skipping stones, across the shimmering surface of Canoe Lake.
     One story that has been told, about Thomson's demise, was that he had to confront Mowat Hotelier, Shannon Fraser, about money he had loaned him, and the fact his friend and landlord, was refusing to pay it back. A scuffle is said to have occurred, possibly causing serious injury to the artist, when knocked to the ground, allegedly banging his head on a fire grate at Mowat Lodge. The reason, said for Thomson's desire to reclaim the money, from the Lodge proprietor, was that his girlfriend, Winnie Trainor, was pregnant, and he going to have to get married; thus needing the money to support his new family. Of course, it is also alleged, that Thomson owed Fraser money, and when he asked for its return, a fight ensued, and Thomson, as a direct result, succumbed.
     Thomson was said to have had a bad temper, and could become violent quickly when antagonized. There is evidence, to a degree, of this being true. Yet it can also be said with considerable accuracy, that Tom Thomson was a kindly chap, who was well mannered, and considerate of those around him. He was willing to share his food provisions, and his art work, with those who he felt, had made positive comments, and insightful observations about his finished work. There was a case where a child of a park official, when seeing one of his art panels drying in the open area of Mowat Lodge, remarked that she knew exactly where the artist had been positioned, in the forest, to paint the vibrantly colored berries on the unnamed plant. She noted how perfect the colors were, to the plant she had also seen on her hikes through the forest.
     Here now are a few more stories from my personal archives, dating back more than twenty years of research, regarding the biography of Tom Thomson. By the way, there are many dozens of high quality books, written by some of the best known art experts, and Thomson authorities in Canada, available should you be interested. Contact your nearest public library for such a list of reference texts. If you want to own a proper Tom Thomson collection, you can look up the artist (as a title) on the Advanced Book Exchange (ABE), which is a collective of old and antiquarian book dealers that appear online. You can start by looking up David Silcox, Blodwen Davies, William Little, Roy MacGregor, Audrey Saunders or Ottelyn Addison for their books on Thomson. Their respective bibliographies will give you the titles of other books and reference material, that were used to advance their research.

THE CHEAPSKATE COLLECTOR / HISTORIAN - HUNTING RESOURCE MATERIAL ON TOM THOMSON-

THE MISSION TO STAY ON BUDGET - OR AT LEAST CLOSE

WHEN I FREQUENTLY WRITE ABOUT MY WIFE AND I, TAKING OUR WEEKLY ANTIQUE JAUNTS, AND THE "ADVENTURES IN DISCOVERY" THEY MOST OFTEN BECOME BY CIRCUMSTANCE, THERE IS NO FICTION TO THE STORIES. IT CAN GET WEIRD OUT THERE, WITH THE THINGS WE FIND, AND PEOPLE WE COME ACROSS, WHO HAVE WHAT WE'VE BEEN SEARCHING FOR. THERE ARE COINCIDENCE CONSTANTLY, THAT MAKE YOU WONDER WHO'S PULLING THE STRINGS. WE NOT ONLY FIND WHAT WE'RE LOOKING FOR, BUT A LITTLE EXTRA TO WRITE ABOUT. SERENDIPITY IS A GOOD WORD TO DESCRIBE OUR MISSIONS OF DISCOVERY. LET'S JUST SAY, WE COME HOME WITH SOME INTERESTING TALES…..AND LIKE I MENTIONED EARLIER…..THERE'S NO FICTION INVOLVED. AS ANTIQUE DEALERS AND COLLECTORS, WE'VE OFTEN FOUND OURSELVES IN THE MOST CURIOUS SITUATIONS, ALL OF A SUDDEN, IN SHOPS AND HOMES AROUND OUR REGION. WE'VE COME IN CONTACT WITH MANY UNIQUE AND STORIED FOLKS, BY SIMPLE CONFLUENCE OF PROFESSION AND TRAVEL. IF YOU'RE DOING THE SAME AS US, THEN YOU KNOW HOW COINCIDENCE AND HAPPENSTANCE CAN CHANGE THE COURSE OF A DAY'S OUTING. WE JUST GO WITH THE FLOW. KARMA. OF THIS WE PAY EXTREME ATTENTION. HISTORY DOES REPEAT NO MATTER WHAT THEY SAY.

THE AVERAGE ANTIQUE OUTINGS, OF COURSE, ARE ALWAYS HINGED ON FINDING PIECES TO BUY FOR RE-SALE (PAYS THE GAS AND GROCERIES FOR THE WEEK), AS WELL AS ACQUIRING SOMETHING THAT MIGHT FIT INTO OUR HOUSE, OR INFILL A NEEDED COMPONENT IN OUR NUMEROUS "ON-THE-GO" COLLECTIONS. I HAVE A LENGTHY LIST OF OUT-OF-PRINT AND RARE REGIONAL HISTORIES I WOULD LIKE TO PURCHASE, WHEN THE PRICE AND OPPORTUNITY PRESENTS. THIS IS A TOUGH ORDER. JUST BECAUSE WE HAVE TARGETS, IT DOESN'T MEAN WE ARE TETHERED TO THEM. IT IS ALSO A REALITY, WE NEVER ARRIVE HOME WITHOUT SOME SUCCESSES IN TOW. MUSKOKA IS A GOOD PLACE TO HUSTLE-UP COLLECTIBLES. IT'S A GRIND AS MUCH AS IT IS RECREATIONAL.

IN 1989-90, I WALKED AWAY FROM TWO EDITORIAL POSITIONS, IN MUSKOKA, BECAUSE I COULDN'T AGREE WITH THEIR POLICIES, OR SECURE THE KIND OF ARRANGEMENT I WANTED WITH BOTH PUBLISHERS. I WAS LOOKING AFTER MY TWO WEE LADS, WHILE SUZANNE WAS BACK AT HER TEACHING JOB, AND WE ALSO HAD A BUDDING ANTIQUE BUSINESS. I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A TROUBLESOME EMPLOYEE. HARD TO MANAGE. VERY OPINIONATED. STRONG-WILLED AND ARGUMENTATIVE. I WAS AN EDITOR. I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A PAIN IN THE ASS. IT WAS PART OF THE TERRITORY TO BUCK COMPLACENCY, AND GET AT THE STORY WITHIN THE STORY. IN MY DEFENSE, I WAS A PROLIFIC WRITER, WHO SELDOM IF EVER MADE AN ERROR IN PRINT, AND THERE WERE NO COMPLAINTS ABOUT THE VOLUME OF WORK I COMPLETED EACH AND EVERY WEEK. I SELDOM TOOK HOLIDAYS. I LOVED TO WRITE. IT MAY BE OBVIOUS ON THIS AND MY OTHER BLOGSITES. I WANTED TO WORK FROM HOME. IF I WAS CONTENTED AS A WRITER, I COULD FILL TWO NEWSPAPERS A WEEK. I HELD INTERVIEWS AT MY HOUSE REGULARLY. IT'S ALSO TRUE, MORE THAN ONE VISITOR LEFT, OUR HOUSE, WITH CHOCOLATE FINGERPRINTS ON THEIR PANTS. THE BOYS AND THEIR CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES. MOM MADE THEM!

I'M SURE BACK THEN, THOSE SAME NEWSPAPER MANAGERS FIGURED THEY'D KNOCKED ME OUT OF THE PARK…..AT LEAST IN THIS REGION. THERE WERE FEW OTHER PLACES TO WRITE. I TRIED RADIO BUT NEVER REALLY LOST MY NERVOUSNESS ON AIR. WHEN A FEW OF MY REPORTER CHUMS ASSUMED I WAS DONE AS WRITER, TO NEVER WHACK OUT COPY AGAIN ON THAT OLD UNDERWOOD MANUAL, SUZANNE ENCOURAGED ME TO IGNORE THEM, AND GET BACK TO WORK. OUTSIDE OF A VERY BRIEF HIATUS, I STARTED WRITING AGAIN. I JUST WASN'T GETTING PAID FOR PUBLISHED ARTICLES. BUT I FOUND, THERE WERE MANY OTHER REWARDS OTHER THAN A WEEKLY PAY CHEQUE. FOR ONE THING, I WAS ABLE TO ADVERTISE MY ANTIQUE BUSINESS. I'D GIVE THE NEWSPAPERS A SERIES OF FEATURE COLUMNS, ON LOCAL HISTORY, (FOR EXAMPLE), AND THEY WOULD PROVIDE ME WITH A SMALL ADVERTISING BLOCK. I DO THE SAME TODAY. IT WORKS OUT MUCH BETTER THAN IF I WAS A STAFFER. FOR ONE THING, I DON'T HAVE TO ATTEND RIDICULOUS ADMINISTRATIVE MEETINGS, TO HEAR PUBLISHERS COMPLAIN ABOUT THE HIGH PRICE AND LOW PRODUCTIVITY OF REPORTING STAFF.

THE REAL ISSUE WAS BEING ABLE TO WORK FROM A MORE CONVENIENT LOCATION THAN A BUSY NEWSPAPER OFFICE. LOOKING AFTER THE BOYS MEANT THAT I NEEDED TO WORK AT HOME, WHICH WAS ONLYU A BLOCK AWAY FROM THE HERALD-GAZETTE OFFICE. WITH THE LOW WAGE I WAS GETTING, EVEN AS AN EDITOR, THERE WAS NO WAY WE COULD AFFORD DAYCARE. SUZANNE AND I MADE A PACT, BEFORE WE HAD KIDS, THAT THERE WOULD ALWAYS BE ONE OF US HOME TO LOOK AFTER THEM. IT WAS NON-NEGOTIABLE. AND WE HAVE ALWAYS LIVED UP TO OUR OWN CONTRACT. SO I NEEDED TO BE ABLE TO HAVE THE FLEXIBILITY AT HOME, AND WITH NUMEROUS COLUMNS AND FEATURES IN DEMAND, I HAD TO HAVE A LARGE QUANTITY OF AVAILABLE RESEARCH MATERIAL. THIS HERALDED A TIME IN MY COLLECTING LIFE, WHEN I HAD TO BRING THE THREE ACTIVE PROFESSIONS INTO ONE POSITIVE ACTION AFTER THE OTHER. AS A DEALER, I HAD TO SCOUT OUT THE BOOKS I NEEDED FOR RESEARCH. I COULDN'T AFFORD TO PAY MARKET VALUE FOR THESE MATERIALS, OR WE WOULD HAVE GONE BROKE. MOST OF THE REGIONAL HISTORIES I NEEDED, WERE PRICED FROM $40 A COPY TO $200. THERE WAS A VERY IMPORTANT ANGLICAN CHURCH HISTORY, IN THE DIOCESE OF ALGOMA, ON THE EARLY CHURCHES IN SOUTH MUSKOKA, FROM THE 1870'S, THAT I REALLY NEEDED. THE BOOK WAS LOANED TO ME BY A BOOK SELLER FRIEND, TO MAKE NOTES FROM. BUT THAT PIONEER TEXT WOULD HAVE SERVED, AS A BOUNTIFUL HERITAGE RESOURCE, ON DOZENS OF OTHER PROJECTS. I COULDN'T AFFORD THE $200 ASKING PRICE. IT WAS ACCURATELY PRICED, BUT ON OUR BUDGET, THERE WAS NO WAY. I HAD TO FIND A WAY TO GET WHAT I WANTED AT A FRACTION OF THE MARKET VALUE FOR THE SAME BOOKS.

While the antique dealer "me" was charged with finding the out-of-print books, I needed for my archives (to facilitate research for articles), the collector "me-also" had to make sure the book was worth the price, had all of its pages, was in good condition, and was priced sensibly, all considered. The historian "me" however, was broke. I couldn't buy these important resources through the business, because I didn't want to sell them. I couldn't really buy these as a collector, because I couldn't afford the luxury……that and the reality, I would have to use the book regularly, potentially damaging it, as researchers are known to do. The historian, you see, had to consider all of this, in advance, because the only deal that was going to fly, was if the antique hunter, and the collector, could donate their expertise, to find "cheap" or "bargain" copies of the titles most needed. You want to talk about discipline. I never thought I had it in me, to be so persnickety about price. So at this time, I made another pact…..this one with my other professions. Help me build an archives of regional histories on "the cheap." I didn't want to sacrifice anything in the process. Perfectly conserved books, with the information I needed, without needing to whip out a credit card to make the purchase. A tall order. But I did it.

When I mentioned in yesterday's blog, about acquiring a 1937 first edition of the Canadian Artist Series booklets, on "Tom Thomson," by Albert H. Robson, it was part of this ongoing necessity to buy affordably. I began this hunt and gather program, by late 1989. I've done pretty well considering the budget I've had to work with, and the competition for these specific titles in our area of Ontario. I have wanted this "Tom Thomson" book for the past twelve years, but I have not been able to afford it from antiquarian book dealers….especially in fine condition, with only a very slight fading of the green cloth covering on the spine. Seeing as I'm not re-selling this book, as an antique dealer, and I couldn't pay the price for one with a dustjacket, the $25. price fit the historian's budget very nicely. Seeing as I have written four Tom Thomson features series, in the past dozen years, it's certainly true, that I could have really used this reference book before now. Seeing as I'm only compensated with an advertisement, and not a regular pay cheque, for these submitted features, I simply can't afford to make exceptions, and pay market value. The clean, secure, well conserved book, is probably worth about $70, if you were to demand similar condition from an out-of-print book dealer. With all the books I needed, to build my own reference library, I could have easily invested $30,000 to $50,000, and still have missed buying everything I needed. My antique dealer resourcefulness however, was able to ferret-out a huge number of these books for well under $5,000. I've just had to be abundantly patient, and wait for opportunity to present.

In the case of research I was working on, regarding the mysterious death of Canadian painter, Tom Thomson, while paddling Canoe Lake (circa 1917), I found my first significant resource material in a collection of newspaper articles available locally, in a free publication known as The Weekender. A former Algonquin Park trapper / guide, by the name of Ralph Bice, wrote about Thomson's death as being accidental, occurring while the heavily drinking artist (just speculation), decided to pee overboard …….toppling out, and hitting his head on the canoe before entering the water. I had also been following other Thomson related articles in the local press, particularly stories about Judge William Little, who had written the 1970's ground-breaking book, "The Tom Thomson Mystery," where he refutes the accidental drowning theory, agreed-upon by an inadequate coroner's jury in July 1917. Mr. Bice did not believe in Judge Little's theory, and wrote to the contrary, that it was nonsense to believe Thomson had been murdered. The newspaper articles, and there were quite a few, cost me nothing. I went to the local Salvation Army Thrift Shop, here in Gravenhurst, (on the same day I read about the death of Judge Little), and coincidentally found a signed, first edition copy of his book, with dustjacket, and protective plastic cover, for the price of one dollar. This would normally be a $40 book, as a signed first edition. I was on my way. Judge Little's book, in my opinion, is still one of the most important resource books on Tom Thomson generally.

I went to a local second hand book shop, and tried to pick up some bargain "Thomson" biographies, of which there have been a few, even most recently. Outside of buying a few important ones, such as the landmark reference book, "Tom Thomson; Silence and the Storm," by David Silcox and Harold Town, and "Shorelines," by Roy MacGregor, there was no way I could afford to buy much more. So I wrote a small add-on note, in my regular newspaper column, asking if any one had books or newspaper clippings about Tom Thomson, they wouldn't mind loaning a poor tapped-out historian. One book shop owner, in Gravenhurst, gave me a large quantity of clippings and a few duplicates of books I already had. I was building quite a collection after only a couple of months. The point of this diatribe is, after so many published features on Thomson already, I'm still working on my "must have .…..must be able to afford" list. Due to the reality my family has suffered greatly, with all the research material I've surrounded them with, for years, I plan on leaving the archives to my boys…..who may one day make a small fortune on books and reference material, I've had to scrounge-up since the early 1990's. They should be able to do quite well for themselves, in fact, as I very seldom ever paid more than a quarter of the book's actual market value.

Even the cheap historian, would have been willing to spend a little more for the Robson book, because it is one I have long needed to fill the gap of information, about Thomson's work as a graphic artist. I've been able to get by without-it for so long, because I've concentrated instead, on the circumstances of his untimely demise; not his artistic life…….until now that is. Now I've got a wealth of knowledge at my finger-tips, thanks to dogged determination to acquire "cheaply." Getting the best for the least.

I want to share some insights about one of Canada's best known landscape artists, who had a short but incredible career as a painter……information recovered from this little gem purchased at the Gravenhurst Book Store, on Muskoka Road.

"PAINTER OF OUR NORTH COUNTRY, 1877-1917 - Except to a very limited number of friends, Tom Thomson is a remote and mystical figure who broke into the art firmament with a sudden and dazzling brilliancy, and then disappeared as suddenly into the great unknown. During the last decade his career has been wrapped in mists of mystery and half truths somewhat obscuring a clear vision of the man and his work. These facts remain, that in March, 1913, Thomson exhibited his first canvas, 'A Northern Lake,' at an exhibition of the Ontario Society of Artists in Toronto. This picture was immediately purchased by the Ontario government. In July 1917 his tragic and unexpected death carried away, at the age of forty, a man who in those short intervening years left a profound and lasting imprint on the art of Canada. The work which he produced during those four years is sufficient to proclaim him, beyond question, one of the most significant painters in the art history of the Dominion."

Robson, in his 1937 text, (published by Ryerson Press), noted, "Thomson's truly amazing accomplishment is explainable mainly through the intensely passionate love he had for the lakes, woods and rolling granite-ribbed hills of the country he interpreted so sensitively and beautifully. He painted the lake country with fiery concentration, rarely traveling farther than his beloved Algonquin Park (Ontario), where Canoe Lake was his regular headquarters. Other Canadian artists had painted the north country before Thomson; it is both unfair and untrue to say that he discovered it as paintable material. But it is true to say, that he was the first painter really to interpret the north in its various subtleties of mood and feeling, free from influences of European traditions and formulas. His personal knowledge of the country and his inherent honesty, dictated its own technical methods of expression."

Insightfully, as a man who had known Thomson, from the graphics industry the two had worked, he writes, "It is not easy to explain in words the power and magic beauty of Thomson's sketches. There is a subtle insight revealed in the fluency of his expression, and intimate understanding that radiates from every brush stroke, lifting his paintings to the highest level of Canadian artistic achievement. He had that rare inner vision that sees beauty in subjects which would not commonly be called beautiful. Through the windows of his own eyes he interpreted intrinsic truths with unerring accuracy. While many of Thomson's sketches are amazingly facile, there was no conscious striving after cleverness; for cleverness is a superficial quality which casts a fog between us and true beauty of expression. In his work he adhered to the broad base of representation, weaving a selective concrete realism into a lyrical pattern glowing with vitality and sparkling with individuality."

Even though it was known of Tom Thomson, during his life, that he was abundantly generous with his paintings, giving them to many admirers without a dime of profit, and having been seen flinging finished (birch) panels into the Algonquin Lakes, because he didn't like them, it is not likely, even the most talented collector, will find original material in second hand shops or flea markets. If you were interested in the work of Thomson, there are thousands of options, to build a respectful, interesting, and somewhat valuable collection without ever owning an original sketch, or a framed art piece. Every few years you do hear about a Thomson painting, being found in a cottage or estate somewhere on the continent, and being sold at auction for a king's ransom. These events are rare. But there are many galleries that do showcase his work, and hundreds of books that document his painting years. My early research of the Tom Thomson mystery (I also agree with Judge Little's murder theory) actually inspired our whole family to begin camping in Algonquin Park, and visiting the many places where the artist had lived and painted while living in the region. I have canoed many times over the precise spot where Thomson is said to have gone missing, and then where his body was found floating in Canoe Lake. I have visited his memorial cairn, on Hayhurst Point, on Canoe Lake, and the ghost town of Mowat, where he was originally buried. It is said his body was exhumed for re-burial in Leith, Ontario, but an exhumation, in the 1950's, by Judge Little (on no authority to do so) found a body still in the Mowat Cemetery plot. What a crazy tale of one former painter and two grave sites, both which are supposed to be the final resting place.

"Thomson did not travel the well-trodden highways of derivative painting, but made trails of his own where no man had stepped before. His passion for the woods was so intense that he could paddle the lakes and streams, and camp under the stars by himself, apparently without any sense of loneliness. The feeling of personal kinship which he thus gained resulted in numerous sketches of widely varying moods of the north not usually observed by the more casual visitor," wrote Robson, of his former colleague.

In tomorrow's blog, I'd like to share a little more about Thomson, as assessed by Albert Robson, who provides some excellent information about the early career of this storied landscape artist. After desiring this same book for years, I have to tell you, it's a pleasure to finally, and affordably, be in its company. The material has been quoted, in part, by many other Thomson biographers, but much of it, for whatever reason, hasn't been fully utilized and appreciate by the public……wanting to know more about the painter of such iconic Canadian panels as "The Northern River," "The West Wind," and "The Jack Pine."

Please join me tomorrow, for a little more from this rare Canadiana, on the life, times and demise of Tom Thomson.

Tom Thomson and The Legend He Left For Us To Enjoy

An example of the kind of Tom Thomson memorabilia on the contemporary market

THE ALLURE OF THE THOMSON STORY, IS OF COURSE, MORE THAN THE INTRIGUE SURROUNDING THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF HIS DEATH

YET THE MYSTERY HAS PREVAILED EVERY YEAR OF THE PAST 98

     There were residents of the Canoe Lake community, and the hamlet of Mowat, who suspected Tom Thomson's disappearance, in either the late night hours of July 7th, 1917, or the early morning of July 8th, had something to do with foul play. There was evidence prior to his disappearance, that all was not well for him, at Canoe Lake, on a personal level. It is noted that the spring and early summer of that year was one of his most prolific sketching periods, in his years associated with Ontario's Algonquin Park. Personally, things were not going well, and his money running low.
     There is a theory that Thomson was planning "a runner," and had actually stored supplies, in advance, at a residence further north, but south of North Bay, where he could pick them up quickly on his escape from perceived Canoe Lake fetters. It is supposed by Thomson researchers, that his significant other, at that point, Winnie Trainor, was with child, at the time of Thomson's disappearance. It might have well been, what was tempting him to abandon the Canoe Lake area entirely, making those who knew the situation, a tad angry. Possibly angry enough to have confronted the artist, as was potential of Shannon Fraser, Mowat hotelier. He was said to have been a friend of Winnie's father, and may have been passing on a message to Tom, to do the right thing, when a fisticuff broke out, and Thomson was initially knocked unconscious.
     After many years researching Thomson, at this tragic end of his life, it is clear that he was not the happy-go-lucky fellow some authors had claimed of him. He was said to have a dark side, and when he became angry, he could easily engage an antagonist in a fist fight or wrestling match. There is evidence of this in one of the early biographies, written by an artist colleague, reminiscing about about an incident at the graphic company in Toronto, where they both worked; when a drunken man entered the studio and began annoying staff with verbal abuse. Thomson basically picked the man up by the back of his coat, and dragged him unceremoniously through the office, flinging him out the front door. It is known he drank heavily at times, and wasn't adverse to escalating an argument, on a topic he might have felt intimate to him.
     Thus, if this is to be believed, it is then potential, he had his share of adversaries in the lakeland community, such as Martin Blecher Jr., an American cottager on Canoe Lake, of German descent. Although it isn't known what the Thomson and Blecher were arguing about the night before his disappearance, potentially about the War in Europe, for example, but it was obvious by the fact Blecher didn't report Thomson's drifting canoe to park authorities, when he came upon it a day later, upright, while boating with his sister, that he hadn't forgiven the artist for what had been said (also heard by others). He couldn't have mistaken the canoe as it was the only one on the lake that had been re-surfaced with the artist's grey oil paint. This was his original comment, made when questioned by authorities, that he thought the canoe had drifted away from a private dock, or private encampment.
     When the Coroner's Inquest was held, strangely enough, it was housed in a cottage owned by the Blecher family. During the proceedings, no person, even witnesses to the dispute between the two, was brought to the Coroner's attention, when the public attending the inquest, were asked if there were any suspicions, there had been another potential cause of Thomson's death, unexplored to that point. There was no comment by those in attendance, who knew about the disagreement, and who suspected foul play was a possibility, considering some of the gossip going around the lake community at the time of his disappearance. For whatever reason, it is then surprising, that a decade later, Thomson biographer, and art historian, Blodwen Davies, was hearing stories from some of the same people, who had been at the inquest, who were refuting the ruling, the artist's death was the result of accidental drowning. Obviously, a decade or so made a big difference in what folks were willing to reveal. Unfortunately, the Provincial Government, when approached about the new information, had no appetite to dredge up the case, which they considered had been properly and thoroughly addressed and closed, when the gavel fell at the conclusion of the inquest.
     Based on this information, and Blodwen Davies' determination to at least raise the issue of potential "foul play," as told to her by some area residents, the true Tom Thomson mystery didn't manifest in the early 1970's, with the release of Judge William Little's book of the same name, but in fact, became a shadow of the Thomson biography from the moment it was recognized by those who knew him, and felt he had met with some dire circumstance while canoeing, or hiking through the adjacent woodlands to Gill Lake (where he might have gone on this occasion to fish). Separating the story of his art career, and the mystery of his death, is particularly difficult, because it has been attached for so long; and like any shadow, the more intense the light of scrutiny, the more likely the flaws of the story as accepted, are revealed.
     Here now is another of my files stories, from the past twenty years, working on the biography of this legendary Canadian landscape artist.

The bustle of a summer season in Algonquin Park has become a gentler enterprise around this Canoe Lake community, with the arrival of these first cool days of September. Before the end of this month, the hardwood colors will contrast brilliantly against the evergreens, beneath the calming canopy of azure sky.....beside the tranquil, mirroring water of a legendary Canadian lake, lapping at the bow of a traversing canoe. It is a beautiful time to visit Algonquin.

At this time of year it’s easy to see why Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven artists found Algonquin such a perfect location to paint. Some say that on moonlit autumn nights you can still see Thomson paddling his ghost canoe in those places he haunted during his years living in the community of Mowat. One of his painting colleagues, in a boat crossing an expanse of bay, (sometime after Thomson’s death), claimed he had witnessed his familiar grey-green canoe, and the artist’s silhouette against the last light along the horizon of Canoe Lake. It wasn’t the last sighting either. There have been many since.

It is alleged that Tom Thomson drowned on this lake some time between July 7th and 8th. His body was discovered on July 16th. He was prepared for burial right on the island, and as it turned out, he was buried almost immediately after, on July 17th without a coroner’s inspection of the body.

"The undertakers, Dixon and Flaville, transported the closed casket and rough box to the mainland, where it was placed on an improvised hearse – the Mowat Lodge team-drawn stage that served as transportation for the guests of the Lodge, to and from Canoe Lake Station. It was much more than an open horse-drawn wagon," wrote Judge William Little, author of "The Tom Thomson Mystery."(1970, McGraw-Hill, of Canada, page 61-62). "Due to the rapidity of events and the urgency of an early burial, just over a dozen people attended the interment on the hillside overlooking Canoe Lake, a quarter of a mile to the northwest of Mowat Lodge."

"A hastily organized funeral cortege was headed by the horse-drawn hearse, followed by Martin Bletcher Sr., who was assigned to act as lay minister and read the funeral rites at the graveside; Mark Robinson, Martin Bletcher Jr., his sister Bessie, Mrs. Bletcher, Mrs. Trainor, Mr. Trainor and his daughter, Winnifred, Mr. and Mrs. Ed Colson, a number of Tom’s guide friends, Mr. Charles Plewman of Toronto, and several Lodge guests who were invited to attend. This little funeral party wended its way up the hillside to the tiny Canoe Lake Cemetery. One of the graves dated back to 1897, and contained the remains of a young millhand, James Watson, from Parry Sound, Ontario, who had been killed at the mill on his first day of work. The other grave was that of the young child of a local family, Alexander Hayhurst, buried in 1905 at the age of eight years, a victim of diphtheria. A small picket fence around both plots marked the graves, the only ones known in this area of the Canoe Lake settlement," notes William Little.

It should be noted that Winnifred Trainor was Tom’s girlfriend and it is alleged she was pregnant at the time of Tom’s death. It is also rumored a park cabin had been booked by Thomson for the fall of 1917 as an alleged honeymoon retreat.

One of the sparks of this mystery has always been Little’s contention the body had been hastily buried, possibly to get rid of evidence before the coroner arrived by train to conduct the formal inquest into the artist’s death. He writes, "It has been noted that only a little over 24 hours elapsed between the time Tom’s body was found on July 16, and his burial. The reason for such undue haste is well understood and explained: the state of decomposition was so advanced that the body could not remain unburied any longer than was absolutely necessary. In seeking immediate burial of a friend in such a condition, (Ranger) Mark Robinson did what a sensitive and humane individual might reasonably be expected to do. From a distinctly legal-medical position, the body should not have been buried, however, until a coroner had determined the cause of death, when it occurred and how it occurred.

"The investigation into the death of Tom Thomson was anything but professional or procedural in terms of accepted practice, either at that time or the present. The coroner never saw Tom’s body. No member of his family ever identified or saw his body after his death; although Tom’s brother George, had spent some four days in the area during the search, he did not get to Algonquin Park, nor did any other member of the family before the funeral. Under the circumstances, this was understandable but in no way assists in any appropriate deduction of facts based on accepted practices of normal inquest procedures."

In the words of Dr. Ranney, following the coroner’s report, (keep in mind he didn’t have a body to examine), "There was only one bruise on the right side of the head (as observed by Dr. Howland, who had examined the body after it was discovered), temple region about four inches long. This, no doubt, was caused by striking some obstacle, like a stone, when the body drowned. Dr. Howland swore that death was caused from drowning; also evidence from the other six witnesses points that the cause of death was accidental drowning." Dr. Ranney said at the conclusion of the inquest, "I always like to see a body before making official decisions. However, sometimes it is not possible. This has been one of those occasions."

Those in attendance at the inquest were not unanimous in agreement with the findings of Dr. Howland or Dr. Ranney. When they were invited to speak to the matter however, the room was silent. They openly disagreed with the "drowning" conclusion but let the matter stand, believing they didn’t have enough expertise to overturn the decision of a trained doctor. They were wrong. They most certainly should have noted that Thomson had been in a serious argument the night before he went missing, with Martin Bletcher Jr., and he had warned the artist to keep out of his way if he knew what was good for him." If this had been revealed to the coroner at the time of the inquest, the matter would surely have necessitated exhumation of the Canoe Lake grave. As a matter of some irony the inquest was held in the living room of Martin Bletcher Sr.s’ cottage.

For years there was serious speculation Thomson had been the victim of foul play and most researchers, including Thomson biographer Blodwen Davies, and William Little maintained a focus on several other potential suspects beyond the threats uttered by Martin Bletcher. It is now known that Mowat hotelier Shannon Fraser had several spats with Thomson about money owing the artist, and that because of his pending marriage to Winnifred Trainor, the necessity to pool money exacerbated the frayed relationship.

In the next blog in this series, we will examine the circumstances surrounding the mystery-clad exhumation of Thomson’s grave at Canoe Lake, as requested by his brother George, announced on July 18, and conducted by a Huntsville undertaker named Churchill, on July 19th. Churchill was delivered to the site by Shannon Fraser and was left on his own all that night to dig and raise the coffin without assistance. In the 1950’s this same grave was re-opened during an impromptu exhumation by William Little and companions, and the coffin was found exactly as it had been buried with skeleton inside. What had Mr. Churchill removed for reburial at Leith, Ontario (near Owen Sound)?

September is a beautiful month to visit Algonquin Park, the Visitor’s Centre, and of course Canoe Lake. Watch for the moose. Thanks for participating in this latest chapter of the ongoing Tom Thomson mystery.

Frederick Banting and Blodwen Davies researching death of Thomson

Note: As a sidebar to the story of Tom Thomson’s mysterious demise, I would like to include a passage from the biography, "The Side Door - Twenty-six Years in My Book Room," by well known Toronto bookseller, Dora Hood; 1958, The Ryerson Press. In her reminiscences of her many years catering the needs of readers, collectors, philosophers and historians, she notes of one particularly significant researcher and companion, in the following paragraph:

"Fame came, as everyone knows, to Sir Frederick Banting at a very early age. With the perfecting of the discovery of insulin by him in association with Dr. C.H. Best, he emerged from the sheltered life of the laboratory into the turmoil of publicity. When I met him this phase was so overwhelming to one of his nature, had passed an he, through his new friends, the artists of the Group of Seven, had discovered another talent. He revelled in his ability to paint the wild scenery of Northern Ontario and Quebec and this led him to begin his collection of books on exploration. I believe he was happier then than at any time in his short life. Among the friends who influenced his taste was Miss Blodwen Davies. At that time, about the early 1930's, she had won a reputation as a writer on the Canadian scene and was engaged in the task of collecting material for a life of Tom Thomson, the artist who had lately met a tragic end in the northern woods. Many years after Miss Davies told me Banting had helped her in establishing her theory of how Thomson met his death."

What is interesting about this, and the ongoing relationship Davies had with other prominent members of the Group of Seven, throughout her life, including with Thoreau Macdonald, son of J.E.H. Macdonald, was that the "murder" theory she dredged up had apparently upset the same artists she companioned with, including A.Y. Jackson, who never doubted Thomson’s death was accidental.....but the dismay must not have remained for long, as the friendship between historian and artists continued for the rest of her life. Thoreau illustrated some of her books following the release of her controversial biography on Thomson. Thoreau as a boy, had spent many hours with Thomson in his Toronto "shack" where the artist returned each winter to enlarge and improve upon what work he had completed during the spring, summer and autumn season in Algonquin. It was Thoreau and his father who were responsible for the memorial rock cairn to Thomson, situated on Canoe Lake’s Hayhurst Point, overlooking the former community of Mowat. They created the inscription that details the artist’s passion for the Canadian wilds.

Canada’s ninety year old cold case –

Was Tom Thomson a victim of foul play?

"A four-inch bruise or gash on the right side of the temple had been used to support theories that Tom Thomson had been struck with a canoe paddle by an unknown assailant. The fact that one of Thomson’s paddles was missing was put forward as further evidence of foul play. When the body was recovered on July 17, 1917, eight days after Thomson had been last seen, it was reported that fishing line had been tied many times around his left leg and that were was no water in his lungs. To make matters worse, there was also a controversy about Thomson’s true place of burial." page 192, "One Man’s Obsession," by Robert McMichael, (1986 Prentice-Hall, Canada), one of the legendary founders of the McMichael Canadian Collection (Art Gallery) at Kleinburg, Ontario. The co-founder was his wife Signe.

"Thomson was not yet forty years old and apparently in good health, an expert woodsman and canoeist, and a good swimmer. Inevitably, his death on the lake he knew so well gave rise to considerable suspicion and speculation. It had all the ingredients for a mystery which would eventually become part of the country’s folklore."

Robert McMichael notes on page 195 of his biography, in a small section on the life and death of Thomson, that on the night prior to the funeral for the artist, his coffin was "placed in the family parlor by an Owen Sound undertaker. In addition to Tom’s parents and four of his sisters and brothers, Elizabeth, Margaret, George and Fraser, a neighbour and close friend, John McKeen, was present. John Thomson, Tom’s father, asked that the coffin be opened. Although the undertaker was reluctant to do so because the body had been in the water for eight days, Mr. Thomson insisted. A solder seal was broken and the coffin was opened in the presence of Tom’s father and his friend John McKeen. Both men readily identified the body, and, although shaken, John Thomsom expressed relief that Tom’s body had come home. From the time the casket had been opened briefly, Margaret (Tom’s sister) recalled, an unmistakable musty odour pervaded the room."

According to McMichael, "Had William Little (author of " Tom Thomson Mystery") attempted to interview any of Thomson’s surviving sisters or brothers on the subject of the long ago interments, he would have undoubtedly have met the same stoical silence and distaste that Signe and I sensed whenever conversation threatened to approach the painful subject."

Late Autumn, Canoe Lake

At this very moment, it appears as if Tom Thomson’s own poignant brush strokes are creating this powerful clash of wind and current, the ominous bank of dark clouds rolling across the Algonquin landscape, here now in the early hours of this fledgling November. Whitecaps sweep up and along the rising swells, violently consumed again by the frothing, spinning cauldron, restoring itself in the succession of conflicting currents below. When the wind pounds its fury like a fist across this lakeland, it seems to the folklorist, as if Thomson has unleashed revenge for his death unresolved.

The eerie moan of wind etching harshly down over this haunted shore, is the glimpse of Canoe Lake few observe. There are no watchers here now, from this pinnacle above the lake, to witness the rapidly moving storm unclench on this inspirational place on earth. Yet, to this observer, as I expect it was to Thomson, the true measure of storm front, was as beautiful in character and manifestation, as the gentlest, brightest spring day when new life reached up to engage the morning sunlight. Thomson often exposed himself to the rage of an approaching storm, attempting to capture its essence on his paintboards.

As the waves erode vigorously over the rocks that line this point of land, I can also sense the raw, uncompromising beauty within rage, the spirit dwelling between heaven and earth, sending a chill to the very soul of the silent watcher in the woods. It’s as if I am standing here with Thomson, admiring starkness and fury, the violent twist of wind through the evergreens, yet strangely finding peace and tranquility amidst the tumultuous transition of autumn at the first icy grasp of winter.

There is ample evidence that Canadian artist Tom Thomson’s body still rests in the Canoe Lake Cemetery, where he was buried ninety years ago, July 1917. Although it has never been conclusively proven by forensic experts, Judge William Little, author of the landmark book, "The Tom Thomson Mystery," made a rather unsettling discovery that placed the deceased artist where he simply..... and according to historic record, should not have been. Little and several mates dug up Thomson’s alleged Canoe Lake grave in 1956. Instead of finding an empty plot, as a Huntsville undertaker should have left the grave after an earlier family-ordered exhumation in 1917, they found a skeleton in a coffin that they adamantly believe belonged to the deceased artist. With a brief forensic examination in Toronto however, comparing photographs of the artist, the experts declared the skull did not belong to Tom Thomson. So if Thomson had been moved to a family plot, in the Village of Leith (near Owen Sound), did undertaker Churchill dump another body in the vacated coffin? Or did Churchill just send a few pounds of Algonquin dirt to Leith, suspecting the family would never open the soldered metal coffin to confirm the corpse’s identity. As Robert McMichael references however, from an opinion given to him in person from Thomson relatives, the coffin had been opened before burial at Leith....and Thomson was indeed within!

When Judge Little’s group exhumed the gravesite in the Mowat site, on Canoe Lake, the fact an occupant was found in a supposedly empty grave confirmed what the party had known for decades. There had been suspicion since July 1917 that the undertaker, working alone exhuming the grave, could not have raised the coffin himself that morning, and by measurement, the tiny amount of newly disturbed earth at the site was enough to raise suspicion Churchill had not fulfilled his obligation to the Thomson family. Yet Churchill had only shifted a few shovel-loads of dirt from the original burial mound. Not nearly the amount of disturbed soil that should have been visible to allow for the removal of an adult size coffin. In 1956, the Ontario Provincial Police and the Algonquin authority at the time, could have demanded a more substantial investigation, as Mr. Churchill was still alive, and could have been thoroughly interviewed regarding the perplexing matter of "one too many bodies." The Thomson family is said to have declined requests then to re-open the grave in Leith, to see if their kin had indeed been moved for that 1917 reburial. There have been many requests over the decades to exhume both plots but family has held to their belief Tom Thomson is resting at peace in Leith.

I have researched this cold-case for well over a decade now and I have held firm to the belief Thomson was a victim of foul play. As it has been revealed in the past few years, the death-bed confession from kin of hotelier Shannon Fraser, implicated not only Fraser but his wife who assisted in the disposal of the artist’s body. It was said in this confessional that an argument had developed sometime before the 8th of July, 1917, regarding money Fraser owed Thomson. It is known Thomson planned to wed later that summer and he requested money owed from the hotelier in preparation for the approaching nuptials. Thomson was pushed down and struck his head on some object either inside the hotel or outside. Thomson wasn’t dead as a result of the injury that apparently only knocked him unconscious.

Fraser went and got his wife, they hauled Thomson down to the dock when it appeared everyone around the hotel had gone to bed, and they prepared to row him, and his canoe out onto Canoe Lake. A guest at the hotel did hear a commotion late at night on the stairs and outside. Thomson’s leg was bound with copper trolling wire and a weight attached to keep the artist on the bottom of the lake forever. The canoe had been made to look as if prepared for travel, and food provisions set in to look as if the traverse to a fishing spot could have been extended overnight. The canoe was rigged according to the perpetrator’s standard, not Thomson’s, and this was duly noted when the canoe was found later, and the peculiarities examined, none of which were characteristic of how the artist prepared his canoe for travel. Thomson and the weight were rolled into the water and the canoe toppled to make it appear a misadventure had occurred.

Judge Little, to the end of his life, believed the smoking gun in this case, was the object Fraser had used to weigh the body down. Investigation into this occurred several years before William Little’s death, but exploratory dives to the bottom, in the vicinity of the lake where the body was recovered, failed to turn up this critical evidence. What Fraser had not counted on was that the current of the water, and rubbing of the copper line against rock as the body twisted and bobbed, would snap the wire quickly, allowing the body to re-surface as it did, almost as it would have naturally during the stages of decomposition. A number of dynamite explosions in the lake were conducted in an attempt to raise the body shortly after Thomson went missing in 1917, possibly adding to the stress on the copper line.

What has always made the Tom Thomson death so curious to me, is this collection of inconsistencies and failures of both the Canoe Lake community at the time, the police, the coroner and those closest to the artist who simply opted to accept the accidental drowning theory, versus pursuing the very real possibility one of Canada’s most promising artists had been murdered. There were those who suspected foul play when Thomson disappeared, and equally there were those who believed evidence pointed to murder after his body was found.

These were the same individuals who refused to address the coroner’s inquest with their suspicions, despite being afforded the opportunity. If even one person in that room, that night, in July 1917, had spoken of a fight Thomson had been engaged the night before with cottager Martin Bletcher Jr., history would surely have been re-inked. The coroner would have had no choice but to order the exhumation of Thomson’s body, which had been buried only hours before the inquest began.

When you consider that there was immediate suspicion that undertaker Churchill had lied about exhuming Thomson’s body, during that midnight dig in the lamplight, it should have been the last straw, influencing one of the silent majority to fess up to suspicion foul play had played a role in the artist’s demise. Yet you must also consider that one of those suspicious of Churchill’s actions was Shannon Fraser, who had other reasons for being concerned about the artist’s whereabouts.

While there was a large amount of hearsay and innuendo that year and for many years after, nothing could make the key players take issue with the inconsistencies. When Thomson biographer Blodwen Davies informed the police of her suspicions of foul play, in the 1930’s, based on this same hearsay, it was quickly dismissed as a matter best left alone. Although she did publish this suspicion in her later book on the artist, the most that came from her inquiry, was the latent inspiration which helped generate William Little’s eventual grave-digging foray, which itself led to an explosive and ongoing interest in re-opening the cold case. Yet, despite the evidence that certainly warranted further investigation, the art community generally and family wished to leave the matter alone, as it has remained ever since.

Despite what the art community considers an historical event and nothing more, wishing not to intrude upon the achievements and integrity of Thomson’s art with the speculations of dastardly deeds and foul play, it is sheer folly to believe for one moment, that the mystery and Thomson’s art, can ever truly be held separate by the biographer. This is especially true for historians who have come to accept that within this important cultural identity, these powerful images and Thomson’s forever haunted character, a mystery unclenches in powerful undertow beneath what appears a calm lake at sunset. Just as this November storm today reminds us of his brush work, with the intertwining of actuality and the unknown, this rugged, exciting scene, and the tumultuous effect of wind and rain, to makes just one clear impression upon the watcher. In this awe of art within nature, we dwell precariously at the mercy of our own fear and trembling. Yet there is joy being here to witness the storm, the soul, the legend.

Thank you so much for joining this lengthy series of columns detailing elements that compose the structure of the now legendary Tom Thomson Mystery. Take a trip to Algonquin this fall and winter, and experience some of Ontario’s most inspiring landscapes. The Algonquin Visitors Centre is open year round, offering a museum display, an art gallery exhibit, book shop, eatery and a magnificent view. Drive carefully, enjoy the view and watch out for the moose.

A Tribute Traverse of Canoe Lake - That Almost Took a Fatal Turn

Since I began researching the mystery of Tom Thomson’s death, in July 1917, we have made many trips up to Canoe Lake from our Gravenhurst home here in South Muskoka. With our two young lads Andrew and Robert, my wife Suzanne and I have enjoyed numerous canoe adventures from early spring to late autumn.....in the winter we often visited the Algonquin Centre. As admirers of Thomson’s Algonquin art especially, traversing Canoe Lake always seemed so amazingly interactive, as if we were studying his art panels from the inside out.

After spending months writing and researching a multi-part feature series being published in The Muskoka Sun, we decided to take one more paddle on Canoe Lake before the warm season ended. When we set out that morning in our old aluminum canoe we call the "Iron Waterhorse," the weather was warm and the water still......a perfect day for a picnic on Hayhurst Point, across from the former village of Mowat, where the Thomson memorial cairn was situated. We had never been to the site and thought it was now appropriate, particularly as the series of columns was reaching its conclusion, to make this pilgrimage to pay our own respects to a talented Canadian artist.

Suzanne paddled at the bow and I took the stern and the boys enjoyed the traverse across an early autumn Algonquin lake. From the Portage Store the paddle took us less than an hour with nary a wave to contend with the whole way. There were many canoes out that morning.....mostly rentals from the store. We landed at the dock and after unloading the picnic gear and the boys, we navigated the Waterhorse to where we could pull it ashore. It was a considerable rocky incline.

We climbed up the hillside and the boys had already landed at the base of the rock cairn which had been constructed shortly after Thomson’s death, to remind people of the artist’s great love for the park and the wilds of Canada. We found a comfortable place to sit and after a period of sightseeing and enjoying the spectacular view, Suzanne set out the picnic lunch. There wasn’t a whisper of wind at this point in the late morning. About mid-lunch Andrew went to the cairn and began tracing out the letters on the bronze plaque with his finger. He read aloud the tribute that had been written by fellow artist and friend J.E.H. Macdonald.......the inscription reads as follows:

"To the memory of Tom Thomson, artist-woodsman and guide who was drowned in Canoe Lake, July 8th, 1917. He lived humbly but passionately with the wild - it made him brother to all untamed things of Nature. It drew him apart and revealed itself wonderfully to him. It sent him out from the woods only to show these revelations through his art - and it took him to itself at last. His fellow artists and other friends and admirers join gladly in this tribute to his character and genius. His body is buried in Owen Sound, Ontario, where he was born August, 1877."

I remember joining him at the base of the cairn and saying something like..... "Be careful Andy, you might raise Thomson from the grave."

I don’t know how long it was from that statement to when I first noticed the wind breaking over the hillside. I know that items were blowing off the picnic blanket and I do recall having to chase my baseball cap across the small plateau. To say this windstorm had arisen from a clear blue sky is truthful. There wasn’t a cloud on the horizon. When we took a look down at the canoe, it was being pushed back and forth at the stern by a succession of white-capped waves now pounding the shoreline. We couldn’t believe the transition. Is it possible we conjured up a ghost in the form of a windstorm by paying our respects to Thomson? It was sudden and severe. When we looked out over the lake we could see dozens of over-turned canoes, paddlers in lifejackets bobbing on the waves. We were hard pressed to help them from our own position. Our canoe offered too much surface area above the water and it was hard to paddle even in a light wind.

We waited as long as we could at Hayhurst Point, and when a lull arrived after about forty minutes, we decided to cross over to the Mowat side and hug the shore up the lake. In the canoe about ten minutes, the raging conditions started up again, and it was everything we could do just to remain upright. We were getting pounded by the waves hitting the shore and then being violently twisted in the roll-back of waves going back out. We weren’t inexperienced paddlers but this was a challenge. We had a hell of a traverse right over the location Thomson is said to have perished, and yes there was a strange aura over Canoe Lake that day. There were countless rescues all over the lake, of folks dumped from their canoes by the unanticipated rough weather. We survived. But after all these years there’s still that shred of wonder......was it a little paranormal intervention, just to let us know he’s still very much a spirit dwelling within Algonquin.

Take a trip up to Algonquin Park this season and see first hand what inspired Tom Thomson. Watch for the moose. Have a safe journey. 

Roy MacGregor's Critical Approach To The Study of Tom Thomson Unparalleled

Taken from Audrey Saunder's 1963 First Edition of "The Algonquin Story," on loan to us from our friend Sarah in Huntsville

MY OBSESSION WITH THE STORY OF TOM THOMSON - WAS MORE PROFOUND AND TOUCHED A TAD ON THE PARANORMAL

THE COINCIDENCES THAT CAME WITH THE TERRITORY

     If I started today's story, with the wild and whacky suggestion, that at times during my research of Canadian artist, Tom Thomson, I had, in the spirit-sense, felt his presence, (sensing he approved of my research interventions), how many of you would say, "here's a Currie blog I'm going to miss? See you!" It's one of those occupational hazards, as a writer of stuff like this, (the paranormal, I mean) that fogs over your credibility to be objective (having spirits on side doesn't seem as if you're playing fair); when for example you admit, without fear of being judged too harshly, a firm belief there's more to life than being born, struggling to survive, and dying with nary a peep from the other side. I'm not trying to sell you on the idea, that those who have crossed over, can communicate with the living. That's up to you to explore and discover. For me, I've been talking to dead people since I was a kid, as a family thing, so I don't think about it now, all these years down the pike, as being either absurd or impossible. You see, I'd have to order them to stop communicating with me, first of all. Then I'd have to explain to them that the consensus is, "it's impossible to communicate with the deceased!" If they didn't feel that was ample enough explanation, for why they shouldn't carry on, as before, well sir, I'd be inclined to amble through life the way I have been, and enjoy the fringe benefits of enlightenment. I grew up in a household that wasn't overly religious, and honestly, the only time I ever heard a vocalized reference to "Jesus Christ," was when the Leafs would score a goal, in a game against Montreal, my father's favorite hockey team. But when it came to a sensitivity regarding the afterlife, my mother and I knew it was an eventuality, that would be both surprising and heavenly enthralling.
     My grandmother Blanche Jackson, had a lot of what you might say, was "the old country in her." A descendant of British, Dutch and German families from the old world, being the Sandercocks, Vandervoorts and Meyers, she had grown up with the stories, folklore and legends those cultures generated, from as far back as the 1500's, that we know about from family research. As my favorite author is Washington Irving, and the story I gravitate toward, as preferred autumn-season reading, is "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," it is neat to know that my Dutch ancestors were also encamped in what is now New York and New York State, some having lived in burgs similar to the fictional Sleepy Hollow, as burgermeisters. What I cherish more than anything else, is that family connection to the folklore of the region, that Irving used to craft his stories, including "Rip Van Winkle," and those great tales of the ghost ships of the historic Hudson River. It's nice to be related to a million or more Vandervoorts, but quite another, to be entitled, in a small way, to some of the ancestral characters portrayed in stories, as composed by authors respectful of such cultural legacies.
     I grew up in a house where superstition reigned supreme, and I meant this most sincerely. Blanche's daughter, Merle, the youngest of the Jackson kids, of Trenton and Toronto, could quote any number of superstitions for me, if I had been interested in knowing more about them, or why she felt they were important to observe respectfully. She understood, for example, what certain configurations of tea grounds meant, when visible at the bottom of a cup. It's why she used tea bags, so this wouldn't happen, because she very much feared getting less than positive predictions. The disaster for her, was when a tea bag broke, (she often saved tea bags for a second dunking, and the casing frequently failed), and she got stuck looking at the shape of the grounds in the cup. I have no idea what may have shown her, in the shape on the bottom or side of the cup, that bad things were about to happen, but it would be the look on her face, that told the story. The same with a tipped salt shaker, having to shake it over the opposite shoulder for restored good luck, stepping on a sidewalk crack, walking under a ladder, having a black cat walk in front, or behind you, breaking a mirror, or scooping "money" off a stirred cup of tea, coffee or even hot chocolate. I won't get into all the details of what these superstitions meant, other than to suggest I grew up being intimately familiar, with what could only be defined as "the paranormal," being a partner in each strange day, and each spirited event, for my entire time living at home. My mother had seen the ghosts of her departed mother, and then her father, in her bedroom, shortly after each had passed away. When the phone rang sometime that next morning, my father heard her say, on both occasions before answering, "my mother has died," and then a few years later, "my father has passed." As my father didn't believe in ghosts or the paranormal generally, I think he was even shocked at how she knew their deaths had occurred before actually getting the news. Maybe it was just a lucky guess each time, if you can call getting bad news as being "lucky." Yet she had confessed to my father before the phone calls, that she had seen her mother sitting on the corner of her bed, and that it was a calming experience to see this. Her father had been seen leaning against the doorway of her room, when she awoke from a later morning nap, and he as well, had possessed a look of great peace on this face, such that it prevailed calm upon her as well. She took the calls about their respective deaths, just as calmly, as if she really had been forewarned about their crossing to the other side.
     I have been experiencing similar ghostly encounters throughout my life, and it's been so commonplace, that I'm very seldom ever surprised any more, that the person I just greeted in the hallway, or on the street, disappears without a trace, once I bid them good day. So when I began working on the Tom Thomson story, in the mid 1990's, I was of course, particularly fascinated by the allegations that he had been murdered by someone he knew on Canoe Lake, that fateful July day of 1917. The additional mystery of where his Thomson's body had come to rest, was also something that peaked my curiosity, and compelled me to read everything I could about the historic Canadian cold case. How could one body be in two graves. He was buried in the small Canoe Lake Cemetery, in the hamlet of Mowat, shortly after his body was pulled from Canoe Lake, after death by misadventure. Then, by family authority, a Huntsville undertaker by the name of Churchill, had been contracted to remove Thomson's body from the Canoe Lake Cemetery plot, and shipped by railway, to be buried in the Thomson family plot, in Leith, Ontario, near the community of Owen Sound. Upon exhumation however, the Canoe Lake site was found to contain a skeletal remains. So if Thomson was still a resident of the Canoe Lake neigbourhood, who was in the coffin shipped to Leith? It's still a mystery to this day, because the Thomson family has never approved of a plan to exhume the plot, to put an end to the mystery once and for all.
     As soon as I began working on a plan for a feature series, I had proposed for a local publication, my research and frequent travels to Canoe Lake, for the purposes of getting a better backdrop and understanding for the story, the strange coincidences began in earnest. There wasn't a week that went by, during this intensive period of story development, when there wasn't something weird happening, to infill information shortfalls. I had all kinds of phone calls and cards and letters from folks who claimed they knew something about Tom Thomson, previously unknown, garnered from stories their parents used to tell them, when they were growing up; and paddling the waters of the same lake that had claimed the young Canadian artist. Suzanne and I got to the point of expecting these spin-off developments, although we couldn't figure out how all these people were finding out about a story I hadn't yet composed. I suppose if anything, it was the power of "word of mouth" in the early going, and the fact, a lot of folks in this region of Ontario, have held a special fascination and awareness of Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven artists, all of them, at one time or another, having painted in the area, especially the shoreline of Georgian Bay. When the first series of articles were published, even in a relatively low circulation paper, the response was incredible, and offers of research assistance both generous and quite numerous. The more embedded I became with the entire Thomson story, the more coincidences we encountered as a family. This wasn't scary stuff, by any means, but I must admit, that one day, while standing at the Tea Lake dam, where Thomson used to fish, while staying at Mowat, I did wonder, after yet another strange insight about his life, whether the deceased artist was trying to communicate with me; possibly, if I let my mind wander a tad, Thomson was hoping a guy like me could help solve the mystery of his death, and point, once and for all, to the murderer if this had been the truth of his demise. It sure seemed, at times, Thomson wanted me to uncover the murderer. Thus, from the beginning of formal research, I did not believe in the 1917 Coroner's conclusion that the artist had died the result of drowning. I can't imagine what evidence it would take, to make me believe this today, with all that I know and have read about in the past three years.
     Growing up in a household that accepted the paranormal for what it was, at that time of many, many coincidences, believing adamantly one could speak from the grave, and seek justice from the services of the living, wasn't all that strange to me or my mother. When I write about it, which basically validates life after death, (on my own terms) it does read as if I'm a little nutty. I've lived with this negative spin-off, as a writer about the paranormal, for many years now, and the net result of entering this realm of study of course, is that you simply address your critics the way you should. Just as my mother did, when asked by friends why she wouldn't walk beneath a ladder, or why she would veer away from an encounter with a black cat, or avoid stepping on a crack in the sidewalk. And possibly even my grandmother had to explain to her house guests, when it came to interpreting the meaning of three knocks on the front door, or explaining the shiver she might have experienced, sitting at home, believing in the lore that someone must have, just then,  walked over her grave; the one from a previous life.
     Whenever I begin work on a new Thomson research project, or a redevelopment of a former series of articles, the coincidences and strange occurrences will begin once more. I'll let you know if any pop up that deserve mention. In the meantime, I wish to share some of these early pieces, as kind of a scrapbook collection, of Algonquin and Tom Thomson retrospectives, as they related to my work twenty plus years ago; including our many forays into the park as family campers, and hobby sleuths, compelled to find the truth about Tom Thomson's final hours amongst the living. Murder or misadventure while traversing Canoe Lake?
     Much more to come in this short July reconnecting, with the Tom Thomson mystery.

     The bottom line of it all, is that I cherish the work of Tom Thomson, as does our entire family, and it was this celebration of his work, that inspired us to stay up late into the night, huddled together under blankets on the shore of Tea Lake, to watch the dance of the Northern Lights, just as Tom Thomson had depicted them on his art panels, when he too had watched them paint the sky.

ROY MACGREGOR’S CRITICAL APPROACH -

TOM THOMSON AND WINNIE TRAINOR GIVEN FULL SCRUTINY

By Ted Currie

A number of years ago now, Canadian art historian, David Silcox, gave me good advice about the study of Tom Thomson.

The author of numerous, well respected books on Canadian artists, and the famous Group of Seven, reminded me to never become so preoccupied with the artist’s mysterious death, that his contribution to the heritage of this country, via art, should becomes a lesser consideration.

It has been happening since Judge William Little’s book, "The Tom Thomson Mystery," hit bookshelves, back in the early 1970's. Assisted by Little’s credible research, assisting with a widely viewed CBC documentary, from the same vintage, a sinister, cold-case scenario was adding murder to the legend, of the life and times of Tom Thomson.

Arguably, over the decades, his alleged murder has gained a momentum of its own. How many admirers now, when looking at his art work, have a loose smidgeon or two of mystery, swirling about in their minds? How did he die? Who would want to kill him? How can one man be buried in two cemetery plots?

. While suspicion had been raised in the early 1930's, by Thomson biographer Blodwen Davies, the CBC and Little had now made a large scale foray into the safe domain of accepted thought. The Coroner’s ruling that Thomson had been the victim of accidental drowning, in Algonquin Park’s Canoe Lake, in July 1917, apparently was full of holes. From the 1970's to the present, the subject of Thomson’s "drowning or murder" has spawned everything from a cottage game, to a plethora of tomes written and re-written, each one to read more exciting and revealing than the other. Thomson’s demise has inadvertently become an income generator for a lot of creative types. Just for the record, I have never earned one cent from writing about the Thomson mystery.

"Tom Thomson; Silence of the Storm," authored by Silcox, and colleague, artist, Harold Town, was one of my most coveted art resources, when I first began writing Thomson-themed columns for the local press, back in the mid 1990's. I own a signed first edition of this large format gem of Canadiana, and I’ve kept the author’s words in mind, whenever tackling a feature series, such as this one for The Arrow, where Thomson factors prominently into the story-line. Fascinated by Thomson’s art panels, David Silcox, without purposely intending to block "mystery" from consideration, certainly influenced this writer to adopt a more insightful, respectful appreciation for his creative endeavors in life. Regardless of how entertaining the story has become, intruding upon the circumstances of his death, for all these years, it is for me today, a secondary consideration to the study of his paintings. When I look at his art now, I do so differently than I did in the early years of research, when I put murder most foul ahead of all sensible proportion. I was determined to solve the case, name the murderer, and find the precise location of his mortal remains.

I have long been a fan of Judge Little’s book, and I have a signed first edition of "The Tom Thomson Mystery," of which I am delighted to own. But my prized acquisition, also a signed first edition, is Roy MacGregor’s newest book, "Northern Light - The Enduring Mystery of Tom Thomson and the woman who loved him." I actually was the first to inform David Silcox, then in England, about the release of this latest Thomson study. Always interested in updates about Thomson, he was curious about MacGregor’s approach, especially when I let him know he had employed the services of a forensic artist to do a facial reconstruction, from the skull uncovered by Judge Little, in the 1950's, during an impromtu exhumation of the supposedly empty Canoe Lake gravesite.

Thomson was supposedly exhumed and moved from the Canoe Lake Cemetery, only days after his original burial, and re-buried in a family plot in Leith, Ontario. Rumors around the lake led Little, and mates, to believe Thomson had never been moved from Canoe Lake. There was a lot of evidence supporting this assumption. With a quandry like that, why not dig up a grave? Indeed bones were found, when the band of contemporaries, on this macabre outing, put the spades through the rotten wood of the found coffin, said to have been the same one that had contained Thomson’s remains. Without question, this was destined to be an enduring mystery, as it has had, from the beginning, so very many curious events, strange characters, odd comings and goings, and coincidences on top of one another.

What is so interesting about MacGregor’s book, without question, is the fact he has now become the "keeper" of the truths, hearsay, rumors, expectations, embellishments and falsehoods about the Thomson mystery. He has become, in one alluring, sensibly prepared compendium, a worthy archivist of many theories and related details of Thomson’s final days; his death, burial, re-burial, and all the strange cast of characters who played a role, large or small, in what today is a full fledged, no holds barred mystery. And it’s his excellent portrayal of Thomson’s love-interest, Winnie Trainor, of Huntsville and Canoe Lake, that colors in the black and white of a former bare bones, incomplete history. As much as a forensic artist can put a face to a skull, Thomson researchers, long into the future, will be able to use his book as an information fountain, where nothing is summarily left out, but rather stacked to overflowing, for the benefit of discerning readers, researchers, to formulate new theories and enhance sidebar stories. As I mentioned in my last column, Roy MacGregor has become the go-to author, for anyone truly interested in a thorough examination of the past 94 odd years, of what most Thomson enthusiasts would call, wild speculation.

In Roy MacGregor’s earlier historic novel "Shorelines," the author offered everso subtly, a tease of actuality, a taste of the way it was, when portraying, with considerable inside knowledge, the relationship between artist and love-interest. He clearly established a precedent for a second book on the subject. It wouldn’t be a work of fiction either.

By his own admission "Shorelines" got him into trouble with some of his own kin, because of his family relationship to Winnie Trainor. Some of the information was too revealing. On the other hand, "Northern Light," is trouble worth taking, for what it reveals about Winnie’s conflicted life following her beau’s tragic death. I was amazed by MacGregor’s insights about this most important woman, and her role throughout the entire Thomson biography. Without this knowledge previously, the story was at best, a deep echo of unfinished research. Don’t think for a moment, Winnie Trainor wasn’t a key player in the Thomson mystery. She was. The book will explain why.

I won’t give away the story-line of a book I thoroughly respect. It is gracious to Thomson’s art work, and it reminds me of the advice by David Silcox, to separate the realities of his art from the strange nuances of conspiracy and alleged murder. He has done this, while at the same time, not holding back information about the artist’s less than stellar moments, as painter Jackson Pollock’s biographers, had no choice but to reveal his eccentricities, over indulgences and emotional outbursts.

After reading many speculative tomes on Thomson, it was MacGregor’s book that illuminated the artist in a human-on-human context, that we can relate to with some added poignancy. What has been written about Thomson’s character, has offered little more than a faint sketch, with nary a trace of mortal fibre. MacGregor’s work, as a sort of re-animation of the artist, allows for us to see for ourselves, the potential of an artist as a young man; a man with a mate, in the throes of either romance or the crisis of a relationship, and an unwanted pregnancy. There is the sensation of an actual heartbeat, and it makes this book special to my interests, in understanding the whole story of the Thomson mystery.

"Northern Light," released in the autumn of 2010, was published by Random House, Canada, and is available in most new book stores. If it’s not on the shelf, you can order one. I had talked to Roy late last year, about a book signing date in Huntsville. He said he’d let me know. And I’ll let you know if a date is scheduled this summer season.

Thanks for joining me for this column. More Tom Thomson stories to come