Okanagan Historical Society Reports

Thirty-ninth annual report of the Okanagan Historical Society Okanagan Historical Society 1975

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 50j_A_MNIVERSARY  OKANAGAN  \    HISTORICAL  ^SOCIETY  [ J.C. AGNEW*  .1926-1931,1937+  ,**•»!  ARGARETORMSBY  35,1939,1948-1953  FT. MARRIAGE    !  1958-1960    .  ;(_________' W       /  aiflK^_  >-/*  -    G.J. ROWLAND  T?70 f  J  G.C. TASSIE  ii       1941-1945  MAJ.H.A. PORTEOUS  1961-1968  REVy J.C. GOODFELLOW  I i;     1954-1957  DR. D.A.ROSS  1969  39th  REPORT  m             __■  \& ^_^* j.      ___H  E.D. SISMEY  1971-1973  i   : i  <    ^___H__H  Kraal-  feN^B  ;  J.E.FRY  1974-  R. N. (Reg) Atkinson Museum  785 MAIM STREET  PENTICTON, B.C.    V2A 5E3  THIRTY-NINTH ANNUAL REPORT  ISSN—0317—0691  of the  OKANAGAN  HISTORICAL  SOCIETY  Founded Sept. 4, 1925  COVER DESIGN  The cover Is a tribute to the enthusiastic devotion and judgement of the  ten editors who for fifty years assembled and edited contributions to 39  reports. The Society hereby acknowledges with sincere appreciation the  Inestimable value of their work. NOTICE  of Annual Meeting  of the  Okanagan Historical Society  1976  Notice is hereby given that the Annual  Meeting of the Okanagan Historical Society  will be held  SUNDAY, MAY 2, 1976  at 11 a.m. —  Osoyoos Community Hall,  Osoyoos, B.C.  Lunch Intermission 1 P.M.  BUSINESS  Presentation of Reports  Election of Officers The recipient of this 39th Report is entitled to register his (her) membership in the 40th Report which will be issued November 1, 1976.  Please complete this form; tear, fold and mail it to the Treasurer,  Okanagan Historical Society, Box 313, Vernon, B.C.  NAME:  (print)  n  c  H  >,  8  ¬∞l ADDRESS:  XI (print)  This form then becomes a useful record for the Society and its receipt  before May 1, 1976 will be appreciated.  CUJ_ALONG JfflSLINE _  MEMBERSHIP CERTIFICATE  This certificate from the 39th Report confirms that  NAME:      (print)  ADDRESS:   (print)  is a member of the Okanagan Historical Society (Parent Body) for the year  November 1, 1975 to October 31, 1976.  COMPLETE, RETAIN and present at the A.G.M. May, 1976. to ensure  voting privileges.  ORDER FORM  In addition to the current membership, the Society has in stock the following  reprints and back numbers all $3.50 each.  Please send order to:  Mr. John  L.  Shephard,  Treasurer,  Okanagan Historical Society,  P.O. Box 313,  Vernon, B.C., V1Y 6M3  D Membership for 1975-76, including  Report No. 39   $4.00  □ Reprint of No. 6, including many articles from Nos. 1-5        $3.50  □ Reprint of Nos. 7-10, under one  cover       $3.50  □ Nos. 15, 17, 18, 20, 21, 22, 26, 27, 28,  29, 31, 32, 35, and 36 each at $3.50  Circle the one you want.  LJ    Money order or cheque enclosed  □ Put my name on the mailing list. The  current report will be sent each year and  you will be invoiced.  Name:  Address:  Are there any back issues you no longer want, especially those NOT given  above? We can use them. Please send them to above address. Thank you. Main Street - Bank of Montreal, West Summerland, 1920.  Lower town Summerland 1920, the hotel and Empire Hall. BOOKS FOR SALE AT GIVEN ADDRESSES:  The History of Armstrong      $3.00  PLUS   15  CENTS   POSTAGE  Mr. J. Armstrong, Armstrong, B.C.  Illustrated History of Vernon       $2.50  PLUS   20  CENTS   POSTAGE  Vernon Museum Board, P.O. Box 313, Vernon, B.C.  Ogopopo's Vigil      $4.00  Okanagan Packers Union, 1344 St. Paul St., Kelowna, B.C.  History of St. Andrew's Church, Okanagan Mission, B.C.    ..  $1.25  PLUS   15  CENTS   POSTAGE  Mrs. Primrose Upton, Box1, Okanagan Mission, B.C.  Penticton Pioneers — in Story and Pictures       $3.60  PLUS  20  CENTS  POSTAGE  Okanagan Books, 239 Main St., Penticton, B.C.  Boundary Historical Society — Society Report No. 6       $2.50  PLUS  20   CENTS   POSTAGE  Father Pat — Hero of the Far West      $2.50  BY  JEROME  MERCIER  Mr. R.F. Gale , Kaleden, B.C. OFFICERS AND DIRECTORS  OF PARENT BODY  PRESIDENT  Victor Wilson, R.R. #1, Naramata  VICE-PRESIDENT  Kelowna: Mr. Len Piddocke and Mr. Hume M. Powley;Penticton: Mrs. G.P.  Broderick; Vernon: Mr. G.H. Melvin.  SECRETARY  Mrs. A. Waterman, 4270 Lakeside Rd., R.R. #2, Penticton, V2A 6J7  TREASURER  Mr. John L. Shephard, Box 313, Vernon  EDITOR  Mr. J.E. Fry, Pritchard Drive, Westbank  ESSAY CHAIRMAN  Mrs. J. Howe, 894 Weyburn Ave., #201, Penticton V2A 6A9  DIRECTORS  North Okanagan: Mrs. A.E. Berry, Mr. Ken Ellison, Mr. E. Hunter; Central  Okanagan: Mr. D.S. Buckland, Mr. G.D. Cameron, Mrs. T.B. Upton; South  Okanagan: Mrs. Kathleen Dewdney, Mr. R.F. Gale, Mr. H.R. Hatfield;  Armstrong-Enderby: Mr. J. Armstrong; Oliver-Osoyoos: Mr. R. Iverson;  Similkameen: Mrs. Agnes Bush.  DIRECTORS-AT-LARGE  Kelowna: Mr. W. Whitehead; Oliver-Osoyoos: Mrs. T.H. Lewis; Penticton:  Mr. E.D. Sismey, Mrs. G. Whitaker; Vernon: Mr. R. Robey  EDITORIAL COMMITTEE  Kelowna: Mrs. T.B. Upton; Oliver-Osoyoos: Miss D.M. Waterman; Penticton: Mr. Ivan Phillips; Vernon: Mrs. H. Gorman. BRANCH OFFICERS  DIRECTORS OF THE KELOWNA BRANCH OF THE  OKANAGAN HISTORICAL SOCIETY  April 10,1975  PRESIDENT, Mrs. T.B. Upton; VICE PRESIDENT, Frank J. Pells; SECRETARY, Hume M.  Powley; TREASURER, Wm. Whitehead; DIRECTORS, Dr. W. Anderson, F.F. Black, D.S.  Buckland, G.D. Cameron, W.J. Cameron, JJ. Conroy, R.C. Gore, R.H. Hall, B.W. Johnston,  L.N. Leathley, J.L. Piddocke, Dr. Reba Schoenfeld, E. Sherlock, W. Spear, Mrs. J. Surtees, L.  Turner, Mrs. W.J. Zoelner.  OLIVER-OSOYOOS BRANCH EXECUTIVE 1975 'ñ† 76  PRESIDENT, Carleton MacNaughton; VICE PRESIDENT, Mrs. R. Iverson; SECRETARY,  Mrs. V. Gregory; TREASURER, Mrs. Peggy Driver; HISTORIAN, Miss Dolly Waterman;  DIRECTORS, Mrs. Retta Long, Mrs. Emmy McLennan, Mrs. Aileen Porteous, Mrs. Ted  Dickson, Mrs. Dorothy Iverson, Mrs. Kate Willson, Mrs. Don Corbishley, Mr. Vic Gregory,  Mrs. Dorothea Lewis, Mr. T.H. Lewis; EDITORIAL COMMITTEE, Miss Dolly Waterman  (Chairman), Mrs. Buddy MacNaughton, Mrs. Aileen Porteous, Mrs. Doris McDonald, Mrs.  Edna Weatherill.  PENTICTON BRANCH OHS  LIST OF OFFICERS - elected April 11,1975  HON. PRESIDENT, Mrs. W.R. Dewdney; PRESIDENT, Dr. John Gibson; VICE PRESIDENT, Mrs. G.P. (Mollie) Broderick; SECRETARY, *Alan E. Bradbeer; TREASURER,  Doug H. Gawne; DIRECTORS, E.H. (Hugh) Cleland, [Past President], Mrs. Clarence (Kay)  Adams. P.F.P. (Peter) Bird, Mrs. Louise Gabriel, R.F. (Dick) Gale, H.R. (Harley) Hatfield, C. W.  (Claude) Holden, Mrs. Jacqueline Howe, *J.G. (Joe) Harris, *R.O. (Bert) Hall, *J.T. (Terry)  Langridge, *Mrs. A.P.(Pat) Manuel, R.S. (Randy) Manuel, Mrs. F.A. (Beth) MacKinnon, W.J.  (Wally) McConnachie, *Mrs. D.E. (June) McFarland, Mrs. D. (Mary) Orr, Mrs. Agnes Phillip,  I.E. (Ivan) Phillips, Lorenzo (Ren) Smuin, *Mrs. (Angeline) Waterman, Mrs. H.C. (Grace)  Whitaker, *Scott Williams, J.V.H. (Victor) Wilson.  * Indicates newly elected - 1975  DIRECTORS AT LARGE, (to parent body) Mrs. Grace Whitaker, Mr. E.D. Sismey;  EDITORIAL COMMITTEE, Ivan E. Phillips (Chairman), Mrs. W.R. Dewdney, Mrs.  Jacqueline Howe, Mr. Scott Williams, Mrs. Irvine Moss; LIFE MEMBERS of Penticton Branch  OHS, Mrs. W.R. Dewdney, Mr. & Mrs. H.O. Rorke, Dr. W.H. White.  VERNON BRANCH OFFICERS 1975 - 76  PRESIDENT, Lee Christensen; SECRETARY-TRESURER, Miss M. Foster; DIRECTORS,  Ron Robey, E.B. Hunter, Mrs. A.E. Berry, Mrs. K. Kinnard, Eric Denison, J. Hennicker, Dr.  Hugh Campbell-Brown, Geo. Melvin, Mrs. C. Banner, Michael Parson; REPRESENTATIVE  TO OHS, Mrs. A.E. Berry, E.B. Hunter, Ken Ellison; DIRECTOR AT LARGE, Ron Robey;  EDITORIAL COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN, Mrs. H. Gorman; EDITORIAL COMMITTEE,  Mrs. H. Gorman, Mrs. Geo. Leng, Mrs. I. Garven, Mrs. R. Banner, Miss Mary Little; LIFE  MEMBERS, Mr. & Mrs. G. Bagnall, Mrs. D. Grieg, Mrs. I. Crozier, Mrs. M. DeBeck, Mrs. N.  Denison, Mrs. H. Ingersoll. EDITOR'S FOREWORD  Primrose Upton was one of the strongest pillars of our Society. As editor I am only too well  aware of how much I depended on her advice and assistance. Her death coming when this report  is going to press, there was no possibility of an obituary notice which would have done justice to  her work for the O.H.S. This must be done in the 40th Report, when the revised index which she  compiled will also be printed.  This year, even with a larger report, I have received more material than could be included. I  assure contributors that their work has not been discarded, and I hope that there will be no  relaxing of effort by the editorial commitees. If we are to record the events in the Okanagan of  the years which have gone, we must not feel that "next year will do", something may intervene  and that particular item will be lost.  I hope that future contributors of biographies will try to relate the lives of those about whom  they write to the happenings in the social and economic context of their time.  With Gerry Roberts' article about archeological work at Osoyoos Lake and the other reports  of archeological activity, this issue of the O.H.S. journal takes the Society's interest in the history  of the Valley back into the prehistoric period by several millenia.  Again all photo credits go to the authors of the articles illustrated, unless otherwise stated.  I have used some interesting photographs to fill out pages which would otherwise have been  left blank. In most cases these have no particular connection with the articles which end on the  same page.  I am indebted to Angeline Waterman for some sensitive and charming poems by Guy  Waterman. 11  CONTENTS  MICHAEL VINCENT MCGUIRE (J. R. Kidson)     13  EARLY OKANAGAN DAYS (Eric D. Sismey)     16  APPLE DRYING(Mrs. E. A. Mahler)  1     20  FROM THE KLONDIKE TO UNITED NATIONS (Elsie MacCleave)       21  REV. A. MCMILLAN (Myrtie Reid)        38  CHURCHILL (Winston A. Shilvock)        41  WHAT USETO FLEE (Guy Victor Waterman)      44  FROM HOPE TO KOOTENEY (Submitted by: Barbara Lawrence)      49  WESTSIDE STORY       51  DICK PARKINSON STORY PART 2 (Martha Prytula)     63  DEDICATION OF PIONEER CEMETERY PARK VERNON B.C. (Beryl E. Gorman) ...    68  GOODBYE SIWASH BAY—HELLO SUN OKA BEACH (Mary Gartrell Orr)     70  ENGWALD (MINNIE) ENGEN (Michael French)     77  MR. & MRS. J. B. MACNAUGHTON SR. PIONEERS (F. C. MacNaughton)      79  SONG OF THE OKANAGAN (Guy Victor Waterman)     81  CHRISTOPHER TICKELL (Kathleen S. Dewdney)        82  A LONG HARD WALK (E. W. Veale)     87  THE MONK BROTHERS OF GRINDROD (James Bell)      90  PIONEERING IN OKANAGAN (Dorothy Gellatly)        92  OKANAGAN BRIGADETRAIL   97  MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE CHARACTER (Antoinette B. Paradis)    104  THE ROAD (Mrs. R. H. Estabrooks)   106  SUTHERLAND'S BAKERY—KELOWNA & ENDERBY (Jim Sutherland)   107  EIGHTY-NINE 'WHITE' YEARS OF MEDICAL SERVICE (Dr. John Gibson)   109  THE FIRE(Doreen Elliot)   Ill  HULLCAR AND DEEP CREEK COMMUNITY HALL (Wm. J. Whitehead)     112  CHESTERFIELD SCHOOL (Jessica Frances Harding)   115  THE INKAMEEP ARCHAEOLOGY PROJECT 1973 & 1974 (G. W. Roberts)    119  INDIAN RELIC HUNTING AS A CHILD (Rae Banner)   138  MR. WILLIS F. COOK (Mrs. Fanny Pearl (Cook) Simmons)      140  THE GREATA RANCH (Mrs Doris A. Ruffle)   143  THE HAUG FAMILY (As Related to Dorothy J. Zoellner)       145  COMPASSION (Guy Victor Waterman)     146  SALUTE TO THE PACIFIC COAST MILITIA RANGERS (Ivan E. Phillips)   147  WALTER JOHN OLIVER & LYDIA LOUISE DRAKE OLIVER  (Winifred Oliver Hunter)    151  THE OKANAGAN GAME FARM (A History by Eric Sismey)    154  REPORT ON PROGRESS OF THE OKANAGAN  COLLEGE ARCHAEOLOGICAL RESEARCH PROJECT (James Baker)    157  THE SUMMERLAND AND SINGERS' AND PLAYERS' CLUB AND ITS  PREDECESSORS (DoreenTait)      162  WHY OKANAGAN HISTORY? (E. W. Aldredge)      165  THE WHISTLE BLOWS (E. W. Aldredge)   170  DR. & MRS. DONALD M. BLACK LIVES OF DEDICATION (Myrtie REID)    172  "HISTORY OF THE KELOWNA BUSINESS & PROFESSIONAL  WOMEN'S CLUB 1943-1973" (Gladys E. Herbert)   177  FIFTY YEARS (The Editor)     179  PEACHLAND IN THE PIONEER DAYS (Olive B. Clarke)      180  O.H.S. BRANCHES REPORTS  192  FATHER PANDOSY PICNIC (Primrose Upton)    193  PENTICTON BRANCH CELEBRATES 50th ANNIVERSARY OF O.H.S.  (Eric D. Sismey)      194  TAMARACK (Eric D. Sismey)     195  SPEACH BY GUY BAGNALL 196  OBITUARIES 198  MINUTES OF 50th ANNUAL GENERAL MEETING  202  REPORT OF THE TRAILS COMMITTEE 206  REPORT OF FATHER PAT SALES 207  REPORT OF ESSAY CHAIRMAN 207  O.H.S.—ESSAY CONTEST 208 12  1974 REPORT OF PANDOSY COMMITTEE 209  PANDOSY MISSION COMMITTEE  210  PENTICTON BRANCH—PRESIDENT'S REPORT    210  VERNON BRANCH—ANNUAL REPORT   212  OLIVER-OSOYOOS BRANCH    212  PRESIDENT'S REPORT—O.H.S. 50th ANNIVERSARY 213  PRESIDENT'S REPORT—KELOWNA BRANCH    215  STATEMENT OF RECEIPTS AND DISBURSEMENTS    216  SECRETARY'S REPORT—O.H.S. AGM   217  OLIVER-OSOYOOS BRANCH EXECUTIVE  217  PENTICTON BRANCH O.H.S  218  REPORT OF DELEGATE TO HERITAGE CANADA    219  MEMBERSHIP LIST    220  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS  MICHAEL VINCENT MCGUIRE    13  ERIC D. SISMEY    16  ELSIE MACCLEAVE  21  S.S. OKANAGAN MEETING S.S. SICAMOUS      37  REV. A. MACMILLAN   38  FINLAISON RANCH, ABOUT 1901     45  GRIZZLY HUNTING PARTY, NELSON MTN     48  THE SUGARS' HOME   51  INTERIOR OF SUGARS' HOME   57  DICK PARKINSON      63  WAITING FOR MAIL ATNAHUN, 1908        67  SIWASH BAY      70  THE LOOKOUT, BRENT (SNOW) MTN., 1946   76  CHRISTOPHER AND NELL TICKELL   82  SLOOPING A BIG YELLOW PINE LOG      89  DUCK LAKE SCHOOL ABOUT 1909       91  JOHN WARD BAILEY, 80 YEARS OLD   96  OKANAGAN BRIGADE TRAIL  98-99  OLIVER SMITH, GEORGE GARTRELL & WILLIAM FOSBERY    103  DR. W. H. BILL WHITE'S RETIREMENT 109  HULLCAR AND DEEP CREEK COMMUNITY HALL       112  CHESTERFIELD SCHOOL JUNIOR LACROSSE TEAM 1920   115  ONE CORD OF WOOD  118  SOUTHERN OKANAGAN VALLEY 120  BERRY DRYING PLATFORM 132  SMALL SIDE NOTCHED POINT 132  HOUSE POTS AND ROOF ROCKS IN A HOUSE PIT 133  GLASS TRADE BEADS 133  METAL ARTIFACTS FROM THE UPPER ZONE    134  A FAVEL AND BONSFIELD'S BUTTON  134  ST. STEPHEN'S ANGLICAN CHURCH, SUMMERLAND, 1912     135  CITY HALL, KELOWNA, LATE SUMMER OF 1967    136  MR. & MRS. WILLIS F. COOK, 50th WEDDING ANNIVERSARY 140  APPLE TREE, NEW PENTICTON HOSPITAL  142  HAULING FRUIT AT GREATA RANCH, 1926    143  GREATA RANCH RESIDENCE 144  P.C.M.R. OFFICERS    148  AUTOGRAPHED MENU CARD   150  LAST VOYAGE OF S.S. SICAMOUS    153  MEN WORKING ON BUILDING OF S.S. ABERDEEN 156  S.S. OKANAGAN AND S.S. SICAMOUS AT GELLATLY BAY      164  S.S. OKANAGAN AT EWING'S LANDING, 1911      169  PACKING CHERRIES GREATA RANCH, 1923      171  VIEW OF PEACHLAND FROM STEAMER      191  AWAITING THE BARBECUE  194  ARTHUR MCCUDDY OF OLIVER 195  GUY P. BAGNALL  197 13  MICHAEL VINCENT McGUIRE  Contributed by J.R. Kidston  In 1911, Michael Vincent McGuire, a young man of 21, stepped from the  train at the C.P.R. Station in Vernon. He arrived straight from England,  complete with bowler hat, and was met by Chev Wilmot, who promptly threw  the bowler under the train. Micky McGuire drove off with Chev from the  station in the democrat, and from then on he was Micky to all his friends and  acquaintances till his death on his 84th birthday on November 16th, 1973,  at Vernon.  Although born and educated in England, Micky was a true Irishman and  proud of it. He was also the ideal immigrant for that period - young, strong,  intelligent, capable and energetic. He came to Vernon because his father and  Capt. E.M. Wilmot, then an orchardist in Coldstream, had known each other  in the Sherwood Foresters. Micky did not spend much time lolling around  the family house, and soon found himself on the working end of a cross-cut  saw on the Wilmot bush farm near Lumby, where Chev initiated him into the  working life of the bush and the gaiety of Saturday nights in Lumby.  It didn't take too much of that to convince Micky that Canada held  something better in store for him, and the following year saw him working in  a survey party for Cummings and Agnew, and under W.R. Carnac Morris he  did a lot of surveying in the Cherryville area. While on that job the survey  party always seemed to find themselves on the wrong side of the Shuswap  River, and Micky augmented his meagre wages to a gratifying extent by 14  swimming the river at $5.00 per trip lugging a rope with which a life line  would be rigged and many miles of walking avoided. By the summer of 1914,  Micky had decided to go back to his original plan of becoming an engineer,  and the outbreak of war found him on the top of Silver Star engaged as a  Forestry look-out and spending all his spare time, which was plenty, studying  for his engineering exams. My brother and I had spent ten days as his guests  at the look-out. One of the perks of being younger brothers.  Not long after his arrival in Vernon, Micky had gravitated to my parents'  house on Long Lake which happened to most of the young people who came  to this area at that time, and for a great many years after. He was soon in the  social swirl and enjoying life in his new country. He had also been among the  first to join the militia unit, the 30th B.C. Horse, where he developed a love  for military matters, which he never lost. He was a good horseman, which was  just as well, because his mounts were my sisters' horses, particularly one,  Barney, and my sisters couldn't stand a horse that behaved himself and did  what he was supposed to do, so Micky at least had lively mounts.  Of course, the B.C. Horse were mobilized at the outbreak of war, and  Micky with them. By this time he and my sister Effie were engaged, so when  Micky's regiment - by then the 2nd CM. R's - went overseas, she followed  and they were married in Glasgow in 1915, and when Micky went to France,  Effie worked as a V.A.D. in England.  In 1916 Micky was severely wounded, and nearly lost his leg. The next  years were peppered with operations, both in England and after his return to  Canada in 1917. However, he managed not to be invalided out of the army  till after the end of the war, and the armistice found him running the army's  bombing school at Work Point Barracks in Esquimalt.  Following demobilization, Micky joined the Soldier Settlement Board,  and was stationed in Victoria. If he had stayed with the Board, he would have  had a peaceful life, gone far in that service and ended up with a cozy pension.  But I doubt if he would have knocked as much enjoyment out of life as he did  by taking a different course.  In 1920 my father sorely needed help in running his orchards, and he  enticed Micky into chucking his job to join him in the fruit business. From  then till the outbreak of the second war were busy years for Micky. He not  only managed the orchards, under the not too benevolent eye of J.K., but also  developed our own packing house, and went into the business of an independent fruit shipper. Fortunately, in 1928 my brother abandoned his  profession of Civil Engineer, and also threw his lot into the profession of  orchardist, so Micky was able to share the responsibilities with him. My  brother gradually took over the orchard work and Micky devoted himself  more and more to the shipping end. As a result, by the thirties he was  becoming quite a key figure in the fruit business, and when the Independent  Fruit Shippers Association was formed, he was appointed manager. Those  were pretty grim years in the fruit world, and Micky's fighting spirit stood  him, and the growers and shippers with whom he was associated, in good  stead. But although he was no appeaser, he was always fair and co-operative,  so that he got on well with those who didn't share his views or those of his  Association. Which explains why, when the Independent Fruit Shippers and  the Associated Growers got together, Micky was appointed as manager of the  Federated Shippers, whose objective was the orderly marketing of fruit  through a central selling agency, by voluntary co-operation, made necessary  by the provincial marketing acts having been declared ultra vires by the  Courts. This new job was figures and statistics. I've never known a man who 15  was more painstaking in organization or more meticulous in the recording  of data, so this position was right down his alley.  Sometime during the thirties Micky had been appointed to the Canadian  Horticultural Council, and by 1939 was its chairman. This entailed annual  visits to Ottawa, pleading with, and cudgelling, the political pontiffs, and  culminating, so far as he was concerned, with attending a most important  fruit convention in London, from which he had just returned in 1939 when  war broke out again.  But life from 1920 to 1939 was not all work and no play. Micky was a very  happy man during that period. His son, Michael, was born in 1920, and his  daughter Janet, in 1926. He was an enthusiast at games, which, actually, he  played with more enthusiasm than skill. At cricket, he much preferred to hit  one 6 and be bowled, than to make a century with singles. But he was an  excellent fielder. At tennis, you never knew if it would be a sizzling return, or  clean over the wire, while his serves were aces or faults. But nobody enjoyed  either game more.  The theatre, though, was Micky's real forte. He started the Kalamalka  Players, and was their guiding light, both as actor and director. That group  staged some memorable performances, and reached the Provincial finals for  one-act plays on at least on occasion, while also staging light performances  which they took up and down the Valley. Under Micky's direction the  Kalamalka Players also gave fine musical performances with great voices  such as Joe Edgar, Bill Brimblecombe and Frances Beatty, plus the  tremendous musical ability of Howard de Beck. And those of us who saw  Micky performing Gilbert & Sullivan will not forget it.  His theatrical ability was well recognized by his election as President of  the B.C. Drama Association. Although he didn't resume theatrical work  after the second war, he remained keenly interested in it, and for years was  an honorary guest at all Drama Festivals held in Vernon.  In 1940 Micky joined the B.C. Dragoons and served with them in  Canada. When he found he was considered too old to go overseas with his  batallion, he got himself seconded to military government and went overseas  in that capacity. Again his ability as an organizer was valuable to his country,  as he was in charge of camps in Europe for displaced people, a particularly  trying job owing to the language dificulties. These years were shadowed for  him by the death of his son on active service with the R.C.A.F.  Returning to Vernon in 1946, Micky found his niche in the fruit world  filled. He held the position of secretary of the Board of Trade for a few years,  then he and Effie bought Orchardleigh Lodge in Coldstream, which they ran  most successfully until 1956. I think Micky enjoyed that phase. They made a  lot of friends who kept in touch with them for many years after. But by 1956  that dreaded enemy arthritis, brought on by his First War service, was  getting increasingly worse, so he disposed of Orchardleigh and took his well  earned retirement. He and Effie lived on Kalamalka Lake until 1969 when  they moved to Vernon.  Although never a professional soldier, Micky had been brought up in  military traditions, and all through his life the Army meant a great deal to  him. One indication of this was his interest in the Canadian Legion, and just  two weeks before his death he rallied sufficient strength and courage to  appear at the Legion hall on November 11th for a final drink with his old  friends.  I'm sure that Micky, looking back, must have felt that his life had been  very much worth while. We who knew him certainly do. 16  EARLY OKANAGAN DAYS  Eric D. Sismey  Perhaps it was always in the cards that I should eventually drop anchor in  the Okanagan. After all it was an Okanagan man, the Honourable Price  Ellison, who chose to favor a green English boy in 1912. He found a job for  me on the first surveys of Strathcona Park. His visions of a park to match  Yosemite, California were far in advance of his day. That his scheme was  scrubbed and power policies substituted would have shocked him.  After summer work in the park was done I was transferred to the Water  Rights Branch as assistant to F.W. Knewstubb, the engineer who proposed  the project which developed into Kitamat. We spent the early months of 1913  examining water power potentials of streams in the south of Vancouver  Island.  Early in the spring we were sent to the Okanagan and at Vernon we found  the Kalamalka a genial place to stay. Vernon was a cosy little town in 1913. A  brisk walk in any direction led to the outskirts. I remember meeting Leonard  Norris, Government Agent, who, perhaps, more than anyone, was responsible for the birth of the Okanagan Historical Society.  Another memory was the murder trial of Paul Splintlum and Moses Paul.  It was conducted in the Indian language, fascinating to watch the interplay  between defendants and interpreter.  Work wise we investigated several older water rights and after a short  camp at Okanagan Landing we embarked on the S.S. Okanagan for  Westbank.  In the meantime Mr. Knewstubb was recalled to Victoria and his place  was taken by Mr. O.F.D. Norrington.  At Westbank we studied existing water rights, surveyed the Westbank  system and attempted to settle disputes between Westbank Irrigation System 17  and David Gellatly, holder of the prior right on Powers Creek. There were  other quarrels too, some quite bitter, between Westbank Indians, the Mc-  Dougals and Dobbins.  There was little at Westbank in 1913 except the dusty main street, the  Four-acre store and the post office-store of the Hewletts. Around about were  scattered houses amid young growing orchards.I bought a horse at West-  bank; the first I owned since I was much younger, living in Tasmania. Rob  Roy was a sorrel with four white socks and a blaze. Cecil Clarke his former  owner.  I'll pass with nothing but mention of a camp at Shannon Lake and  another at Bear Creek. Then it was Trepannier Creek. Our camp was in a  grove of great cottonwoods and close to the sweet running creek. The trees  are gone now and the land is blighted with houses. The creek is no longer  pristine and pure. No longer is there room for Indians to camp at kokanee  time when horses, buggies, tents, with children and dogs, camp fires and  smoke racks bordered the creek in pleasing confusion.  And then it was Penticton.  I rode Rob Roy from Trepannier. Party chief Norrington and others in  the party travelled aboard the S.S. Okanagan with our camp gear. I led Tony,  Mr. Norrington's horse. It was a glorious all day ride in early fall up from  Deep Creek at Peachland past the Greta ranch where harvesters were  gathering the rich red tomato harvest. We paused at Trout Creek where the  horses enjoyed a feed of oats and I, a sandwich.  Entrance to Penticton, as we see it today, did not exist. From near the site  of the Chopaka motel a long trestle causeway stretched over the slough to the  swing bridge over the Okanagan River. At that time the river between  Okanagan and Dog (Skaha) lake was considered a navigable waterway OHS  28th report, page 114). At the causeway both horses balked. The hollow  sound made by their hoofs alarmed them. Finally, after dismounting and  stamping on the planks I was allowed to lead them across.  The ramp to the bridge ended near to where the control dam stands and  Lakeshore Drive was the way into town. It was a lovely woodsy drive where  trees on both sides often interlocked in a leafy canopy. I seem to recall only  three houses and they sat on a sandy extension of the beach. The Incola Hotel  stood in pristine newness, the Aquatic Club building where the Jubilee  Pavilion stands now and then the C.P.R. wharf and railway buildings. Main  Street, unpaved, was dusty and uncluttered, the first building being the  concrete W.R. King general store. The City Hall is there now. Both my horses  were a bit skittish, they had never seen such a place. But no matter - we made  our way to Eckhardt Avenue where we turned left to Government. Our camp  was set up in the triangle of land that came to a point at Eckhardt and  bounded by Penticton Creek and Government Street. Here we camped for a  week or so until Mr. Norrington found quarters for the Water Rights Branch  District Office. It was upstairs in the Southern Okanagan Land Company  building, corner of Main and Nanaimo. At the top of the stairs. Dr. R.B.  White had his office and waiting room. The original building is, of course,  gone. The new building shelters the Bank of British Columbia with law and  other offices upstairs.  In 1913, with the exception of the Bank of Montreal, a drug store and the  W.R. King building, business establishments covered the 200 block of Main  Street and along both sides of Front Street.  It will come as a surprise to Johnny-come-latelys, that at least until the  time I left Penticton for California in 1923 the quality of merchandise and 18  variety was at least as good as it is today and in many respects better. W.R.  King managed a top level emporium; Johnson and Nicholson, and Syer  carried a large stock of groceries and imports. There was of course no  gingerbread in the prepak days and no push carts. When they came, after I  left, the touch of friendly service vanished in the face of cold commercialism.  One bright memory takes me back to the Veribest bakery. Here baker  Cunningham baked bread, crusty and rib-sticking, and all manner of dainty  goodies, cookies, tarts and cakes which cannot be found anywhere in Penticton today. Cunningham would often come into the store carrying in his  flour covered arms a tray of his latest creations. And here Miss Little  presided over the well patronized tea tables. On the eastern end of the  lakeshore the Holden and Kelly complex stood. The large building housed an  ice plant, cold storage and a bakery with sweetmeats equal to anything  made today by Purdy's in Victoria. I'll always remember the red-painted  Corliss engine, the large flywheel turning almost noiselessly the only sound  being the soft puff - puff of the poppet valves. I must not overlook the livery  barns, Bassetts on Nanaimo, Weeks and Parmleys on Front Street. Freight  rigs with four horse teams leaving for the railway construction camps and for  the southland, Welby stage ran to Keremeos and was motorized somewhere  around 1915.  In November 1913, my father and step mother visited me. We lived in a  small house on Ellis Street, owned by Mrs. Silk; the house is still there. After  they left for England on a Blue Funnel ship, I lived at the Palace Hotel.  Room and board was, I think, $35.00 a month. The home cooked meals  prepared by Mrs. Fulkerson were tasty and hearty. The Palace was well  patronized by many old timers, among them Fred Bassett, Harry Tilliard,  Bruce Cousins and the Raincock boys. The Shuttleworths from Okanagan  Falls, the Brents and Billy Armstrong from Shingle Creek dropped in  whenever they came to town. The erstwhile Palace Hotel is the Reid-Coats  Hardware now and is the oldest building on Main Street. It dates from 1906.  Other buildings that I remember in 1913 were the Bank of Commerce, the  Mitchell block and the Penticton Hardware at the corner of Main and  Westminster.  The Okanagan River was channelled after I left in 1923 for California.  Before the course of the river was changed, Wade avenue; formerly Fairview -  ended at the fair grounds where the Memorial Arena stands. The race track,  stables and grandstand and a primitive golf course spread over much of the  land as far as the Peach Bowl. Beyond that and westward were the sloughs.  Eckhardt also ended in the sloughs where in the fall and early winter many of  us enjoyed duck hunting. Many a fat mallard ended to grace my table. I did  not bother with the smaller ducks. Westminster Avenue ended close to  Bassett Street and beyond that the sloughs where we skated, played shinny  and cut ice for summer use. This is the golf course area now, and the Pilgrim  House, motels and automobile agencies. The river channel made way for the  airport but in doing so the water table was lowered, the sloughs drained and  the lush hay meadows on the Indian Reserve destroyed.  Electrical service was furnished by the diesel plant on Main Street where  the R.C.M.P. building now stands. It was run from dusk to dawn except on  Tuesdays when the run was extended to noon. We called it Ironing Day,  except for electric irons and perhaps a toaster or two these were the only  appliances readily available for several years. We had a washer powered by a  hydraulic motor. On clear nights the steady throb of the diesel exhaust could  be heard all over town. I ran the engine through 1917 and 1918 until just 19  before Kootenay power came to town.  We enjoyed our beaches more in the early days than we do now. They  were ours, they belonged to the town and its people. They were ours to enjoy  to the full, to picnic, to swim, sun bathe and to drink in safety from the  pellucid waters of the lakes. On weekends parties often hiked to Dog Lake to  camp and sleep out under the trees near the lake or up where the tennis  courts are now. It was always Dog Lake then, a direct translation of the older  name, Lac Le Chien. It is a pity that when the name was changed to enhance  its snob value an Okanagan word was not chosen. Skaha is Shuswap, the  Okanagan word for dog is 'Kukwap'.  Missing from the lakeshore is the former Aquatic Club building where we  danced, enjoyed teas on the wide verandah on the upper flow above the  dressing stalls and a ramp where canoes were available. The Jubilee Pavilion  stands on the spot now.  Missing too is the gracious hospitality of the Incola Hotel. The rotunda  filled with leather covered easy chairs, where a fire flamed in the cooler  weather. The stately staircase reflected an old world culture and the dining  room meals, always table d'hote, were a gustatory delight.  Penticton in the early days, was an orderly little town. Even in 1913 - 1914  when many men of the rougher sort were engaged in railway construction  along the benches on both sides of town and in the railroad yards little took  place worthy of a headline in the local paper.  Of course a lot of money passed over the mahogany counters of the bars  at the Incola, B.C. Hotel (Valley now) and the Penticton Hotel up Vancouver  Avenue. There was noisy revelry and fist fights. But everybody was safe on  the streets, safe from muggings or even snide remarks. Our doors were never  locked which is more than can be said now.  In 1913, before the automobile made much impact on the town, Penticton was a horseman's country; many saddle horses and harness horses  were enjoyed. During the war many Okanagan horses were bought by the  Remount Service sent to Flanders to leave their bones in the mud of the  western front. A lot of the best blood was taken away. But even so there were  many horses around when I left in 1923.  At that time we, of the town, lived much closer to our Indian neighbours  than we do now. We knew each other by name, stopped to chat on the street  and we played together. We depended on hay cut on the reserve or for winter  pasture for our horses. We bought wood and buckskin gloves from them.  Dominion Day, July 1, was a great play day for both Indians and whites.  It was a colorful day too. Riders were not properly dressed unless chaps of  Angora wool were worn — black, white and mine were golden yellow. These  were topped by silk shirts, a gay scarf and a wide brimmed hat. Our horses  were properly caparisoned too.  Events of the day were saddle and harness races, bareback, packhorse  and stake races. Attendance came from afar. Much of the best horseflesh  and best riders too came from reserves as distant as Keremeos and Incameep.  Labor Day was usually a Field Day of athletic events of all kinds. Always  the top athlete was the well known Billy Kruger from the Reserve. He was the  only one to beat me in the mile run.  I often wonder, in reflection, what kind of a town there would have been  had it not been for the first world war. A better one I feel sure. So much, so  many things of value once enjoyed have been swept away. True, many much  simpler things have been replaced by automobiles which, in themselves, 20  replaced the joys of train and sternwheel ship. We have radio and TV to  furnish questionable amusement. But we have forgotten how to walk and in  truth so-called progress has left us no place to walk. We seem to have  forgotten how to amuse ourselves.  Our earlier tight little town, since about the early 1940's, has become  increasingly alien, a place for outsiders rather than residents and geared that  way to snare the almighty dollar.  In summer the beaches are no longer ours. And from them, most of us  keep away. No longer are they a place where a quiet sandwich can be enjoyed.  No longer can we leave the doors of our cars unlocked. The Peach Festival,  also the Square Dance Jamboree, is strictly commercial, which for long  time residents means less than nothing.  Our bird life, once so abundant, has gone too. When I lived in the  Meadows, at the west end of Westminster Avenue, grass land birds were  common. The bobolink and Phainopepla and other meadow birds are no  more. No longer does the Catbird, whose song rivals the Mockingbird, bring  one to a stop to listen. The sloughs, the wetlands, once the home of countless  birds, have vanished too. Blackbirds and other reed birds nested there, and  in the marsh, Ducks in variety, Grebes, Coots, Bitterns and Marsh Hawks  found sanctuary.  There is talk around that by the end of the century the local population  will double. Surely there should be at least one spot in Okanagan where  commercialism does not reign.  But if growth continues as it seems to be Penticton will be nothing more  than a beehive town and even those pleasures which can still be enjoyed will  disappear like the joys I knew when I first saw the Okanagan Valley.  APPLE DRYING  By: Mrs. E.A. Mahler  The Osoyoos Evaporator was started in 1938 by Mr. H. P. Mahler, whose  brothers in Ontario were the first ones to start evaporating in Canada — and  Mr. M. Huxley. It was located next to the Osoyoos Packing House. We had 6  hand peelers, a slicer and two drying kilns. We employed 14 helpers and paid  out in wages $2,500. The first year we sold our stock to McLean & Fitzpatrick and Nabob Co. Ltd. Apples were bought from Osoyoos Co-op.  Haynes, O.K. Shippers, McLean and Fitzpatrick, and Oliver Co-op., also a  few privately. In 1939 our partnership was dissolved and Mrs. J. Gregory  bought out Mr. Huxley's share. By 1944, when the plant burnt down, we had  put in power machines for peeling and slicing and were employing 15 men  and 27 ladies. The fresh apples came mainly through the B.C. Tree Fruit  Board. The dried apples were packed in wooden boxes of 25 lbs. and 50 lbs.  and were sold mainly by the carload. Our biggest buyers were F. Archibald &  Co. of Winnipeg and Valley Evaporating Co. of Oroville, Wash., also Nabob  Co. Ltd., Malkins Ltd., and Woodland Mf. Co. Prices for our product were  set by the Government. The fruit inspector informed us our product was the  best on the market, but due to an uncertain future we decided not to rebuild,  in spite of the fact we had been offered a very considerable sum to help  finance same.  (Mrs.) E. A. Mahler, Osoyoos 21  FROM THE KLONDIKE  TO UNITED NATIONS  By Elsie MacCleave  Foreward  I have attempted to condense the 50,000 word, unedited auto-biography  of this remarkable woman to a length suitable for inclusion in the annual  report of the Okanagan Historical Society. I have, therefore, touched very  lightly on her early peregrinations in Great Britain and continental Europe  mentioning only her studies in language, drama and music.  I have gleaned in a little more detail her later activities in Canada, British  Columbia, Russia and United Nations. Some emphasis has been given to  Penticton where the mark she made stands brilliantly to this day. This is her  story and in her own words.  Eric D. Sismey  I was born Elsie Margaret Sheaffe Craig on Manning Avenue, Toronto,  on June 10, 1891. My father George Craig of Arnprior was of Scottish ancestry. His mother carried the name 'Lyon' that of Queen Mother Elizabeth.  My mother, Consuelo Sheaffe was of Welsh origin and she claimed  kinship to Griffith Lloyd who led the British a merry chase in earlier days.  Grandfather Sir Roger Sheaffe recaptured Queenstown from the Americans  in the war of 1812. He continued to serve Canada until 1813. Both my  parents and my uncle, Jim Craig, were in Dawson City in 1899, gold rush  days. My father and Uncle Jim were both in government service.  When my parents first left for the northland my brother Barkley and  sister Monica, both younger than I, stayed with grandfather Lloyd in Toronto  while I lived with grandparents Craig in Arnprior. The Lloyd grandparents  were broad and tolerant which is more that I can say for my Craig relatives,  who, while very worthy and upright, were severe, strict Presbyterians. Most of  life's joys were considered sinful. Sundays were particularly hard to endure. I  was only allowed to walk as far as the cemetary, and, need I add, the truth  was often strained. But I'll always remember the days grandfather Craig took  me fishing. I loved it and him. School was dreary. Frustrated teachers kept us  under eagle eye and minor offences were punished with a rubber strap.  I remember mother saying "that one resisted tyranny no matter what it  cost" and my father's words "Stand up, speak up, and shut up, but always  stand tall." 22  The day came when I revolted. A friend had acquired a stepmother of  whom she took a dim view. So one noontide in the dead of winter we took off  for the Klondike. We had no food, no clothing except what we were wearing  and only a dollar and a half in money. While the sun shone all was well but  when it darkened we knelt in the snow and prayed. If Eskimos could build  snow houses so could we, and as we were busily digging in a snow bank a  kindly man came along.  "What are you doing?" he asked. We told him. He thought we should  earn a bit more money before we set out for the Klondike. And since by  that time we had become cold we thought it a good idea. Then our rescuer  saw that we reached home.  In 1903 when I was 12 years old, my parents had arranged for me to go to  the Yukon along with my brother Barkley and sister Monica. Grandmother  Lloyd bought us fur coats at Eatons and it was hard to convince her that the  Klondike was often quite hot in summer. A Mister Howard, a family friend,  was going to the Klondike and he had undertaken to look after us. He was a  kindly man and we, no doubt, a handful.  Departure from Toronto was tearfully exciting, filled with new and  confusing experiences, many are now a bit hazy in my memory. I do  remember our excitement on the train, especially the diner and our pulman  berths, mine shared with Monica. I recall the view of Lake Huron, the wide  prairie waving green with growing wheat, the Rocky Mountains and finally  the sea at Vancouver, all were new and strange.  I think the hotel where we stayed at Vancouver was named Braemar. Mr.  Howard took us one day for a walk in Stanley Park. I'll always remember my  first impressions of the huge trees. But one Vancouver memory that will ever  stay bright was the time we discovered a plank from the roof of our hotel to  an adjacent building. It was fun to walk across the bouncy plank high above  the street. Before long passers by noticed our dangerous play and we were  soon harvested, and, to be sure there would be no repeat, the plank was taken  away.  One day Mr. Howard told us to get ready for the voyage to Alaska. After  we saw our ship, Princess May, at the wharf the sight was too much for  Barkley. He dashed away to the gang plank yelling with delight.  On board we were again thrilled with so much new and strange and  exciting. We ran wildly around the decks, up the companionways, peering  down into the engine room and smelling hot oil.  Sea birds fascinated us and so did the thrashing engine cranks. There  were strange landings too. Along Lynn Canal there were waterfalls and  glaciers high on the mountains; there were icebergs floating on the sea. Then  Skagway. We stayed at the Pullen House and Mr. Howard took us to see  Soapy Smith's grave but it was quite some time before I realized why Mr.  Smith attracted so much attention. In a day or two we boarded A FUNNY  LITTLE TRAIN. It puffed up a steep track with snowy mountains on either  side. Then we reached Lake Bennett and so to Whitehorse where we boarded  an odd looking ship with a paddlewheel on the back end. I'll never forget the  river and Five Finger Rapids and places where we stopped to load wood.  Then Dawson where our parents awaited us. At first sight they were strange.  I had not seen either father nor mother for four years. But soon the warmth  of their embraces showed me that I was home.  I do not remember very much about Dawson. Many parts of the town  were off limits. There are incidents that I remember very well. We arrived a  few days before June 21, the day the sun stands still on its northern flight. 23  Midnight June 21 is celebrated by the populace trooping to the top of the  Dome which overlooks the city. Huge bonfires are built and around them  picnic baskets are opened and feasts begin at the time the sun touches the  rim of the mountains. Another celebration is the day the ice goes out on the  river. For days a sweepstake has been arranged and the jack-pot paid to the  person who guesses correctly the exact moment the ice barrier breaks. When  it does everybody rushes to the river bank to see.  One day in early spring of 1904 brother Barkley came rushing, "Come  quick," he yelled! "come to Klondike Bridge." We went to see a never to be  forgotten sight of thousands of cariboo swimming the river on their way to  northern pastures.  After a year or two mother began to think that Monica and I should go  outside to a boarding school to have the rough edges of our manners polished  away. We did not agree. Mother's choice finally fell on "All Hallows" at Yale  on the Fraser. The information mother gathered about the school was far  from correct. At the school everything was colourless, discipline rigid, food  poor and the ruling sisters were bigoted to the extreme. Religion was  pounded into our ears almost hourly. Mother soon found out what was wrong  and back we were taken to Dawson.  School at Dawson was exciting, our teachers dedicated and very capable.  We soon discovered our level of education at Dawson was far ahead of All  Hallows and the time spent at All Hallows wasted. At one time a Rhodes  scholar was principal and one of the teachers was Beatrice Thompson, later  Beatrice Berton, Pierre's mother. Her book about Yukon Days, "I married  the Klondike" is a must.  One of the people we knew in Dawson was Joe Boyle, the "Klondike  King" who had brought in the largest gold dredge in the world.  Now before I use too many words to describe the delights and pleasures of  the Klondike and the impression it made on my soul I must jump to England  before World War I where I stayed with cousins.  One day at a Family pow-pow, Dad said, "Now Look! How would you like  to go to McGill in Canada to continue your studies?" I hesitated a moment,  then Dad continued. "Maybe you would rather go with Mother and Monica  to Budapest to the Royal Conservatory. You could continue there in music,  drama and language." Mother thought that Monica would be lonely without  me.  When we arrived at Budapest we found to our chagrin that tuition was in  Hungarian or German. There was no other. We loved Budapest but we only  stayed a few weeks until we found out the enrollment requirements at the  Royal Conservatory at Leipzig, Germany.  Leipzig had its university, Conservatory and Opera House. The teaching  was excellent but the city was drab compared with Budapest. Nearby  Dresden was far more interesting.  The German language pounded into me was later to stand me in good  stead. I gained proficiency in singing in German, Italian and French, also I  found confidence facing an audience.  After two years in Leipzig we decided to go to Berlin for private tuition.  Berlin was really a gay city in prewar days. We enjoyed it to the full. I've  always been grateful to Germany for the education and appreciation it gave  me for the finest music and the arts generally. For the equivalent of 25 cents  we sat in the top gallery of the opera house. There we enjoyed many of the  great operas.  In the meantime mother had returned to Dad in the Yukon early in 1912 24  leaving us with no real guidance. Fate worse than death brushed perilously  close on more than one occasion.  In no time it was 1914. War was near. Again and again in early spring we  were warned to get out of Germany before it came. We were too naive to  listen although the warning came from German friends who knew the score.  It became very disturbing, that summer less than two weeks before war was  declared we left for England to our cousins there. We even left our cash in  Berlin, took only summer clothes and it was not until February 1915 that we  got our trunks which our kindly Berlin landlady had packed and forwarded,  at our suggestion, to Ed Bradenburg, brother of a Swedish sea captain we  knew.  We were still in England late in 1917 when we received an invitation from  Colonel Joe Boyle, D.S.O. to have dinner with him at the Savoy Hotel. How  proud we were to hear from a well known Yukoner again. Our finances did  not support such luxury. It was truly a gala evening right from the moment  the cab arrived at our flat in Ladbrook Grove. What should I wear? My  choice was rather limited, but I did have an attractive blue evening dress; it  had an overdress of a slightly paler georgette, on each shoulder a butterfly. It  was quite becoming to a tall blonde with bright blue eyes. Over that I draped  a large lynx cape, to keep out the autumn chill. I felt like Cinderella even  though my prince charming was fiftyish. He had the irrestible Irish charm.  He looked years younger. He was in uniform and I noticed that his badges  were fashioned from Yukon gold.  Heads turned as we were escorted to our table. British officers and others  came over to greet him as the evening progressed. "Whose heads have you  turned lately?" He asked. I just tried to look demure and said nothing.  "Are you singing at concerts this fall?" "Yes!" I replied. "Come tell me!"  "Last year all the concerts at which I sang were directed by Mr. J. Hedley.  Then in March I sang in Queen's Hall. It was under the patronage of Queen  Alexandra." "What do you want to do with your singing?" he asked. "I  think I want to go on the stage either here or in New York," I replied. "My  sister wants to concertize too." "You will both succeed" he encouraged.  Soon Colonel Boyle turned, "I must tell you how disturbed I was to hear  of your brother's death. Your Barkley was a brilliant lad." He was at the  University of Nevada.  The news of Barkleys death from a burst appendix had greeted us on  arrival in England. Colonel Boyle continued. "After this is all over I would  like to find a quiet spot, maybe in British Columbia. Perhaps in the  Okanagan where other Yukoners have settled."  "Strange you should have said that," I replied. "Mother and Dad have  just bought a place there. They had heard so many favorable comments  about the country. Now, don't laugh. Mother had the down payment on the  orchard land." "No! Tell me," said the Colonel Boyle.  "Well! It seems," I said, "that on one occasion when Dad had been living  it up with the boys at Dawson and gambling on the roulette wheel, (This was  before the police closed them down). Dad came home with his pockets  bulging, money in every pocket. He was not feeling any pain apparently and  mother collected the spoils, several hundred dollars. She banked it in her  name. Next day when Dad inquired, not sure whether he had won or lost,  mother kept mum. So you see Colonel, Dad's winnings became the first  payment on an Okanagan orchard."  Not long after this dinner we received a letter from home to say that war  torn Europe was no place for us and that mother would soon come to take us 25  home. It was now 1917 and the depredations of German submarines were  becoming alarming to British authorities.  In September 1917 we had passage on the S.S. Metagama. We were, of  course, scrutinized as we boarded the ship. Here I had, what was to me an  alarming adventure. Tucked away under my dress was a photograph of an  Hungarian officer whom I had met in Budapest. It must be admitted I had  quite a crush on him. His name was Bela Kennedy whose ancestors had come  at the invitation of Empress Maria Therese to serve in the armed forces. I  must have looked guilty or resembled somebody the authorities sought. I was  told to go to my cabin and stay there until I was searched. Perhaps I was  unduly alarmed but taking no chances I dodged into the washroom on my  way to my cabin and flushed my precious picture away.  On our way down the Mersey, lifeboat stations were assigned and we were  shown the way to put on a lifebelt. Otherwise life on shipboard proceeded in  quite normal manner. British people had not been made fully aware of the  German menace and even the sinking of the Lusitania, May 7, 1915, never  greatly emphasized in England, had largely faded away and while the danger  of submarines was more generally known in Canada it did not prevent our  intrepid mother from sailing to England to bring her two daughters home.  Usual shipboard entertainment was followed and soon after sailing I sang  at an evening concert. After my encore, I was complimented by a Canadian  officer. He introduced himself, Arthur Richard MacCleave, major in the  63rd Halifax Rifles. He was returning to duty as Fortress Intelligence Officer.  Major MacCleave, smart in his well cut uniform, looked the typical British  officer. He was of more than average height. His hair, short and wavy, with a  close clipped mustache which complimented his ruddy, healthy complexion.  His eyes were brown, friendly, and generous to a degree which I found out  later.  It was not long before I learned that it was more than my singing voice  that attracted him. I was at the time a honey blond, my skin has been  described as peach-like, my eyes were a deep blue and I have been described  as beautiful.  Later in the evening, while dancing, I felt a deep attraction. And as  shipboard romances develop quickly I felt sure I had found my man. Mac, as  I soon learned to call him, was ten years older than I. He had been through  the terrible explosion in Halifax earlier that year - 1917 - and had been injured. I learned, too, that he was married but that things were not going well  and that the alliance would end soon.  By the time the voyage ended we were pledged to one another but not  until we parted at Halifax did Mac kiss me.  Mother, Monica and I stopped a few days in Ottawa visiting relatives.  The intention was, of course, to return to Dawson, but I had other ideas and  while Mother and Moncia went back I stayed and secured a job in the post  office where my knowledge of German was put to full use. Another reason  was to be nearer Mac. At first I was shocked by the lack of good music,  drama and arts in Canada. After six years in Europe it was amazing. Ottawa  was a cultural desert; and the petty rivalries among the civil servants  reminded me of a pail of serpents each trying to get his head above the  others.  By the time the war ended in 1918 I had saved a little money. I went to  New York hoping for a chance to perform on the stage. Mac was teaching  there at New York College.  After finding suitably inexpensive lodgings near Columbus Circle, where 26  many theatrical people lived, I was eventually accepted for a series of Gilbert  and Sullivan productions. At the opening in the Plymouth Theatre in Boston  I had one of the principal parts, that of Mabel in the "Pirates of Penzance." I  enjoyed it all. Next I played in the Mikado and later in "La Belle Helene" by  Offenbach.  The theatrical profession offers only a precarious living even for the  talented. To eke out an existance I even posed for an English artist named  Archie Gynn. He was understanding and his advice valued.  Through the years, as I could manage, I took singing lessons from Elsa  Hirschberg, a soloist in a Jewish synagogue. Also a teaching assignment to  Polish people helped to keep the wolf from the door. Then came the Actors  Equity strike which resulted from intolerable working conditions and this  was enough to call a halt to living in New York.  By this time my parents were living in the Okanagan and after they  sensed that I was discouraged by New York it needed only a nod for me to go  to the Okanagan.  My cousins, Jack and Dave Craig, of Arnprior were leaving for Summerland and they suggested that I travel with them. The journey across, the  continent refreshed memories of the trip in 1903 when on my way to Dawson.  At Sicamous we boarded a local train for Okanagan Landing and the S.S.  Sicamous for the glorious 80 mile trip to Penticton. The Craigs disembarked  at Summerland and at Penticton ten miles further Dad, whom I had not seen  for ten years awaited me with Mother and Monica. I was home. How wonderful it was to be together again. My luggage was loaded in the car and away  we went the 4 - 5 miles to the orchard not far from Dog Lake (it's Skaha now).  On the way home Dad pointed to the W.R. King store telling me that King  was another Yukoner. Dad was always an outdoor type man and never intended for sedentary work. He looked well but mother was a little drawn.  Mother said "We have become real farmers. We have many sorts of fruits  and nuts. Poultry too, a couple of dogs and a cat." Dad interrupted to tell of  the geese which flew between the two lakes.  "What are you doing, Monica?" I asked.  "I'm playing the organ at the Presbyterian church, and giving piano and  singing lessons."  "Elsie dear," Dad remarked, "you look a bit peaked, country life,  Okanagan sun and air will soon fix that." And so we drove along, talking  excitedly, to the turn off at Valley View road. The house was just started,  there were frame tents, but the north had inured us to that style of living.  Planting the orchard was a never ending job but the fishing, boating and  swimming were fabulous.  I did not stay in the Okanagan long. In March 1922 a telegram from  Sacramento, California read: "Obstacles removed, stop, Have appointment  from California Highway Commission as Resident Engineer for Modoc  County beginning Apr. 1. stop. Wire date and time of arrival, Mac."  My heart was flooded with joy. Telegram in hand I dashed around to find  Mother and Dad. Mother remonstrated; "Elsie dear, I'd hoped you would  have a quiet home wedding." a pang ran through me, yet this was the hour I  had waited for.  It did not take me long to reply, nor many days to collect my belongings.  Spring seemed to rush at me as the train rolled through the beautiful states  of Washington and Oregon.  Sacramento, California did not look exciting but Mac was there to meet  me. That was all that mattered. We had a quiet civil wedding and two of 27  Mac's friends were married at the same time.  "Mac," I asked, "where is Modoc County where you are posted. How do  we get there?". "It's a high plateau," Mac replied, "something like Nevada,  almost a desert and only a short distance from Mount Lassen, a quiescent  volcano."  "That seems exciting," I replied. I did not listen to those who told me it  was the land God forgot.  "You'll live in a tent," Mac said, "and be the only woman for miles  around. The Highway Department will provide us with a car, not a luxury  car, but a car!" One day on our way to Alturas it exploded with a bang. That  was that. The Department gave us another, a better one, but not much  better.  Mac's work was engineer in charge of a section of new road construction  and bridges over a branch of the Pitt River. By September the work was  done, the crew put into winter quarters at Dunsmuir and Mac was transferred to Los Angeles where the work did not suit him. Learning of  vacancies in the City of Los Angeles engineering department staff Mac  applied for work and was accepted.  We found a place to live in Glendale. We soon began to build a house,  but that is another story. In the meantime Mac's health became  troublesome; an aftermath of injuries received at the time of the Halifax  explosion when Mac was literally blown through a brick wall.  As soon as we were settled, I began to look around for a job. The British  Consulate seemed to be the proper place to learn the names of importers and  exporters, places where my knowledge of languages would be of value. While  job hunting I did manage to get a fair number of professional singing  engagements at dinner clubs.  At the Consulate one day the receptionist answered my query sweetly, she  told me she was leaving soon and suggested that I apply for her job. This  sounded ideal. She introduced me to the Consul, Mr. Godfrey Fisher. Can  you type, he asked? I had misgivings since I had done very little since  Dawson days.  Soon after I began work Mr. Fisher called me into his office "You are not  very good at typing and filing," he said. This is the end I thought. But he  continued, "I am going to send you out on field work and that will suit us  better. It will mean visiting hospitals, jails and going aboard ships and places  where British citizens are in some sort of trouble and need help and advice."  One of my first assignments was to the Los Angeles jail, where a  Canadian girl was held on a charge of assault and battery. She was very  reticent until after she learned I was from Arnprior in Ontario, then she told  me her trouble. I had many such experiences and though I say so myself I did  my work to the satisfaction of the Consul and was pleased at the way I was  able to bring help. On one occasion, when American intolerance nearly  brought an East Indian to the scaffold without proper trial, we were able to  insist on fair play with the result the man was released. On another occasion I  pleased Mr. Fisher when I showed him a bottle of Scots whiskey that I had  smuggled from a British ship.  Although Mac was born in New York, both his parents were Canadian.  When he was quite young they returned to Canada and at Halifax Mac  received public school education followed by graduation in engineering at  Dalhousie.  When ill health and pressures closed in on him we held a serious  discussion. 28  "Do you think," Mac said, "we could return to Canada, maybe Vancouver Island? I don't think we can continue here. Up there we could build a  small house, live off the land and the sea. Eventually we would find  something to bring in a bit on money."  It was really a difficult decision we finally made, to leave security and our  Glendale house and go into the unknown. The little nest-egg we had gathered  would not last long.  Soon we piled our belongings into the car and set out for Vancouver  Island. At Victoria we sought advice, only to learn that the north end of  Vancouver Island, even in 1932 was largely an unknown land. However,  nothing daunted, we set off from Port Alberni, where we stored our car,  boarded the good ship, S.S. Maquinna and sailed for Quatsino Inlet. I have  since wondered why we chose Quatsino. Perhaps because it was almost at the  northern tip of Vancouver Island and the Maquinna could go no further  except to the open sea.  The weather was delightful. We enjoyed every minute, all the little ports  and stops along the way. But this is not the place to describe the delights of  the island studded waterway. Sufficient to say the breath of the sea brought  serenity. Happiness glowed in Mac's face.  Soon after landing at Coal Harbour we met Frank Hole, one of four  brothers living on the Inlet. We told him we intended to build a house boat  and anchor it in one of the small bays. When Frank learned that Mac was a  civil engineer he had visions of more roads.  "Well!" Frank said soon after we began to understand each other, "you  will need logs for your raft. I'll haul them for you as soon as you decide where  you want to live. Lumber will be no difficulty. I suggest you look over Coal  Harbour, find lodgings at the hotel and I will be there in the morning to show  you around and help you locate."  The Hole family deserves much space in my tale. They were our salvation.  I do not know how we could have got along without them, their help and  advice. The father, Albert Edward Hole was a gentle voiced man from  Somerset, England. His wife Clarice, a big woman, was from South Africa, a  descendant of Boers who trekked into the Transvaal. They landed on the  lonely, storm swept shore at the tip of Vancouver Island in 1912. There were  eight in the party including a six week old baby and a boy of four. The live  stock they brought was dropped into the sea, forced to swim ashore. Their  baggage and supplies landed on the beach; it was raining. The old folks are  gone now but the boys are still there. They have prospered.  After exploring Holberg Arm and Alice Arm we decided that Coal  Harbour had the most to offer, there was a well stocked store close by. Soon,  with the help of the Holes, we collected the logs for our float. One day Mac  said to me "We are ready to build the float, we'll let the tide lift them into  place."  I wondered but said nothing. I just watched and as the tide rose the logs,  guided with pike poles, were neatly arranged.  There were a number of box like cabins on floats around the inlet. They  did not suit Mac. Ours must have curved sides shaped like a boat. After  completion it had a 14 by 16 living room, two or three steps up to a  bathroom, a small bunk room on the left all topped by a pilot house.  The natives kept a close eye on our project, the layout astonished them  and they admired the pilot house filled with books, instruments and tools.  They wondered, too, why a man with this sort of technical knowledge would  elect to live on the inlet. And to tell the truth there were times when I won- 29  dered too.  Living was quite easy; the surrounding land was fertile. Vegetables like  potatoes and carrots grew well, the sea was bounteous, in the bush there were  deer and grouse. In the meantime Mac's health was improving. On the other  side of the page our scanty savings were running low. It was very clear that  our life of easy living would soon come to a close and we would be forced to  find use, somewhere, for the skills with which we were both endowed.  One day, after Mac registered with the B.C. Civil Engineering Society, he  received a letter asking if he would be interested in being appointed  superintendant of a Government Unemployment Camp. The camp was at  Mount Olie on the North Thompson, it's Little Fort now. At that time - 1932  - there were literally thousands of unemployed. Hungry men were wandering  all over the Province. Every train was loaded with men on the move, inside  and on top of freight cars and many on foot. Any offer of a job was something  to grab, it was a rough time for everybody. Camp life, such as it was, went  along smoothly in spite of unrest and flareups. Here Mac's military experience stood him in good stead.  I will pass over the next two years. These were interesting times, the  people were interesting too, characters if you like, struggling to make a go of  ranching, running a small store or a gas station. But this is not the place to  discuss either the camp or the people, except to say that we made several fast  friends we learned to enjoy and who have remained friends to this day.  Towards the end of the 1934 season it was clear that the unemployment  camp was about to be closed. One evening while sitting in the Reid's cosy  kitchen the talk turned to placer gold. Bob Reid talked wildly about grub  stakes and that sort of thing. After Mac had tidied up the affairs of the camp  we were inveigled to go searching placer gold in the Adams Lake country. It  was a rough trip, the fishing great, we shot enought grouse for the pot and  enjoyed the wonderful scenery. But as for gold, there were colours, but that  was as far as it went.  Probably the trip would not have had allure for me except for my perpetual love for the north. The gold fever never seems to leave the veins of an  old sourdough. A few days after our return to Mount Olie in 1935, Mother  and Dad drove in from Penticton. To tell the truth I felt rescued.  At the ranch again there was plenty of work to do and besides Monica  and I did get a few professional engagements.  In July 1935 Ellis Creek south of Penticton flooded, it washed out the  highway bridge on Main Street, beyond this little damage was done. But as a  result Mac was appointed Works Superintendant (for some reason he was  never called Town Engineer).  Mac could see clearly that Penticton was subject to floods that could well  be damaging (this did occur in 1942). In California it was the practice to  divert such a creek away from the downtown through land of lesser value.  Mac proposed diverting Penticton Creek into an enlarged Ellis Creek  channel. His scheme was opposed violently by Major Naish, who posed as an  authority on any engineering project. As a mathematician he was tops but  there was much else in the engineering line he did not know. One of his  arguments was that, since the good Lord had put the creek where it was, it  was not for mortals to interfere. Financial assistance was offered by the  Dominion Government but the ideas of Major Naish and his followers  prevailed. This was a grave mistake, more than half a million has been spent  to date, about double what would have been needed to follow Mac's  proposal. 30  In the summer of 1936 Penticton City Council sanctioned building a new  irrigation dam on Penticton Creek. Mac was appointed construction  superintendant. We spent a happy summer in the hills and when the dam  was finished we were proud of it.  The core of the new dam was puddled clay, a new technique in this area  but of common use in California. An extract from the Penticton Herald,  October 15, 1936 reads: "From what we have learned, the new Penticton  dam is likely to be a model for irrigation reservoirs in the Interior." It is  currently said to be a splendid example of fine engineering and excellent  workmanship.  Life went along happily for nearly two years until August 1937 when, with  no warning, the Council decided that it did not need the services of a full time  engineer. We tried not to feel bitter even though only a month's notice was  given. Perhaps, we thought, it was an effort to save some of the money  already spent by tinkering with Penticton Creek.  My sister, Monica, and I had been at the Banff School of Fine Arts for a  few weeks at the time of the Council decision. Monica was studying music,  and I, the theatre. It was our hope that together we could produce some less  demanding classic opera in Penticton. But at this moment was not to be.  On our return to the house boat on Quatsino we found the Holes had  done their caretaking well. They listened with interest to the recital of our  adventures over the last few years. They had all prospered and enlarged their  holdings on the shores of Coal Harbour since we had been away. "We're  canning our winter's store of salmon," Frank said. "If you would like to do  the same we would be glad to lend you our equipment. I don't suppose you  have your own yet."  "That's an excellent idea," Mac said "and while we are at it why not  order a quarter of beef from Vancouver and can that too?"  I could write reams about Coal Harbour. We made minor improvements  to the house boat. We hunted for the table and enjoyed wonderful fishing.  We had our books, our friends and life during the winter was peaceful and  uneventful.  When spring was around the corner and our savings getting low, the time  had come, once again, to look for something where my education and  training could be put to use.  At Vancouver I again stayed at the Moore's boarding house on the corner  of Bute and Melville where, in exchange for singing lessons, I had a tiny top  floor room and excellent board. One member of the household worked at the  Vancouver General Hospital. She suggested that I go there to look over  possibilities. I was taken on as a medical social worker right away. The first, I  was told, to be accepted without a university degree. Because I had been  employed as an administrator with the British Benevolent Society in Los  Angeles this requirement was waived .J worked there for three years. There is  much to tell. I had my ups and downs, moments of joy and despair but in the  main I enjoyed my work and the pleasures I was able to bring to my patients.  By 1939 it was clear that another war was in the offing. In case I could be  useful I decided to take a refresher course in German. My teacher was Baron  Horst E.V. Sayn Wittgenstein.  Language is not something static: it changes as time goes on. The Nazis  had added a number of new terms. If I was to be useful I must bring my  German up to date.  In autumn 1939 we were again at war. Early in 1940 I applied to the  Federal Government for war work quoting my studies in Germany and my 31  refresher course in Vancouver. One day I was summoned to report for a test.  My heart beat fast. I wondered if I could make the grade. I did.  In July 1941 I was taken on the strength of the Canadian Postal Censorship (Naval Section). The work was censoring incoming mail of German  Naval prisoners. It was anything but easy. However, in time I developed  almost a sixth sense as to what was concealed in simple sounding words. I  remember certain incidents very clearly, one was a message concealed in  walnuts. On another occasion we were put wise to a certain naval convoy  steaming up the Aftican west coast. Another stroke of luck occurred when  bags of mail intended for the German High Command were diverted to us  instead. These reached us at one of the more critical periods of the war.  As time went on we were coached by British experts. We were told about  micro film. We soon noticed that punctuation marks were larger and a bit  more shiny than usual; under them were messages. There were other means  such as invisible ink, pricking the paper with dots spelling words in code.  The Russians in our group were terribly disturbed when the Germans  invaded their home land with what seemed invincible speed. They seemed to  have taken the pact signed by van Ribbentrop and Stalin at its face value. We  had our disasters too, Singapore and Hong Kong. I had my own personal  disaster in 1941 when Mac passed quietly away.  In 1945 the Second World War ended. The staff made ready to go their  separate ways. In the past when necessity had prompted a return home there  were two sanctuaries, the float-house on Coal Harbour and the Okanagan.  This time I realized with a pang that return to Coal Harbour was not in the  cards. So it was Penticton again. I reached Kelowna on August 22 where my  cousin Lil Craig, told me that mother had died the day before, August 21. It  was a sad homecoming, Mother, in her 80's, had been failing for some time.  In her picturesque way she often said "I'm getting old and full of sleeps."  One afternoon she did not wake up.  There had been many changes in the little town since I had been away.  Our orchard showed much growth and fruit growing showed greater  stability. But Dad was getting old too. After a family discussion I secured Mr.  Richard Stocks of Kaleden to take over management. Mr. Stocks was an  expert and, while we had discussions over matters of policy, all affairs of  management were left in Mr. Stock's hands.  In December 1951, Dad became ill and only a week after his ninetieth  birthday he passed quietly away.  Neither my sister nor I had been blessed with children so soon after Dad's  death we decided to sell the property; John and Helen Edwards were the  buyers. They have remained friends over the years. In fact it it their prodding  that induced me to tell my story to you.  My sister, Monica, and I had much pleasure in staging several musical  productions in Penticton. We had good reason to be proud of them. The first  was "Forest Prince" with music based on Tchaikowsky, with, of course, a  Russian setting. Next year we did "Dido and Aeneas" by the great English  composer, Henry Purcell. We had an excellent small local orchestra, an  equally fine choral group and dancers from a dancing school. One of the  delightful dancers was Marcia Rowland, daghter of the Penticton Herald  Editor (now the publisher). Another little dancer, Deedee Washington,  daughter of the County Court Judge. Both dancers have advanced to wider  fields.  Apart from our activities in the musical field I became interested in the  Business and Professional Women's Clubs. I became the first Penticton 32  President and at the end of my term I rose to the dizzy eminance of  Provincial President.  Although I knew little about parliamentary procedure I managed to  squeeze by with the help of a book and a pair of questing eyes. I managed to  found eight new groups with a large outlook on life. There have been many  fine women in these clubs. One such was, Nora Arnold, former mayor of  Prince George, another the Hon. Nancy Hodges, first woman in the Commonwealth to become Speaker of a Legislature. She was Madam Speaker for  the Provincial Legislature.  One thing led to another. I accepted the opportunity to head the local  Tourist Bureau. Through my travels I knew the province well.  One of the most important aims of the B & PW is to interest women in  running for public office. I fell for this, too. My family was well known and  liked, and besides I was a political animal.  I had been elected president of the Cancer Society and for a year or two  had been in charge of the Penticton branch of the Okanagan Regional  Library. These activities had provided me with a background to offer myself  to run for a seat on the local council. I rather dreaded campaigning but when  the time came I enjoyed it.  I made no specific promises. I just told my audience the areas in which I  had a primary interest. When asked questions I could not answer, I said I  would find out. However, I let them know of my administrative experience in  the health and welfare field. Also, that I was an orchardist and would do all  in my power to further their interests and would work in tourist promotion.  To make a long story short I won the election in 1954 and served two two-  year terms. This was indeed an inovation, a woman on the city council. I was  the first in Penticton and no other woman has succeeded me.  When I won the election an alderman was heard to say, "What are we  going to do with that woman?" and the newspaper is quoted as saying,  "What is that woman going to do with us?", referring to the shock the  council received when the "all male sanctum" was invaded by a woman.  One rather amusing incident took place at a regional meeting of council  members from Revelstoke to Osoyoos. There were about 200 men there and  nary a woman. When I walked into the meeting I could feel the shocked  surprise. At this meeting one question arose for discussion, whether we  should discontinue being policed in our municipalities by the R.C.M.P. This  disturbed me. I had lived where judges and police were elected and often  vulnerable to bribery. I stood up and asked for the floor.  In effect, I said, "Gentlemen, let us think deeply over this. I was brought  up in the High Arctic where the R.C.M.P. ran a close second to the Almighty.  I would prefer to trust my life to the federal police where no local interference  could be brought to bear." The idea was dropped.  At the beginning of my term I decided to visit every city operation. At the  sewage disposal plant I was told that over the years I was one of the very few  aldermen who visited the plant, which, by the way, I found in competent  hands.  Another time I rode the garbage truck on it's rounds. This I was told was  a first. It was well run, too. Garbage at that time was hauled and dumped  along the top of Carmi Avenue for the rats and flies to enjoy. Some of it was  burned and the pall of smoke did nothing to add to our pretensions as a  tourist resort. I can claim that my suggestions resulted in land fill disposal  and the street leading to the site is known as MacCleave Avenue.  As all councils must, there are times when we had to make drastic 33  decisions about personnel. The day came when we had to decide whether to  renew the partly qualified head of the electrical department or whether the  time had come to engage a fully qualified electrical engineer. As I saw it the  ideas of those on the council opposed to the change were based on false  economy. Therefore I campaigned for a qualified engineer. The council  finally agreed and action was taken in 1956. I was happy when the staff later  commended me on my stand. We have no reason to regret the appointment  of Alan Amundson. This was one of the happier incidents of my term in  office.  I cannot pretend that I was not disappointed when I failed to win  re-election for a third term in December 1959.  During my war time censorship work I became interested in a singing  group. We met once a week to sing Russian songs. Russia was then our ally.  We enjoyed ourselves singing with phonetic symbols. I decided at this time to  go to night school to learn Russian. I spent a full year at the University of  British Columbia on Slavonic studies in general. I never regretted this  decision, what I learned was of great value when I went to Russia in 1966.  In the meantime I became interested in Civil Defense and was sent to  Ottawa for several staff courses at Arnprior Civil Defense College. Strange!  for it was here that I was farmed out for a few years when my parents first  went to the Yukon.  One of the necessities for our area that became apparent through my  Civil Defense activities was the need of another, call it an escape road, over  the mountains, to two small mining and lumbering communities of  Beaverdell and Carmi.  For nearly fifty years the local communities had been listening to  government promises which came to naught. Naturally the Chamber of  Commerce looked with eager eyes at the benefits that would accrue. With  these incentives I had the temerity to push for it, saying that in the land  where I was brought up, local citizens acted and the government would  follow. Apparently this made a hit, for soon after, while I was at U.B.C, a  man from Time magazine interviewed me. Subsequently in both Time, July  31,1964, and the Toronto Star Weekly, Jan. 2, 1965, articles appeared about  our "Do it yourself Road." There were pictures of me with my working tools.  Naturally I was quite flattered.  Finally a slash road was pushed through by Steve Stogre, ex-boxer, Jim  Watson, a filling station manager, S & M Motors and others, with money  help from the Chamber of Commerce. The provincial government did  nothing to improve it and shortly thereafter an excellent road was pushed  through from Kelowna to Rock Creek. Bear in mind of course that this area  was in the riding of the provincial premier and perhaps this may have had  something to do with it!  In January 1963, because of my community efforts, the local Chamber of  Commerce gave me a Community Service award of which I am very proud.  Anyone who has lived in the high north of Canada for any length of time  knows full well that the north lures one to return. Not perhaps to re-visit  childhood scenes, too often disappointing, but rather our great northland.  At the end of U.B.C summer school in 1965 I confided my plans to my  friend, Helen Edwards. She and her husband had bought our orchard in  1965.  "How will you go?" she asked. "Haven't you had enough of  mosquitoes?"  "Yes," I replied, "and that is why I am going in late August when they 34  will be pretty well gone."  "I will go Air Canada from Vancouver to Edmonton and then P.W.A.  down the MacKenzie to Inuvik. I will stop over at Fort St. John to see the  Portage Mountain dam under construction."  I left on August 26, 1965, the whole trip was superb, except on the last  day at Inuvik, September 5, it snowed a bit.  I toured the dam and because my late husband had been a civil engineer I  was entranced by the magnitude of the job, it was thrilling to watch the giant  machinery. Then to Yellowknife on the shores of Great Slave Lake, vast and  beautiful. It shimmered golden in the sun and to the west the MacKenzie  mountains just glorious with snowy peaks.  One small incident I shall not forget was at the hotel in Fort St. John  where a touring group of Russian scientists were staying. While in the  elevator I tried my Russian, a simple enough greeting, "How are you?" They  were astonished and grim, they did not bother to reply.  The Yellowknife Hotel is equal to hotels elsewhere. The service excellent,  so is the food. I visited the Giant Yellowknife mine of Cominco and was  shown around by the mine engineer, A.D. Coggan of Summerland.  Mr. and Mrs. Coggan invited me to dinner, I was told much about the  northland, the importance of the fishing industry and the town of 3,500  people.  The Coggans had a garden, a real accomplishment since glacial ice had  swept the rocks bare. Almost every spoonful of soil scratched from here and  there was imported but, with lots of fertilizer and water, flowers and hardy  vegetables grew.  My time at Yellowknife seemed all too short but the visit confirmed my  belief that here was the real Canada. It is no pale imitation of someone else's  country. I would like to see us integrate our native people with the same skill  as the Danes have done in Greenland. But sadly I doubt whether our worship  of what is called progress will permit this. Before continuing my journey  down the MacKenzie I began to have qualms about having no reservations at  the MacKenzie Hotel at Inuvik. On inquiry I soon received the reply "No  Vacancy." I called on the R.C.M.P. for help. The officer with a twinkle in his  eye replied. I think you will make it all right. Go and talk to the Government  Agent, Tom Butters, as soon as you arrive.  The flight down the river was indescribably beautiful. The Richardson  Mountains to the west raised their lofty peaks and to the east the vast expanse of Great Bear Lake, some 12,000 square miles, shimmered with golden  beauty.  Immediately after landing I was driven to town where I hastened to talk  to Tom Butters, the Government Agent.  Among his many activities, Mr. Butters was publishing an intriguing  little paper "The Drum." It appeared in three languages English, Eskimo  and Indian. He inspired my confidence immediately by saying I was an  intrepid soul. I suspect he thought I was crazy.  Mr. Butters soon arranged for me to stay at Bishop Stringer's hostel for  Indian and Eskimo children attending school there. It was thrilling to watch  the children being flown from the four corners of the Arctic. The dear little  youngsters accepted me, they smiled back in their gentle selfconscious way.  Here they graduate from elementary school and continue either at Inuvik or  Yellowknife in various technical courses. There is at least one Eskimo, an  airplane pilot, flying in and out of Resolute Bay. I did want to go there too  and also to Tuk (Tuktoyaktuk) but the season was too far advanced. 35  One day after lunch I walked around the little town. I saw the buildings  set on stilts above ground so there was a breezeway underneath. This insulates the buildings so they do not sag into the permafrost.  Anyone going north should make sure to visit the little Catholic Church.  It is built in the shape of an igloo by an Oblate Catholic priest. It is beautiful.  How my walks brought back my childhood days in the Klondike! The  wild flowers and berries too which the children gather to sell to the hotel and  thereby earn a little spending money.  How I hated to leave this region with its pure air. We have quite forgotten  how clean air smells, how clean water tastes nor can we see, elsewhere, the  uncluttered sweep of a landscape of lake, forest and tundra.  In 1966 I decided to visit Russia. Many of my friends were horrified that  an elderly, unaccompanied woman would do anything quite so foolhardy.  "Why not?" I replied. After all I had spent a year at U.B.C. studying the  language and customs. I had also spent a number of summer sessions on the  language which gave me confidence unattainable without such a  background.  The tour was under the guidance of "Intourist" and the total cost apart  from luxuries, theatres, boat trips etc. was just under $1600.00. This included meals, all of which were covered by vouchers. God help you if you lost  those!  I left Penticton for Montreal on May 29, from there I sailed on the new  Russian cruise ship Pushkin. After about six weeks touring most of the  important Russian cities I returned to Canada aboard the same ship.  When boarding at Montreal, the officers at the gang plank picked up my  passport and one feels slightly abandoned without it. Passports are examined  closely and events such as birthdays carefully noted. When my birthday, June  10, came around a large birthday cake was served at dinner.  Fortunately I had no food prejudices for the menu was very different from  ours. If you want apple pie like Mom used to make, stay home! Lessons in  Russian given by one of the officers I found rather juvenile. One evening,  after the ship's crew put on a first class show, I asked my shipmates how they  would like some Russian music. We hear enough of our own rubbish at  home. They were willing.  When I approached the orchestra leader he was delighted. He conjured  up a young man with a splendid voice. After that and for the rest of the  voyage, the orchestra put their whole hearts into it. Their music and dancing  thrilled us. On the first night there was champagne on my table, a gift from  the captain.  During the voyage the weather was excellent. Our first stop was at  Tilbury, in the Thames. The next Copenhagen, where most of the day was  spent at Tivoli Gardens, then it was Helsinki. There we were taken on a tour  of the beautiful city and her many parks.  We reached Leningrad on June 10. I remained there three weeks. This  beautiful city on the banks of the river Neva, is the cleanest city I have ever  seen. At your peril is anything dropped on the street.  Leningrad was built by Peter the Great. One of the most famous  buildings is the former Czar's winter palace now the Hermitage Museum. It  houses one of the most marvellous collections gathered from the four corners  of the world.  Most of the terrible destruction of the last war has been cleaned up;  buildings rebuilt. We almost forget that in the 900 day siege by Hitler's  hordes more than 500,000 died of hunger, exposure, or were battle casualties. 36  From Leningrad we journeyed to Moscow where we visited Lenin's tomb.  At both Leningrad and Moscow we feasted on ballet and Theatre at prices  ridiculously low by our standards.  Step by step we proceeded south to Black Sea resorts. In the Crimea the  beaches were sandy like ours and in Souchi palms, oranges, lemons and figs  flourished. From Souchi we turned home via Kief. In spite of the many  fascinations, coming home from Russia was a bit like getting out of jail.  There had been so many curbs on our liberty. Let us be sure to treasure ours  and watch that it does not become licence.  Now I come to the crowning episode of my life. My heart leaped in 1967  when I received from the Canadian Federation of Business and Professional  Women's Clubs the United Nations' Fellowship Award for Canada to the  United Nations at New York.  This entitled me to attend the session there on the status of women for the  Elimination of Discrimination against Women.  I was not to be an observer, I was informed, I was expected to take part in  deliberations. No doubt my ability to speak in several languages helped me in  gaining this award.  Everything about the United Nations is grandiose; its buildings and its  deliberations fascinating. But, as an aside, I could not help wishing that U.N.  Headquarters were in some city other than New York. In my opinion it would  do a better job if removed from the conflict between the two great powers.  The United Nations buildings are on the east side of New York. The land  on which they stand is International ground having been donated by the  Rockfellar family. The U.N. issues its own stamps which are only valid on  mail posted in the U.N. building. I used to arrive early, get my pass and then  explore. The buildings themselves are wonderful, moving platforms,  escalators, stairways and corridors show one where to go. The decor and  decorations are in themselves worthy of examination, statues, pictures,  carvings are from the hands of great artists all over the world.  The ornamental doors at the entrance are a gift from Canada.  Fascinating, too, and a joy to watch, are the delegates from the four corners  of the world, many in colourful native costumes, as they each go to their  assignments.  Our particular group belonged to the Non-Governmental Organizations  section. These groups are the agencies that do the humanitarian work of the  U.N. and do it with a minimum of discord. Unfortunately there were no  similar delegations from Communist countries. Of the 130 or so nations at  that time in the U.N. only 32 had delegates at these humanitarian sessions.  Again I tried my Russian on delegates from the Soviet Union only to get  the silent, almost rude, treatment. I observed too that the Communist  delegates were under continual scrutiny from the party boss. One Communist delegate was reported to have said that our whole non-governmental  delegation should all go home as it served no useful purpose.  We took this rebuff as a joke after considering where it came from. I do  not think this could happen today for with the admission of China into U.N.  perhaps the two great powers may not have everything their own way.  The New York I had left 50 years ago, is no place to live, for one thing the  surly manners found everywhere take a lot of getting used to, this always  happens when people are crowded. San Francisco is and still remains my  favourite U.S. city. While at New York I wanted to go to the theatre but their  prices were quite beyond me. It was disturbing to find that few people stirred  out on the streets at night. What a sad commentary! Just before Christmas, 1971, Mr. Frank Christian, the incoming 1972  President of the Penticton Chamber of Commerce, phoned me to say that the  Chamber had voted to give me an Honourary Life Membership. This was of  course a delightful surprise. The framed plaque states that it was given "As  an appreciation of services and courtesies extended to the Chamber of  Commerce and the Citizens of Penticton."  In my thanks I said I hoped I would be able to live up to this.  Now the day is far spent. No subsequent event in my life could possibly  measure up to the moments at United Nations.  I shall write "Finis" to my Odyssey of eighty years.  SS Okanagan (on left) meeting SS Sicamous on the latter's maiden voyage near Gellatly bay.  (Photo credit Dorothy Gellatly) rev. a. McMillan  By Myrtie Reid  Rev. A. McMillan.  December 9, 1925 the first minister of the United Church of Canada  arrived at Rutland. Rev. A. McMillan served the three preaching points of  Glenmore, Benvoulin and Rutland, ministering to the people for eleven and a  half years.  Mr. McMillan was a tall spare man with blue eyes and a neatly trimmed  head of iron grey hair. His voice was quiet and firm. Pulpit thundering was  not his way; rather his sermons were produced by hours of fact finding and  Bible study, then delivered with conviction sometimes tempered with  compassion. I heard the sermon twice, in the afternoon at Benvoulin and in  the evening at Rutland. It was never exactly the same. His congregations  knew he never used notes - occasionally he quoted from a newspaper story  and always brought the clipping into the pulpit. His method was first to  decide what he must say and arrange his material then to concentrate on  those to whom he spoke. One occasion was particularly marked for me. At  one service he omitted a whole section of his sermon which had dealt with  divorce. When I inquired "Why?" He replied "When I saw Mr. and Mrs. —  there I could not use it. We must not judge, and the thing was done years  ago. Why should I hurt them now?"  His diaries are simple records of his daily work. He was always among the  people. Where there was sickness, invalidism, terminal illness, he was a  cheerful support strengthening the families involved. Where tragedy struck,  his sympathy was firm. Where human fraility brought anguish of mind he  was the quiet listener and would work tirelessly to help those involved. He  was sometimes the last hope of the destitute and there always seemed to be  something he could do without so that another's need could be met. No one  was ever turned away.  Under his ministry the three congregations moved through the depression  years. Youngsters became young people, many of them making their  marriage vows before him and bringing their babies for baptism. 39  Music was a joyous part of life for Mr. McMillan. He was a regular at-  tender at the Music Festivals and always encouraged his congregations to  form a choir, although it meant extra work and extra miles for him. More  than one young man learned to sing base or tenor with his help and encouragement.  Gardening was another of his joys - vegetables and flowers an equal  delight. All summer long he cut fresh blooms for the house and gathered  delicious vegetables for the table.  All nature was a delight to him - the constellations in their seasonal  places, the immensity of the distances in the span of the heavens, the violence  of the thunderstorm closing a spell of heat, the blaze of autumn, the rising  hills, birdsong at sunrise and sunset - all these were touched for him with  God's glory.  There was another interest he pursued - the Rutland Baseball Club.  Whenever the team played at home he was sure to be there.  Whenever a spare hour came his way he read - biography, history,  astronomy, Shakespeare, poetry and, perhaps reflecting his congregations'  rural life or his own boyhood on an Ontario farm, agricultural papers and  magazines. He was secretary of the Rutland Library Association when it was  first formed and was much pleased with the development of the Regional  Library, whose services he used regularly after his retirement.  He assisted the Scout-master at times by giving talks to the troop and by  testing applicants for various badges.  When the Rutland Dramatic Society was formed he made a point of  attending their opening nights. While he did not always appreciate the  vehicle chosen, he did enjoy the talent displayed.  A most important part of Mr. McMillan's life was his family. On May 1,  1912 he was married to Agnes Evans of Georgetown, Ontario. Courageous,  strong and kindly, Mrs. McMillan was the perfect helpmate, a gracious lady  of the manse. C.G.I.T. girls of those Rutland years will remember her  participation in the Good Friday hikes to the top of Bald Mt. and across the  Dillworth Mt. and the sharing of the crucifixion scriptures.  Mr. McMillan was born November 28, 1867, Confederation year, in  Sonya, Ontario. He graduated with a B.A. from Queen's University,  Kingston, Ontario in 1896 and later returned to complete his three years of  theological training in 1903. He was ordained by the Presbytery of Min-  nedosa meeting at Russel, Manitoba and inducted at Beulah, Manitoba.  As a student he had been sent to Trail, B.C. in 1896. His brief note of  instruction from Dr. James Robertson, D.D., Superintendent of Presbyterian  Missions in Manitoba, N.W.T., and B.C., reads in part: "The people of  Trail are engaged in mining and smelting ore. As well you will have points up  and down the Columbia River to care for. About these you will learn on the  spot." Years later a man met at one of those points became a member of his  Benvoulin congregation, Colonel Moodie. For both men much had happened in the intervening years.  From Beulah, Mr. McMillan was called to Elgin and then to Manitou,  where during the flu epidemic he helped to nurse the ill, bury the dead and  comfort the bereaved, until he too succumbed. Broken in health he moved  his family to Victoria, B.C. where his wife's careful nursing and the milder  climate aided in the recovery of a measure of health to enable him to again, in  the fall of 1921, take up the work of the ministry at Pender Island. In this  happy spot his health continued to improve and in the spring of 1924 he  again took on full time work in the Okanagan Landing charge. Here there 40  were four preaching points — Okanagan Landing, the Commonage,  Okanagan Centre and Winfield. In the good weather he drove on alternate  Sundays to Okanagan Centre and Winfield, but in winter he took the  Saturday boat to Okanagan Centre where he preached, and if weather and  roads permitted, someone would drive him to Winfield for another service.  He returned home on Monday's boat. It is hard now to visualize the difficulties of mud and gravel roads, but in wet weather the direct over-the-hill  route to the Commonage was impassable and he must go by Vernon, with my  Mother and myself ankle deep in mud laying down the gunny sacks in front  of the wheels. The chains would bite into it and with a great splatter of mud  we would make the steep rise. On those occasions a stop at the Bailey r_am  with the chance to wash up was much appreciated.  Along with the pastoral work Mr. McMillan was also active in Presbytery  and the B.C. Conference, serving on several committees and as Chairman for  a term of the Kamloops-Okanagan Presbytery.  In 1937 he planned to retire but instead took the single point charge of  Naramata where he worked until 1941 when Mr. and Mrs. McMillan came to  live in Okanagan Mission. For a time he served as a relief preacher taking  some services at First United Church, Peachland-Westbank and First  Baptist Church, Kelowna.  One of the joys of his brief retirement was the companionship of his  family, especially his grandsons. Again his violin sang to the delight of  childhood. Once years ago he had played it at a prairie social and a worried  old lady had begged him not to play. "Oh, Mr. McMillan, the Devil is in the  fiddle." "Well then," he said, putting it into its case, "let us try to keep him  there." Now it placed the love of melody in a small boy's heart.  Sunday, November 17, 1946 his morning devotional had included besides  the reading of his Greek testament, a devotional booklet "The Upper  Room." It was placed in his Bible at the 113 Psalm. The text for the day,  strangely appropriate, was "For David when he had served his generation by  the will of God, fell on sleep." 41  CHURCHILL  By: Winston A. Shilvock  "My gawd," said the airman standing below me, "that's Winston  Churchill."  From a vantage point of the porch of the Officers' Mess, I could clearly  see him as he rode along in the C.O.'s black sedan. He was leaning from the  front window waving the famous "V" for victory sign with his pudgy right  hand. Sticking out of his mouth was the equally famous cigar; and he looked  just like his "bull dog" pictures.  Members of the flying boat squadron operating out of Botwood,  Newfoundland, never expected anything like this to happen to them. Routine  Atlantic anti-submarine patrols had gone on for weeks; and except for an  occasional lobster feed or the everpresent rap rummy card game, things were  boring on the station. But this was something to get excited about!  Churchill had been in Washington for conferences with President  Roosevelt, and earlier that day of May 26, 1943, after his monstrous three-  decker flying boat had lifted off from the Potomac River, we were advised he  would land at Botwood for dinner.  It was 1830 hours and starting to get dusk when the car stopped in front  of the Mess. Churchill, wearing his beloved R.A.F. uniform, oozed out,  followed by the CO. escorting the rest of the party consisting of General  George C. Marshall, Chief of Staff of the U.S. Army, Field Marshall Sir Alan  Brooke, Chief of the Imperial General Staff, and General Sir Hastings  Ismay, Chief of Staff to the Minister of Defence (Winston Churchill).  Tossing aside the unlit, half-chewed cigar, Churchill moved slowly toward  the Mess between two lines of wildly cheering airmen, beaming and nodding  as he passed. A sergeant told me the next day Churchill kept repeating  "Good boys, good boys", as he walked by. Just before entering the building  he turned around to the men, stretched his arm high, and gave the "V" sign  again.  Our CO., obviously as excited as the rest of us, introduced me as  President of the Mess. Shaking my hand, Churchill took me by the arm and  introduced me to Generals Brooke, Ismay and Marshall. This was a bit  shattering to a lowly Flight Lieutenant, but I kept my aplomb enough to  present the party to the other officers of the squadron.  Then I asked if they would have a drink. Everyone accepted — except  Churchill! I must have looked somewhat incredulous for his reputation was  well established in the field of drinking. Leaning over, he whispered to me,  "Confidentially, I've had five or six on the way up." However, the sight of  everyone having a drink was apparently too much, and in a few minutes he  was busy with a scotch and soda. Before dinner he had three of them.  When I mentioned the incident to Commander CR. (Tommy) Thompson, Churchill's personal assistant, he laughed and said, "The P.M. is a holy  terror. On the flight up here, despite the 'five or six', he kept two secretaries  busy taking notes; and will probably keep them busy most of the night on  our flight from Botwood."  A Short Snorter is an airman who has flown an ocean and is entitled to  collect signatures of other Short Snorters on a dollar bill. If a Short Snorter is  asked to produce his bill and can't, he must pay the demander one dollar.  So, when one of the officers approached Churchill and asked to see his  bill, Churchill gave him a baleful look and then burst out laughing.  "Ah, ha," he chuckled, and reached into a pocket. "I was caught out last  year and it cost me forty-four dollars. You're not catching me this time. Here 42  you are."  Then moving quickly to a table, he sat down, perched his glasses on the  end of his nose, and looking over the top of them said, "Bring them on," and  signed every one of our bills.  Before going to dinner our guests were asked to sign the register. Sir Alan  Brooke was talking to an officer and didn't respond immediately, and  Churchill, who appeared anxious to get to the table, turned and called to the  Chief of the Imperial General Staff, "Brookie, come along and sign the  register."  "Yes, sir," responded "Brookie," and hastened over to sign.  It was indiscreet of me to ask Tommy, who was seated next to me, where  they were going, and I deserved the obvious answer, "I can't tell you."  German intelligence, however, wasn't quite so naive. While in the lounge  we'd listened to a news report which stated Churchill and Roosevelt had  retired for the night after an exhausting day. This gave us all a laugh, but it  wasn't so funny when several days later we learned that three hours after  Churchill landed at Gibraltar, the Germans, thinking they had his plane,  shot down an identical aircraft off the coast of Portugal, taking Leslie  Howard to his death.  The cook had excelled himself for this occasion, but I wasn't interested in  food, and my flow of questions to Tommy kept him busy trying to get a  mouthful. However, he was an amiable person, and, I think, a bit amused at  my eagerness.  "Does Winston Churchill really work as hard and sleep as little as we're  told?" I asked.  "Yes, that's true. The P.M. begins his day about eight or nine in the  morning, works until lunch time, puts in another hour of work, and then goes  to sleep for an hour and a half. No matter what's going on he sleeps that hour  and a half. Then he, and I may add, no one else, gets any rest until well into  the next morning. It's so bad in fact that now I take one night and the first  private secretary takes the other."  After a few more bites of food, Tommy came back to my question. "At  home he has six secretaries — he only brings two with him on trips — and  keeps them going continuously boiling down the flow of information so he  can get the gist of things as quickly as possible."  Pause for another mouthful, and then, "However, he does draft all his  own work and writes his own speeches."  Appearing as though he hadn't a care in the world, Churchill was seated  three places from me, chatting amiably with the CO., and it was amazing  that a man of 68 with all the problems he had should look so well. The Air  Force blue of his uniform suited him — in fact it seemed to bring out a  certain vitality — and accentuating the overall effect was the left breast of  the tunic which was solid with varicolored ribbons, topped by white R.A.F.  wings.  "The Prime Minister certainly has an immense array of ribbons," I  commented to Tommy. "There is hardly room for the wings."  Chuckling, Tommy said, "He made room for the wings. And that was an  occasion! When he had that uniform made there were so many ribbons the  wings were very high, and one of them was covered by the lapel. When the  P.M. saw that he went into quite a tantrum and insisted the ribbons be  rearranged to allow the wings full exposure. He's very proud of them and  they must be in full view. Rather odd, too," he mused, "for he really doesn't  like flying." 43  "It's difficult to imagine him in a bad mood the way he is tonight."  "Well," replied Tommy, "he does get very angry at times, and it doesn't  matter who it is, he can give a first-class lacing down; but the storm soon  blows out and he gets over it immediately.  With dinner over, brandy and cigars were passed. Our fifteen cent stogies  were the best I'd been able to round up, and it was with some trepidation that  I saw Churchill take one.  "Do you think the P.M. will mind our brand of cigars?" I asked.  "Not at all. He prefers his own brand, but as long as it's a cigar he'll be  happy."  My relief at this news was short-lived. Churchill lit the cigar, took a  couple of puffs, held it out and looked at it, took another couple of puffs —  then dropped it in the ash tray. That does it, I thought. Tommy must be  wrong. But he immediately picked it up and puffed merrily on. I'll never  know if he really enjoyed it or was just being a good sport.  A half dozen of us, including Churchill, were the first to re-enter the  lounge, and when a lull ensued for a few moments I took the opportunity to  tell him my father, who'd been in the Boer War, was so great an admirer of  him that I'd been named "Winston."  "Good boy," he said, patting me on the back.  With the advantage of this familiarity I asked him for his signature as one  "Winston" to another, and turning about he walked to the writing desk and  signed his name on a piece of paper. That signature is now one of my most  prized possessions.  Only the three most senior army officers had been invited for dinner, so  when we were almost finished, I asked Churchill if he would mind if the other  army officers were invited.  "That's fine," he said, "but I'm a bit tired and would rather not meet  them individuallv."  I assured him that wouldn't be necessary, but when they did arrive shortly  after we returned to the lounge, he immediately walked over to the group and  shook hands with every one.  With thirty minutes left to take-off, the CO. asked Churchill if he would  say a few words to us. As we gathered around him in a semi-circle, he stood  with his back to the fireplace, hands clasped behind him, and began with a  few generalities. Then he got onto the Nazis. His hands jerked forward, his  chin stuck out and his eyes blazed, and it was almost unbelievable how he  seemed to make a schizophrenic change to a fighting bull dog in a full fury as  he spat out N-a-a-a-z-z-i-s with all the venom and hate he had for Hitler.  General Marshall was one of the most likeable, approachable persons one  would ever want to meet, and I had to keep remembering to call him "Sir,"  for he seemed too human to be Chief of Staff of the U.S. Army.  We had a good laugh when he told the story on himself of how his  daughter, who had recently had a baby in Washington, couldn't get help; so  for several mornings he got up at 0500 hours and became O.C of washing the  baby's diapers. He was relieved of duty when the wife of the Assistant  Secretary of War, who had been a nurse, took over.  Churchill decided he wanted to walk to the aircraft, and with his permission, the station was alerted in order to let everyone have a farewell view  of him. With a cigar in his mouth he strode onto the Mess porch, and when a  spontaneous three cheers erupted, he beamed all over and raised his hand  again with the "V" sign.  Occasional stops to chat and shake hands prolonged the walk, and the 44  cigar, now well-chewed, was tossed aside. The next day an airman proudly  showed me its remains encased in a glass vial.  Although we had only been together two and a half hours, it seemed as  though we were saying goodbye to close friends. When the party had arrived  we were all scared silly, never having encountered such high "brass" before,  but within ten minutes they had put us completely at ease, especially  Churchill and Marshall. Neither could be considered big in stature, but in  courtesy and consideration they were the "biggest" men I've ever met.  The final touch came when, as we neared the ramp, a nursing sister  showed me her autograph book and said, "I guess I brought this for  nothing."  "Go ahead and ask him," I said. "All he can do is say no."  She caught up with Churchill as he was about to board the aircraft, and I  saw him turn around, stopping everyone behind him, and sign the book.  Then turning to Marshall, he said something and passed the book to him.  A small thing, but two "big" people had made one "little" person very  happy.  WHAT USE TO FLEE?  As I remark how gather day by day  My friends across the bank away from me  O'er fog-bound river where we may not see,  But add to swollen torrent tears that pay  Our one-way crossing that we cannot stay  Or haste by prayer or wrath. What use to flee  This thinning of the ranks? I am the tree  He will hew down in time to bridge the way—  Save that our loss could ne'er affect the world  When all we love foregather on one strand.  I fain must here bethink He ends the fate  Of those in goodness born, and if He hurled  In anger on the godless, His the hand  That will remould them at some later date.  Guy Victor Waterman 45  THE FINLAISONS OF SHUSWAP FALLS  By: Mrs. Rosemary Deuling  Finlaison Ranch, about 1901.  L to R: Unknown man, Fanny, Dorothea, Fred, George, Paddy Ireland, Bill Chesterfield, and  J.J. Cargill.  Above: Mrs. Fred Finlaison and her sister Dora Cartwright.  Even before Teddy Roosevelt made a ranch holiday popular for city  "dudes," wealthy Europeans, especially the English, felt that a big-game  hunt in the wilderness of Western America, was the in-thing of the 19th  century. The great expense of such a trip never ceased to amaze Fred  Finlaison who declared after one grizzly bear hunt with some Englishmen,  "It costs them $2,000 to hunt a grizzly, but not one of them could hit the  barn door at twenty paces. I have to shoot the bear for them so they can take  home a trophy!" Frederick Kelmar Finlaison, hunter, guide, outdoorsman,  rancher and family man, was not in the guiding business so much for the  money as for his love of the mountains. Whether it was hunting, camping or  a survey party, it was all the same to him. It was the love of living in the wild  that drew him to the Okanagan from his home in Victoria with T.S. Gore,  who was surveying for the S. and O. Railroad.  Fred was the third of twelve children born to Charles Stubbert and Jane  Finlaison. His father could trace their family tree back to the clan of  Fionlaidh Mor MacFhearchor of Braemar, the Standard Bearer at the Battle  of Pinkie Clough in the year 1547. In a memo written by Charles Stubbert  about 1900, he stated: "My father, Wm. Finlaison (or Finlayson) used to tell  me as a boy about him and also go back on the line till he came to Macbeth  and I remember my mother telling him once that he said that Macbeth was  not a very creditable ancestor.  The children born to Stubbert and Jane were: Walter Herbert - April 19,  1865; Charles William - October 20,1866; Frederick Delmar - December 29, 46  1868; Edward Ovenden - November 4,1870; Alexander Holmes - October 22,  1872; Arthur Richardson - May 3, 1874; Ronald Kingmill - October 12,  1875; Anselm Hammond - July 19, 1877; Catherine Charlotte - December 9,  1878; Frances Cecilia and George Lee - 1881; Clement Selwyn - May 12,  1885.  Victoria was not the staid city it is known as today and must surely have  qualified as a frontier town. Fred and his brother Charlie, who was with the  Postal Service in Victoria, were very close brothers. Charlie could count on  getting a rise out of Fred with his claim that he remembered the day Fred was  born. A bristling Fred had to remind him there was only 22 months between  them and Charlie just wasn't smart enought to remember that far back!  After finishing with the Gore survey party, Fred worked for a time on the  Ellison, Vernon and BX ranches. A taste of this life was all it took to make  him want a ranch of his own; so after making inquiries at the Government  Office as to available land, he trekked to Trinity Valley where he filed a preemption on the same land later taken by Vernon Leslie Eden Miller. One  winter of deep snow, and he abandoned that land in favor of the bottom land  just below Shuswap Falls. The first pre-emption was made on the southwest  quarter of Section 13, Township 40 in November of 1890 by Charles who was  his brother's silent partner on the ranch during Fred's days there. This was  followed by taking most of the northwest quarter of the same Section in  March of 1896 in both their names; then the adjoining northeast quarter of  Section 14 and two quarters in Section 23 in 1900 in Fred's name.  First things first - Fred built himself a small log cabin up on the hill. The  old road to Shuswap Falls at that time was on the bench above the present  road. There was a little clearing to be done, enough to get logs for the cabin  and clear paths to the road and the water supply. The major portion of the  land clearing was contracted to a Mr. Martin. One of the near neighboring  families was Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Cartwright with their sons William and  George, and five lovely daughters; Fanny, Amelia, Mary, Josephine and  Dora. Once Fred started courting Fanny, he knew she could never live in his  bachelor quarters, so commenced work on a larger frame house. Fanny Daisy  Cartwright was born January 1st, 1875 in Winnipeg and came with her  family to the west. Her father was a carpenter by trade and worked on the  building of hotels for the CPR at Banff and Sicamous. He then worked on the  building of the Kalamalka Hotel in Vernon and on its completion, preempted land near Shuswap Falls, later moving to another pre-emption on the  far side of the Falls.  Fanny Cartwright and Fred Finlaison were married in Kamloops in 1893,  and the bride was taken to her new home at Shuswap Falls. It was the same  story of the good pioneer wife told and retold many times. "The Good  Pioneer Wife" was one who looked like a girl, acted like a lady, thought like a  man and worked like a dog! One great difference for Fanny was that because  of Charlie's financial assistance, they did not suffer so much from the lack of  ready cash as did most of the settlers. Fanny had oil lamps rather than  having to make her own candles, but had the candles on hand for  emergencies, such as when they ran out of oil.  Their children were: Fanny "Dot", born October 29, 1893; George, born  May 2, 1895 and Dorothea, born July 27, 1897. The girls can recall their life  on the ranch as being a happy time. They had trips to "town" and to Victoria  and Kamloops. When Fanny turned six years old, she and her cousin  Florence Warner, were sent to Kamloops to stay with their aunt and to attend school. As more school-age children arrived in that vicinity, Fred and 47  his wife's brother-in-law, Fred Warner, built the first school house at  Shuswap Falls in 1903. It still stands today, a chicken-house on the farm of  Frank Stephenson. Miss Harrington was the first teacher and boarded with  the Finlaisons for $15 per month. The first pupils included the Warner,  Sigalet, Albers' and Powell children. Later they were joined by Howard and  Ralph Lawrence and the Montgomerys. Succeeding teachers that the two  girls can remember were Miss McArther (who became Mrs. Ormsby), Miss  Renouff, Miss Bell, Miss Fry and Miss Fullerton.  As did all the children of that day and age, chores were assigned as soon  as they were capable of handling them. With his father gone so often on  various trips to the bush, George naturally assumed farm work at an early  age. The girls helped around the house, learning how to bake and sew;  helped with the garden, fed the chickens and pigs and milked the cow and  churned the butter. Fun and relaxation was riding over the river to visit  Beaverjack Woodward, or hiking to the Montgomery's to see the grave of  Beaverjack's father. They also enjoyed visiting with the Indians who came  every year to trap and smoke salmon just below the Falls. As more land was  cleared and cultivated, hay crops had to be sown and harvested. Cattle were  brought in for raising beef, but most of all, Fred was proud of his fine horses.  Almost from the beginning, Fred showed in many ways his kindness to  others and his willingness to help anyone. It was he who loaned W.G. Procter  a horse so that he could explore the land beyond the Falls; it didn't matter  that Procter was a stranger — he needed a horse. Their home soon became  known as "The Half-Way House" a place to stop and rest and be sure of a  welcome either going to or coming from town. Many was the time Sailor Jack  was driven home from a party, slept it off at Fred's, fed, chided and sent on  his way home at Squaw Valley until he became so bushed another binge was  an absolute necessity.  In 1917 disaster struck as it did with so many pioneers. An over-heated  stove burned the house, completely destroying it. The log barn still in use  today was under construction at the time, but work on it was suspended until  a new home was completed. This house is the home now of Karl and Birget  Laursen and their two children. John Procter and Sailor Jack Conlon were  two who helped in the building while the brick chimney was built by Morris  Brothers.  Although ranching was his full-time occupation, Fred Finlaison is best  remembered and was most noted as a hunting and camping guide. Every fall  he had a hunting party out for two or three weeks. They would ride up Nelson  or Park Mountains, mainly for grizzly, but for moose, deer and game birds  too. His crew included Fred Warner as camp cook, and often Paddy Ireland,  Bill Chesterfield and Sailor Jack as assistants. Besides the hunting every fall,  Fred would occasionally guide and outfit camping and survey parties, at  other times of the year. His clients came from all parts of Canada, the United  States and England. Mrs. Finlaison also enjoyed hunting and fishing. Her  break from the daily grind was to take her small rifle and go off to see what  there was around to hunt. When the salmon were running, she caught her  share for dinner or canning. Fred kept up his trail riding and hunting treks  until ill-health forced him to retire. On his last trip on Nelson, he met some  neighbours who joined them for a meal. Fred had so much stomach trouble,  he wasn't able to eat with them, but made sure there was plenty of good food  for all. He sat apart, eating nothing, but said, "Don't worry about me. I'll  make out alright."  As his illness became worse, Fred's first thought was for the comfortable future of Fanny. He bought a new house in Lumby and told her it was for her  so she could always be sure of having her own roof over her head. Frederick  Delmar Finlaison passed away in Vernon Jubilee Hospital on June 8th, 1933,  in his 65th year.  More and more, hunting is motorized today, with trail bikes and  snowmobiles taking the place of horses. But the romance provided by Fred  Finlaison's parties is missing.  Grizzly Hunting Party on Nelson Mountain - L to R:  Sailor Jack Sonlin and Bill Chesterfield.  The Great White Hunter, Fred Finlaison, 49  FROM HOPE TO KOOTENAY  Submitted by: Barbara Lawrence  (from an old newspaper clipping)  The trail from Hope to here is fit for bears, wolves or foxes. It winds like  the twist in a cork screw from base to summit of a thousand mountains and  travelling over it you are always on the edge of precipice. The summits of the  mountains sometimes appear like islands in a sea of clouds which kindly hide  the depths to which you must descend if your horse makes a false step on the  rocky path, which is in many places a foot wide.  The system of hiring men by the week to keep the trail in repair is a bad  one and expensive. Money could be saved and a good pathway secured if the  work were let by contract to three men for five years. Each man to keep 100  miles in good order and the expressman should be appointed Inspector-  General of this awfully romantic road.  Thirty miles from Hope the river Skagit winds through the mountains  and empties itself into the Sound. Indians say there is a vast prairie on either  side of the stream in British Columbia and that there is a densely wooded belt  of land on the American side next to the Sound. I believe this report is  correct.  Between Hope and the ford we crossed on the Similkameen there is no  land. In fact the country between these two points may be described as "a sea  of desolation" not worth four bits for agricultural or pastoral purposes.  After riding through the boiling torrent of the Similkameen, we landed  on Hayes' flat, enjoyed the pleasure of seeing a white man's face and his  brandy flask. I enjoyed the drink, but Wardle, the expressman, is a teetotaler  and the king of guides on a dangerous path. Tea supplies him with the nerve  and courage I should seek from the pure mountain dew. He is an enthusiastic  admirer of tea, and has induced me to take the pledge which I hope to do  when we ascend the top of the highest mountain within fifty miles of  Kootenay.  At Keremeos we rested at the hospitable house of Barrington Price. It  costl$5,000 and is a charm in the wilderness.  The wide hall by which you enter is like a "cead mile failthe"* and the  sporting parlor on the right decorated with guns, hooks and fishing tackle,  reminds you at once of the romantic ideas boys in colleges conceive of a life in  the woods. In front of this house there is a rich level prairie, part of it low and  this part was covered by the floods a month ago. Mr. Price has men employed  sawing lumber for a flour mill. It will encourage the farmers to cultivate the  valley and maybe a very good speculation.  Two miles farther on we halted to see Frank Richter*, a fellow traveller,  who has finished the prettiest cottage I ever entered. He loves light. In every  room there is a flood of that luxury so often excluded by farmers who believe  large windows are expensive.  In his trim garden there is a luxuriant crop of corn, beets and vegetables.  Plenty of evidence to prove what may be done in the valley. His dairy, as cool  as an ice house and as clean as a sanctuary, was well filled with pans of milk.  Didn't we obey the order given by Frank, "Help yourselves gentlemen." We  made a brilliant charge on the milk pans. Frank leaves home in the fall to  seek a wife in Victoria and I wish him every success, because he is the best  sample of the border farmer I have met in my travels.  Four miles farther on we camped close by the house of Tom Curry. He  had  a pot of excellent corn beef cooked for supper and immediately 50  presented it to the strangers. There was no use in assuring him that we had a  good supply of provisions, and we were forced to share his hospitality.  Six miles farther on we passed by the Similkameen on a terrible bluff. I  rode the famous horse "Callaghan," well known in Kootenay as the veteran  who fasted five days and carried his load of flour over the Sheppard  Mountains when the other seventeen animals perished in the snow. For  crossing a prostrate forest, or a dangerous path, Callaghan has no equal  amongst animals on four legs. At a dangerous sloping rock two feet high and  two thousand feet above the valley, he would pause and turn his head to see if  I wished to get off, then he would raise his fore legs at the same time and  plant them securely on the rock, look again at me and wait to see if I were  wise enough to dismount. More than once I could see in his eye an expression  that seemed to say, "You are not wise, you could walk and diminish the risk  for us both."  The house of Judge Haynes by Okanagan Lake is in the right place,  surrounded by mountains; the land is good, but I would not give the lake for  all the land I saw from there to Hope. The water is pure and in it an abundant supply of salmon-trout.  From the Okanagan River to Rock Creek, distance 24 miles, the  mountains are covered with bunch grass two feet high and the horse did not  strike his shoe on a stone while going from one place to the other. Mountains  of clay!  The trail from Rock Creek by the right bank of Kettle River to Colville  Mountain, was abandoned by bears as unsafe many years ago and adopted  by Wardle when the waters interfered with the trail on the other side. It is  truly awful. Swamps, bush, bluffs, prostrate forests, rattlesnakes! But thank  God there is the Columbia. A great river gliding in silence to the sea is a  grand sight, what calm magestic power it displays!  The traveller always on the edge of a precipice must feel that the dread of  dying is worse than death; and when he comes to the edge of a great river he  cannot help feeling the influence of the visible power which reminds him of  the invisible, the great unknown. It would not surprise me to see a man tired  of mosquitoes and rattlesnakes, say his prayers or take a dive.  Snow in the valleys and on top of the Hope Mountains was ten feet deep  when we crossed. The frost at night made ice a quarter of an inch thick. We  had torrents of rain, lightning and thunder. So far so good. All's well.  Yours etc.,  CYCLOPS.  * Note - Gaelic, "100,000 Welcomes" * See 25th Report — Page 78.  COLVILLE, July 17, 1876. 51  WESTSIDE STORY  The Sugars' home on the Westside Okanagan Lake, south of Short's Creek.  David Falconer's "Dun Waters of Fintry" in the 38th Okanagan  Historical Report is excellent and must have required considerable research.  As I grew up in the Shorts Point area I feel I am in a position to relate, as  accurately as possible, what happened there from Capt. Shorts' time up to  the Dun Waters' era when the property became known as Fintry. Nor is it my  intention to confine my remarks entirely to Shorts Point or Fintry but rather  to the West side of Okanagan Lake in this vicinity. I think, also, I should  explain how and why my parents came to be pioneers on a remote bush ranch  in B.C. We lived on the edge of Clapham Common, London, which, at that  time (1904) was almost rural. My father was an M.A. in classics, Oxon, and  had a comfortable living as a tutor coaching young men for Oxford and  Cambridge.  My mother, however, was a restless type who became "fed up" with the  humdrum life in suburban London. She became obsessed with the urge to go  and seek a new life in Canada. My father being a gentle and non-aggressive  man, soon gave in and agreed to pull up roots. So on the 24th of March 1905  we sailed from the Port of London on the S.S. Sarmatian (An Allan line  converted cattle boat) bound for Montreal, where we arrived on April 13th.  What a voyage! I was only 8 years old but I shall never forget it. To me it was  like pictures of the Arctic. Dense fog and icebergs along the Grand Banks of  Newfoundland; then days of grinding at "dead slow" through floe ice which  covered the sea beyond the horizon in every direction. The old Sarmatian was  a sturdy ship and several other steamers followed in our wake. We finally  docked at Montreal where we stayed about 3 days at the "Turkish Baths  Hotel"; a very nice, quiet and comfortable place. I can't remember what 52  street it was on nor have I been able to find anybody who remembers it. We  thought Montreal was a beautiful City, especially when viewed from the cable  car which was running up Mount Royal in those days. Our next stop-over was  Toronto for two days of which I recall very little; it evidently did not impress  me too much.  From here we went on to Winnipeg where my parents had arranged to  meet a friend by the name of A.K. Menzies (hereinafter referred to as  "A.K.") He had been "out West" for some months and was to give us some  guidance as he was supposed to "know the ropes". My parents had no idea  where they were going and were depending on his advice while he, I suspect,  was depending on them for some financial assistance. He was practically  broke and had no really constructive ideas as to what to do or where to go.  However, he understood that the Okanagan Valley in B.C. was a veritable  land of promise; full of opportunities with a glorious climate and an easy life  (anything to get out of Manitoba!) The decision was made! After about 5  days at the Winnipeg Hotel we left for the Far West via C.P.R. tourist class.  While in Winnipeg my father rescued me on two occasions. He had  foolishly presented me with a "Daisy" air rifle. From the second floor  balcony of our hotel I was tempted to test my skill as a marksman with my  new air rifle. I was watching the traffic going by on Portage Avenue and there  on the opposite side of the street (Portage is quite wide) was a farmer perched  on the box seat of his wagon wearing a jaunty bowler hat — it was too good a  target to miss I guess; anyway, I drew a bead on that bowler hat and to my  amazement I heard the B B pellet go "pop" when it struck the hard crown.  The farmer immediately drew his team to the curb. He then came straight  over to the hotel and up to the second floor where I was huddled in mortal  fear. My father had no trouble in appeasing his anger with a 5 dollar bill and  that was the end of my first adventure in the Wild West! Then, like a typical  small boy, I had to explore around an old boat house and fell in to the Red  River over my shoulders in the muddy water. My father was at hand and  promptly hauled me out to safety, otherwise I'm sure I would have drowned.  This was my second rescue. While in Winnipeg we visited Fort Garry and  Silver Heights, where I recall, was an unfortunate brown bear chained to a  post. He was known as the "Pop drinking marvel" - All the visiting tourists  bought him a bottle of pop which he eagerly consumed and cast the empty  bottle aside — he was literally surrounded with empties — I would think the  poor thing must have finally died of kidney trouble!  And so we crossed the prairies and somewhere — probably Saskatchewan  — I was thrilled to see, from the train window, real Indians wrapped in  coloured blankets and their real tepees. I think the southern prairies were  then known as the territories of "Assiniboia" and Alberta. I recall that we  stopped briefly at a small town called "Calgary."  The main things that come to mind in connection with the Rocky  Mountains was a small station called "Laggan" (now Lake Louise) and the  tremendous climb up and along the almost perpendicular face of Cathedral  Mountain with two great steam engines and a "pusher". The spiral tunnels  and the Connaught tunnel were yet to be built. Our long train journey ended  at the jumping off place for the Okanagan — Sicamous Junction on the 29th  day of April 1905. We stayed overnight at the Sicamous Hotel and the  following day proceeded south on the "Shuswap and Okanagan" branch line  50 miles to Vernon. Here we remained for two weeks at the Coldstream  Hotel. The plan was to use this as headquarters while seeking a suitable place  to buy land and settle. Real Estate Agents were ready and willing to provide 53  transportation by horse and buggy to take us out to see the fabulous orchard  lands just crying out to be cultivated and planted to apples and pears and  peaches which in no time would by yielding a bountiful and highly profitable  harvest. However, even in those early years, the boom had started and the  price of good (and not so good) orchard land was far beyond my parents'  somewhat meagre capital.  In the interests of economy we checked out of the Coldstream Hotel; we  purchased a couple of tents and some camping equipment, a shaky old  rowboat and some grub and were ready for anything! We camped on the  shore of Long Lake — a beautiful spot, with a sandy beach and a grove of  aspen trees about 2 miles from Johnston and Carswell's sawmill — say 5 miles  from Vernon. There were no stores or post office so all our supplies had to be  carried from Vernon on a very hot and dusty road on foot. Another thing  which added to the sense of adventure was the presence of rattlesnakes,  which were fairly common. My father ruined a perfectly good bag of sugar  while attempting to kill a rattler which had got itself into a box of groceries in  our tent. Indeed there must've been a guardian angel who looked after  children and green horns; I ran around with bare feet most of the time; no  one was bitten during our summer in that camp on Long Lake (now called  Kalamalka). This was 1905, about 10 years later the CN. & CP. joint tracks  ran right through the site of our old camp and along the lakeshore to Oyama  where they crossed the lake to the east side on the isthmus which divided  Long Lake from Woods Lake. For some reason this isthmus was known as  "the Railroad" long before the actual railroad was built. This branch line  proceeded on to Kelowna where boxcars were loaded on barges which carried  up to 16 cars and were pushed back and forth to and from Penticton by  powerful Tugs — "Castlegar", "Naramata" and later CN. No. 5 and the  "Pentowna" — The last of these tugs went to its final berth only last year,  1974.  THE BUSH RANCH  The camping season was drawing to a close and we seemed no nearer to  finding a permanent location and in desperation my father purchased a 160  acre pre-emption from Fred Stedham, the original pre-emptor, for the sum  of $500.00. This comprised 1/2 a mile of frontage on the west side of  Okanagan Lake adjoining the south boundary of the Shorts Point Ranch. It  was completely wild land with no improvements other than an ancient log  cabin and a tent on wood frame and floor. The natural assets were pine  parkland of virgin Ponderosa pine and some Douglas fir. The land was steep,  rocky and totally unsuited to farming or fruit growing. There was however, a  large cedar swamp near the lake, fed by crystal clear ice cold springs which  bubbled and gurgled all the year round and never froze in the coldest  weather. This area was a dense jungle of willow, osier, dogwood, birch and  other deciduous bush which formed an undergrowth to large cedars. There  was no road save the old Hudson Bay Trail which was the route of the early  Fur Brigades and later the prospectors and miners bound for the gold fields  of the Cariboo. In order to reach this destination it was necessary to move our  effects from the Long Lake camp to the end of the road at the head of Long  Lake by rowboat and thence by hired wagon to Okanagan Landing where it  was loaded on the SS York — a small screw steamer under Capt. Weeks.  This was an auxiliary vessel to the larger stern wheeler SS Aberdeen under  Capt. Estabrooks which made the reglular runs up and down the lake. The 54  York unloaded ourselves and our effects on the wharf at Shorts Point. We got  no further than perhaps a 1/4 mile round the Point with an overloaded  rowboat when we were met by the full force of a south wind and a very rough  lake. Everything including the boat was piled in the bush on the upper part  of the beach and was picked up piece meal in the next few days. We then  proceeded to walk some 2 miles to our "bush ranch" along the Hudson Bay  Trail which we located with some difficulty only to lose it again at the Cedar  Swamp. A.K. lost one of his boots while I, up to my ankles in wet moss and  ooze, refused to move any further! My father and mother bravely struggled  on and urged me to follow. We finally located the log cabin and tent in the  dusk of evening, thoroughly exhausted and discouraged. We had fortunately  packed in a few blankets and some grub. This was Sept. 1905. So here we  were really out in the wilderness.  Our Mr. Stedham evidently felt we were a "soft touch" for a grubstake  and had all sorts of progressive ideas including some elaborate plans for a  house he was going to build for us. In the meantime the fall was rapidly  approaching and my mother's patience had run out. She told Mr. Stedham  to pack it up and she went to Kelowna and engaged two carpenters — a Mr.  Creighton and an assistant by the name of Clement (of an old Kelowna  family). Lumber was ordered and delivered on a small scow to the beach.  Some of the lumber was hauled up from the beach with a single horse while  much of it was carried by hand, piece by piece, mainly by my father.  Eventually a small two storey frame house was built. The inside walls were  never properly finished but we moved in anyway — two stove pipe chimneys  served a cook stove and an "airtight" heater. It was the coldest and hottest  house I've ever had the misfortune to live in. Water had to be hauled up from  a catch basin of one of the springs by means of a bucket on a pulley which  ran on a steeply inclined tight wire about 150 feet long. (In later years we  built a good warm log house with spring water piped in).  Our nearest civilization was Shorts Point P.O. where we called for mail  once a week. Shorts Point, even then, was a beautiful property with many  acres of orchard and hayfields all irrigated from Shorts Creek. It consisted of  two ranches, the larger of which was owned by a Mr. McMullin who, apparently, was a bachelor; he lived alone, save for his Chinese cook, in a large  frame house. He was an aloof man and nobody seemed to know much about  him.  The C.P.R. wharf was on the Dundas property and they ran the Post  Office. All supplies had to come via Okanagan Landing on the stern wheeler  Aberdeen which was the only vessel on the Lake at that time except the York,  a small screw steamer. The Aberdeen rendered regular service south to  Penticton — returning the following day. The Dundas family were fine  people and our first real neighbors. Bob was a tall handsome man. A great  horseman, he made a striking figure in his high crowned Western hat and  black angora chaps. He taught me how to pack a horse and throw a  "diamond hitch". As a little boy he was my hero. The Dundas' arranged with  my father to give their children lessons; Nita, a very pretty little girl about 8  and Duncan about 7. Jenny was too young for lessons. I joined in these  classes and my father and I walked over to their place twice a week. At that  time (1906) there were no schools nearer than Kelowna, and, I might add that  with the exception of my mother and Mrs. Dundas and her "lady help", Miss  Hayne, there were no white women in some 25 miles of Westside Okanagan  Lake.  Our first saddle horse — Ginger — was purchased from Bob Dundas for 55  $25.00 and to a great extent he became my charge. I picketed him out in the  best bunch grass and learned to ride him bare back or with a saddle. Our  men folk were not interested in riding so my mother and I made many trips  taking turns in the saddle and occasionally doubling up — the two of us  weighed no more than a good sized man — Ginger was also an excellent pack  pony and many a load of groceries and other supplies have I packed home 4  miles from our nearest store at Nahun. Another somewhat colourful neighbour was Tom Hamilton a soft spoken Englishman who quite often dropped  in while riding the range "looking for horses". He owned a horse ranch about  3 miles up Shorts Creek, known to his friends as "Rum Jug Canyon" where  he lived in an old log cabin. He usually wore a pair of greasy old fringed  leather chaps and a battered Stetson of the old style. A most likeable  character with a fondness for Hudson Bay overproof rum which was much  favoured by the early settlers; I can recall seeing him bringing home from  Ewings Landing a supply of this beverage with 3 pack horses each with a  gallon jug hung around its neck with a bell strap. About 1908 or 9 Tom left  for the Old Country. Evidently he had inherited a legacy as he returned to  Rum Jug Canyon in a few months with a change of name to Attenborough, a  wife, a hackney stallion named Agitator, and a thoroughbred stallion named  Brockhampton and a string of blood mares. He proceeded to have a large log  house built close by his old log cabin and a good bunk house which was soon  filled with hired men. Mr. Attenborough now wore riding breeches instead of  beat up old chaps but he still liked his Hudson Bay rum and so did most of  his hired men. His most reliable employee was, probably, Erland Okerblad, a  magnificent Viking-like Swede who was reputed to be the son of a Swedish  Ambassador to somewhere or other! Erland's job was travelling the stud  horse and he became quite well known from Vernon to Kelowna. He was  quite a dandy and always rode the stallion in full cowboy regalia. He liked to  have a bit of fun on these trips — on one of which the police advised him to  stay out of the City of Vernon for 6 months!  Old timers of the Okanagan might recall also the names of some of the  other "characters" who worked for Old Tom (as Attenborough was affectionately known) such as Billy Rylands,Red Marshall, Jack O'Mahoney,  Jos. Woods. Woods later became a Forest Ranger; O'Mahoney committed  suicide while Erland became manager of a cattle ranch in Paraguay. Old  Tom and his charming but plain little English wife sold out some years later  to Dun Waters, who named it Fintry High Farm.  The only other settler of the upper Shorts Creek area was "Old Man  Love" who had been drilling a tunnel in the base of Goat Mountain since the  1890's. Hercules Love was a Civil War Veteran and had been an Indian  fighter and plainsman before coming to B.C. to prospect. He was a small wiry  old man with a long white beard and as I remember him he seemed a bundle  of energy, probably in his late 70's. With unflagging optimism he was always  on the verge of striking the "pay lode" though he was already 200 feet or  more into the mountain. How he handled his rock drill and sledge hammer  alone I'll never know. He spend a large part of his American Army pension  on dynamite and coal for his small forge and lived in a tiny log dugout where  he could sit on his bunk and reach everything else in the cabin. About once a  week he hiked down the Creek trail to Tom's ranch some 3 miles to pick up  his mail and supplies and back-packed it to his cabin. Tom occasionally  helped with a pack horse to take in dynamite and coal. With people he knew  he loved to yarn about early days on the plains, but with strangers he became  shy and reticent, punctuating his brief remarks with profanity. The following 56  is, in part, quoted from my old diary — "Sept. 6, 1914. Not a drop of rain has  fallen since Aug. 16th. Two forest rangers (E. McCluskey and W. Ryan) who  had been fighting a big fire at the headwaters of Shorts Creek were on their  way out and found another tire near Love's. Old man Love was in a  desperate state, having fought the fire all night alone. He saw he was beat, so  moved his stuff across the Creek. The two rangers remained a week to make  sure there was not a fresh outbreak." About 1915, Love's "Golden Dream"  mine became flooded. This was too much for the old man, so he packed up  and left for his old sister's place in Kittitas County, Washington. There, no  doubt, he cashed in the last of his U.S. Army pension cheques.  Sometime in 1906, the Dundas family sold their Shorts Point property to  a Mr. Ludovic Lailavoix. (A property registration gave his name as Louis).  Mr. Lailavoix was perhaps thirty-five years of age, while his wife was undoubtedly many years his senior. An air of mystery surrounded this suave  young Frenchman, with his imperial beard and moustache, as he had no  knowledge of farming or fruit growing. It seemed there was no apparent  motive for settling in this somewhat remote area of Western Canada, unless  he was seeking a hideout.  By a strange coincidence, however, our Mr. A.K. Menzies, who had lived  some years in British Guiana, knew that Mrs. Lailavoix had been a wealthy  widow there, with a grown-up family, prior to her marriage to Mr. Lailavoix.  Also, it was rumoured that she was reputed to have a weakness for alcohol. In  any event, one cold night in the winter of 1907, one of the Shorts Point ranch  hands by the name of Harry Howis (who later settled in Summerland) arrived  at our place on horseback and leading a spare horse. "Would Mrs. Sugars  please come with me to the Lailavoix house as Mrs. Lailavoix is very ill." No  doctors or telephones, so of course, my mother dressed in warm clothes and  her heavy riding skirt and went with Mr. Howis. She found Mrs. Lailavoix to  be unconcious and after a few simple tests she decided Mrs. Lailavoix was  obviously dead. She reeked of alcohol and the remains of a bottle of wood  alcohol was in evidence. Mr. Lailavoix explained that his wife had been  drinking and run out of whiskey (or brandy) had found the bottle of wood  alcohol and evidently swallowed most of it. Sometime the next day a doctor  arrived from Kelowna or Vernon and rendered a verdict of death by alcohol  poisoning. As simple as that! However, Mrs. Lailavoix's will was in favour of  her husband and it was quite substantial. Her grown up family in South  America fought the Will through the courts and won the case. Not long after,  Monsieur Lailavoix left the country and has never, to my knowledge, been  heard of since. There is a story that the old ranch house is haunted; perhaps  Mrs. Lailavoix is still looking for the brandy bottle! The property was, apparently, heavily mortgaged in favor of Mr. McDonnell of the B X Ranch in  Vernon, who foreclosed as soon as Lailavoix departed. Was a bizarre crime  involved or what? I leave it to you.  In the meantime, Mr. McMullin's house had burned to the ground and  all these events culminated in the sale of the entire Shorts Point property to  Jas. Dunsmuir, Lt. Gov. of B.C., who bought it for his son-in-law Major  Audain in 1908. The Audain's evidently did not care to live there so the  property was up for sale again. The next purchaser was Jas. C Dun Waters  and Dave Falconer actually picks up the story at this point 1909 "Dun  Waters of Fintry" 38th Report O.H.S.  As my report is intended to cover the history of Shorts Point up to the  time of Dun Waters arrival in 1909 I feel that the various registrations of  ownership should be recorded here. Capt. Thomas Dolman Shorts who 57  operated the first steamboat on Okanagan Lake was the original pre-emptor  in July 1883. He obtained a Crown Grant in Jan. 1890 and at the same time  conveyed the property to the Hon. John Scott Montague (Viscount Ennismore) and G. Hare. In 1892 these people conveyed the property to John  Poynder Dickson Poynder. In 1903 Poynder conveyed part of the property to  Murray McMullin and in 1904 the remaining 29.80 acres to Robt. Napier  Dundas. In 1906 Dundas conveyed to Louis Lailavoix. In July 1907 the  Lailavoix 29.80 acres together with the balance of the land, which belonged  to McMullin, was conveyed in its entirety to the Hon. Jas Dunsmuir* who, in  October of that year, conveyed to Laura Miller Dunsmuir. In November 1908  she conveyed to her daughter Sarah Boyd Audain (wife of Major Audain). On  October 5, 1909 the entire property was finally conveyed to Jas. Cameron  Dun Waters. I should think that very few properties anywhere have had so  many owners in such a short space of time.  NOTE: *Jas. Dunsmuir was Lt. Gov. of B.C. at that time.  Interior of Sugars' house at Short's Creek.  THE WESTSIDE NORTH OF SHORTS  Before taking leave of the Shorts Point area entirely I would like to make  some mention of the adjacent districts — Ewing's Landing to Whiteman's  Creek on the north and Nahun to Bear Creek on the south. A few names of  the earlier settlers may "ring a bell" with some of the oldtimers who are still  surviving. Robt. Leckie-Ewing was amongst the earliest — "Bob" ran the  Post Office for many years. His brother George had a small orchard nearby  and sold to the Kenyon family about 1911. "Bert" Kenyon was then a  teenager  and  later  became   Commodore  Herbert  Hollick-Kenyon   who 58  distinguished himself during and after World War I. <See Footnote)  Other names such as Teddy Haynes, Andrews, Muirhead, Hodges,  Tangue, Pease, have all gone except some of their offspring who are settled  all over the world. In 1907 or 8 a Mr. & Mrs. Boyd came out from Scotland to  Ewings' with two pretty daughters. For sometime they ran a sort of Tea Shop  which they called the "Clachan Inn."  A few miles further north was Indian Reserve which stretched from  Whiteman's Creek to the head of the lake at the O'Keefe Ranch. Near the  reserve on the south was a large acreage owned by the Willet family who  came to Canada at the same time and on the same ship (the S.S. Sarmatian)  as ourselves. Mr. & Mrs. Victor Willet with 3 sons and one daughter. On, or  near, the reserve I recall such names as Dave Cameron — a "bad man" who  was reputed to have "held up" the Hudson Bay store in Vernon; he had a  handsome Indian wife. Harry Tronson, a son or nephew of one of Vernon's  pioneers E.J. Tronson. Tommy Struthers, Lou Everett, George Smith,  construction men and loggers.  Now let's take a look at the oldtimers who lived in the country south of  Shorts Creek north to south in that order. Most were single, young and  middle aged, who lived in shacks of varying types, some excellent, others  somewhat crude, but all cosy homes in their way. Many of these men married  later; some remained confirmed bachelors. John McNair, a big rawboned  Scotsman who built beautiful rowing and sail boats but held power boats in  contempt. He sold out to Chas. Durant about 1911. The "Colonel", a  nickname for John Brixton a Boer War Veteran and originally from London,  England. A great hunter who always got his "Mowich" (deer) when the larder  was getting low - died in his 80's at Okanagan Centre. H.B. Kennard,  Postmaster and store keeper at Nahun; a remarkable man who remained  single all his life; an Englishman, educated at Marlborough, he came to the  States as a young man. He sold Nahun to Bernard Biggin about 1919 and  moved to Okanagan Centre where he built himself a charming little house on  the lakeshore where he lived till his death. He lived at Nahun probably 25  years; his cabin was lever locked and anyone was welcome, whether he was at  home or not, to help themselves to a meal - (meat in the meat safe, bread and  butter in the bread box). Mail days (Monday and Friday) were quite an event  at Nahun. Most of the settlers for miles around foregathered, some on  horseback or boat, others on foot. The mail, freight and sometimes, a  passenger was delivered at the wharf by the SS Aberdeen and later by the  Okanagan and still later by the Sicamous, which is permanently beached at  Penticton. Stripped of her boilers and machinery, she is well preserved as a  tourist attraction and museum.  A couple of miles south of Nahun was Caesar's Landing. Walter Legge  lived there for a number of years but lost his life while flying in England in  1917. In the meantime the property had been purchased by Herbert and  Percy Leney, who developed the place considerably but later gave up and left  the district. Following the lakeshore southward was a large pre-emption  purchased by two young Englishmen about 1907 from the original pre-  emptor who had the romantic name of "Fishhead Hanson" or "Two Bit  Hanson" as a polite alternative. Roy Bachelor and Percy Seeley built a large  log house which burned to the ground and was replaced by a good frame  house. Roy was killed in World War I. Seeley distinguished himself in  assisting R.D. Ramsay in the capture at gun point of two desperadoes, Boyd  James and Frank Wilson in the summer of 1912. (A full account of this may  be found in the Police Gazette). James died on the gallows for the murder of 59  Constable Aston. Wilson was found "not guilty", I believe. This was near  Wilson's Landing, named for Ex Private Wilson, known better as the  "Major" - another Boer War Veteran and a close friend of "Colonel"  Brixton. The Major was a handsome bachelor who affected the neatly  trimmed imperial beard which was so popular in those days. He also  favoured simplicity of apparel and in summer wore nothing but a sort of  "Nightie" which he made himself of flour sacks. This, with a big "two bit"  straw hat was ideal for the hot summer days. Allan Brooks, the well known  artist and naturalist, was a popular and frequent visitor to the bachelors of  the West side. Brooks, who lived at Okanagan Landing, painted most of the  beautiful illustrations in "Birds of Western Canada."  About 2000 feet above the lake and west of Nahun was a broad bench  known as Bighorn Flats, covered with dense forest of lodge pole and spruce  interspersed with wild hay meadows and bullrush sloughs. Bald Range Creek  meandered through this area and finally emptied into Bear Creek opposite  Kelowna. This became the site of a group of pre-emptions mostly filed by  young Englishmen. One of the first was Alfred Stocks who, about 1908,  together with W.R. "John" Tozer cleared some land and built a good cabin  of jackpine logs. All supplies and material (except the logs themselves) had to  be transported by pack horses up the mountain on a tedious zig zag trail.  They were soon followed by other adventurous young men; some names I  recall were MacAllister and Horner, Sam Lister, Charlie Critchley, Mark  Ellis and Somerset Brothers. All built cabins and cleared an acre or so of  land. Alf. Stocks was joined by his younger brother Arthur and soon after by  another brother Lumb, two sisters and father and mother. These members of  the Stocks family did not settle at the pre-emption, but all got married and  went to live in Penticton and Kelowna. The exception was the father - The  Rev. Phillip Stocks who was buried at the old pre-emption which they named  "Stocksmoor". Tozer opted out fairly early in the story; got married to a  Miss Surtees and became father of Tony, Hugh & Geoff Tozer. World War I  took most of the young men from the neighborhood, and few survive today.  All the pre-emptions are abandoned, but the loggers moved in in the 30's or  40's and cleaned out some beautiful stands of spruce. Shortly after building a  fine log home for their mother and sister, who came out from England, the  two Somerset boys died in the War, there upon the mother and sister left the  country.  The Coldstream Ranch near Vernon grew many acres of hops in those  days and Indians were employed for the harvest (there was a brewery in  Vernon). Among these, was the entire Nez Perce^tribe, who came all the way  from their reservation in Washington State about the middle of September  each year and returned sometime in October. The last of these "migrations"  took place in 1908. To us this was one of the highlights of the year. They were  about 300 in all, men, women and children all mounted with several hundred  pack horses. The Nez Perce* are of the Plains Indian type, tall and handsome.  In those days their dress was almost traditional; buckskin shirts, leggings  and moccasins; much fine bead work was in evidence, also on gloves, gun  scabbards and cradle boards slung from the saddle horns. Some of the young  bucks were more modern and affected leather and angora chaps, cowboy  boots and Mexican spurs. All wore the type of cowboy hat that was  fashionable at the time with wide stiff brims and high crowns of black or  fawn felt with fancy beadwork or metal studded bands. Their hair was worn  in long braids and bright coloured neckerchiefs were much in favour. The  Squaws dressed more simply but were always colourful with their bright head 60  scarves and cotton dresses. Together with multi-coloured saddle blankets  and many beautiful horses the cavalcade created a spectacle not easily  forgotten. Our house was located close by the old Hudson Bay Trail so we  had a real "ring side" seat. One year two or three of the young braves got  themselves some "hooch" and became separated from the main column.  They camped not far away and spent the night galloping madly up and down  the Trail emitting the most blood curdling war whoops. I don't thing we slept  much that night either! The next day, however, they departed peaceably and  presumably, caught up with the rest of the tribe. A noteworthy character to  be seen occasionally riding on the Hudson Bay Trail was Chief Tomat of the  Shuswaps. A dignified old gentleman with a deeply furrowed copper  coloured face, white hair and goatee beard. As symbols, no doubt, of his high  station in life he wore a brown bowler hat and a black cutaway coat turning  slightly green with age; behind him rode his squaw, an ageless lady with the  story of many parching summers and harsh winters written in her face.  We had little in the way of entertainment in those early years; no radio,  no gramophone, and no shows or concerts nearer than Vernon or Kelowna. It  was a major expedition to either of these places on the sternwheeler Aberdeen and took up at least two days, so we seldom went to "town". My mother  was an excellent pianist and one of the sacrifices she had made on leaving  England was having to leave her Steinway piano behind. We had no music in  our home for 8 years, but in June 1913 we pooled our resources and a second  hand piano was purchased in Kelowna from Dayton Williams. It was a  "Steinbach" made by the Mason & Risch people and quite a good instrument. It was delivered at our beach on a small scow. As our house was 2  or 300 feet up a steep bank, a sort of road or grade wide enough to accommodate the piano in its case had to be constructed. I did this job with a  pick and shovel and our neighbor, Chas. Durant helped considerably and  with block and tackle and skids and rollers we had little trouble in getting the  piano up to the house. Of course it required tuning, so a week or so later a  tuner by the name of McGeorge made a special trip from Kelowna to tune  my mother's piano and also Dun Waters' player piano at Fintry. I was now  exposed to "good music" mainly of a classical nature and developed a great  love of the music of Beethoven, Chopin, Greig and many others. With the  exception of a few of the popular songs and "pieces" of that era, I had little  knowledge of "Ragtime" and "Jazz" which came later. The preference for so  called "good music" stayed with me to this day. Our house now was one of  the very few that could boast of a piano and someone who could play and so  became quite popular with the young people who loved to drop in for a  musical evening. Some had excellent voices notably John Tozer and the  Stocks boys. Sometimes we had a violin solo by Miss Isabel Somerset or Mrs.  Nora Robinson.  In 1909 we had our property surveyed and obtained title to same. On  account of the bay in the half mile of lake frontage, the actual acreage was  reduced from 160 to 140, more or less. At this time we began to reap some  returns from our "bush ranch." Art Dobbin of Westbank took out some fir  piling which yielded a few dollars. He was followed by Art. Johnson who  "summerlogged" the virgin Ponderosa pine and some Douglas fir by means  of a heavy two wheeled dolly hauled down the steep hills by a team of big  Percherons. The logs were chained on the heavy cross bunk of the dolly with  the ends allowed to drag and act as a brake. From 2 to 7 or 8 logs would  make a load of up to 2000 ft. B.M. The falling, bucking and swamping was  done by young woodsmen; mainly McDougalls; Urban, Lesime, Amable, 61  Dan and Albert — also 2 relatives — Angus Thompson and Billy Smithson.  Albert ran-a-foul of the law and spent several years in jail for murder. Billy  Smithson, unfortunately, was thrown from a horse and killed. All the others  served in World War I. The Boss was Art Johnson, a handsome young  American from Minnesota who had followed construction and lumber camps  most of his life. In addition to Johnson's big team, a second one was used for  skidding and driven by a little French Canadian by the name of Joe  Goodreau. He had an Indian wife known as "Bat eye Mary" (not to be  confused with "High tone Mary"). She did some cooking for the crew and  tanned deerskins in her spare time.  These people all camped on our place throughout the summer of 1909.  People used to ask my mother "aren't you terrified having all those rough  characters so close?" Her reply was "No, they all behave like perfect gentlemen." They did, indeed, treat her with the utmost respect. She often  rendered little kindnesses such as giving them a loaf of home made bread or  a cake. The sale of the timber netted us about $500.00 for nearly 1/2 a  million feet (B.M.) of Ponderosa pine and fir. The area had never been logged  before so this was virgin timber If I remember rightly the logger received  $5.00 per thousand feet B.M. yarded on the lakeshore.  When the Dundas family left, the Shorts Point P.O. was closed. We then  went to Kennard's at Nahun for our mail — four miles of very rough trail  which was about the last remnant of the original Hudson Bay Trail. A narrow  wagon road had been punched through from Westbank to Nahun by Jim  Silver and his crew from Peachland about 1908. The almost sheer rock bluff  at Nahun presented a formidable barrier and it was 7 to 8 years before the  remaining 10 or 12 miles of rough and narrow wagon road to Ewing's  Landing was completed thus making Vernon accessible without crossing  the lake by ferry at Westbank. It is only a secondary road to this day. This  was before tractors and bulldozers and the heavy grading was done with 4  horse teams.  My wife and I recently had the pleasure of visiting Major C.H.R. Dain  whom I have known as an acquaintance for many years. Charlie, now 87  years of age is one of the few surviving original settlers of the Westside —  Bear Creek area. As a young man he came out from England to his uncle's  place near Bear Creek in 1906. This was known as the Dain property and was  located just north of the McLennan ranch which was later purchased by R.A.  Pease. Charlie Dain leased the Pease property for a number of years and  finally purchased it outright about 1925. Thus Charlie has been, practically,  a continuous resident of the Westside district since 1906, interrupted only by  his service in 2 World Wars. Charlie mentioned several old timers of the Bear  Creek country whom I could personally recall prior to World War I; Henry  Childers owner of Bear Creek ranch and brother of Erskine Childers, author  of "The Riddle of the Sands"; "Sully" Sullivan a Game Warden; Fred  Stocks, South African War Veteran; Bob Foulis, Browse, Lefroy, Bill  McQueen, Art Johnson of Johnson's Crossing of Bear Creek, who logged our  place in 1909 and Father Carlisle.  WILD LIFE  CEDAR SWAMP — which became the recognized name of our bush  ranch was a veritable wild animal sanctuary. We had no domestic animals,  cats or dogs with the exception of my mother's toy Yorkshire terrier "Dof-  fles", who was smuggled from England with her personal effects! Thus the 62  wild animals became fearless and almost bold; most particularly squirrels,  chipmunks, bushtailed rats and many birds. We raised one squirrel from  babyhood; she had fallen from the mother's nest in a hollow birch and  pleaded to be rescued. I took her into the house and fed her on condensed  milk for a few days, first from a rubber fountain pen filler, then from a  saucer into which she would plunge bodily! She was soon weaned and took to  eating bread crusts and peanuts and became the most playful and  fascinating pet I have ever known. We allowed her absolute freedom to come  and go as she wished and she would be waiting to be let in at the door if she  felt she had been outside long enough. She liked to sleep in my shirt pocket  or in mother's hair. After a month or two her return visits to the door became  less frequent and finally ceased altogether. We were almost sure she had  found a mate. A squirrel - perhaps it was the same one, used to scramble  down the roof at mealtimes and peek over the eave and wait to be handed  goodies. Chipmunks, Chickadees and Nuthatches were always willing to  accept food from our hands. A pygmy owl used to roost in the back porch at  dusk and would tolerate having his feathers tickled. A four foot bullsnake  lived in the cedar cribbing near the back door and helped to control the  population explosion of mice. The bushtailed rats were rather a pest; they  were destructive and smelly, and great thieves and loved to carry off coloured  or shiny objects such as silver spoons or pretty paper - hence the name "pack  rat". No one seems to know why they do this; perhaps it is some perverted  and lost instinct. Occasionally the odd coyote or Bobcat would be seen close  by. Rabbits (properly snowshoe hares) were numerous; once we raised a baby  one in the same manner as the squirrel, tho he was never quite as lovable and  interesting. Otters lived in the bay and in winter they had a slide which they  used to "toboggan" into the lake. Beaver were scarce but I did see one  swimming in our bay. Skunks were quite common and docile enough if not  molested: On one occasion "Doffles", the toy Yorkshire terrier, jumped out  of a doorway right onto a skunk's tail;The skunk paid no attention whatever,  evidently considering such a small dog to be harmless. Not far away in the  hills I had my first encounter with a small brown bear — I was climbing up  one side of a steep ridge and the bear was coming up on the opposite side. We  met face to face at the crest of the ridge not 10 feet apart. Equally surprised,  we both stopped dead for a split second; then the bear turned and went  crashing through the underbush!  These were indeed happy carefree days with hikes and trail rides in the  mountains; fishing and hunting and visits with congenial neighbors. There  was also lots of hard work, logging, orchard work and pick and shovel labour  on the roads; ten hour working days poorly paid by today's standards. Yet  everyone seemed reasonably contented. Perhaps my memories of those days  of long ago are dimmed by nostalgia? Anyway, the year 1914 heralded the  end of those carefree years. The War clouds grew more ominous and after  August 4th, 1914 the world was never the same again. While I was overseas  my parents sold Cedar Swamp to J.C. Dun Waters for $1,000.00 and moved  to Salmon Arm - and that is another story.  Footnote: Commander Hollick-Kenyon died July 30, 1975. 63  THE DICK PARKINSON STORY  PART 2  by Martha Prytula  It's very obvious to anyone who has ever spoken to Dick Parkinson that,  of the myriad of activities he has been involved in throughout his long and  illustrious civic career, the Kelowna Regatta holds a favored spot in his heart.  Though he readily admits that as a child his first impressions of the Regatta  weren't all that exciting: "We'd just go and sit on a hard bench and get the  occasional ice-cream or two. The regatta was a very small local affair then.  People would dress their kids up, take them to the regatta and make them  behave. It was the thing to do. It gave people a chance to meet everybody else.  As we grew older we'd compete in the swimming and rowing events."  Dick first became involved in the Regatta in the years 1916, '17, '18. But  he found he couldn't put any new life into the Regatta at that time because  the old Aquatic Association executive had everything going one way and  weren't interested in changes of any kind. So Dick dropped out for the time  being. In 1932 he got back into it again and with several other men his own  age starting revamping the whole thing. "By this time the older fellows were  tickled to death to get out of it."  That year Dick was put in charge of the Silver Jubilee Regatta. His  organizational abilities were put to the test and he came through with flying  colors to the tune of a $1,500 profit. In 1932 he was elected vice-president  and in the years '33, '34, '35 was president. He resigned later that year to take  over the non-paying post of secretary-manager, a position he held for many  years.  Dick Parkinson credits the 'remittance men' for starting the Regatta in  Kelowna. They were called 'remittance men' because after they had finished  college or university in England they somehow became black sheep to their  well-to-do parents so were shipped off to Canada. They were sent a monthly  'remittance' from the family in England on which to live. These men started  the Regatta, not necessarily in an organized way, but through their great  interest in sports - especially rowing and swimming.  Dick feels that these 'remittance men' had a great influence on Kelowna  even though they didn't realize it at the time. When the first World War  broke out every remittance man left within a few days to volunteer for battle.  A great many were killed in France. "Theirs was a great lesson in patriotism  for their country," said Dick.  In recalling some of the early regattas Dick mentioned two incidents  which he recalls vividly. "I remember one year we got a local diver to agree to  do a human torch diving routine. We made all the necessary arrangements 64  right down to having the city crew turn off all the lights at a designated  moment. Freddie Thompson, the diver, had on a pair of large coverall type  clothing saturated with kerosene. Gordie Finch was to light Freddie up. The  lights were all to be turned off and Freddie was going to do this spectacular  dive. Then the lights were to go on again. It was all going to be very  professional. The only trouble was that there was a pretty good breeze  blowing. Everytime Gordie tried to light Freddie up with his lighter the  breeze blew it out. He tried again and again. The crowd was yelling for action. In the meantime the city crew couldn't get the lights turned back on  again. For about ten minutes everything was in complete darkness. Nothing  happened. The human torch act fizzled out before it even got lit up."  "Another time ... we used to bring the barge right in front of the town  side where the diving tower is today. We'd get some company to donate the  fireworks for a display and we'd set them off on the barge. Max dePfyffer  who has done a lot for the Regatta throughout the years was going to be the  one to set off the fireworks display. All the lights were turned off. There were  quite a number of us on the barge. We all waited expectantly for the display  to begin. And begin it did! Because Max accidentally dropped his lighting  torch right in the middle of the fireworks equipment and everything went off  with a big bang all at once. It was all over in a matter of minutes!"  The Second World War brought diversions of various sorts from Dick's  civic career and Regatta involvements. One of these diversions is an incident  he has long since regretted many times over. After the bombing of Pearl  Harbour the same kind of hysteria gripped our Canadian government as that  of our neighbors south of the border. Thousands of coastal Japanese were  being interned in the interior of B.C. It was at this time that the Kelowna  Chamber of Commerce (of which Dick was then president) put up signs along  the highway reading: Japs. . .Leave This Valley. . .You Are Not Wanted.  Dick recalled that there was a mass meeting held in the local theatre  building. A local prominent Japanese man who had lived here all his life (and  had probably been born here) got up to present a defense on behalf of  Canadians of Japanese extraction. Emotions ran so high he was booed right  off the stage. "It was one of those emotional things that people get carried  away with. You always think it will never happen to you but somehow it does.  Those Coastal Japanese had nothing to do with Japan. Most of them were  Canadian citizens. I will always feel ashamed of being involved in this sort of  thing." Dick went on to say that being in the fruit business he got to know  many of these people personally. "They are one of the most industrious and  appreciative of all nationalities to become Canadians. I count many of them  today as my personal friends."  In 1939 Dick was elected an alderman, the youngest man to sit in the  aldermanic seat. In late 1942 he enlisted for active service. He had been a 2nd  Lieutenant in the British Columbia Dragoons before the war commenced  and prior to that had been in the Rocky Mountain Rangers - primarily a  North Okanagan and Kamloops foot regiment. Several of his close friends,  most of them younger than Dick were also fellow officers in the Dragoons  and, being younger, they were able to go overseas. Dick had to content  himself with a stint in Canada. He took some training at Calgary's Currie  Barracks. Then he was sent about forty miles into the Rocky Mountain  foothills where he led a spartan existence on the bald prairie for about two  months. "Unfortunately for us older officers about sixty or seventy physically  hardened young seargents were sent out from England to be trained at our  "desert oasis" with us. From the day they arrived and for the next six weeks 65  we "oldsters" went through hell trying to keep up with them on all night  spartan running route marches. Sometimes we were away from base camp  for three or four days and nights living on hard tack rations only. At my age  the going was really rough and I truly suffered! To add to my problem I  caught my right foot in a gopher hole. My ankle swelled up so badly I had to  leave the right shoe on night and day. When we'd walk or run through a  stream or slough my boots would fill up with water. This, while uncomfortable, did help the pain. But I had made up my mind that having  suffered over a week's hell I couldn't go back to Currie Barracks for treatment and go through the whole ordeal again.  From Currie Barracks Dick was sent to Camp Vernon as Training Officer  - a job he didn't particularity relish. Fortunately it lasted only a short spell.  He was then placed into the administrative office as Assistant Adjutant and  soon became Adjutant in charge of the whole camp under the Commanding  Officer. "In this position I was in charge of sports and entertainment and  many other duties which were just up my alley. We had a lot of good talent at  Camp. We organized a Poor Man's Army Show called "Rookies Play  Hookey." This show involved about forty trainees and three featured soldiers  who had been in the entertainment business before enlisting. Two of these  were from Hollywood, Douglas Mongomery and Gil Stuart. The third was  Dick Mesener from Kelowna, a piano player and entertainer. On a printed  program that Dick has kept as a souvenir of those days is written in very  small letters: "entire production under the personal supervision of Lieut.  R.F. Parkinson." "We put on performances in Penticton, Oliver, Vernon,  Kamloops and Kelowna and drew a wonderful audience in all places. It was a  real privilege to have had the opportunity of being involved with such a  talented group of soldiers," said Dick.  When the Vernon Basic Training Centre was closed Dick was sent to  Pacific Command Headquarters in Vancouver as Adjutant and eventually  Commandant. He was discharged from the army in 1946.  After his discharge Dick went back to the Laurel Co-operative as  Manager and picked up the reins of civic involvement where he had left off.  In 1948 he again took aldermanic office - a position he held until 1957. In  1958 he became Mayor of Kelowna an office he held continuously for the  next twelve years.  Upon becoming Mayor for his first term Dick stressed heavily the need  for the city to expand its boundaries. He also indicated that a town planning  commission would be set up.  In 1960 immediately upon re-election as Mayor Dick spoke at the first  council meeting about matters which he felt were of prime importance to the  city, both of which were brought to completion during his regime and will  probably stand out as his greatest contribution to the city of Kelowna. This  address was given before alderman, ranking civic employees and more than  100 guests. Boundary extension, progress on the municipal airport and the  promotion of conventions in this city were the three main points of his address. Boundary extension he listed as first in importance. He stressed that a  "sense of progress, far sightedness, and a realization that by working  together we can achieve more, and far less expensively."  During Dick's tenure as mayor, two important regional organizations  came into existence: the Okanagan Regional Industrial Development  Council and the Okanagan Similkameen Tourist Association.  Dick also served four years as B.C. member of the National Capital  Commission in Ottawa. It was said in Ottawa that Dick Parkinson knew 66  more people on a first-name basis than any other mayor in British Columbia.  This was emphasized by the fact that no matter what political party happened to be in power in Ottawa, Dick Parkinson seemed to have the keys to  unlock the right doors.  Dick's untiring efforts have also been instrumental in the development of  the Kelowna Airport as the aviation centre of the valley. Recognition of this  service was shown in 1968 when he was honored at the official opening  ceremonies at the Kelowna Airport, when portraits and bronze plaques of  His Worship Dick Parkinson, and the late Grant McConachie, former  president of the Canadian Pacific Airlines, were unveiled. Along this same  line on September 13,1969 the British Columbia Aviation Council presented  Dick with the Robert S. Day Trophy for the furtherance of aviation in British  Columbia.  When Dick retired from civic politics in 1969 the Kelowna Daily Courier  had this to say in an editorial dated Saturday, November 1: ". . .But while  Kelowna was naturally his first love, his vision was much broader. Only  slightly less than his love for his home town was that for the whole Okanagan  and during his regime attempt after attempt was made to bring the Valley  together as a single united voice.. .Of the near 9,000 voters in the city a very  considerable proportion have little appreciation of the part Mr. Parkinson  has played in the development of the city over the past quarter century.  Actually they need only look around them and they could see that Mr.  Parkinson played a role in this or that. The chances are that they would be  right nine times out often.. .There is one sole fact with which we believe that  no honest person can differ and that is, no matter how strongly one may  differ with him on any given project, one had to concede that he, Mr.  Parkinson, firmly believed that his course was best for Kelowna. . .For a  quarter of a century the welfare of Kelowna has been his chief motivation. .  Upon retirement Dick was made a Freeman of Kelowna, the city's  highest honor which had been previously awarded to only eight other people.  On March 31, 1970 a testimonial dinner was held in Kelowna in Dick  Parkinson's honor. 500 people attended. They came from all walks of life as  the city, the province and the country paid tribute to Dick's dedication to the  city of Kelowna and the Okanagan Valley. Heading the guest list was  Premier W.A.C Bennett who said it was a night not only for Kelowna and  the Okanagan but for all of British Columbia. He said that it was such an  important event in the life of the province that it was the first time the  premier had closed the Legislature so he could be in attendance as well.  Among the many presentations made to Dick that memorable evening was a  plaque presented by the B.C. government and the people of the province in  appreciation of his outstanding record of public service, a permanent  directorship of the Regatta Association, a lifetime pass on B.C. airlines for  Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson; a governorship in Canada Jaycees; a pass on Pacific  Western Airlines with a trip to Honolulu or Mexico; a lifetime associate  membership on the Kelowna Golf and Country Club; a presentation of  tickets from CP. Air to most of the Capital cities of Europe; and a purse  from the people of Kelowna and district and distant parts of Canada.  Not many people in this world have the privilege of becoming a legend in  their own time. Dick Parkinson had accomplished just that - here in his  home town of Kelowna. Throughout all the speeches and accolades Dick  puffed on his ever-present pipe, rocked back in his chair at the head table,  and reflected upon the quarter century of 'moonlighting' in civic politics that 67  had led to this evening. He was naturally overwhelmed by the warm expressions of gratitude and respect which emanated from the gathering.  Dick's dedication to Kelowna and the Valley did not falter: through a  World War, through the changing face of this fair city as it continuously  attracts more and more people to make their homes here, through happy  personal times, and through the sad and tragic...  . . .In 1966, after a lifetime of bachelorhood Dick found happiness in  marriage to Beth Wilson. She passed away in March, 1971. Throughout the  years Dick has suffered the loss of his brother Jack through suicide and his  mother died in a tragic house fire. His sister "Honey" passed away in Victoria.  Even though retired and in failing health Dick Parkinson is still vitally  interested in anything and everything that concerns Kelowna. And he still  has plenty to say about Regatta. He feels strongly that a new Regatta facility  is a must and advocates that it be built on city owned land in the vicinity of  Manhatten Point. He certainly doesn't see the Regatta as a thing of the past.  It has existed for 68 years and he feels that's just a good start.  During the 1974 Regatta he added another title to an already impressive  list. He donned the Commodore's cap. As he and his vibrant wife Cinde  waved to the crowds of happy onlookers who lined the streets for the Regatta  parade from their perch in an open limousine one can rest assured that  visions of many, many other regattas must have passed through his head.  And another happy Regatta memory was added to a Commodore's cap  already brimming over with them.  Waiting for the mail at Nahun, 1908. Back row: L to R Sam Lister, Mark Ellis, Wainwright,  Ollie Miller. Front row: Alf Stocks, Hopgood, Mrs. Leney, Mrs Brixton, Walter Legge. Seated  on ground, Roger Sugars. (Photo courtesy R. Sugars) 68  DEDICATION OF PIONEER CEMETERY PARK  VERNON, B.C.  By: Beryl E. Gorman  On the western boundary of Vernon, just below a long, rocky ridge lies  the old Pioneer Cemetery site (0.52 acres of LOT 70, Group 1 on Plan B690).  This property was part of the first pre-empted land on the townsite of Vernon  and was donated for the purpose of a cemetery by Luc Girouard in 1886, the  community at that time being called Priest's Valley. He was our first settler,  first orchardist, first postmaster and one of the City's founding fathers in the  year 1892. He himself was buried there in 1895. The bronze plaque from his  native stone marker, which crumbled with time, is preserved in the Vernon  Archives.  As part of the events of Historical Week in Vernon (May 4 to 10) this  historic plot of land was re-dedicated as the "Pioneer Cemetery Park" on  Friday, May 8, 1975, with Mayor Stuart Fleming officiating. The following is  part of his thoughtful tribute to the early pioneers of Vernon:  'Our early settlers probably never thought of themselves as  pioneers but only came to create a life, generate a new community  and raise their families. We know them as pioneers, but they were  merely doing the things that they had to do. They had none of those  conveniences, which we take for granted. Apparently, they never  thought of themselves as being deprived. When you read their letters,  etc. and the accounts of their lives as published in the many Reports  of the O.H.S., they never thought of themselves as being faced with  deprivation and hardships. They generated a remarkably lively,  creative and satisfying community for themselves and this is what we  have inherited.  'I think the greatest value in the Park is the remembrance and  recollection of all of us that we owe them a great deal. We cannot  ever forget them and this action of dedicating this Pioneer Park on  the site of the City's first cemetery is the link between those who  created the community and made it possible for us to carry on in  their traditions and to continue to build the kind of community they  hoped for.'  Mayor Fleming then introduced Mr. Ley Christensen, President of the  Vernon Branch, O.H.S. Mr. Christensen's response was as follows:  'On behalf of the Vernon Branch, O.H.S., I would like to thank  Mayor Fleming and Council for the preservation and beautification  of the cemetery. I remember this area, — possibly 50 years ago, when  there was a field, sage brush and a path going up the hill where we  used to go hiking, and this run-down cemetery with cattle running  through it. To see this to-day is a wonderful change. We realize in  times of rapid growth in our city that sites of historic value are  becoming very scarce and we want to thank our Mayor and Council  for their awareness of this and for their co-operation in the past and  present.  Mrs. Dolly Bertelsen, Vernon's Good Citizen for 1975, then officially  pronounced the Pioneer Cemetery Park to be open. A number of Vernon  citizens were present, among them a few descendants and relatives of those 69  buried here.  There are 57 names inscribed on either side of the entrance posts of the  Park. 17 of these were either infants or very young children. The first interment was Hugh Armstrong, farmer, aged 40 years on March 31, 1886 and  the last, Mildred Huntley, in 1903. Shortly afterwards, Pleasant Valley  Cemetery was opened. The following is a complete list:  Name  Date of Interment  ARMSTRONG, Hugh  BASE, Henry  BIRWANY  BOVEE, Hattie  BUCHANAN, Dan  CAMERON, fc W.I  CAMERON, Clara  CAMERON, Willie  CHIPP, Dr. John  CLARK  COCHRANE, W.R.  COSTERTON, Chas.  COUSON, William  CUTLER, Alice  CUTLER, baby  DARDEN, Mike  DEWDNEY, Walter  GIROUARD, Luc  GOTHERFIER, Robert  HAWKSBY, Salmone  Eldest son of C.W. HOZIER  HUNTLEY, Mildred  JOHNSON, Aaron  LINDQUEST, Axel  LIVINGSTON, Eliz  McCLUSKEY, W.R.  McCLUSKEY, H.J.  March 31, 1886  October 31, 1896  Small Child ?  Dec. 19, 1900  August 16, 1893  November 6, 1901  October 19, 1900  July 10, 1897  August 26, 1893  1894  August 13, 1898  February 1,1892  1895  March 22, 1902  1903-4  December 5, 1898  May 22, 1901  July 24, 1895  November 13, 1899  McDONALD, Angus  McDOUGALL, Robt  McKENZIE, Dan  McNEIL, Alfred  MILNE. Thorn. H.  MITCHELL, R.G.  NEWSON, Alfred  PARKE, Emily  POULIN. Mrs.  PRATT, Boy & Girl  ROBERTS. George  SCHUBERT, Ivy  SEXSMITH, Margaret  SHATFORD, Baby  SHATFORD, Henry  SPALDING, Mr.  STANSFIELD, Rebecca  STEVENSON  STEVENSON, Ralph  STICKNEY, Frances  STODDERS, Gwendoline  THOMPSON, Clover  TRONSON, Harry  VANCE, Alexander  VENUER, Harold  WOOD, Alice G.  WOOD, Winnie  September 28,1896  1897  February 28, 1892  July 8, 1900  February 16, 1901  1896  1897  September 9, 1896  1902  April 12, 1896  September 28, 1902  1894  September 13,1896  1895  1896  April 15, 1897  January 1902  November 18, 1894  March 21, 1889  October 21,1898  In the intervening years the old cemetery was regrettably neglected.  Tombstones toppled, inscriptions faded and became obliterated and it  became an overgrown enclosure in the centre of an alfalfa field. On August 2,  1966, Mr. Harold Cochrane, on behalf of the O.H.S. suggested to the City  Council that the old stones should be gathered up and laid flat on the ground  in one corner (N.E.), the ground leveled and planted to grass, a few trees and  a bench or two be placed. The City Council agreed to proceed as outlined and  the first step was taken towards its restoration. Previous to this in 1959, the  city commenced a long research of files, church records and family contacts  in an effort to obtain permission from all possible descendants for their  agreement to the conversion of the cemetery to a Park.  Homes and apartments adjoin this Park on three sides, but it is hoped  that those who pass by will find it a quiet haven and give pause to remember  those who contributed towards the city as we know it to-day.  Dates, statistics, information received from the City of Vernon files by courtesy of Mr. Royce  Moore, City Clerk, Vernon, B.C. 70  GOODBYE SIWASH BAY — HELLO SUN-OKA BEACH  By Mary Gartrell Orr  Author acknowledges permission of "The Summerland Review" staff to research their  newspaper files re the Sun-Oka Park. Also information from R. Riedel of the C.P.R. re current  train runs, and permission of Mr. Ewart Woolliams of Summerland to use his photograph of  Siwash Bay for historical purposes.  As the song says, "Oh yes, I remember it well", Siwash Bay in the days of  my youth — the gathering place of the Trout Creek Point gang in the  summers of the 1920's. We knew it was the very best beach in the whole  Okanagan Valley — the earliest bay to warm up in early May and the last to  feel the Fall chilliness in mid-October's Indian Summer, these because of its  sheltered southern exposure. It had the softest, cleanest sand both in the  water and on the beach, and the safest slope for swimmers, both beginners  and those more experienced. Perfect for suntanning too. Famous even in  those days were its poplar trees lining the shore.  Now-a-days it is known as Sun-Oka Beach, a part of the Provincial Park  by the same name, acquired from the Federal Government, being situated at  the foot of the Experimental Farm hill and to the south of the Entomology  Laboratory and orchard. What a transformation! Gone is the pastoral scene  with cows browsing quietly in the meadow, gone is the little swamp where  blackbirds swung on the tips of the bulrushes, and frogs croaked in chorus.  But credit is due the Parks Branch and those who were responsible for  making the new facilities so attractive and convenient for the use of everyone.  Perhaps the ghosts of all the brown-skinned children and young people  who trod there in the yester-years are more than a little surprised and filled  with nostalgia, but none the less willing to share such a God-given treasure as  we had enjoyed. I suppose it couldn't have been preserved inviolate indefinitely, as was becoming evident by people arriving there by motor boats  and launches, and the use of its waters by water skiers. The fences and locked  gates and "no swimming" signs were no deterrent to them. The lake water  was pumped up to "the Farm" for domestic as well as irrigation use from the  pump house at the western end near where the slide was. The Summerland 71  Chamber of Commerce had been promoting the take-over for several years  and were supported by the Okanagan Similkameen Associated Chambers.  All were pleased when Premier W.A.C Bennett announced early in 1969 that  the property had been turned over to the Provincial Parks Branch by the  Federal Government and in June Victoria gave the green light to Farm Beach  project with an initial $50,000 budget for development. Preliminary work was  done on it in 1969 with Mr. Jim Moore of the Parks Branch as supervisor. At  first it was called "Clay Banks Park" by the Provincial Parks Board, then  they indicated they would be open to suggestions to re-name the area, so a  contest was held. Quoting "The Summerland Review" of September 18, 1969  — "The name 'Sun-Oka' was submitted by an old-time resident, referring to  the sunny climate enjoyed in the Okanagan". This was the name selected  from among many, by the Chamber of Commerce. By the beginning of June  1970 the Park was ready but could not be opened to the public until a proper  access road was constructed to the site. The Department of Highways' crew  completed their work before the end of June thus enabling the new Sun-Oka  Park to be used by the July 1st holiday. The above mentioned newspaper  revealed "2,200 feet oi safe, sandy beach at Sun-Oka Park attracts many"  and later "Hon. K. Kiernan, Minister of Recreation and Conservation, shows  99,000 day visits in 1970 between June 15 and July 31." The next year the  attendance rose to 134,000. It caught on very fast!  As little children our parents preferred to take us to "the point", now  Powell Beach (named after Reeve W.R. Powell) because the trees and the  northern exposure offered more shade for those who had toiled hard in the  heat of the fields or the kitchens, and there was public access for the horses  and buggies or cars. The farms didn't have mechanized equipment in those  days — ploughing fields or haying were really hard work and in the kitchen  there were wood stoves and no air-conditioning, no bake shops or frozen  foods as we have today. We were taught to swim in the lake by our parents  and friends, starting off on father's back with him doing the breast stroke,  then later being held up by the chin and the back of our bathing suit till we  learned to proceed under our own power. No Red Cross swim classes. We  graduated to water wings into which we blew air to help keep us afloat.  When we were trusted to go on our own, Siwash Bay was our favorite  spot. Over Trout Creek bridge we'd walk from our farm, past Antoine  Pierre's log house, pick a few of the tasty Red Astrachan apples (with no  spray on them) and wrap them in our towels for an after-swim treat. The Billy  May family lived there from in the 20's to the 40's and many a cold, pure  drink of water we'd have from the well there, and maybe take some along in  a lard pail. Then a little further along we'd go over the fence surrounding the  pasture where the Experimental Farm's fine Jersey cows might be feeding,  through the fields to a blissful solitude of crystal clear water and sun and  sand. Sometimes the sand would be so hot it would nearly burn our feet.  Some of us might have paper parasols to protect our heads from the sun.  Then we'd dip and tan, swim and tan to our heart's content. The occasional  car might pass along the gravel road to or from Penticton at probably 25  miles an hour, and we were thrilled if we happened to be there when the train  to Vancouver would come chuffing up the grade, with the lights shining in  the day passenger coaches and dining cars. The sleeping cars behind and  express, mail and baggage cars ahead, made quite a long train and  sometimes a second engine would be used. Perhaps earlier in the evening we  would have seen and heard it coming down the three lines of track on the  mountain on the east side of Okanagan Lake. It stopped at Arawana to take 72  on water from the water tower before proceeding to Penticton to the station  at the end of the lake by the Incola Hotel, there to meet the paddle wheeler  "S.S. Sicamous" upon its arrival from the daily round trip to Okanagan  Landing. After conducting its business there and picking up a local sleeping  coach it would proceed on its way west. To announce its approach to the  Winslow flag station at "the Farm", also for the bridge, and crossing on the  north end, the steam whistle was pulled by a cord. The haunting sound  echoed across the Valley and was missed when replaced by the hoot of the  horn on the diesel engines. And now there are no trains over the east side and  at the time of writing (1975) only the daily freight train to the west from  Penticton, alternately to Princeton and Spences Bridge are operating.  Now let us go back to the beach. There were beauties of nature to enjoy  on our excursions there, Milkweed plants with the miracle of their pods, and  there was also the theory that the milky juice of the plant rubbed on warts  would make them go away, Syringa bushes (sometimes called Mock Orange),  clumps of Oregon grape, Saskatoon bushes and big purple Scotch thistles.  Foxtail grass we sometimes picked and let climb up inside our sleeves. We  had often been warned, though, to avoid the poison ivy. Sandpipers lured us  away from their babies, a fish hawk's nest with several downy heads peeking  over the edge, the occasional porcupine up a tree asleep in the daytime, and  sometimes in the evening a family of skunks with the babies following along  in a row with tails held high. When we would hear the coyotes calling across  the Valley to one another we'd get shivers up our spines. Time was turned  back for us when we would look at the remains of the Indian sweat-houses  made of bent willows and our imaginations were stirred as we thought of the  water being poured on the hot rocks inside, the steam being created and then  the Indian leaving the heat and plunging into the lake. We never did witness  this being done. A far cry from our fancy sauna baths of today. Jim May  reminds me there was a powder house which contained stumping powder for  clearing land.  Bill, my brother next to me, would have to wait till after the milking was  done before going down to the evening gathering. Lloyd, my younger brother,  when his turn came to be old enough to go would ride his white horse  "Nancy" down as far as he could, tie her up, then over the fence he'd go to  walk the rest of the way. Sometimes a shining knight would give me a ride  home on the crossbar of his bicycle. I remember once a sudden summer  thunder storm came up, with lightning filling the sky and Mildred Laidlaw  (now Mrs. Eric Tait) invited me to stay overnight at their home which was  then the former Bob Johnston's place. Her brother Norris, was one of us. The  Clark Wilson boys — Earle, Alvin, and Harvey lived just to the south of the  creek. Violet Beck lived with her grandparents, the Treffreys, across the road  where the Phil Munros live. Eric and Ruth Tait were part of our gang,  too. There were also the Nicholsons — Archie, Fern, Ken and Ethel, some of  the Joys — Arthur, Edward, Harriet, the May family — Irene, Violet, Sadie  and Jimmy, Edith Verity, Arthur and Gordon Morgan, Leslie Smith and  Stanley Sharp. There were older or younger children in some of these families  who did not join us. Many of the parents invited us into their homes for  games and food after swimming. When the Bleasdale family arrived at Trout  Creek Point we listened in wonderment to their English accent so strange to  our ears that we could hardly understand them and I'm sure they must have  felt the same about us. The mosquitoes which were so prevalent then really  enjoyed their rich blood and deserted us for them! If I have left out any  names I ask to be forgiven — fifty years ago is a long way back. I might add 73  that sometimes some of the boys living at the boarding house at "the Farm"  came down.  We didn't have potato chips and pop in those days at Siwash Bay. We  weren't always thinking of our stomachs and of course we had to obey the  rule of not swimming for an hour after eating. Home was the place where our  appetites were satisfied with hearty food, well prepared by Mother. But the  evening corn roasts or weiner roasts were something else again when we  decided to have a party. Also on the menu might be sandwiches, cakes and  doughnuts (homemade of course). We might pop some corn as Mr. Laidlaw  grew it as a specialty. We often completed our feast with watermelon or  cantaloupe from one of our home gardens or the field crop nurtured by our  Japanese men in the rows between the young fruit trees. There would be  cherries and early peaches and plums as well. For beverages we had  homemade lemonade, root beer, ginger beer, raspberry vinegar or cocoa. If  the mosquitoes were annoying us we would put green brush or grass on the  bonfire or in a pail to make it smoke — a smudge it was called.  As I recall in those days one could plan a picnic anytime between May 24  and Labor Day and it never got rained out, practically never a cloud in the  sky except maybe for a few days around cherry time in July. The tugboat and  barge going up or down the lake would turn their searchlight on our bonfire  Vi (May) McCutcheon remembers. Someone with a mouth organ might  accompany our sing-songs and some of the popular tunes of those days were  "Ramona", "Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue," "Yes Sir, That's My Baby",  "Blue Skies", "Oh, You Beautiful Doll" and "Me and My Shadow" as well  as old favorites.  When I see the lights in the fancy changing house at Sun-Oka Beach I  remember how it used to be. We had to pick our way into the wooded area  and change behind a bush or tree, and the young ladies of today with their  bikinis would really have snickered at our bathing suits — one piece cottons  that tangled up around us as we swam. When we'd come out dripping wet  they'd cling in all the wrong places. It was a relief to wriggle out of them in  the water and skinny swim in freedom when the sexes were unmixed, but oh,  the screeches when we'd hear someone coming! And then it might only have  been one of the cows. Before leaving the beach I have to mention the glory of  the moon in all its phases, especially at the full, making a path across the  lake. None of us ever dreamed that during our lifetime men from earth would  be walking on it!  In the early 1930's a silence settled over Siwash Bay due to the fact that  the water was being used for domestic purposes up above. The gang moved  over to Powell Beach or around the corner on Hansen's property where our  fun continued. Some of the activity moved east to a section nearer the mouth  of Trout Creek. The South Okanagan Religious Educational Council set up  Camp Sorec there, the name "Sorec" being derived by taking the first letter  from each of the five words. This site was used about thirty years until the  land was no longer under the jurisdiction of the Experimental Farm, but the  beach was not nearly as good as our beloved Siwash Bay. However, Camp  Sorec had served a very worthwhile purpose and we were grateful for the use  of the spot which was also open to Farm employees and friends. Where do  the years go?  Now, grandchildren of those who remember Siwash Bay in the 1920's as I  have described it, are being taken there to enjoy it as Sun-Oka Beach, and  many strangers from near and far walk on the sands and enjoy the swimming, boating and picnics, but the times can never be the same. 74  THE HISTORY OF APEX ALPINE  Skiing is one of winter's fastest growing sports and, in the Okanagan, it's  no exception. Six major areas have grown in the last 20 years and one of these  is a ski hill 22 miles to the southwest of Penticton called "Apex Alpine."  At first Pentictonites who wanted to ski had to travel up the Carmi Road  or five miles to the south of Twin Lakes. Here a ski hill was located and called  the Elk Horn Ski Bowl. The Elk Horn Ski Bowl was founded by a group of  people from Penticton in 1938. It was started by Dr. H.B. McGregor, and  Harold Crawford. It had a tow and at one time 200 members. The Elk Horn  Ski Bowl came to an end in the late 1940's. The Ski Bowl's cabin was ransacked, burned, and vital parts of the engine were taken by a group of  overnighters. The old engine was taken from Twin Lakes Ski Hill and installed on a new hill near Summerland. The small hill was situated west of  Summerland and had limited facilities due to the lack of snow.  In the late 1950's the ski boom started in the Okanagan. Vernon began  this ski boom with the construction of a ski hill in 1959. "Silver Star,"  Vernon's ski hill, installed a pomalift which revitalized skiing in the Interior.  With all this taking place a group of people from Penticton got together  to talk about the possibility of forming a ski hill in Penticton. This group  included the following: Don Buchanan, Jack Dalrymple, Harley Hatfield, Al  Kenyon, Dr. John Gibson, Paul Sharp, George DesBrisay, Walter Powell,  Dr. Herbert B. McGregor, Jack Stocks, Harold Donald and Stan McPherson. This first meeting was only a discussion and two points were made  clear to every one present: first, it would be useless to make any attempt at  revitalizing skiing in Penticton unless a mountain over 3,500 ft. with ample  snow in the winter was found; second, the mountain had to be accessible.  It had been known since the end of World War II that a group of skiers  led by Jack Stocks and his senior scouts had often gone on camping and  skiing holidays from Christmas to New Year's and sometimes at Easter. The  group of skiers would ski on Mount Apex and its adjacent shoulder, Mount  Beaconsfield. Mount Beaconsfield had an altitude roughly between 6,000  and 7,000 feet. On the average, snow usually came in December and stayed  until May. Mount Beaconsfield was the group's choice for problem number  one. Now the group had the difficulty of solving problem two. They  proceeded to draw a road up to Mount Beaconsfield on the contour maps  they had. The proposed road proceeded to go up the present Green  Mountain Road and up Shatford Creek. The men agreed that at no time the  grades of the road should exceed 8 -10%.  The group, acting on information they received from the Department of  Transport, called a meeting in September of 1959. This information included  the steps to be taken to make Mount Beaconsfield a Class C Provincial Park.  The reason why the group wanted to establish Mount Beaconsfield as a  Provincial Park was that if it was a park they wouldn't have to buy the land  and they could get a permit to construct buildings, etc. This Provincial Park  and ski hill was called Apex Alpine. The reason why the group chose the  name Apex Alpine was they felt that sounded more like a ski hill's name:  Apex was short, simple and catchy; the mountain Apex was two miles away  and was well known in the valley. In the future, Apex Alpine Recreations  planned to expand to the real Apex anyway.  Before the group of Pentictonites established Beaconsfield as a Provincial  Park it was found that Mr. C.C. Aikins of Naramata had mineral claims and  a cabin on the mountain. After having the problem explained, Mr. Aikins 75  agreed to give up his mineral rights and stipulated that his cabin would be  for the exclusive use of the 1st Penticton Scouts.  In December of 1960 it was decided to go ahead with the road planned up  Shatford Creek. The money the group required for the building of the road  up to Beaconsfield was made by selling stock. Problems soon arose because  the new road went through private property. In order to continue with the  road the group had to purchase a large ranch that lay beside the new road.  This ranch was later sold to Mr. Orville Ray who proposed to turn it into a  dude ranch with tobogganing and skating. The ranch is now called the  "Apex Aspen Ranch" and has changed hands several times since Orville Ray  owned it.  When the road was completed it was only wide enough for one-way  traffic. A large parking lot was then completed in 1960 and enlarged in 1961.  A second parking lot was cleared and prepared for a two-storey lodge.  Almost every year since the construction of the road the government has  widened it until it is, at present, a two-way road.  The design of Apex ski runs was directed by Mr. A.P. Fisher, course  consultant, and coach of the U.B.C. ski team from Vancouver. When the  land was cleared, approximately 14.5 acres were done on Mount Beaconsfield and five acres were cleared near the lodge. These two areas were to be  served by two lifts. One was a pomalift and the five-acre area was to be served  by a rope tow.  On Sunday, December 10, 1961 Apex Alpine was officially opened. Up  until then only a rope tow had been operating. After the official ribbon-  cutting ceremonies by Frank Richter, a pioneer resident of this area, a 3,800  ft. pomalift began operation. This $100,000 sports development also had a  lodge with a ski patrol, a ski shop, two lifts and many runs. In 1961 Bob Van  Os ran the ski shop at Apex and Joseph Gmuendar was the ski pro.  Apex first expanded in 1963 when a 3,000 ft. T-bar with 500 vertical feet  was put in on a new mountain called Mount Riordan. Riordan, named after  the small-statured Irish prospector Jim Riordan, and located beside Mount  Beaconsfield to the right, was smaller and was made into a beginner's hill.  The old, rickety T-bar was replaced in 1971 by a 3,200 ft. double chairlift  with 700 vertical feet.  The next expansion of Apex was on Mount Beaconsfield when a T-bar  was installed to extend the intermediate run another 2,400 feet. The T-bar, to  the left of the pomalift, had two runs cleared with one being a beginner's run  and the other more difficult. All of this took place in 1969. This expansion  opened up a whole new area to ski in above the T-bar and to the east of the  intermediate area.  In 1969 with Millie Menzies running the ski school, Al Menzies, a well-  known ex-racer, took over the ski shop at the hill. The Menzies also opened a  shop downtown, running the one at Apex until this year when Bob Van Os  again took it over.  Today, Apex has four lifts, a lodge, a ski patrol shack and a ski shop. The  ski patrol has several patrollers including two, Mike Jocely and Graeme  Lindsay, who are patrolling full time. The manager for Apex this year is Gary  Denton, formerly from Penticton before he lived in France.  LODGE  The lodge was originally built in the log cabin style with a flat roof and  two storeys. The reason for the flat roof was that it would be both more  economical and less work shovelling the snow that piled on the sides. The  lodge was made to be reasonable and adequate in size and warmth. The logs 76  used to build the lodge came from the adjacent forest. The building, 40 ft. by  60 ft., was made with a concrete floor. In 1961 the bottom floor of the lodge  had a caretaker's suite, first-aid room, lavatories, a ski shop, a ski patrol  room, a furnace room, and also one large room for putting on ski boots, etc.  The upstairs had a cafeteria and a sundeck. Mr. Ed Foged was the first  caretaker of the lodge. Today, the lodge still has two floors with the downstairs having a cafeteria and a large room. The upstairs has accommodation  to sleep 50 people in 13 rooms.  POMALIFT  After getting the land-fpr a ski hill and constructing a road, the members  of Apex Alpine had to find s\ suitable lift. After a careful study of all the lifts,  they chose a pomalift. The reason for this choice was that it would be the  most suitable, the most economical and also the most practical. One other  reason was that it could transport more people than any other lift per hour at  that time. The pomalift was ordered from France and arrived in June 1961.  Construction of buildings and installation of the pomalift was carried out by  several local construction companies. The project was completed in October  of 1961 but did not start operating until December 10, 1961. At the time of  installation the poma was the longest of its kind in Canada. It was 3,800 ft.  long, it had 10 towers, a vertical rise of 1,200 ft., and its total cost was  $42,000.  In the future Apex plans to expand to the real Mount Apex about two  miles away from Mount Beaconsfield.  BIBLIOGRAPHY  1. Gibson, Dr. John  2. Herem, Barry.  "The Apex of B.C.  Skiing"  Skiing. Volume  25  #4.  December 1972.  3. Menzies, Al.  4. Penticton Herald. "Apex Ski Supplement". Saturday, December 9, 1961.  The Lookout, Brent (Snow) Mountain 1946. (Photo courtesy of Dulce Fry) 77  ENGWALD [MINNIE] ENGEN  By Michael French  Grade 9, McNicoll Park School  Penticton, B.C.  The following story is about my grandfather, Engwald Engen. I am  writing about my grandfather because he died more than thirty years ago,  and I never did meet him. I will try to explain some of his adventures and  some of the things he was noted for.  Engwald Engen was born in a little city named Orkdal, just outside of  Trondhjem, Norway on April 4, 1886. When he was only eleven months old,  he and his family moved to a little mining town in Michigan named Ish-  peming.  While he was in Michigan and only two years of age, he was taught the  basics of skiing. When Engwald was five, his grandfather wrote and asked  the family to return to Norway, which they did. While in Norway he learned  the "fine arts" of skiing.  In 1903, at the age of 17, Engwald migrated first to Boston, then to  Minneapolis where he stayed with an uncle. There he worked in a mill for  only $5 a week. When he made enough money, he bought his first decent pair  of skis. He then skied down Main Street passing a horse on his way. He  spooked it, and it ran through a drugstore window. The police then came and  took my grandfather away.  In 1907, at the age of 21, Engwald left Minneapolis and moved to Grand  Forks, B.C. where he worked as a brakeman on the railroad. Later that year  he moved to Phoenix, B.C. and started work in a mine.  In 1910 at the Rossland Ski Carnival, Engwald became the Champion  Skier of Canada, a title he held for seven years (1910 - 1917). He was also a  professional ski jumper. At a contest in Phoenix in 1913 he became the  "Champion Skier of the Boundary," and a year later he became the  Champion Ski Jumper of British Columbia.  Once, at a tournament in Revelstoke Engwald won almost every prize  there. His best record for the 1-1/2 mile downhill race was 1-1/2 minutes.  The main reason for this record was the existence of a deep gully which the  men had to go through. My grandfather took a chance and jumped across  the forty foot ravine while the other men went down the gully and up the  other side.  At the Mount Christie downhill race Engwald's best record was just 59  minutes. This was an eight mile race — two miles for a start, four miles up  hill, and two miles down hill. In this race he was competing against two of the  current world champions, Stenvold and Nels Nelson. Engwald was good  friends with Nels who had the Nels Nelson ski jump in Revelstoke named  after him.  In 1925, Nels Nelson achieved a record ski jump of 240 feet. But five years  later, in 1930, Engwald Engen jumped 266 feet. Today these records are  simply nothing, but back in Engwald's time skis were much heavier and the  clothing worn was much different. Engwald was also one of the first people to  attempt a summersault in the air on skis.  In all of Engwald's skiing career he won over thirty medals and many  trophies. His silver cup for the championship of Canada was stolen once, and  years later it turned up in the Archives in Victoria where it still remains  today.  During the late 1920's Engwald moved to Penticton and started to work 78  on the C.P.R. While in Penticton he married a woman who, like himself, also  came from Norway. The men on the C.P.R. found it difficult to pronounce  Engwald, so they nicknamed him "Minnie" since he was always bragging  about Minneapolis.  During the early 1930's in Penticton Engwald saved a man from  drowning in Skaha Lake. He thought the man was quite a distance out for  someone who couldn't swim. The next time he looked the man had disappeared. Engwald, a good swimmer himself, swam to the bottom of the lake  and brought the unconscious man to safety, dragging him to shore by the  hair.  In 1932 Canada's champion skiers decided to hold the Winter Sports in  Penticton. The location for this event was to have been up Carmi Avenue a  couple of miles where a natural site would have been improved upon. The  captain of the club there would have been Engwald Engen. He had planned  to make Penticton the finest winter sports' city anywhere. Something like this  was always Engwald's dream, but unfortunately none of it came true.  In 1936, at the age of fifty, Engwald fell off a ladder on a moving train  car. He injured his back, which touched off a nervous condition, and he was  sick for the next seven years. During those seven years he worked on and off  when he felt well enough at the C.P.R.  The men on the C.P.R. claimed that the rung on the ladder was missing  so a lifetime pension could be issued to Alma, his wife, if he should die. But  the C.P.R. board wouldn't hear of it. While Engwald was at home, however,  Dr. R.B. White helped him out as well as the rest of the family.  On the night of April 20, 1943 Engwald, who had been sick for two days,  was given a sedative by Dr. White. He died later that evening in his sleep. He  was survived by his wife Alma, his two sons Allan and Hans, his two  daughters Edna and Olive, and several relatives in Norway.  My grandfather, Engwald, was an excellent skier and I think he was a  good example of a "real man." I am sorry I never got to meet him because I  feel I could have learned a lot from him. However, I have really learned a lot  about my grandfather just by writing this story for you.  Sources of Information  Engen, Allan, my uncle - Hollywood, California  Engen, Alma, my grandmother - Penticton, B.C.  Engen, Hans, my uncle - Penticton, B.C.  French, Edna, my mother - Penticton, B.C. 79  MR. & MRS. J.B. MACNAUGHTON  SR. PIONEERS  By: F.C MacNaughton  When we think of the first pioneer people of the Oliver area we  automatically think of the early miners, cattlemen, stage-coach people and  loggers all of the late 1800's and very early 1900's. Many stories and legends  have been written about these rugged hard working pioneers. Now they are  practically all gone and when they were in their heyday Oliver was still unborn and Fairview and Camp McKinney and Osoyoos were the names  mentioned. Then in 1920-21-22 a new wave of pioneers arrived in the South  Okanagan. These were the settlers of the newly opened up lands around  Oliver and later as the big ditch moved southward, the Osoyoos area. This  second wave of pioneers were no less rugged, self reliant or ambitious than  the earlier pioneers; and in many ways they were less suited to pioneering as  they were mostly returned soldiers from the 1914-18 war, bookkeepers, city  men and women, and a few farmers. All had one ambition in common and  that was to build a new life and a new community. Few, after they had  purchased their land, had much money left over.  Mr. and Mrs. J.B. MacNaughton and family came to the Oliver area with  this second wave of pioneers in 1922. Mr. and Mrs. J.B., as they were affectionately known, were born in New Brunswick. Mother, Adrianna  Musgrove, at Lower Millstream and Dad, John Beverly MacNaughton, at  Anagance. Both places were near the Kennebacasis River and a good farming area. When both were 18 years old they were away from home taking  training, Mother as a teacher and Dad as a telegraph operator; they met, fell  in love and became engaged. Dad wanted to "go west" and seek his fortune  but Mother's folks were a bit more cautious and persuaded the young people  to put off marriage for awhile. They agreed that Dad go to Winnipeg, then  considered far west, and Mother would live at home and teach school until  Dad had established a home and saved some money. Then Mother and he  would be married and everybody would be happy. So Dad went west to  Winnipeg.  Jobs were not easy to find, even for someone who was not afraid of work.  He tried everything; cut cord wood, hauled frozen white fish, worked in  lumber camps. This went on for seven long years and still Mother waited. At  this time Dad was working for Lake of the Woods Flour Co. stacking sacks of  flour to the warehouse ceiling. He became great friends with E.J. Chambers  (Uncle Ted), later Reeve of Penticton and prominent in the fruit game. Both  Dad and Ted were engaged an.d both got fed-up waiting for the gold at the  end of the rainbow. Dad got up in the middle of the night and wired Mother  to come west to be married. She came. Ted persuaded Ella to get married at  about the same time. So there were two weddings close together and two  houses were built side by side on Alfred Ave. in Winnipeg. The long seven  year engagement for Mother and Dad was over. After a few years Ted and  Ella moved to Penticton and built on the Upper Bench where the house still  stands today. Dad became a freight inspector for the railways in Winnipeg  and the years slipped away. There were four children. Dad still dreamed of  "going west" and after 18 years came west to visit his old chum Ted, and fell  in love with the Okanagan. So much so that when he heard the following year  of the new area around Oliver which was soon to be put on the market, he  made another quick trip west. This time he investigated the new area and  arranged for Chambers to buy a place in his name when the land sale was 80  held and Dad went back to Winnipeg and started things moving. A house to  sell, a job to leave, friends to talk to and hardest of all to break ties with  Mother's people in N.B. While Dad was with the railway, passes were obtainable and every summer Mother and the children went back to N.B. for  the two summer months. With no more passes and away out in B.C. Mother's  chances of visiting home in N.B. were slim. Indeed after we came west she  never saw them again and this was a hard blow.  Those were busy days and exciting days in the early spring of 1922.  Chambers had got 15 acres for us one and a half miles north of Oliver.  Everything we owned and everything we thought we would need went into  one half of a box car. The other half of the car was used by the E.B. Rossiters  who became our next-door-neighbors. Dad and the two older boys, Gordon  and Ewart travelled in the box-car to Penticton. Mother, Evelyn and I  travelled by train coach and came down from Vernon on the S.S. Okanagan.  Of course we headquartered at the Chambers'. Dad, Gordon and Ewart once  again went ahead to Oliver with all our freight, hauled by Hatfield's truck.  There they put up a tent and later the rest of us went down.  What a difference from Winnipeg. Mile after mile of sage brush,  greasewood and bunch grass. All around people were breaking up the sod.  This was early April and the spring winds were blowing. Some days it was  hard to see across the valley, dust was thick everywhere. Not only from the  plowing but from construction in Oliver and on the big ditch, also from a new  road being built past our lot. Six people in one tent is crowded and many a  meal of soup was pretty gritty. This new land had no barriers; always having  been outdoors oriented, to me it was paradise. Being the youngest, it was  easier for the others to do all the hard work rather than take time to make me  do any; and so I fished and hunted, chased bugs and snakes and gathered  wild flowers all of which stood me in good stead when I became a naturalist.  We had always been a church going family and so Mother and Dad  jumped into the church work in Oliver and helped build it, they were leaders  in the Oliver United Church as long as they lived. It was probably their  greatest joy and certainly they were honored and loved by their fellow  workers. Both Mr. and Mrs. J.B. seemed to be leaders in every worth while  thing that was being established in the new community. You can't mention  things like Community Club, Church, Co-op Growers, Co-op Store, Parks,  School, Sunday School without finding their names as President or Director  or Trustee. Then there was Women's Institute, W.A., W.C.T.U. Red Cross  etc. By the fall of 1922 we had a small unfinished house put up and a small  barn. We purchased one old mare Queenie and one old cow Maggie. The cow  was the nucleus of what eventually became the Kennebacasis Dairy, named  after their beloved river in N.B. Orchards are slow things to get started and  we had to depend on the small dairy (4 cows), chickens and acres of ground  crops. Later Dad had the first school bus; a small flat deck with wooden  railings on a model T ford with two benches for seats. Our house soon  became the centre of young people's gatherings, both church and school;  church parties and meetings; headquarters for hikes and overnighters as  each son and daughter had their own little group of friends. There was very  little money, Dad was a marvel with an axe and other tools, he made  everything we needed; furniture, wagons, fences etc. Mother cooked for us  all, and needy neighbours as well, no one ever went hungry from our door.  The winters were used in putting up dozens of cords of wood, cutting  mangels and corn, milking and delivering the milk by horse and toboggan or  buggy. In some ways it was a shame some of the beautiful trees that went 81  into wood. Many from what is now called "the Sportsman's Bowl". One of  the finest stands of ponderosa pine I have ever seen; up to five feet through.  Other pastimes were candypulls and maple sugar dips (brown sugar here). It  was a carry over from N.B. days and "sugaring off."  Dad became ditch rider (water baliff) for the northern part of the  S.O.L.P. irrigation district. This he enjoyed and was friends of everyone. The  kids along his route would shout "Here comes Daddy Mac." as he rolled up  in his old Grey Dort, later a Chev and then a Ford. Mother and Dad were 45  when they came to Oliver. A little late in life for the very hard work they did  and certainly it took it's toll.  Mother died quite young at only 69 and Dad at 73 with a bad heart which  stopped him working the last 10 years or so of his life. But what a contribution to their community they crowded into those years!  When I sit on the hillside and look over the prosperous valley and  townsite of Oliver, I think of those far off dusty days, the hardships and the  pleasures, and think of all the things in which my parents were involved; it  makes me very proud of them.  Although things were anything but easy for them I do know this; they  were just as much in love with one another at the end as they were when they  fell in love at eighteen. Truly Mr. and Mrs. J.B. MacNaughton Sr. were  pioneers of the Oliver district.  SONG OF THE OKANAGAN  Sweep me o'er the sage-clad ranges  Swifter than the springtime gales.  Faster ere the summer changes  Tip us down to autumn scales.  Wreath me o'er with roses blushing  Where the silver aspens grow,  And the tow'ring firs are crushing  Graceful columbines below.  Rest us with the spruces sleeping  From the fiery hear of noon,  O'er the open ranges sweeping  'Neath the Okanagan moon.  Guy Victor Waterman  Vancouver, 1932 82  CHRISTOPHER TICKELL  by Kathleen S. Dewdney  H                            M   W*tm  ____________§__F- __■_____!    ____Br     _______r   '^■■^-^•i  *•'%*______>£         ■'   ■  jjjfcj* * **~ Jf"__■___!_'  ■ . r  Sam McCurdy, best man, Christopher and Nell Tickell, Winnie Manery, bridesmaid, May 11,  1915.  Mr. and Mrs. Christopher Tickell of Penticton were married 60 years ago  on May 11, 1915. The couple said their vows on the old Manery cattle ranch  in the Lower Similkameen. The bride was Nell Manery, eldest daughter of  Mr. and Mrs. W. J. Manery, pioneers of Similkameen. The Rev. A. H.  Cameron, Presbyterian minister, performed the wedding ceremony.  The nearest doctor, Dr. B. F. Boyce (1) was in Kelowna where Nell was  born on June 12, 1890. When only three weeks old she was brought home by  her parents on horseback on the trail — no road then — along the east side  of Okanagan Lake. Nell and her brothers and sisters grew up on the ranch  about 12 miles south of Keremeos.  How did Chris Tickell meet Nell? This is what he said: "One day while  calling for mail at the post office I was introduced to Nell. In due time and  after a trip by saddle horse over the Fairview Mountain to the Government  Office in Fairview to get a marriage licence, we were married under a fruit  tree in full bloom on May 11, 1915. Lou Newton loaned us his spanking new  team and buggy to drive from the Manery Ranch to the little house I had  built at Cawston. Our first son, Frank, was born in this little home."  How did Chris Tickell arrive in Cawston? This is his story: "On February  2, 1911 in a farm home in the Lake District of Cumberland, England, a  penny was tossed and called: "Heads Canada, tails Australia." As a result on  February 10, 1911 I, then 20 years of age, sailed out of Liverpool on the  Empress of Britain for a visit to my Uncle George Tickell in Keremeos, B.C.  We landed at St. John, New Brunswick. From here I travelled across  Canada by Canadian Pacific Railway to Sicamous, B.C., then continued on a  branch line to Vernon. After sailing down Okanagan Lake on the S.S.  Okanagan I arrived at Penticton on February 22nd and stayed overnight at  the Penticton Hotel. 83  The next day with several other passengers we travelled on a horse-drawn  sleigh to Keremeos. This was a nine hour trip through deep snow. Today this  distance can be covered in about 30 minutes by motor vehicle.  Never having been more than ten miles from my home an 8,000 mile  journey was quite an adventure. Good food, comfortable seats and  association with fellow passengers made the entire trip interesting and enjoyable.  When travelling across the prairies I was surprised to see stooks of grain  in the fields covered with snow. In answer to the question why it had not been  harvested, a young English immigrant suggested, "Probably because it is  winter wheat."  The cost of my fare from Liverpool to Penticton was $75.00. Today the  fare by the same route is about $1,100.00.  The Tickells, my family, lived in North Cumberland near the border with  Scotland. The fox hunt with a pack of hounds, descendants of John Peel's  famous pack, often came across our property. John Peel (1776 - 1854) who  was immortalized in song, was a renowned huntsman with Blencathra fox  hounds. The names of the hounds such as: Ruby, Ranter, Royal, Bellman,  Judy, Jim, etc. were handed down to their descendants until the pack was  discontinued in 1931.  A few days after my arrival in Keremeos I remember the thrill, twinged  with home-sickness, I received when I walked past the school and heard the  children during their music lesson sing, "D'ye ken John Peel with his coat so  gay?"  I got work with the Keremeos Land Company developing land on which  fruit trees were to be planted. I had four chinamen helping me all that  summer. They wore their queues until July 1, 1911 when they cut them off.  All of us were laid off in the fall.  Then I went to work on the Richter ranch at Keremeos Centre. A negro  and I fed about 600 head of cattle during the winter. Throughout the spring  and summer there were about 20 men working on the ranch.  After leaving the Richter ranch I went to work on what was then known  as the W. H. Armstrong ranch (now the Trotter ranch). Mr. Armstrong was  an industrialist living in Vancouver and the ranch was operated by a  manager, Mr. E. M. Crooker. His wife cooked the meals for the hired men.  During the summer of 1913 Mrs. Crooker visited Calgary for two weeks.  When she returned she had a rash on her face. She gave us our meals as  usual, until one day Mr. Armstrong made his usual visit. When she opened  the door to let him in he took one look at her and said, 'You have small pox'.  The next day Dr. R. B. White arrived from Penticton and put us under  quarantine. There were three of us working on the ranch, and during the  quarantine we did our own cooking in the bunkhouse. A quarantine  policeman was sent from keremeos with strict instructions to stay away from  us. He arrived by saddle horse about 2 a.m. then flopped in a lower bunk and  regardless of the quarantine he lived with us during his time there. He was a  good trapper and located a beaver pond so we had beaver tail soup for two  weeks — a taste had to be acquired for this. Mr. Crooker contracted small  pox and was very ill but he recovered.  It was during this period (1913 -1914) that a plot of about 100 acres of the  bench land was part of the Armstrong ranch — from the Cawston ranch line  to the McCurdy ranch line on the south. Sage brush on this area was very  dense and a contract to clean it was given to the Indians. They used a  railroad rail with a team of horses hitched to each end. They would dra? it 84  over the land and each time over would burn what was loose. This operation  continued until the land was cleared. Flumes were installed over the whole  acreage, a well was dug at the foot of the bench, and a steam engine installed  to pump water. A large part of the land was seeded to grain and alfalfa, and a  lesser part to corn and potatoes.  The project was abandoned after two years because after about two hours  pumping the well would go dry and it took twelve hours to fill up again. The  flumes were removed and no further use was made of the land until the  Director of the Veterans Land Act took it over. It is now covered with  flourishing orchards. We were laid off at the Armstrong ranch in the  autumn.  I went to work at the Cawston ranch that winter. Dick Cawston Jr. and I  fed about 200 head of cattle. Often there would be half-a-dozen coyote heads  sticking out of the bush around the feeding grounds. After Dick shot and  killed one, and wounded another they disappeared.  In the spring the cattle were sold. Thus ended cattle ranching on the  Cawston ranch. By this time the Similkameen Fruit Land Company had the  ranch subdivided and settlers started to arrive. In 1916 the little town was  named Cawston after R. L. Cawston, one of the early settlers.  The Similkameen post office was situated about one and one-half miles  south of Cawston and mail was delivered daily by the Great Northern  Railway. Mr. Daniel McCurdy was postmaster.  By this time several families had arrived in Cawston and a school was  needed. After a good deal of time, effort and persistence, especially by Mr. R.  B. Sheridan, Inspector Anstey was sent from Victoria to assess the situation.  Cawston was short one pupil to qualify for a school. Lower Similkameen  School was operating at that time and one pupil was moved from there to  Cawston. This made up ten pupils, enough to get a school started. The first  classes were held for a short time in the Cawston ranch house until the school  was built. Miss Ina Wood was the first teacher.  I was elected to the School Board and served four hectic years. Some  people had to have something to kick about and the teachers came in for  their share of the kicks. One chap circulated a petition to have a teacher  dismissed. Although no specific reason for the dismissal was given on the  petition twenty-two people signed it. So the School Board decided to visit  each one and ask why they had signed it. As a result of this, all but three took  their names off the petition.  We had several letters complaining about a lady teacher because she  smoked cigarettes. How different it is today when so many ladies smoke!  There was rivalry between two families to get the teacher to board with them.  Arrangements had been made for a young teacher to board at a certain  home. She was coming in by the Great Northern Railway from Princeton  when the other family that wanted her went to Hedley by car and took her off  the train then drove her to their home where she stayed.  In the spring of 1926 with the help of a young boy, Arthur Advocaat,  whose parents had brought their family from Holland, we planted the  Lombardy Poplar trees at the front of the school grounds. They are now a  landmark at Cawston.  About 1916 arrangements were made for a cemetery on the former W. H.  Lowe ranch. Mr. Lowe died in 1882 and was buried on his property. When  the land was subdivided his grave had to be moved from its location on a five-  acre lot that had been sold. Three of us dug up the coffin containing the  remains and buried it in the cemetery. The coffin was in very good condition. 85  During the next several years two more burials took place.  It did not cost much to die at that time. The neighbours dug the graves;  Mr. Ezra Mills, a carpenter in Keremeos, made the coffins; appropriate  graveside services were held by a minister of the church; and the graves were  filled in by neighbours. There were no undertakers."  Little has been written about the trials and tribulations of those who  pioneered our southern interior, some caused by the vagaries of climate, but  more by the greed, sharp business practices or ignorance of others on whom  they had depended. Chris Tickell tells us about some of his experiences.  "The Sunny Glen Fruit Growers' Association was responsible for the  development of over 90 acres of land on the Cawston Flats. They were a  number of Winnipeg businessmen who had bought shares in the  Similkameen Fruit Land Company and turned in their shares on land  purchase. These people had been told so much about the Valley they thought  all that was needed was to put the seed in the ground and a bountiful crop  would be there in the fall. As far as they were concerned Cawston was the  Palm Springs of Canada. So sure were they, that they sent a Dutch market  gardener from Winnipeg to put in the crops. This chap stayed long enough to  size up the situation then he returned to Winnipeg. They then looked for  someone else, and Mr. R. L. Cawston recommended me for the job.  This whole acreage was raw land — virgin soil with tough sod that had to  be broken up and put in a state of cultivation. As all irrigation was by open  ditches it had to be perfectly level in order to get the water to run. It took  much hard work to get this done. About 35 acres were planted to fruit trees.  After four or five years of low returns from ground crops the members began  to drop out and sell their lots.  One of the members who had 15 acres came to Cawston to live. We had a  loose partnership. We bought five pure bred Ayrshire cows and a bull,  shipped milk to Penticton, and built the usual cow barn and corn silo. We  also bought a peacock and four peahens. The Coyotes got the hens and the  peacock disappeared during the night in the fall when we were filling the silo  with corn. The following spring he turned up squashed flat under five tons of  corn.  During World War I a Mr. Orser arrived in Cawston to start a cannery.  We grew tomatoes for him for eight dollars a ton and we had to buy our field  boxes from him. He brought in about 35 Chinamen for help. He built a two  storey building on the cannery lot — the lower storey for dining and the  upper for sleeping. Passing that building any hour of the night you would  hear a loud chatter — the boys were gambling.  The first pack of tomatoes done in Cawston had Ontario labels on the  cans. After several years of operation the cannery was taken over by Ritchie  and Sutherland. Two or three years later they closed out and the growers  took over with Mr. Sam Manery a thoroughly competent operator as  manager. The financing was the sale of shares at $10.00 a share, and $2.00 a  share was called to get things going. A New Westminster firm financed the  operation materials such as cans and labour. About the year 1927 we experienced one of the finest years for growing tomatoes because the growing  conditions were as near perfect as possible. The whole large crop was harvested and delivered to the cannery in excellent condition.  Then the blow fell. We were told we would not get any money for our  crop, not a cent. To add insult to injury, the $8.00 still outstanding on the  shares was called in to help pay whatever it was that had to be paid. The  growers had a signed contract by the directors to pay a certain sum a ton, 86  $14.00 I believe it was. The directors sold the tomatoes to the New Westminster firm at no set price. It virtually amounted to making a present of 120  acres of tomatoes to the New Westminster firm. All they did was pay for cans  and labour. The shareholders and growers were never given a statement as to  why or anything else about the deal.  My two sons, Frank and Bill, aged eleven and nine had one acre for  themselves. It can be imagined the disappointment to these young boys who  had spent all their spare time on this for nothing.  Shortly after the war the Department of Agriculture at Ottawa sent men  around advising farmers to grow "mangel seed" which, owing to the war, was  expected to be in short demand in Europe. We were told we would get $1.80 a  pound for the seed. Several of us went together and bought small mangels for  planting from the Fraser Valley Growers. Fifteen of us each planted one acre.  We were instructed to ship the seeds to the United Seed Growers in Penticton. There was a very good crop of seeds. After two years had passed, we  got a notice to pick up our seeds or they would be dumped. The seeds were  dumped. The growers got nothing.  About a year later, a man arrived in Cawston promoting tobacco growing.  He said he would buy all we could grow. About 20 acres were planted. A  wonderful crop was grown and harvested, then placed in a drying barn. Two  years later the tobacco was taken out of the barn and burned. No one got any  money out of this.  When World War I ended, local conditions improved and an active  Board of Trade was organized. One of the first projects to be undertaken was  the building of a Community Hall. Labour and some cash were donated.  Various projects helped to raise money. One active group was our male  chorus of eight. Some of these were: Dick Sheridan, Percy Madden, Fred  Gimby, Fred Wright and myself. We spent many evenings practising.  We put on black-faced minstrel shows and other concerts, whist drives,  dances and Pierrot shows. Our coach was Tom Swan who had much experience in this work, and our accompanist was Mr.R. B. Sheridan.  We took our shows to Hedley, Princeton, Keremeos and Penticton. These  shows brought in considerable money for the Hall. Transportation was a  problem at that time but there were full houses at each appearance. I loved  singing and was dubbed, 'The Caruso of the Similkameen'.  Later I belonged to a musical group in Penticton. Members of our quartet  were: King Gurney, Tom Daly, Ed. Lynch and myself."  The Tickell children inherited their father's love of music. In the fall of  1927 the following article appeared in a Vancouver newspaper:  Headline: Cawston Pupils Receive Highest Marks in B.C. in Passing Music  Exams. Cawston: Distinct honor has come to Cawston and the Similkameen  through the achievement of Cawston young people in the field of music.  Mr. Tickell is a member of the Okanagan Historical Society. He has been  a member of the Penticton Knights of Pythias Lodge 49 for many years and  was Chancellor Commander for two years.  Mr. and Mrs. Tickell have lived in Penticton since 1935. They have three  children.  (1) Dr. Boyce's practice at that time covered the area from Vernon to the  United States border. 87  A LONG HARD WALK  by E. W. Veale  I had better get this down on paper before it is too late. My story took  place in 1913, a long time ago.  Ester Horrocks and I were married in March 1913 in one of the oldest  churches in British Columbia, the Church of England in the small town of  Yale, where my parents lived at the time. After our honeymoon of a couple of  days, Ester and I went to Merritt, where I had a pre-emption (homestead)  situated in the Voght Valley about twenty-five miles from Merritt.  On the homestead I had a work mare which weighed about 1,550 to 1,600  pounds, a saddle mare and her filly foal named Polly and Molly; two dogs,  Beaver and Sally. Beaver was a cross between a bull-dog and a Scotch collie  and weighed about 60 pounds and he was well able to take care of himself as  well as of us. Sally was a Border collie and a tip-top cattle dog. Anything I  pointed at, be it a cow, horse, or man, she would heel. She loved to crawl at  the back of the stove and sleep. If I left the house she was right at my heels, I  never needed to call her.  As I was working here and there, I had a little tent house between the old  Merritt hospital and the Coldwater River, quite close to where Ester's  brother lived with his wife and seven children. He was a fire boss in the  Middlesbourgh coal mines and earned $105.00 per month, which was good  wages at that time.  In the fall I heard that a railway construction camp wanted four horse  teams up the Coldwater at July Creek to haul freight. The steel was laid as far  as July Creek which was 31 miles up the Coldwater River from Merritt on the  way to Hope, B.C., another 50 miles of tote roads and camps were mostly fed  from the Hope end of the construction work. As I only had one big work  horse, I hired a mare from my brother, which was not quite as heavy as my  mare, then I made arrangements to hire a team for leaders from my friend,  Harry Stumbles. I had a wagon which was almost like new which I bought  from my Dad for $150.00 and a sleigh which I purchased for $45.00. I was all  set for the job which looked good to me at $100.00 per month and all found.  That is feed and shelter for the horses and replacement of lost horse shoes  and broken harness as well as shelter for myself, sometimes in tents and  sometimes in a bunk house.  Well, we loaded up the box cars with our horses, wagons and sleighs and  shipped them to July Creek to the end of steel. The next morning, the seventh  of November, we lined up seven, four horse teams and loaded up about 3,500  pounds to the team, and pulled out for headquarters camp which was eleven  miles away. It took us about two and a half hours to make the eleven miles  bumping up and down over rocks, roots and mud holes. I do not remember if  we saw any wild life other then a few grouse. We made camp for dinner,  unloaded and then returned to July Creek for the night. After doing this for  about two weeks we were moved to a camp about mid-way to headquarters,  that shortened our trip by about five and a half miles each way. This was  much better for both man and beast. However, this did not last long as there  was a change for me, I was moved to headquarters and so the group split  up. I had the work of hauling supplies from headquarters to the tramway  with my team, which was about a mile each way. The hauling was now being  done by sleigh as winter and snow had set in. At the tramway the supplies  were lowered into the canyon by endless cable lowering the loaded car down  about 700 feet and bringing the empty car up. I wasn't at headquarters very long when I got word that I was the father  of a baby boy, born December 12th. I was granted leave for a few days while  another teamster took over my horses. My only means of travel then was by  foot. I walked the snow treaded trail eleven miles to July Creek where I was  lucky and caught the train to Merritt. This came up about every third or  fourth day. I rushed to the Merritt hospital to see my wife and baby son, who  was now three days old. I was happy, as both were well.  I only stayed one full day as I could not afford to lose any time. I was not  sure when the next train would leave and as there was no snow in Merritt, I  decided to walk. So the next morning sharp at seven o'clock I started out,  and as I started so did the snow, soft fluffy dry snow. I was feeling fine and in  high spirits and the first five miles went quickly. The railway now entered the  Indian Reserve as I passed Charley Jewel's on the left, I travelled another half  mile and I passed Harry Captain's place, then I travelled on for the next four  miles passing more Indian farms, I saw no-one, finally I arrived at Glen-  walker, where, well off the railway but in sight, was where the first white  rancher had settled. I was now ten miles from Merritt. It was now snowing  hard and I was still travelling along. I passed Billy Voght's place. His father  was one of the first settlers in the Nicola Valley. Next was the Olson place  which was fourteen miles from MerrittI kept on going still, passing two more  old settlers places, each telling me I had walked another mile. Finally I came  to Kingvale where Dell King, a white farmer lived and there was a railway  section house, I still saw nobody but I knew I had travelled seventeen miles.  It was now eleven o'clock and I had made good time. From here to July Creek  there were no more settlers and the way was fourteen miles still to go. I  continued on, the snow continued falling, my steps were slowing, walking was  becoming harder fighting the snow and walking along the uneven railway  tracks. I came to Brody, another eight miles had passed, it was now two  o'clock, I was hungry so I ate my lunch which I carried with me. I still had six  miles to go to July Creek, the way was getting harder, my clothing was getting  heavier and wetter. I arrived at July Creek at dusk where a homesteader  trapper, Shorty Eddyings lived. I could have stayed the night with him but I  didn't want to lose time.  By four o'clock I was becoming very tired but I kept on going, slowing up  more and more as I went along. I was finding myself wishing that I had  stopped at July Creek for the night. It was still snowing, and luckily the trail  had been travelled on. I walked about three miles further and finally just had  to sit down in the snow. I felt myself getting cold so had to force myself to  start walking again, after having walked about another half a mile I had to  stop and rest again. I kept walking a bit further and then stopping. At last I  had reached the timber, I knew then that I still had three miles ahead of me.  I was determined to keep on, this I did, going a short way and then stopping  to rest. Suddenly I saw a light, I was happy, it was the cookhouse. The camp  was large and a night cook was still on duty. I staggered to the door, walked  into the kitchen, I was covered with snow, and fatigued.  The cook was surprised to see me and asked where the h— I came from. I  told him I had walked all the way from Merritt and was awfully hungry. He  soon had a feast fit for a king placed before me, beefsteak, potatoes and all  the trimmings. I thought I was hungry, but I couldn't begin to eat all he had  placed before me. As we chatted I soon discovered that it had been snowing  ever since I left three days ago.  Clarance Woodward and his younger brother, Norman, were still hauling  from July Creek. They both had big horses weighing from 1,600 to 1,800 89  pounds and were geldings. Their loads on sleighs would run about two and a  half tons. These two teamsters started out a day later then I had. They had  only gone three miles but the snow was too deep and they had to stop. They  each unloaded half a ton of their loads and then continued on their way.  Then again they only went another two or three miles and were forced to stop  again, this time they had to leave one sleigh behind. They hitched the  four head of horses onto one sleigh now making an eight horse team. By  the time they made headquarters camp which was eleven miles from July  Creek they were pushing snow to the second team. We later found out that,  had the Woodwards not got through that day, the construction works would  have shut down, putting several hundred men out of work.  The snow continued to fall... I think it must have snowed an inch deeper  for every mile, anyway by January 1st, 1914 the engineers had measured  twenty-one feet six inches of snow at headquarters camp.  It might be fitting to tell you that in June of 1914 I was walking over the  same trail where we had passed through a thick stand of Jackpine a few  months earlier and, on reaching up, I could barely touch the scar where the  horses single-trees had skinned the bark off the trees as they passed through  this same winter trail. I have never known of any winter that has had as much  snow since nor do I know of any one of these teamsters who are still alive to  tell the tale that took place sixty-two years ago.  Slooping a big yellow pine log,  courtesy R. Sugars)  Bill McQueen, Andrew Thompson. Westside 1917. (Photo 90  THE MONK BROTHERS OF GRINDROD  By: James Bell  William Monk John G. Monk  1870 -1946 1877 -1929  One William Monk (1842 - 1880) was a resident of Kent County,  England. He was a carpenter by trade. Of his family, two of his sons came to  Canada and eventually to Grindrod in the North Okanagan Valley. In a  sense these would be separate stories, but since they blend so well with each  other and with the area of Grindrod, we will deal with the elder brother,  William Monk, first.  William Monk served his apprenticeships as both carpenter and plumber  in England. He came to Ontario in 1888. By his trades he was able to work  his way west, mostly by C.P.R. employment, first to Alberta where he spent  about one year, and then on to Vancouver where he spent another year. The  Coast area proved to be moister than he liked and having heard, from other  Englishmen, of the climate in the Okanagan, he moved here and  homesteaded about one mile north of Enderby. This location afforded him  the opportunity to scout around, and in 1893 he homesteaded again about  one mile east of the present Grindrod Shuswap River bridge, and this  became his home for almost the rest of his life. In 1897, William Monk  married Emma Blackburn (1879 - 1949), a member of a well known North  Okanagan family.  To this union were born Susan Elizabeth, Blanche Irene and Helen  Muriel. Other children are William Alfred and John Lewis.  William Monk Sr., was a successful farmer, and this mainly because he  was not afraid of the hard work and long hours demanded of his generation  of settlers. The main items of use to create a good farm from a homestead  were a well muscled body and a fertile brain, both of which he had his full  share. He was a member of the Grindrod School Trustees for about twenty  years and most of this time he was chairman of the Board. For several years  starting in 1905 William Monk was a director of the Enderby Farmer's  Exchange. In 1906 he became a charter member of the I.O.O.F. of Enderby.  He was also provincial government road foreman for the area for many years.  Now to brother John G. Monk. He and his wife Elizabeth (1877 - 1952)  arrived from England in 1906. He worked for and with his brother William  on the farm and at any other available effort, none of which in that day made  for any great accumulation of wealth. However he had built a home for his  family near that of his brother. In 1910 the first bridge was built across the  Shuswap River.at Grindrod, and in 1911 John moved his home to the west  side of the river by the use of skids and rollers and teams of horses, a distance  of about a mile and a half. Once upon location he built an addition to his  home and late in 1911 a small portion of the home became Grindrod's first  post office with of course, John Monk becoming the first postmaster. Prior to  this time, all Grindrod mail had to be picked up at Enderby.  This couple were the parents of Nellie Ida, William John and Kathleen  Margaret.  Because John Monk was the postmaster he automatically became the  mail carrier from the C.P.R. morning and evening trains, the rail station  being about 3/4 of a mile from the post office. In at least the earlier days this  was a do-it-yourself hoofing job, and since the trains did not have a good  record for punctuality, many long hours of waiting in ofttimes zero and 91  colder weather were experienced. Nellie worked through a good part of this  time with her parents in the post office. John Monk was for many years a  Justice of the Peace.  In 1922 a general store was added to the holding known as "Monk and  Son." It was a landmark of Grindrod until the business was sold in 1968, and  the new owner became the new postmaster. So ended 57 years of the  post office being operated by one or more members of the Monk family  including daughter Kathleen.  Duck Lake School about 1909. Lto R standing: Hughie McLure, Annie Simpson, Clara Bailey,  Phoebe (?) Bailey, Emily McDougall, Charles Mackay (teacher), Oliver McDougall, Welsey  Bailey. Seated: Aaron Bailey, Harvey Simpson. Jessie McLure. (Photo credit Dorothy Gellatley) 92  PIONEERING IN OKANAGAN  by Dorothy Gellatly  Dad (John Abbot Bailey) built this home in Westbank, to which we moved after leaving the  'Goldie' house. This log home consisted of two large rooms with a double fireplace in the centre  partition. We could light a fire on either side, providing us with warmth in both rooms, which  was appreciated in really cold weather. In later years the building was used as a shed or shop for  housing - I don't know what.  From among many pioneers I've chosen to write of the Bailey family, who  came to the Okanagan eighty years ago, and whose story I've gleaned from  talking with Clara Bailey Hallam, of Falkland, and from diaries kept by her  family and kindly loaned to me.  One of those diaries, written by Clara's grandfather, gives the origin of  the name Bailey, as follows: "The Bailey's are of pure English descent, the  name being derived from the office of Bailiff, or Sheriff, of that famous old  court and prison, the Old Bailey, in London.* There is no record of the name  Bailey in America before 1630 when three brothers of that name came to  Cambridge, near Boston. Two of them stayed in Massachusetts, and the  third is believed to have gone to Virginia."  A little more background is essential to my story, for it is obvious from  the diaries that the Baileys possessed the pioneering spirit from earliest  times. Especially, perhaps, that branch of the family of which I write, the  head of which was John Ward Bailey, who served in the Confederate Army  under General Lee, his father, Aaron Bailey, fought in the American War for  Independence from 1778 to 1786.  John Ward Bailey was in Kansas and still in uniform when he married  Harriet Collins, a widow with two children, George and Phoebe, whose father  had been killed in the Civil War. And here begins the story of Harriet's  courage after her husband had been killed by rebels, or bush-whackers as  they were known, who also stole her winter's wood supply and everything else  worth taking. Aware that her only chance of escape lay in travelling north,  she and the children set out, riding Harriet's racing mare. But it wasn't long  before the rebels overtook her, stole her horse and held Harriet and the  children prisoners for awhile.  Managing to escape, but this time on foot, the three started walking the  long way to freedom, finding shelter one night in an abandoned cabin where  for hours they were surrounded by howling wolves. With daylight they were  on their way again, but before they reached Kansas little Phoebe died. 93  It was in Kansas that Harriet met and married John Ward Bailey, and  following his discharge from the army they homesteaded near Junction City,  where their eldest son, John Abbot, was born. Nine years later, in 1879, they  set out by covered wagon for Oregon, reaching Lodge Canyon in August,  where for three months they had to remain behind the fort palisades on  account of Indian raids.  They finally settled at Summerville, Oregon, where the men operated  shingle-mills and a stone-quarry, and as John Abbot grew up, stone-cutting  became his trade, a trade that was to serve him well in Okanagan. It was  from Summerville that George4 Collins joined up with the Shannon Marshall  family, from Union County, to come to Okanagan, and so enthusiastic were  they over the climate that George wrote back, urging his step-brother to sell  everything and come to Okanagan, which the family finally did, in 1895. By  that time John Abbot had married Emma Jane Pentecost, and was raising a  young family. Two years after coming here, he travelled back, this time to  Lewiston, Idaho, to bring his sister and husband, Mary and Bill Lewis, and  his parents, John Ward and Harriet Bailey, to Okanagan. They lived first on  the west side of the lake, then in South Kelowna, and later in Winfield.  Clara was born on the west side of the lake, and among her earliest  memories are the myriad of wild flowers that grew near their home; buttercups, sunflowers, yellow-bells, moccasin flowers and a host of others.  Another memory is her very first taste of cherries, a treat that came their way  while her father was remodeling the Guisachan house, occupied at the time  by Mr. and Mrs. Morrison. The latter suggested that Mr. Bailey bring his  family over for the day, and Clara says: "Well I remember how, bright and  early Dad hitched up the team and drove us to Siwash Point. (There was no  bridge in those days, of course). Dad rowed us across the lake to the point of  Kelowna City Park, which wasn't a park then, and was nothing but a swamp.  Dad carried mother over the bad places, and we jumped, and arrived at  Guisachan, we had a lovely meal — or maybe it was two — and those  cherries! We girls held out our pinafores for Katie Morrison to drop those  big, fat cherries in! It was the first time I'd ever tasted cherries!  Clara tells of another adventure at Siwash Point, as follows: "Our brother  Bill had to go and meet Dad at Siwash Point, so my sister and I went along  for the ride. We hadn't gone far when it began to rain, but we went on, tied  up the team and waited — and waited, in the pitch black night and the wind  and the rain. Finally we girls fell asleep in the wagon, and were presently  started awake when some Indian women camped nearby pulled us out of the  wagon and took us into their big, round tepee where a fire burned in the  centre of the floor. They gave us each a dish of stew and bannock, and finally,  when they thought we'd waited long enough and Dad hadn't been able to get  across the lake, they helped hitch up the team and sent us away home. I don't  know how we made it, it was so dark; but the horses seemed to know the way.  Dad never did get home that night because of the storm.  "One fall Dad worked at the slaughter-house in Kelowna and brought  home a wagon-load of pigs heads and feet for our winter's meat," Clara says,  and adds that it was in Kelowna that her father's work with stone served him  so well, for he cut stone for cellars, homes and businesses, including the stone  for Weddell's store. In 1910 he cut the stone for St. Michael and All Angels'  Church, and did other stone-cutting jobs. He contracted for other sorts of  work, too, one such being installation of the irrigation system at Fintry." He  also put in the first ditch out of Powers Creek, forerunner of Westbank  Irrigation District. Clara was born in the 'Goldie' house, built by Robert 94  Goldie in the early 1890's — still occupied — and the oldest house in  Westbank (on 4th Avenue).  Clara goes on to tell about, ". . . Mother's half-grown ducks that wandered across to the swamp opposite the home Dad built for us later, consisting of two rooms, of logs, and divided by a fireplace. Suddenly we heard a  great uproar, and Mother picked up the gun and she and I went out to see  what the trouble was; but we were only in time to see Mr. Coyote making his  get-away. Mother fired at him, but missed, and when we started looking  around for the ducklings, all we could see were little yellow legs where they'd  burrowed into the haystack. Camel-like, those ducklings thought they were  safe as long as their heads were buried!  "The Indian's horses and cattle often gave us trouble, getting into our  garden and the grain-field, and with Dad away on some contract work, it was  Mother who had to drive them off. If it was night, she'd get up and dress,  light the candle, and taking some of us with here, chase those animals out  onto the range. It was really our mothers who were the pioneers, for they had  to stay home and take charge of everything; grow the garden, milk the cows  and make the butter and look after the home, seldom getting out to see  another woman, and months would pass without their seeing their neighbours. And as for a store, there just wasn't any, unless we went to town once  in awhile.  "For hunting Dad made his own bullets, and we used to help him, or  think we did," Clara says, adding, "In those days tea always came in lead  packages, and Mother would save that lead. Dad had an old iron frying-pan  in which he'd melt the lead, after which he'd pour it into the bullet molds and  tamp the powder in. That way he'd refill empty cartridges or buy new ones  and fill them. And of course there was lots of hunting, as there were no game-  laws in those days, so one had only to go out and shoot a deer when meat was  needed. Or if we fancied game-birds, there were plenty of grouse, and I've  seen the birch trees gray with them in spring.  "We saw lots of the Indians," Clara says, "and they were always friendly,  and used to come and admire Mother's garden, which it didn't take her long  to grow. At first we had to depend on wild fruits; wild black currants,  elderberries, Oregon grape and so on; but Mother soon had rhubarb, blackberries and dewberries growing, from roots she'd brought from Oregon with  her. She grew flowers, too, and the Indians admired them; but it was her  sewing machine they'd eye with awe when they saw how it worked. It didn't  take them long to decide that it was much easier to bring their tanned hides  to Mother for stitching, than to sew them by hand. They'd make up beaded  jackets, gloves and moccasins to trade with us for flour, tea, sugar and other  luxuries and once Tom Dominick's wife brought yards of red and blue silk  for Mother to make her two dresses.  "I remember Tom well! He was friendly, could talk English and often  acted as interpreter for the others. He'd come in and visit, and his wife, or  klootchman, would come with him. Once my brother Bill traded Dominick a  sack of flour for a horse and a dog, and that horse served us for driving,  riding, plow and work-horse, and for packing when Dad went trapping, for  years. Old Charley we called him, and he lived to the ripe old age of twenty-  five."  Clara tells too, of bands of Indians travelling from south of the line each  fall to ride to Coldstream for the hop-picking. "There'd be Indian women  riding with papooses on packboards strapped to their backs," she says, "and 95  usually an older tot riding in front, or two clinging to the back of the saddle.  Occasionally several youngsters would ride one horse, with a blanket for a  saddle, and you can imagine how fascinated we'd be watching them ride by.  "Even though we might have to travel a long way, we managed to get  some entertainment as the years passed. On the west side we might go to  Marshall's who were all musical, or there'd be a debate, or someone would  put on a play. In winter too, we skated, and when I began to grow up we were  at Winfield, and people would come from ever so far for dances. I remember  the Rice's coming from Mission Creek; McKinley's from Dry Valley; Riddle's from Grande Prairie (Westwold); the Olds from the Commonage and  the O'Neals from Oceola.  "I remember a time when the Marshall's stayed with us at Winfield and  we experienced an earthquake, and we needed no alarm that morning! We  later learned that it was right at the time of the San Francisco quake. I  remember too, when Gifford Thomson started driving stage between  Kelowna and Vernon, using a team and democrat. But I'm getting ahead of  myself, and must go back to when we went to school at South Okanagan, and  our first teacher was Mr. Sutherland, and he was good. That year we had a  Christmas tree, and I thought it grand! Each girl got a doll with real hair and  a hanky, while the boys got clamp skates and a jack-knife. I even remember  who went; and a lot of the names are still familiar. There were four Berards;  Henry, Fred, Matilda and Alice. Four Casorso's; Louie, Joe, Peter, Felix and  August. Two Swordy's; Frank and Bert; Jane Conaham (?); Phyllis Carter;  four Thompson girls; Hattie, Lulu, Ethel and Bo-Bo— I think her name was  Beatrice, and two Thompson boys; Stanley and Wilbur. Three Favell's;  Clarence, Jimmie and Adeline; Harry and Winnie Small; two Kairn's (?);  Theodore and Hermione; two Day children, Norman and Dora, and four of  us; Jim, Bill, Phoebe and Clara Bailey.  "I think I should tell about the trip we took back to Oregon about 1904,  as it was a real part of our pioneering days over which we were all quite  excited. Dad fixed up a covered democrat and a covered wagon for the trip,  and leaving Winfield on September first, it took us two weeks to make the  journey. From Dog (Skaha) Lake to south of the border there wasn't a house  or a settler to be seen. One night we camped along the Snake River; we  children were in bed, and Mother was gathering wood for the campfire along  the river-bank.  "We'd got to sleep; but were rudely awakened when someone started  pulling us out of the wagon by our legs, and we wondered what on earth was  happening! Suddenly we realized the intruder was an old Indian wrapped in  a blanket that smelled to high heaven. He was tall and his hair hung down to  his shoulders, and he refused to leave in spite of Dad's insistence that he do  so. Finally he clutched Aaron and would have made off with him, but for  Dad; who had quite a scuffle to prevent his doing so. He went, finally; but  came back, insisting the Aaron was his 'white brudder'. By this time Dad had  armed himself with a pronged willow-stick with which he pinned that Indian  by the neck, and the expression on that old man's face was something to  behold! Still holding him fast, Dad sent Bill off for the ferry-man, who in  turn sent for the chief. The chief, too, had long hair, but was quite dignified  in a black suit, gold watch, chain and ring, and spoke good English. He and  Dad talked for awhile, after which the chief took our would-be kidnapper off  with him.  "While we were in Oregon our Uncle Norman was married, and of course 96  we were at the wedding, which was at the house, followed by a large reception  and dance, and we had a wonderful time. After a month visiting we started  home again, which took us another two weeks. We were glad to be home,  though we'd all enjoyed that two month's holiday.  "We were getting settled in Winfield about that time, and there Dad cut  stone by hand for the foundation of our large log house built in the canyon.  Now of course we had to go to another school, and the first one at Duck Lake  was built with volunteer labour, and the trustees were Jeremiah Clark, John  Bailey and John McClure."  "Mother grew a big garden there, which produced black currants,  rhubarb, strawberries and so on, which we'd pick and sell, or trade at the  store together with butter and eggs. With the money Mother made that way,  she could get groceries, and often material for our clothes, which she made  herself until we were grown-up."  By Ann Parkin  * Editor's Note: The dictionary gives land steward as one of the meanings of bailiff, a foreman  on a large farm is another meaning of bailiff.  John Ward Bailey - Served in the Confederate Army - U.S.A. Born at Woodberry, July 7, 1823.  Died at Winfield, 1904, and is buried at Peachland, as also is his wife. Came to Westbank, 1895,  from Lewiston, Idaho. Picture taken at 80 years of age. 97  OKANAGAN BRIGADE TRAIL  A report on the section from Westside opposite Kelowna to just north of  Fintry on Okanagan Lake as found on the ground in 1974 by members of the  Okanagan Historical Society.  NOTE: The trail had some use 1811 - 1813 by Pacific Fur Co. — 1813 - 1821  by North West Co. — 1821 - 1826 some use by Hudson Bay Co. — 1826 -  1847 main travel route of Husdon Bay Co. — 1848 - 1860 some use by  Hudson Bay Co. — 1858 - early 1900's used by miners and others. Much of it  originally an Indian trail.  Mileages noted below and on the map were taken by automobile on the  present road and are of course only approximate. The old ferry wharf at  Westside is Mile 0. Pieces of Trail found are marked A to J. There is a  possibility that other bits still exist in the area covered but the ground was  gone over quite thoroughly. With the exception of the northern half of C all  the existing pieces of Trail seem to be on private property. Wherever  practical owners have been written to and their co-operation asked for. On  the great map made by A.C Anderson of the H.B.C. Fintry is Mile 192 from  Fort Okanagan and Kamloops Mile 269. He called it seven days travel from  Okanagan to Fintry.  The advice and assistance of Mr. Charles Dain of Westside, Mr. Angus  Gray of Vernon and formerly of Fintry, Dr. Campbell-Brown of Okanagan  Landing and Mr. Dave Falconer of Vernon, Mrs. Primrose Upton and Mr.  Paddy Cameron of Kelowna, are gratefully acknowledged; as are the same  given by many others. On the ground at various times were Mr. Allen  Roadhouse, Dr. H. Barr, Dr. J. Gibson and Mr. H.R. Hatfield. Mr. and Mrs.  W. Deighton of Nahun and Mrs. P. Kitson of Bear Creek were most kind in  allowing search on their properties.  Fragments of the Trail still left are well worthy of preservation; though in  many places this may not be possible. Nearly all of the pieces found are now  marked with 2 in. by 4 in. metal markers on the trees and the occasional  "H.B.C Trail" aluminum marker.  A. At the south end, Mile 2.8, this piece emerging from the road cut goes  steeply up a draw to get above the rock along the water. To the top of this  draw the Trail is plain and very picturesque and interesting. It has old  blazes and axe work. From there it is more indistinct on a quite open  bench and sidehill. It would seem that one branch came down along the  sidehill to the south edge of the Riviere a I'Ours (Bear Creek) (Lambly  Creek) fan where was an Indian encampment or village. Another continued along the bench to descend and cross the stream about where the  present road crosses, Mile 3.8. The south portion of this piece (Lot 3869) is  on private property and permission must be obtained before going on it.  The route of the Trail can be seen from the main road.  B. This is where the Trail left the north edge of the Lambly Creek fan and  climbed again to get better ground above the cliffs. There are old blazes  on a big dead pine. At both ends this piece disappears in ground which  has been cultivated. The north end is Mile 4.25.  C This piece which starts about Mile 5.4 and ends about Mile 6.55 is one of  the longest and most interesting we found. At the start the road is below  but soon crosses to the upper side where the Trail switchbacks. At a bit  over .3 miles the road again crosses, west to east, and the Trail continues  up a grassy swale. It then finds its way in a remarkably easy manner 98  e. Urvoose K-arch  M7'5 fe M7-6  "Tail   below rood  M to 4-  t'-Qil  reioms   food  OKANAGAN BRIGADE TRAIL  WESTSIDE TO FINTRy .boUr zz m  4  _=_¬•' 99  t°±^ Fintry  . ~y    M19^ "from Forf Okonceion  A/delta ' J  4PVV" t    Sf'2, houses, sprigs  VV- Corro!   OJ:!  Ml&l ...   _^  K        *  id ,       <di  w  ^X    "   ">\rp.aui/afe rocher <bad. rocK)  MlS-4-  i\  Goesars L_~Andinc  MWdj  of H sion"  A  o  <___:  O  KM II-9   Crirl Ou.des'  V-J oedslead ' oate.1  { kM 10-7 od bcj rouse I  ...     r       ^   ),-___ in lonq -field .  shoe U_/^ ^ J \  M°)'5 Wilson  uflnJiW  M^'i        (pkar,ac.ar,A 100  through a rough and rocky mountainside and finally descending is lost  under the road.  D. Trail emerges and is on lower side of the road for some .4 miles; Mile 7.4  to 7.8.  E. A nice bit of Trail along the back of the Okanagan Anglican Camp. It  comes out on the upper side of the road about Mile 9.4 opposite Fehr's  gate, slants up and across a sandy shoulder and turns left down to Wilson  Gulch where the road crosses it. Where it climbs the north bank of the  Gulch, below the road, the young people of the Camp have been using it to  reach an outdoor chapel. The Trail passes on the upper side of the white  cross marking the chapel. It is lost under the road at about Mile 10.  F. A very short bit of Trail shows where it swings in from the road to cross a  small creek or draw about Mile 10.35.  G. About a mile of typical Trail, Mile 11 to 12. The south end comes out  from an old cultivated field. From here it climbs gradually to the level of  the road about Mile 11.35 from where, or nearly, one branch, the main  one, goes down again to avoid a bluff and then up again close to the road.  It continues below and close to the road to Mile 12 where we lost it.  H. This piece, named on A.C Anderson's map as "Mauvais Rocher" is  probably the most spectacular section of the whole Okanagan Brigade  Trail from Fort Okanagan to Thompson's River (Kamloops). An Indian,  Aeneas Ortland, was told by his white grandfather that on first coming to  the Okanagan he and his small party were held up here by the Indians and  deprived of their horses and other possessions. It is very likely that other  holdups occurred here as it is an ideal place for ambush. There are minor  pictographs by the Trail. The place was later known to the cattlemen as  the Golden Gate because stock could be held here by a simple set of bars.  The section is partly at least, and perhaps all, on the property of Mr. W.  Deighton who lives at Nahun. The Okanagan Historical Society has  placed a metal marker set in concrete in a rock crevice by the Trail.  Nahun is about Mile 16.  I. The Trail is distinct from around Mile 17.2 to Mile 18.6 Beyond this it is  mostly under an old road but shows in places and the general route is  obvious to the south edge of the Fintry flat. As in the northerly part of this  section and much of the J section the road makes long loops away from the  Trail using road mileages gives a rather distorted picture but our  resources did not seem to offer a better alternative. At about Mile 18.2,  where road and Trail are still roughly parallel and not too far apart, is a  spring and cattle corral. It is probable that the Hudson's Bay cattle party  with which David Douglas was travelling camped here on the 24th of April  1833. The latitude given by Douglas on his sketch, 50-07-32.5, fits closely.  This is a good place for stock to feed and water and would perhaps have  been the only such in the neighbourhood at that time. The main Trail  passed here a couple of hundred yards away, down toward the Lake, but  from Mile 18.6 a very plain old trail leads southerly up to where the  existing corral is. The south leg of the diversion to this campsite is not so  plain. The road obscures its route and the ground is open and such that  various ways could have been taken from and to the main Trail. However  traces of travel on some of them are quite visible. Altogether a very interesting, typical and picturesque section.  J. This piece starts north of Riviere a" la Biche (Doe River) (Shorts Creek) at  the first switchback above the Fintry fan on the old access road from the  main road. The first half mile is very interesting indeed with old blazes 101  and obvious hand work across a talus slope. It is thought that the painting  of a passing Brigade by John Innes may have depicted this area. It is a  good, distinct and typical piece further along also but is somewhat cut up  by an old logging road. At about Mile 22.15 it seems to disappear under  the road and here our exploration to this date ended.  It is apparent that a great deal of arranging will have to be done with  various Departments of Government and with private owners if worthwhile  pieces of this famous Trail are to be preserved; on this stretch as well as  further south in the Valley.  Section from Westside opposite Kelowna toward the U.S. border.  Several pieces between Twin Lakes and the north end of Garnet  Valley have been found over the past few years by members of the  Society aided by others.  For the first piece we will use the Marron Valley road turnoff from Highway 3A as Mile 0. Again road mileages are by speedometer and are only  approximate. This turnoff is 4.35 miles from the Kaleden Junction (Hwys. 97  & 3A), on the right hand side going west. At Mile 0.9 the Trail goes up over a  small rise above and to the west of the road. It can then be followed across a  flat and down a small draw to disappear under the road about Mile 1.4.  Around Mile 3.1 and to the east below the road the Trail emerges from a  field and soon goes down a little draw, where it has been partly washed out,  and then across a valley and stream. Across this valley it climbs a sandy ridge  and then goes northwesterly over an open flat. Here a widely spaced row of  pines has grown up along the Trail. Such a row of trees is often indicative of a  trail or old fence where snow has drifted and moisture gathered allowing  seeds to germinate and grow. At Mile 3.8 on the road the Trail crosses east to  west and is lost in a field.  It crosses back again around Mile 4.3 and goes steeply down a valley to  the floor of Marron Valley and disappears under the road at about Mile 4.9;  or so we think from our searching to date. From here north until the bank of  Shatford Creek (Riviere des Serpens) is reached the route is pretty well  covered by fields, roads, etc.  As several roads are used as reference from the junction of the Marron  Valley and Green Mountain roads it seems well to use this point as a second  Mile 0. At about Mile 0.2 west on the Green Mountain road the Trail having  crossed Shatford Creek goes across the road and climbs to the north. After  winding through some broken ground it crosses the Farleigh Lake road at 0.5  miles just outside the entrance to the new (1975) Farleigh estates subdivision.  Swinging around the outside or easterly shoulder of the mountain it  follows a series of benches on an almost level grade on a line due north, along  which the westerly boundary of Penticton Indian Reserve No. 1 follows it. It  is very interesting to note that all the way from Marron Valley to Trout Creek  the westerly boundary of the Reserve follows approximately the line of the  Trail. When looking to the west from the area of the Green Mountain and  Shingle (Beaver) Creek road junction one can see a line along the hillside.  This is a short bit of old logging or farm road but a good indicator of the  Trail location as it followed the latter. The Shingle Creek road turns to the  north off the Green Mountain road at Mile 1.8 from the Marron Valley road.  Still using the Marron Valley and Green Mountain junction as Mile 0 we  follow the Shingle Creek road north. Opposite to the west and well above the  road at say Mile 2.2 the Trail leaving the level bench climbs a gradual slope 102  over a low, open, height of land. It then maintains a quite level course for  some distance and is not visible from the road below. Finally it is overtaken  and wiped out by the road, which has been gradually climbing, at around  Mile 4.2.  At Mile 5.95 the Trail emerges on the right (east) side and crosses Shingle  Creek a short distance below the road bridge at Mile 6.2 From here to Mile  9.8 it seems to have been closely folowed by the road and indeed pieces of  good trail are visible to the sides for much of the way. At Mile 9.8 it goes  down a sandy draw to the left (west) of the road and across a big open flat.  The old impression can be followed and here and there a pine has grown up.  The cones which have rolled into the Trail mark it clearly.  At Mile 10.5 it is again covered by the road but comes out very soon on  the righthand side and then climbs over a rocky bluff. Coming down to a  second flat, Mile 10.8 about, it skirts the bottom of the hill, is crossed by a  branch road and swings easterly to descend towards Trout Creek (Riviere a la  Truite). A short distance down the hillside and a bench is reached. And now  we are at one of those puzzles which lend to the Trail searcher's life both  great fascination and great exasperation. From this bench there are trails  going both right and left to go down the rest of the way to the Trout Creek  flat. After considerable work on the ground we decided that the one to the  right must be the Trail. Among other things it connected with very large old  trails going across the Creek say half a mile below the road bridge, which is  about Mile 12.4.  Having this comfortably settled in our minds and marked on the ground  we are just lately confronted with a copy of a plan accompanying the original  survey notes for Indian Reserve No. 1. This plan shows the Brigade Trail  crossing the Creek at or above the road crossing and following closely the  route of the present road into Prairie Valley. So more study of the ground  and records is called for. Perhaps as in so many cases there were two routes.  Perhaps there was later another heavily travelled trail in the area. We will  keep digging for the answer. Mr. R.C Harris of West Vancouver, a member  of our Society, does much of the research with our local group.  Whichever way it went the Trail came down Prairie Valley and crossed  the Summerland flats to enter Garnet Valley at the road junction about Mile  17.75. Near the crossing of Aeneas Creek there was a branch connecting with  the "Lower Road" Trail. The lower Trail, used by messengers and smaller  parties particularly in the winter, provided an alternate route from  somewhere in the White Lake — Marron Valley area to Peachland (Deep)  Creek (R. de Trepanier) and followed the main Okanagan Valley close to the  lakes. Up the lower part of Garnet Valley the Trail is long since covered by  orchards, roads, ditches and so forth.  The Wild Horse Mountain road branches off to the east from the Garnet  Valley road at Mile 20.5. As there are two roads to follow from here in our  effort to keep up with the Trail we will call this a new Mile 0. Just here a  small bit of Trail can be seen as it climbs below the Wild Horse road.  At Mile 0.5 a branch road and the Trail go off the Wild Horse road to the  left (west). In a short distance the Trail leaves this bench, climbs over a low  projecting spur and descends to a long hayfield. At the northwest end of the  field it starts to climb a long slope following the course of a little stream. At  about Mile 2.5, where the road is again close by, the Trail goes up and out to  the northwest. In the meantime the road has gone up to the east passing the  wartime rifle range and going through the stock range gate at Mile 1.6.  Beyond the gate the road divides and we take the left hand fork which as 103  noted comes to the valley of the little stream and close to the Trail at about  Mile 2.5. All of this road is rugged and a mudhole at 2.5 blocks it in the  spring.  From this point the Trail travels some rough ground following quite  closely the natural gas pipeline. In perhaps half a mile it crosses the gas line  east to west and goes across an open sidehill. Then comes a flat bottomed  valley, a stretch along a wooded slope just below the gas line and then a more  open slope cut by small streamways. On a clear slope where a road comes up  from the Garnet Valley road the Trail is lost. This branch road leaves the  Garnet Valley road at around Mile 7.5 on the latter. Here is the rubbish left  from a stud mill, the intensive logging for which has made Trail re-location  almost impossible close by. This mileage business may seem more complicated than necessary but hopefully will be useful in describing finds from  future searching and a help in tying everything together.  Campement du Pretre (Camp of the Priest) was on the shore of Garnet  Lake not far north of Mile 7.5 but probably like many campsites was a bit off  the main Trail. The Trail came down to Okanagan Lake to join the "Lower  Road" by the mouth of Peachland Creek. Old maps and legend would seem  to have it come down about as the road does but we are not really satisfied  with traces found on the ground as yet. We believe the Trail going north went  by the Hardy Lakes as the highway does, through Westbank no doubt by the  Brigade Trail monument, to the west of Boucherie Mountain, across to Anse  de Sable (Sandy Bay) just north of the Westside ferry dock and so to our Mile  2.8 from the dock and on as covered in the report for the northern section  above. We have no existing remnants identified as yet between Garnet Valley  and the Westside dock.  It is interesting how, from old Fairview to Westside the Trail is practically  all in the back valleys. Here the country is open with enough streams and  small lakes for stock watering. In the days before they were heavily grazed  these valleys were covered with luxuriant bunch grass so that the several  hundred horses of a Brigade could feed as they went and be held in a  reasonably small area at night.  H.R. Hatfield  Oliver Smith. George Gartrell and William Fosbery outside Joe Udell's cabin Garnet Valley  1947. (Photo courtesy of Dulce Fry) 104  MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE CHARACTER  (by Antoinette B. Paradis)  Mrs. Eleanor MacPherson came to our small town in the Okanagan  Valley of British Columbia when I was a little girl, and with her husband and  two teenaged children, moved into the house next door.  She was an infant when she was brought to Ontario from her native  Glasgow, but her Scottish background was still very much in evidence. Mrs.  MacPherson was an Ontario Scotch Presbyterian, than which there is non  more staunch, and I have often wondered how she felt when she found herself  next door to a large family of Catholic, French-speaking Canadians!  Whatever misgivings she may have had must soon have been dispersed, for  she and my mother became, and remained, very good friends. I remember  one remark she made — it must have been tongue-in-cheek, but it was a  classic — "They say there are separate heavens for Catholics and Protestants  — I hope not, for I sure want to go to the same heaven as Mrs. Paradis!"  My first recollection of Mrs. MacPherson was that of a very strong-  looking woman, tanned brown from the sun, and wearing a huge red sun-  bonnet. I suppose sunbonnets were out of date or otherwise not popular in  our small town, for it is the first (and last) one I remember seeing on an adult.  As a child I was overwhelmed by the lovely things in her house. I can still  see the old four-legged grand piano, which was seldom played, the old 'His  Master's Voice' Edison gramophone, complete with a large collection of old  cylindrical records. I know now that the MacPherson's were ordinary  pioneers, but the carved mahogany 'sitting-room' furniture, the starched lace  curtains, and the lovely old china in the 'sideboard' made a tremendous  impression on me. On a beautiful old rosewood and marble table in the front  parlour rested the huge family bible, and on Sundays Mrs. MacPherson did  no more work than was absolutely necessary, but sat and read the bible by  the fire in the winter or on the front porch, screened by Virginia Creeper, in  the summer.  For Mrs. MacPherson, who in addition to her other duties was Sunday  School Superintendent for twenty-five years, there was more work even on  Sunday than for the average housewife of those days, for animals have to be  fed and cows milked, and what made Mrs. MacPherson so outstanding was  the amount of work she accomplished. Her husband, in addition to running a  furniture store, was also the town undertaker and semi-professional  photographer, so he was not able to help a great deal with the livestock.  They brought with them from Ontario some cows — three generations of  them — I remember one was called 'Carrie Nation' named after a female  temperance worker in the early days in Ontario, and more were added from  time to time. As the house stood on a single lot in town, in the summer the  cows were kept in 'Johnny's Meadow,' a lush meadow, its hollows flooded at  high water, on the Indian Reserve about a mile and a half from town. In the  winter she kept them in neighbouring vacant barns. To get to the meadow,  and for other of her various activities, she used a democrat, a high carriage  with a single seat, and it was drawn by the wildest Indian cayuses! Mrs.  MacPherson's horses were always half wild, and the idea of a ride behind  them struck terror in my heart, though I loved every opportunity to go out  with her. My sister Josephine was once dumped unceremoniously in a heap of  milk cans, democrat seat, and girl in the middle of Johnny's Meadow when a  passing boy on a bicycle frightened the horses. Mrs. MacPherson was white-  faced, for once, as she carried my unconscious sister home that morning! In 105  spite of the wild horses my sisters and I loved to go to the meadows with her  to gather juicy Saskatoons in the summer, and in the fall, the furry hazelnuts  which we dried for winter eating.  Morning and evening, day in and day out, year in and year out, Mrs.  MacPherson milked those cows, fed them and the calves, horses, and other  miscellaneous animals which were a part of her life. She sold milk and made  butter from the leftover cream and sold that too.  All this should have been enough, but Mrs. MacPherson loved flowers,  and had a very green thumb! Not satisfied with the flower garden which took  up every inch of ground from the fence to the walls of the house, she rented  vacant lots all over town and grew more flowers — not for money — but the  Presbyterian Church was decked out in flowers every Sunday, and every bride  knew where to go for flowers for her wedding. The dahlias in her garden grew  six feet tall, sharing the same piece of ground with corn, pumpkins, and  other vegetables. Well I remember the wonderful smells that came from the  house during canning and pickling time!  Life for Mrs. MacPherson was a continual round of seeding, weeding,  picking, pickling and canning, between the morning and evening milking.  Yet she was always happy, and even found time to do her own sewing, and  'fancywork', and be a grandmother to her son's boys.  It would seem that Mrs. MacPherson was a very busy woman, but she had  one other line of work by which she is especially remembered by the 'old  timers,' and particularly those on a certain back road west of our small town.  Three times a week, summer and winter, until she was well on in her  seventies, Mrs. MacPherson drove her team of wild cayuses, alone, on a 28-  mile mail route, and on such a route that few men would have tackled,  especially in 40 degree below zero weather! For the mail route made a circle,  going north for a few miles, then climbing to much higher country west of the  valley to make a circle, and re-entering the town from the south. When it was  springtime in the Valley it was still winter in the mountains. It would have  been much easier had she been retracing her steps, for she then would have  been able to change from wheels to runners when she reached higher ground,  then back to wheels again when she dropped down in the valley. Often in the  spring she would drag home with runners on the rough bare roads — no  paving in those days. At best they were gravelled, at the worst, just a narrow  dirt road. But runners on bare roads, bad as they were, were easier to travel  with than wheels in deep snow.  Mrs. MacPherson had several runaways, and one cold winter day a  farmer, alerted by the driverless horses, found her sitting in the snow with her  box of mail, a large partitioned wooden box, by the side of the road, where  she had been thrown out, box and all. Asked why she didn't walk to the  nearest farmhouse for help she indignantly replied that she couldn't walk off  and leave 'His Majesty's Mail!!'  Around Christmas time her sleigh was loaded to the top with the mails,  and when she reached home from the last run before Christmas, it was  almost as full with gifts from the farmers along the route. The children along  the route knew her, for they had often been dispatched to stand at the gate to  watch for her to give her money for a money order or stamps. Many years  later, in the city, I met a man who, when he heard I had grown up in Enderby, asked me if I had known Mrs. MacPherson — he was one of those  small boys who had waited for her at the gate! The Indians on the Reserve  through which she passed knew her too — Indians like 'Old Blind Pierre' to  whom she often gave a lift to town, and who always knew exactly where he 106  was, even in the democrat, because he could 'feel it in his feet.'  In later years I saw her very seldom — only on my few visits to the old  home town. She was always happy to talk about the old days, and had an  excellent memory. The last time I saw her she was in her late eighties. She  was almost blind, but still lived alone in her own home with a few flowers and  her wonderful, oldfashioned treasures. Shortly afterwards she went to live at  the home of her daughter, where, except for occasional visits to a grandson,  she lived until her death in 1960 in her 92nd year.  Hers was a life of service, yet, though her hands may have been rough  from toil, her back was never bent! She always had a ready smile and a great  sense of humour. She was one of those persons of whom it is truly said, 'they  are the salt of the earth!'  THE ROAD  I first appeared upon the earth  A slight depression in the sod,  The spoor of wild things passing there  That oft imprinted gave me birth.  The roaming moose, the ambling bear,  The timid doe with spotted fawn,  The native creatures of the wild  Each left a faint impression there.  This faint impress of paw and hoof  Upon my yielding virgin soil  In time became a beaten trail,  A winding thread-like earthen woof.  A beaten trail meandering through  The sage and pine to water's edge  Where wild things nightly slacked their  Thirst  At wind swept lake of changing hue.  A coyote trotting on my breast  Would raise his head and sniff the air  And from his throbbing throat would rise  The haunting, dismal wail of quest.  His eerie call voiced lonely fear  As if by premonition he sensed  A time to come when all would change  And shy, wild creatures disappear.  My soil was Indian ground for years  Before the white fur-trader came  And braved the redman's deadly bow  That launched the crude flint arrow spears.  With the tinkling ring of pack-pony bell  I felt the pulse of rhythmic hoof  As fur brigades were spurred along  By packer's loud and blasphemous yell.  A lone prospector's strike then drew  Vast herds of men who trampled me  As cry of gold lured greedy men  In maddening rush to the Cariboo.  Then stock-men came with bawling herd  Of cattle urged on long slow drives  In the smoke-like cloud of my choking dust,  That cloven hoof had churned and stirred.  But greater change was yet in store  The Indian village moved along  A whiteman's town sprang up instead  And loved wild things I saw no more  For I am now a highway broad  My surface hard and smooth  And straight is built  For high speed motor cars that race  Where beast was wont to plod.  Many moons looked down the earth to scan  Ere red man came with stealthy tread  And pitched his wigwam near the lake  And called the village Pen-Tic-Tan.  I then became a dusty road  And felt the weight of maccasined feet  The child's light step  The parent foot that pressed me hard  With heavy load.  Where once I was a trail for game  A slight depression in the sod  Today I am a paved highway,  Only Lake and Mountain are the same.  Written by Dr. Gibson's sister,  Mrs. R.H. (Lillian) - (Bill) Estabrooks now of Summerlanc  - thinking about the old Hudson Bay Fur Brigade Trail 107  SUTHERLAND'S BAKERY  [Kelowna & Enderby]  By Jim Sutherland  In 1901 a young baker from Scotland emigrated to Canada and took up  residence in Calgary where he continued with his trade. The young man was  John Sutherland who had been apprenticed to the bakery trade in the Old  Country. He worked for a year as a baker then sent back home for his girl  friend and they were married in 1903. They continued to live and work in  Calgary until 1906, where their first son, George, was born in 1904. They  moved to Kelowna and accompanying them were Mr. Sutherland's father, a  mason and bricklayer, and his step-mother. His first job was with Hunter's  bakery.  In 1907 John Sutherland journeyed north to Enderby to look at the  bakery there, (the original building still stands to-day) he was not much  impressed with the prospects, so he returned to Kelowna. Their second son,  Jim, was born in that year.  A short time later he opened his own shop on Patterson Avenue,  Kelowna. While he worked with his father at bricklaying, he also made the  bread which Mrs. Sutherland baked in the kitchen stove. John Sutherland  peddled the baking in a wicker clothes basket after his day's work.  They continued to progress. "Mother" carried on as usual, but now  "Father John" had a horse and democrat, a box built in with which to peddle  the bakery products. They continued in this way for a year or two before their  next big venture — a move to their new shop on Wardlaw Avenue. Here they  had two ovens and a dough mixer. Here, too, a bad fire almost demolished  their building. What was left of it was donated to the Toe H boys.  Later there was a team of horses for delivery purposes. One day one of the  horses broke his leg and had to be shot on the street. After this their first  truck was purchased. Every Monday and Friday bread was delivered to the  K.L.O. district.  In 1927 Sutherland's Bakery moved to Bernard Avenue to a building next  to Jermaine Hunts and C.K.O.V. and the Sutherlands continued their  bakery in this location.  In 1938 "Father John" passed away and Mother and son, George  carried on until 1942, when George took over the business. "Mother" passed  away in 1948 and a short time later the business was sold to Hall and Hanky.  Jim Sutherland learned the trade under the direction of his father and in  1932 he decided to launch out on his own, so he travelled north to Enderby  where he purchased the bakery" there from Mr. Harvey. He did not have any  equipment, only one Dutch oven, but says he had "a fat hand and a strong  back" and was determined to make a success of his first venture.  At that time the baking averaged 50 loaves of bread per day for a 6 and 7  day week, plus buns, cakes, etc. Looking back he recalls the wedding cakes  he made during those years for some of Enderby's present citizens and later  for their children.  Jim continued to bake until 1939, when he left to join the army for World  War II. He was in the service from 1939 - 1943 and during that time Mrs.  Sutherland (nee Lillian Scott, a native daughter of Enderby) carried on alone.  The baked goods were supplied by Sutherland's Bakery in Kelowna. The  bread was shipped on the Greyhound Bus, unwrapped, and was wrapped in  Enderby. 108  At that time bread was not sliced. Also, there was an ice cream parlour in  connection with the bakery. Ice cream was shipped from the Palm dairy in  Salmon Arm and was kept cold with ice and salt. The ice was cut in blocks  from the river (Shuswap) in late winter and packed in sawdust to be stored in  an ice-house at the rear of the bakery.  After World War II, the bakery building was increased in size. A modern  wood-burning oven was installed and modern equipment was purchased. At  this time Sutherland's Bakery was known as the most modern small  bakeshop in the interior of B.C.  In the mid 1940's deliveries to other parts of the valley were started. The  summer tourist trade was looked after with deliveries to the resorts along  Mara Lake and also to Mabel Lake, as far north as Sicamous and as far  south as Oyama, though usually only to Vernon.  In 1950 a branch of Sutherland's Bakery was opened in Vernon, next  door to the Safeway Store at that time, where Stedman's Store stands today.  This branch of the business continued until 1955. In 1956 a modern gas oven  and heavy modern equipment was installed in the Enderby plant.  Sutherland's Bakery remained an independent bakery, one of the few not  forced out by the large companies. On September 1, 1972, Jim and Lil  Sutherland sold their business to Robert (Brie) and Phebe Reid of Calgary.  Footnote:  In the days of "Father Sutherland" peddling bread in the basket - He was  accosted one day by the local Chinese laundry man. He says "Your wife take  in washing, too?"  There was a bakery in Enderby prior to the Boer War. It was operated by a  Mr. Bacon, it was situated where the pool hall is now. 109  EIGHTY NINE 'WHITE' YEARS OF MEDICAL SERVICE  (by Dr. John Gibson)  Left to Right: Doug Gawne, Dr. John Gibson, Larenzo Smuin, Harley Hatfield, Dr. W.H. Bill  White, C.W. Claude Holden, Mrs. W.R. Dewdney.  Wednesday evening, July 24, 1974 at the Penticton Peach Bowl Convention Centre, some 750 people gathered to honor Dr. W.H. "Bill" White  on the occasion of his retirement. It was a warm and friendly group, all  keenly aware that this historic moment marked the end of an era — that of  the old family doctor of fifty years ago. Those present included members of  the Penticton Branch, Okanagan Historical Society, the Council of the City  of Penticton, Penticton Hospital Board, Nursing Association, Rotary Club,  the Kettle Valley Division of the C.P.R., members of the Penticton Indian  Band, the old Pentiction Vees hockey team, the R.B. White Clinic, the  Registrar of the College of Physicians & Surgeons, and a great many family  friends and former patients of "Dr. Bill's". The Penticton Medical  Association had honored Dr. Bill earlier at a dinner.  Gift presentations were made by the City of Penticton, the CP. Rly., and  a major gift was given by others present. The C.P.R. gift recalled years of  association with the Kettle Valley Division employees and was particularly  cherished in that it was a "marker" light, used to indicate the rear end of a  train. It had been taken from one of the old Kettle Valley passenger coaches  and converted for use with electric power.  Dr. R.B. White, Bill's father, graduated in medicine in 1896 from McGill  University and came to the Camp McKinney and Fairview area in 1897. He  visited the mining camps from Rock Creek to Hedley travelling on horseback  and had a tremendous fund of interesting medical and non-medical stories to  tell including the robbery of the gold bricks from Camp McKinney. "R.B."  as he was affectionately known, was a very kind person with a great insight  into human nature. He liked to start each day wearing a fresh rose in his  lapel and he was an accomplished pianist. He was active in forming the B.C.  Medical Association, and served for two terms as President of the College of  Physicians & Surgeons in the 1930's. He was chosen as Penticton's first Good  Citizen in 1948 and was Coroner for the City until his death in 1950. Dr. R.B.  White served the area for 53 years. With the retirement of his son, "Bill" in  1974, eighty-nine years of medical service was given by a "Doctor White"; a  record not likely to be surpassed. 110  Dr. Bill White was born at the site of the R.B. White Clinic on Ellis  Street, Penticton. He received his early education in Penticton where he was  very active in athletics. Pre-medical education was at Victoria College and  the University of B.C. He graduated in Medicine from McGill University in  1936 and following his internship at Vancouver General Hospital, began  practice in Penticton in 1938, associated with his father, "R.B." and the late  Dr. R.J. (Bob) Parmley. He spent four years in the Royal Canadian Army  Medical Corps during W.W. II serving in Canada, England, Sicily, Italy and  Holland with the rank of Captain. He married a nursing sister, Mary  Margaret McDonald in Italy in 1945 and has two daughters, Jane and Peggy.  In 1947 he undertook further studies and became certified in General  Surgery. He had a very active and widespread surgical career but he dearly  loved the contacts and interests of General Practice and never gave it up. He  followed his father's footsteps again by becoming Coroner for the City of  Penticton, holding the appointment until his retirement. Like his father and  mother, one of his greatest interests was the welfare of the Indians.  Dr. Bill's antecedents go a long way back in Okanagan history. His  maternal grandfather was Judge John Carmichael Haynes who arrived in  Victoria on December 25, 1858 and settled in Osoyoos in 1862. Hester  Haynes, Dr. Bill's mother, was bought up in Osoyoos and was of very strong  character. She was active in Community affairs — particularly the School  Board — and was especially interested in our Valley history and in helping  the Indians. Her valuable collection of early photographs is now stored at the  Penticton Museum.  The original White Clinic was formed by doctors Bob Parmley, Hugh  Barr, John Gibson and Bill White, when the present building was erected at  the site of the old White home on Ellis Street in 1953 it was natural and  fitting that it should be named the "R.B. White Clinic". All of the founding  members were native sons brought up and educated in Penticton.  Now, moving away from Penticton following his retirement, Dr. Bill will  be missed in the Community as an active and dedicated worker. He contributed a great deal toward the construction of the present hospital and  spent a number of years as medical representative on the Hospital Board. He  took a keen interest in Medical affairs, both locally and prqvincially, an  interest which culminated in his being elected President of the College of  Physicians & Surgeons of B.C. He is a natural born conservative and served  on the Executive of the Conservative Association for many years.  Always interested in athletics, one of the highlights of his Community life  was being team doctor for the world-famous Penticton Vees hockey team and  he travelled with them to Europe when they captured the World Cup in 1955.  Dr. Bill served as President of the Penticton Branch Okanagan Historical  Society from 1972 to 1974 and was on the Executive until his retirement.  The Whites have built a new home at Christina Lake. In recent years Dr.  Bill has had a little more time to become an able golfer and enjoys walking,  swimming, boating and fishing but mainly, he enjoys the freedom of simply  having time to call his own. He says he is through with 'doctoring' but  knowing Bill and the long White record of service, no one doubts that he will  always be a very active part of his new community.  Contributed by: Dr. John Gibson Ill  THE FIRE  History can be facts and figures, but everyone has a different concept of  the event taking place by what and how it affects and means to them. Also  age has a great bearing on how the eye views the enfolding scene.  October 5, 1932 at 3:30 a.m. is a day that will always stand out in the  memory of many people who lived in Lumby at that time. That was when  *The Fire* as it has been referred to by the citizens who witnessed it.  Shield's store was the centre of town, it was a general store which had  everything that was needed in those days. The road to Vernon being very  rough and curving, also the scarcity of cars, the majority of people dealt at  the "Store". One did not have to specify which one, you knew where you were  to go. Lumby also had two hotels which were the meeting place of many. It  was a nice corner and part of our lives.  The Store had tin siding as I remember, which felt very warm in our hot  summers and cold in the winter. This was an ideal siding as it was always in  good repair and the weather could not hurt it. The Hotels had verandas as I  remember. They were constructed and finished in wood which no doubt had  been gotten from our forest around us.  To see these buildings being destroyed was like seeing part of your way of  life going up in smoke. Men formed a bucket brigade and did the best they  could to stop the sparks that landed on the roofs of the buildings and homes  around from catching on fire. They were a tired group by the time the  Vernon Fire brigade brought their spare pump.  As I watched I saw the hungry flames reaching for the hotel roof across  the street. They would lick the roof shift back and then reach out again, it  was fascinating to watch these large tongues of fire reaching over like a  greedy monster grabbing anything in its way. It wasn't long before both the  hotels were engulfed in the holocaust. As the heat increased one could hear  the canned food and shells from the store bursting and causing a frightful  noise.  The brilliance of the sky told people for miles around that Lumby was in  trouble with a large fire. It was as if daylight had come early that morning.  The greedy monster was not satisfied with a store and two hotels, it also  consumed a small yellow house. The wind had shifted several times during  the blaze and it was feared for awhile that it would start going north which  meant a Blacksmith shop and a Garage would lie in the path of the gluttonous flames. Luck held and the winds did not shift in that direction.  When the flames died down there was nothing but charred wood,  blackened melted tin and ashes to replace the centre of Lumby. It was a sight  that will never be forgotten by many. The next day found the employees of  Shields and Co. busily setting up accommodations for serving their many  customers. Mr. Shields soon let it be known that he would rebuild, much to  the relief of the populace. There now stands a large brick building on the  same site.  Never again were there two hotels side by side with verandas to sit on and  tell tall stories of the long ago. In 1934 a hotel was built on the corner where  the first hotel had been. The second hotel was never built again. The Bank of  Nova Scotia and the Dr. offices are on that site.  I am sure that this tradedy spurred the people of Lumby to get their own  Fire Department so that there could never be such a fire again.  I sincerely hope I never witness such a blaze again.  Doreen Elliott  Vernon, B.C. 112  HULLCAR AND DEEP CREEK  COMMUNITY HALL  By: Wm. J. Whitehead  Five miles north-west of the City of Armstrong, at the entrance to Deep  Creek Valley and fronting on the Salmon River-Enderby Road, stands the  Hullcar and Deep Creek Community Hall.  Buffeted by the elements, abused by vandals, repaired and cared for by  the residents, and used by everyone, Hullcar Hall, as it is commonly referred  to, has served the community for full-dress balls and country dances,  wedding receptions and church services, political meetings and election polls,  apple packing schools and Junior clubs, literary meetings and Christmas  concerts.  For sixty five years this building has weathered the storm, standing as  sentinel over this agricultural community. Hullcar has witnessed the change  in the surrounding countryside from forest to farm, from fruit growing to hay  and cereal crops, from horse and buggy to cars and trucks. The ebb and flow  of the neighbourhood, the influx and departure of many settlers, birth and  life and death have been a part of its experience in the community. Yet,  despite all this, it still remains almost indomitable in its roll of service to  mankind.  Back in the year of 1908, the surrounding area was relatively new as a  settlement. Some larger holdings had been filed on, and clearing of the forest  begun twenty or more years previous, but between the years of 1900 and  1907, several smaller farms had been purchased and new families had taken  their place in the district.  It only followed such a change, that the need for a community centre  became very apparent.  The early settlers and pioneers of that day, as the same applies now, were  not lacking in foresight and enthusiasm. Recognizing the need, and  requiring no other incentive, the leaders of the community called a meeting  on Dec. 26, 1908 to inquire into the possibility of building a hall. Mr. Donald  Matheson was appointed chairman, and Mr. A Fifer the Secretary. Mr. T.W.  Platten offered to donate one acre of land at the corner of the Deep Creek  and Enderby roads. This offer was accepted on motion of D. Crane and T.A.  Sharpe, the result of this action was to be known for future decades as the  "Hall".  It was decided a building of 30 feet by 60 feet would be required, and  material amounting to 30,000 bd. feet of lumber and 25,000 of shingles  would be used in its construction.  A public subscription list was started to raise funds for the project and  thirteen signatures to the total of $160.00 were recorded before the meeting  was adjourned. 113  Procrastination held no office with these early pioneers. Within a week a  further meeting was called, and a report showing the estimated cost of the  hall, not counting labour, which was volunteered, would be in the neighbourhood of $442.00. A bank account was opened in the name of the Hullcar  and Deep Creek Hall, and the project was off and running.  Canvassing for the subscription list quickly followed, and the list of  subscribers reads like a "Who's Who" of prominent people of that period —  Crawford, Smith, Paton, Fortune, Lindsay, Parkinson, Hayhurst, Ford,  Wolfenden, Yetton, McQuarrie, Young, Marshall, Hill, Christian, McNair,  Mathieson, Sharpe, Petar, are but a few of the many names listed. Subscriptions ranged between $2.00 and $25.00 and at a meeting called on Feb.  19, 1909 it was reported a total of $389.50 had been subscribed. It was also  decided that some further financial help was required, resulting in a motion  of W.T. Hayhurst and D. Martin, to borrow an amount of $200.00. This  motion was passed.  Although the records say little of the actual progress, the material  construction of the building must