Who would have thought that finding the immigration records of my grandparents would have led to me to learn about two British government initiatives designed to promote emigration to Canada in the 1920s? I was browsing the Library and Archives Canada web site and found digitized records of Form 30 that recorded the entry of every immigrant between July 1921 and December 1924.1 I was thrilled to find the form that my grandfather, George Thomas Deakin, signed in August 1923, and the one that my grandmother, Grace Graham Hunter, signed in February 1924.
My grandfather’s form indicated that he came to Canada as part of the Harvester Scheme. In 1923, Canada had a bumper wheat crop and North America could not provide the labour needed to harvest the crop. Under the Harvester Scheme, the two major Canadian railway companies entered into an agreement with the British government to transport 12,000 workers out west where they would earn $4.00 per day plus board. This was considered a successful scheme as 11,871 migrants came to Canada to work on the farms in Western Canada. The harvest was successfully completed and 80% of the harvesters stayed and were considered “successfully assimilated.”2
Source: The Farm Collector
Like the Harvester Scheme, The Empire Settlement Act was also an initiave to provide Canada with badly needed labour. It was passed by the British Parliament in 1922 and its purpose was to provide an incentive for migrants to settle in the colonies. Canada badly needed farm labourers and domestic workers. At that time, the Canadian government favoured immigrants from Great Britain as a means of ensuring the predominance of British values. In the early 1920s, it was difficult for Canada to attract immigrants from Great Britain as Britain was enjoying a period of prosperity right after World War I. Another reason was the prohibitive cost of transatlantic transportation. Even passage in third class would have been expensive for a farm labourer or a domestic worker.3
My grandmother came to Canada to enter into domestic service as a cook and her destination in Montreal was the government hostel. Hostels were located in major urban areas across Canada. These hostels were partially funded by the provinces and immigrants from Great Britain were allowed free dormitory accommodation for 24 hours after their arrival. Young ladies were looked after by the Superintendent of the hostel and referred to a church worker. They were also referred to Employment Services of Canada who would find them employment.4
Recently, I’ve been wondering about the white slave who successfully escaped after allegedly burning down New France’s third Hotel-Dieu hospital and 45 homes in what is now Old Montreal in 1735.
I can’t help feel sorry for the man who was brought to Canada as an indentured slave (engagé or trente-six mois due to the thirty-six month duration of his contract) primarily because he was young, healthy, strong enough to serve as a labourer and poor. In return for his work, he got room and board, clothing and a salary, but he had no rights beyond that. His employers could send him anywhere to do just about anything; and according to New France law he had little recourse.
A brief summary of his life appears online in the Canadian Mysteries series dedicated to the fire.
Originally from Butenne in Franche-Comté, Claude Thibault was found guilty of salt trafficking [illegal sale of salt]. Condemned to end his days in the king’s galleys, his sentence was commuted to a life in exile in Canada. He arrived in Québec with a dozen other salt traffickers, including Jacques Jalleteau, in September 1732.
On the night of April 10, he was seen at the site of the fire, but disappeared when Angélique was arrested the following day. Despite warrants issued for a wanted person throughout the colony, Thibault was never again seen.1
I imagine he used his acumen to create a new life under a new name, perhaps in the fur-trading industry. After all, as a faux-saunier (salt smuggler), he had to develop a lot of entrepreneurial skills. As someone who purchased salt in low-tax regions and sold it on the black market in high tax regions, he had to be skilled at finding clients and creating a distribution hub without being caught by the King’s agents.
The King’s decision to set up an unfair tax regime began in 1680, when he decided to pass a law varying the taxes (gabelle) on salt per region. Salt was an important commodity at the time, and controlling it was an important economic lever. In addition to using it to spice and cure food, people in France also needed enough salt to tan animal skins. In some regions, such as Brittany, people could buy one “minot” (about 37 litres) of salt for as little as 1 livre, while citizens of Main, Anjou and other “high gabelle” regions had to pay as much as 61 livres per minot. The law even forced them to buy a minimum quantity of salt every year, whether they needed it or not.
Smugglers thrived in the seeming injustice, but if they were caught, punishment was severe. They faced fines beginning at 300 livres and leading to jail time of anywhere from 10 days to three months. At first, only the most serious convicts were exiled to New France, but in 1730, Jean Frédéric Phélypeaux, the Comte de Maurepas, began insisting that convicted faux-sauniers should be sorted, with the most healthy or those with useful skills be sent overseas as enslaved labourers on three-year contracts. Eventually, the scheme ended in when King Louis XV of France removed Maurepas from his job in 1749.
Unfortunately, Thibault was caught when Maurepas’ scheme was fully underway, and he had few other ressources to avoid exile.
Alain Racineau, who has studied salt traffickers like Thibault at length, describes most of them as poor rural people, primarily day labourers and small merchants struggling to survive.
They were recruited from the poorest levels of society: casual agricultural labourers, petty artisans and traders, unemployed vagabonds. They frequently affirmed that they had taken up smuggling “pour gagner leurs vies.”2
Thibault’s life didn’t get any easier once he arrived in New France. His contract was purchased by fur-trader and merchant Francois Poulin de Francheville and his wife Thérèse de Couagne, who owned several slaves. After M. Francheville died in late 1733, the widow decided to sell Thibault’s girlfriend to a friend in Quebec City. Plans were established for her to be sent away in the spring of 1734, after the ice melted from the Saint Lawrence River.
On February 22, 1734, Thibault and his lover decided to run away, setting fire to her bed as a distraction. They had hoped to reach the English colonies, but bad weather stopped them. They got stuck in Châteauguay and were eventually captured by three militia captains.
Thibault was thrown into jail on March 5 for breaking his contract. He was released on April 9, just one day before the large fire that began in the Francheville home on St. Paul Street.
Thibault disappeared just before his girlfriend got arrested, was convicted and executed. On April 19, authorities set up a manhunt
…given that we are in no State at present to forward the description of the said Thibault with the present order, the Said Captains will take care to arrest and Interrogate all Young men who are unknown vagabonds coming from the direction of Montréal toward Québec and passing through their area, to ask of Them their names and surnames, who they are, where they come from, and where They are going; and upon failure by the said passers-by to provide adequate Information on their persons, And for the slightest doubt or suspicion regarding their responses, And in consideration of public safety, We expressly ordain that the said Captains have them arrested Immediately, and taken under sound and due guard to the gaols of This city;3
They never found him.
Two years later, authorities officially took him off the most wanted list.
2Racineaux, Alain, ‘Du faux-saunage à la chouannerie, au sud-est de la Bretagne’, Mémoires de la Société d’histoire et d’archéologie de Bretagne, 1989.
3Archives nationales du Québec, Centre de Québec, Fonds des Ordonnances des intendants de la Nouvelle-France, E1, S1 P2622, Hocquart, Gilles, Ordinance given to the captains of the militia for the arrest of Claude Thibault, April 19, 1734, https://canadianmysteries.ca/sites/angelique/proces/rumeurcircule/1889en.html .
Robert Stanley Bagg (1848-1912), was a Montreal businessman, sportsman and life-long Tory. A newspaper report of his death noted, “He was a staunch Conservative both in and out of power, and some years ago was president of the Liberal-Conservative Club giving a great deal of his time to the work of organizing as well as well as to public discussion. He was well known amongst the French-Canadian people and spoke French almost as fluently as his mother tongue.”1
My great-grandfather’s interest in politics was not limited to reading about the issues of the day in the newspaper (The Gazette was a die-hard Conservative-leaning publication) or debating issues privately with his friends. Stanley became actively involved in the Liberal-Conservative Club after it was founded in 1895 as a rallying point for English and French-speaking Conservatives in Montreal. The club took a leading role in the Dominion (federal) election of 1896, and the Quebec campaign of 1897. No doubt to Stanley’s dismay, the Conservatives lost in both elections.
The Conservatives had been the party of Canada’s first prime minister, Sir John A. MacDonald, who is said to have been a personal friend of Stanley’s father, Stanley Clark Bagg (1820-1873). They were in power until 1896, when Sir Wilfrid Laurier’s Liberals defeated them, and Laurier remained prime minister for the next 15 years. One of the main differences between the two parties was that the Conservatives promoted loyalty to the British Empire, independence from the United States and protectionism in trade, while the Liberals were in favour of free trade.
Robert Stanley Bagg, portrait by Adam Sheriff Scott. Bagg family collection.
Stanley played a role in many party activities, especially after his retirement from the family real-estate business at the turn of the century. Trained as a lawyer, he frequently chaired public meetings, he served for several years in the early 1900s as president of the Liberal-Conservative Club, and he twice attempted to run for a seat in the House of Commons in Ottawa. The first time was during the Dominion election of 1896 in the St. Lawrence riding, east of Mount Royal. This was the area where Stanley’s ancestors had lived and owned property for almost a century. Stanley was the third candidate in the riding, and the nomination papers he submitted showed he had considerable support among both English and French-speaking party members. However, four days later, when it became apparent that the other Conservative candidate had broader support, Stanley withdrew his name.
In 1905, The Gazette anticipated that Mr. R. Stanley Bagg might run as an independent candidate for the provincial legislature vacancy in the St. Lawrence division caused by the death of the incumbent.2 The newspaper’s prediction was wrong, however, and he did not run. A few years later, in the federal election of 1908, Stanley did put his name in for the Conservative nomination for the St. Lawrence division. This time, Henry Archer Ekers, the outgoing mayor of Montreal, won the nomination by a narrow margin, and Stanley called on the meeting to make the choice unanimous.
Although he never did run for office, Stanley appears to have been a popular speaker at Conservative party functions, and the newspapers reported on his speeches on several occasions.
When he addressed a meeting during the 1897 provincial campaign, The Montreal Star summed up his remarks:
“Mr. R. Stanley Bagg was the last speaker. In a really eloquent and polished speech this gentleman drew a picture of the possibilities of the Province of Quebec under good government. Especially strong were his commendations of the Flynn educational programme, which would bestow that priceless boon of education upon the poor as well as upon the rich. This education would enable the growing generation to intelligently study the questions appertaining to the government of the province, and when the young people became enfranchised, such study would enable them to vote for honest government, for the party and platform that best represented the best interests of Quebec.“3
In January 1900, Stanley was president-elect of the Liberal Conservative Club and a general election was coming soon. In remarks to a meeting, he pledged to put forward the interests of the club, the Conservative party and the county, adding that the Conservative party was the “true patriotic party of Canada.”4
Later that year, during the Dominion election campaign, The MontrealStar quoted his remarks to a Tory campaign rally: “Never in the history of Canada has there been an election so important, so fraught with vital interest in the whole Dominion, as that in which the people of this country are now engaged. The relations between Canada and the Mother Country are, at the present time, peculiar. The South African (Boer) war afforded Canada an opportunity to demonstrate Canadian loyalty and Canadian valour, and today we have as a result an exceptional chance to secure favours from the Mother Country, which never before presented itself. The Imperial sentiment is strong throughout the Empire and the British people are disposed to accord to the colonies trade concessions the value of which to ourselves cannot be overestimated.
“There is but one way in which Canada can benefit from this opportunity, and that way lies through the return of the Conservative party to power. The Conservative party is pledged to use its best efforts to secure a mutual imperial preferential tariff …. The Conservative party stands for protection, for stability in the tariff, for patriotism and for progress.…”5
Eleven years later, Stanley again focused on the topic of reciprocity (free trade) with the U.S. In an hour-long address, he noted that, as someone who had taken part in a large number of election campaigns and given close and continuous study to public affairs, he had been invited to give his views on the great question now before the voters. He “emphatically urged that reciprocity be thrown out. He not only showed that the pact would be commercially injurious to Canada, but appealed to the patriotism of the electors, their spirt as Canadians and Britons. He reminded them, amidst ringing applause, how Sir John A. Macdonald had denounced the attempts of Liberal leaders to bring about unrestricted reciprocity in 1891 as ‘veiled treason’.”6
These accounts of Stanley’s speeches may seem old fashioned today, but I was pleased to discover them as they provided a window into my ancestor’s thoughts. He clearly identified as Canadian and British, although his ancestors also included Americans and Scots.
“R. Stanley Bagg May Run as Independent”, The Gazette (Montreal, Quebec), 21 June, 1905, p. 3, digital image, https://www.newspapers.com/image/419356715 accessed Nov. 4, 2023.
“St. Louis Division; Mr. Parizeau’s Supporters Enthusiastic.” The Montreal Daily Star (Montreal, Quebec), 10 May, 1897, p. 4, digital image, https://www.newspapers.com/image/740883625 accessed Oct. 1, 2024.
“A Grand Rally for Ald. Ekers”, The Montreal Star (Montreal, Quebec), 25 October, 1900, p. 9, digital, https://www.newspapers.com/image/740873061 accessed Oct. 1, 2024.
“Mr. Stanley Bagg in St. Lawrence”, The Montreal Star, (Montreal, Quebec), 18 Sept. 1911, p. 17, digital image, https://www.newspapers.com/image/739561624 accessed Oct. 1, 2024.
There are many William Sutherlands in my family. My great-great-grandfather William Sutherland ( 1816-1887) son of William Sutherland (1749-1840) came to Canada in 1845 with his wife Elizabeth Mowat. They followed the Scottish naming pattern of calling the first son after the husband’s father so his eldest son was William and then his eldest son was also William.
My grandfather, son of Donald was also named William. He thought the family had way too many Williams, Willies, Wills and even a Bill so he took the second name, Harkness, after his mother. There was just one mention of his first cousins, William Sutherland and his sister Annie in my grandfather’s diary. “Went to Rose Ave, Annie was there from N.Y. but Willie away in Florida.” That’s all I knew.
Luckily, cousin William also seemed to have added a middle name maybe Everard or Ewart. So instead of the thousands of William Sutherlands, he can be found as William Everard or William E Sutherland.
William first crossed the border into the United States in 1889 when he was just 16. He probably went for a job or maybe an adventure. He was born in Mildmay, Bruce County, Ontario. His grandfather and then his father owned the family farm which his father sold and moved the family to Toronto when he was a child.
William is then found in New York City, where his sister Annie later joins him.
William married Ida Priscilla Sterne in New York in 1913. Priscilla was also a Canadian from Carrick, Bruce County. She and William must have known each other growing up. Priscilla immigrated to the US by herself in 1899. She was a milliner and had her own business making hats. After her father’s death in 1905, her mother came to the US, along with a sister and a brother.
The couple didn’t have any children, having married later in life. William was 39 and Priscilla 35.
William became a naturalized American in April 1918 through the Alien Soldier’s Naturalization Act. He joined the US Army in 1899 during the Spanish-American war. Any alien who enlists in the US armed forces and is honourably discharged could apply for citizenship without a previous declaration of intention and with only one year of residence. His proof of service and discharge is the strangest document I have ever seen. It had a name crossed out and William Everard Sutherland written above. Other information was also crossed out. This document was accepted as there is a copy of his Naturalization certificate. I don’t know why he never made a declaration of intention as he had been in the US for almost 40 years. Priscilla also became an American.
This was the proof that he was honorably discharged from the US Army which allowed him to become a Naturalized US citizen under the Alien Soldiers Naturalization Act; Section 2166.
Around 1917, he and Priscilla moved to Brookline Massachusetts, They lived at 58 Greenough Street. A three story apartment (now condo) building is at that address according to Google maps. It is a very nice red brick building with bay windows. The condos now sell for a million dollars. The couple had done well as Priscilla was no longer working and William was the boss working in construction as an electrician. They even had room for Priscilla’s mother to spend time with them.
They finally ended up in Florida, around Miami and Palm Beach. William was president of a building company so they were not early retirees. He later had health problems, stopped working and applied for an invalid’s pension from the US Army. When William died of heart disease in 1930 his body was sent back to Canada for burial. Priscilla applied for a widow’s pension and continued to live in Palm Beach until her death 29 years later. Her body was also returned to Canada and is buried with her husband in Toronto’s Mount Pleasant Cemetery.
Now I have to find his sister Annie.
Notes:
William’s parents William Sutherland and Jessie Johnson lived at 21 Rose Ave in Toronto. His siblings, Agnes, Isabel, Jessie and Davison were all living at home in the 1920s.
William H. Sutherland’s diary 1920-1924 in the hands of the author.
William registered for the draft during the First World War even though he was 45 years old. I don’t think he served again, as the war ended less than three months later.
My grandfather William Harkness Sutherland called his only son Donald after his father but added William as a second name!
Year: 1910; Census Place: Boston Ward 24, Suffolk, Massachusetts; Roll: T624_625; Page: 13a; Enumeration District: 1634; FHL microfilm: 1374638Ancestry.com. 1910 United States Federal Census [database on-line]. Lehi, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations Inc, 2006. Mar 20, 2020.
Year: 1920; Census Place: Brookline, Norfolk, Massachusetts; Roll: T625_721; Page: 4A; Enumeration District: 172 Ancestry.com. 1920 United States Federal Census [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2010. Images reproduced by FamilySearch.
Ancestry.com. U.S., City Directories, 1822-1995 [database on-line]. New York City 1922. Lehi, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2011.
National Archives and Records Administration (NARA); Washington, D.C.; Index to Naturalization Petitions and Records of the U.S. District Court, 1906-1966, and the U.S. Circuit Court, 1906-1911, for the District of Massachusetts; Microfilm Serial: M1545; Microfilm Roll: 24Ancestry.com. U.S. Naturalization Records Indexes, 1794-1995 [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2007. Accessed March 20, 2020.
National Archives and Records Administration (NARA); Washington D.C.; NAI Number: M1368Ancestry.com. Massachusetts, State and Federal Naturalization Records, 1798-1950 [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2011. accessed March 20, 2020.
New England Historic Genealogical Society; Boston, Massachusetts; Massachusetts Vital Records, Marriage Record 1911–1915; Volume: 621 accessed on Ancestry March 20, 2020.
My talented high school friend Gary and me circa 1980. He recommended me for the job at the radio station.
( A long time ago, I was asked by someone who knew I dabbled in genealogy why I didn’t write stories about myself for future generations so they wouldn’t have to ‘guess’. Back then, I didn’t see the point – but now I have grandchildren. )
It was sometime back in 1983 – imagine. Every Breath You Take by The Police was blaring over the airwaves and the beautiful FM secretary sprinted out of her stuffy office cubicle and ran down the hall pumping her skinny arms over her head in a victory dance. She was simply over the moon: The stodgy radio station she worked for was entering the modern age!
I was employed as an advertising copywriter for the same easy-listening FM station as well as for its affiliate, a once-proud but struggling sports talk station on the AM dial.
The FM station was by far the more successful of the two stations, keeping the owners afloat with its middle-of-the-road Paul Mauriat instrumentals aimed at an older audience.
But their faithful clientele were retiring and moving away to live near their children in Ontario or just plain passing away. (Ironically, a retirement community just over the Quebec border in Ontario was a major advertiser.) Hence the jarring format change.
That day, I overheard a staffer callously joke about how the station’s geriatric listeners were now frantically stumbling out of their easy chairs to turn the radio dial back to ‘their’ station.
Back then I didn’t pay much attention to demographics or ratings but I did have a singular role in this FM station’s public profile.
Hourly ID’s in portfolio, typed on my Selectric.
I wrote dozens and dozens of their ‘lyrical’ hourly ID’s.
Originally penned by a veteran on-air personality, these ID’s were nothing but extra work for me and they came with no extra pay either, but I didn’t work in radio copy for the money (minimum wage) or for the praise (we got none). I worked for a chance to make a living, however meagre, as a writer and for the camaraderie among creatives and, yes, for the adrenaline rush.
(In those days, it seemed as if every advertising contract the salespeople brought into the copy office had to be conceived, written and produced “yesterday.” English Montreal radio salespeople were fighting over an ever-diminishing slice of the advertising pie – and in recessionary times. The clients were getting smaller and smaller – and pickier and pickier. These hourly ID’s allowed me to be creative (and corny) on my own terms – at my own rhythm.)
In the early 1980’s, our English FM Station was the “MUZAK” station of choice in Montreal, airing continuously in elevators all over town.
So, every lunch hour, when thousands of office workers spilled out of their own stuffy cubicles to score a coffee and sandwich and maybe a little city sunshine down below, they could not escape hearing one of my midday ID’s voiced in a warm creamy tone by one of our talented station announcers.
I kept these three “midday” ID’s for my portfolio.
Number 1: Midday in Montreal is when the babies come out. Winter newborns, bundled in their mother’s arms, rosy-cheeked cherubs, bright eyes wide in wonder. They are seeing the world for the very first time. The mystery of a budding flower, the majesty of a skyscraper, a lot for little eyes to take in. Midday in Montreal with the beautiful music of CICK. (I changed the name of the station, but you might know which one it is.)
Ok. I was 28, and although I strongly denied it back then, I was clearly wanting a family. But, if you consider I had held an infant in my arms only twice in all of my young life, both times while babysitting, I think I got it right. I know I got it right. I have a four month old granddaughter and she’s just as described.
Number 2: Midday in Montreal. School children straggle home from lunch in groups of two or three. Never taking the shortest route, they stop to pet a stray or to kick a stone around, forgetting as children often do, about time. Wandering home in zigs and zags,they finally arrive to steaming bowls of soup and fat sandwiches. Midday in Montreal. With the beautiful music of CICK.
This was a bit of a nostalgia, for sure. I, myself, in the 1960’s, had been a latchkey kid and I often had to make my own lunch, sometimes grilling POM bread over the blue flame of the gas stove. Yummy! By the 1980’s, I suspect even fewer kids went home for lunch. Still, judging from the meandering path my five year old granddaughter likes to take on our walks together, I think I nailed the dilly-dallying part.
Number 3: Midday in Montreal. The circular days are cut in half by the sound of a thousand clocks: ornate cuckoos in residential parlours, church bells and cathedral gongs, those quiet, creeping clocks in offices. As the sun reaches its highest point in the sky, a million pairs of eyes turn to the clock, acknowledging midday in Montreal, with the beautiful music of CICK.
I still like this one, although a smart-alek booth operator questioned whether cathedrals gonged at all. I directed him to Byzantium, my favourite Yeats poem. I had borrowed the phrase, you see.
The unpurged images of day recede;
The Emperor’s drunken soldiery are abed;
Night resonance recedes, night-walkers’ song
After great cathedral gong;
A starlit or a moonlit dome disdains
All that man is,
All mere complexities,
The fury and the mire of human veins.
Midnight, with the beautiful music of CICK 😉
Do you think Yeats would have been a better radio copywriter than me? Would the insomniac crowd have been seriously disturbed by Midnight ID’s in the style of his poem?
Anyway, after a year of dutifully tapping out these hourly ID’s on my trusty IBM Selectric typewriter (the one with the snazzy white “Correcto-type” band that enabled me to churn out my 30 and 60 second commercial scripts apace) I asked to be relieved of the task.
Like so many of my colleagues, I quit my copy job to try my luck in Toronto. Somehow, I ended up back in Montreal with a family – just as the economy was improving. What bad timing! For the next decade, I mostly worked remotely as a freelance writer -for rather good pay- for sundry commercial magazines producing quote-anecdote-statistic style articles on non-controversial topics that didn’t scare off the advertisers.
Occasionally, I got creative and punched out a timely satirical piece like Beat the Biological Clock for Salon Magazine. That number was written, yikes, over 20 years ago. Time sure does fly!
I guess I should get busy writing more of my ‘ancient histories’ for the girls.
I used to hate Sundays. I had to go to Sunday school. I really didn’t understand why I had to attend because my parents just dropped me off. That’s right. They didn’t even go to church. And no one asked me if I wanted to go.
After they picked me up, things got worse. It was homework time until lunch. Of course, I could have done my homework on Friday night but Fridays were reserved for movies on the television and reading in bed with a flashlight until all hours.
And worst of all, some Sunday afternoons were for Visiting the Elderly Relatives. In my mind, my aunts and uncles were ancient. Plus my brother, being a boy and older than me, was apparently able to take care of himself, as he always seemed to be absent from these visits. So I would sit in the living rooms of my aunts and uncles, with no toys or any other amusements, and listen to the adults talk.
I now cherish the memories of these visits because they provided me with an appreciation of the social history of Montreal, as well as significant events such as the Depression and World War II.
The stories about the Depression are the ones that struck me the most. During the Depression, a quarter of Canada’s workforce was unemployed.1 My dad, Edward McHugh, was a young man out of work in Montreal and he joined his older brother and sister in Drummondville, to work for the Celanese. At the peak of the Depression, the Celanese employed 1,757 workers.2
None of the McHughs had cars in those days so they must have travelled back and forth to Drummondville by train. And Uncle Thomas McHugh married a local girl. I can just imagine the McHughs, from Verdun, arriving in Drummondville for the wedding. I doubt very many people spoke English in Drummondville at the time. The culture shock must have been intense.
My aunts and uncles, even into the 1960s, were thankful that they were able to have had some work during the Depression. Uncle Al Scott worked for the Northern Telecom for 40 years, although with reduced hours during the Depression. Luckily Uncle Frank McHugh worked for the Montreal Tramway Company so he was able to keep working during the Depression. He was a tram driver for tram number 24 that started in Montreal West and crossed the city on Sherbrooke Street. His job was safe.
Dad’s siblings loved to have a good time and the Depression did not stop them. My Aunt Elsie used to describe their card parties. There was only one bottle of scotch, some ginger ale, one can of salmon and one loaf of sliced white bread. My aunt was able to spread the salmon so thinly that she could make sandwiches out of the whole loaf of bread.
It was very clear to me that the Depression was a very frightening time in their lives. During this period, the future must have seemed bleak. Life was a struggle to make ends meet. But they made the most of it and persevered. Today I feel lucky to have listened and to remember their stories.
Would my 19th-century ancestor Sophie Bruneau Huntley be posting pictures on social media, taking selfies and showing off her new purchases if she were alive today? I think the answer is, maybe yes!
Sophie was born in 1847, so all her early pictures were taken in photographic studios. These were not spontaneous pictures but rather specific setups with long exposures. There are several pictures of Sophie in the family photo albums. Many were taken in New York. My favourite is Sophie in a bathing costume displaying her very long hair and bare feet. There were no mischievous smiles but rather hard stares. Still, it appears she had fun during her photo shoots.
Sophie Bruneau
My great-great grandparents Barnabe Bruneau and Sophie Marie Prudhomme had 13 children and Sophie was number eight. She lived with her parents on their farm in St. Constant, Quebec until after the 1871 census. Pictures from New York studios came soon after. I assume Sophie worked in New York as a teacher or a French governess like her sisters, Virginia and Elmire, when she arrived in the United States in 1875 at 27 years old.
Sisters: Sophie, Helene & Mathilde
Sophie in New York
Sophie and her sister Elmire, married two Huntleys, Washington and Wallace? (Walworth). I assumed that they were brothers who married sisters. On family trees and photos he was called Wallace but it seems he was George Walforth Huntley (1854-1933), Washington’s younger brother and seven years younger than Sophie. Andrew Washington Huntley Elmire Bruneau’s husband was born in Mooers NY to Andrew Huntley and Calista Blodgett and there was a George Walworth Huntley in the family. If this is Sophie’s husband, they could also have met because her sister Aglae was living in Mooers Forks, New York with her husband.
Sophie and George W. Huntley
Sophie, Elmire, and their husbands lived in several places in the United States but ended up in Los Angeles.
Sophie and Walworth lived in Elkhart, Indiana as Sophie is mentioned in the Personal and Society column of the Indianapolis Journal, “Mrs. George W. Huntley is spending a month in Montreal.” The beginning of the column discussed women’s dress which probably interested Sophie. “What with shirtwaist blazers, neckties and caps the women, middle-aged and young are fast becoming what Light facetiously denominated “self-made men.” George was a railroad conductor and owned his own house according to the 1900 census.
Sophie Huntley
They later lived in Toledo, Ohio where George was a customs collector and finally moved to Los Angeles, California. Sophie became a naturalized American because her husband was a US citizen.
They never had any children.
Sophie Bruneau Huntley
Her age was fluid in all the documents. Her husband was seven years younger but sometimes she was younger and sometimes the age difference was much smaller. Her death record in December 1921 said she was 68; in the 1920 census, she was only 63 while actually being 74.
A death notice in a Los Angeles paper, “Sophie B. Huntley died December 28, 1921, beloved wife of George W. Huntley, funeral from residence La Veta Terraces.” Her death notice was also in Elkhart, Indiana and Toledo, Ohio newspapers. George continued to live in Los Angeles with his housekeeper Mary Dietrick until his death in 1933.
Notes:
“Canada Census, 1871”, , FamilySearch(https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:M4KT-F5V : Sun Mar 10 23:41:04 UTC 2024), Entry for Barnabe Bruneau and Sophie Bruneau, 1871. Sophie 23 at home no occupation.
California, County Birth and Death Records, 1800-1994″, , FamilySearch(https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:QG49-NZN3 : Sat Mar 09 23:29:28 UTC 2024), Entry for Sophie B Huntley and Barnabee Barneau, 28 December 1921.
What is in a name? Aglae Bruneau (1837 – 1906) was the oldest of 13 children in my great-grandfather’s family. How did her parents Barnabe Bruneau and Sophie Marie Prud’homme come up with that name? Aglae is a name of Greek origin meaning splendour, brilliance and the shining one. She was one of Zeus’s three daughters, with her sisters Euphrosyne and Thalia known as the three graces. Apparently, it is not as strange a name as I thought, as the BAnQ (Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec) website has many references to Aglaes even other Aglae Bruneaus.
Aglae seated and her youngest sister Anais
Aglae was born on her parent’s farm in St. Constant, Quebec. The family was Catholic as recorded in the 1851 census but converted to Protestantism soon after. Aglae married Pierre Charles Paumier (1828 – 1914) in the First Baptist Church in Montreal in 1860. He was born in France and immigrated to the United States in 1856. He had a farm in Mooers Forks, New York close to the Quebec border. It is possible that they met at religious services held at the Felleur Institute in Grande Ligne, Quebec as French Protestants often moved back and forth across the border for religious events.
Pierre Charles Paumier
On many of the US census, Pierre Paumier is listed as a farmer but was he originally a Baptist minister from France? My great uncle, Sydney Bruneau, wrote in his recollections “One of my aunts had married a Baptist minister from France, a man who made no secret of loving his pipe and his homemade brew of well-fermented cider, to the no small scandal of his congregation. When he was informed of complaints which had reached the higher authorities, he lost no time in preaching his farewell sermon, flaying his listeners without mercy for their narrowness of mind and their intolerance of the harmless pleasures of life, and retired to a farm where he grew his own tobacco and lived to a ripe old age.”
Like many of Aglae’s siblings, they only had one child Sophie F. Paumier. The family continued to live on their farm which Pierre owned outright and Aglae “kept house” until she died in 1906.
It appears that after Aglae died Sophie and her father sold the farm, packed up and moved to California, as they were living in Los Angeles according to the 1910 census. Two of Aglae’s sisters had also moved west to California. Pierre owned the house and neither he nor his daughter had an occupation listed so he continued to be a man of some means. In some directories, he is listed as Rev. Peter Pomier. Sophie died in LA only five years after her father.
The name Aglae has not been used again in our family. Aglae herself called her daughter Sophie after her mother rather than naming her after another Greek goddess.
Notes:
Census of 1851 (Canada East, Canada West, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia) for Image No.: e002302444 Archives Canada.
Bruneau A. Sydney. Walking With God in Dequen. Page 6. A memoir of his early childhood through the summer of 1910. Written by A. Sydney Bruneau in the late 1960s and transscribed by his granddaughter Virginia Greene, in January 2017. The author has a copy.
Tobacco was grown in Upstate New York and in Quebec and Ontario in the mid to late 1800’s. This shade tobacco was used commercially as cigar wrappers.
When I was a teenager, I came across a book in my parents’ house called Intention and Survival, written by T. Glen Hamilton, my grandfather. Inside a plain beige cover, the text was illustrated with grainy black and white photographs. Many of them showed a middle-aged woman, her eyes closed, with a white substance coming from her mouth or nostrils. Tiny images of the faces of deceased individuals seemed to be embedded in this substance.
Those photos gave me nightmares, and for decades, I have been trying to figure out what to make of them. Now, a new book called The Art of Ectoplasm: Encounters with Winnipeg’s Ghost Photographs is helping me understand them.
Edited by Serena Keshavjee, a professor of art and architectural history at the University of Winnipeg, and published by the University of Manitoba Press, The Art of Ectoplasm looks at the context in which my grandparents researched and photographed psychic phenomena, including that white substance called ectoplasm. The book describes their work and the many artistic projects it has inspired.
Published on large-format paper, the book itself is a work of art. The black and white, sepia and contemporary colour photographs almost glow. Most of the old photos were taken during séances held at the Hamiltons’ Winnipeg, Manitoba home 100 years ago. Shot in a darkened room, lit by flash, with large-format cameras, these are sharp, high-contrast images that can be seen as both documentary photos and as art. Meanwhile, the 300-page text explores the history of these séances and includes an extensive bibliography.
Dr. Thomas Glendenning Hamilton (1879-1935), known to most of his friends as T.G., was a family physician and surgeon, president of the Manitoba Medical Association and member of the Manitoba Legislative Assembly. He was a strict Presbyterian and elder of his church. He and his wife, Lillian (Forrester) Hamilton (1880-1956), had four children, including twin boys. Everyone in the household got sick during the 1918-1919 influenza pandemic, and one of the twins, three-year-old Arthur, died of the flu.
At the time, many people were strongly religious and believed in personal survival after death. Some tried to communicate with deceased loved ones. Alhough T.G.’s experiments in telepathy date from 1918, before the influenza pandemic, Arthur’s death may have stimulated the Hamiltons’ interest in the psychic field. Lillian started experimenting with table movements and rapping, and eventually T.G. was encouraged to participate. He decided to take a scientific approach. He prepared a room in the family home where the conditions could be carefully controlled and, in 1923, he began to conduct a series of experiments related to telekinesis, trance and mediumship that included the appearance of ectoplasm. These séances took place once or twice a week over a twelve-year span.
Lillian encouraged and collaborated with her husband, conducted research to make sense of alleged trance communications, did much of the organizing and often chaperoned the mediums. After T.G.’s death, she compiled the notes taken during the séances, as well as the photographs, her husband’s speeches and other material. She also continued to attend séances. She has received little public credit for her contributions, but that is beginning to change as Katie Oates, of Western University in London, Ontario, contributed a chapter in this book that focuses on Lillian’s role.
In 1979, T.G. and Lillian’s daughter, Margaret Hamilton Bach (1909-1986), donated the original photographic plates and documents to the archives at the University of Manitoba. Since then, the university has received many other collections of material related to psychical research and, as archivist Brian Hubner writes in The Art of Ectoplasm, the city has become known as “weird Winnipeg, an unlikely centre of the paranormal”.
Shelley Sweeney, archivist emerita and retired head of the University of Manitoba Archives and Special Collections, notes that the Hamilton Family Fonds has inspired a variety of projects, including books, plays and visual arts. It is the most utilized collection of personal records held by the archives, and photographs from the Hamilton collection have been exhibited in museums around the world.
In another article, Esyllt W. Jones, a professor of history and community health sciences at the University of Manitoba, puts the Hamiltons’ séances into the context of the couple’s grief following their child’s death. She also shows how their experience was an example of the trauma caused by the pandemic and the loss of loved ones during World War I.
Miniature face in ectoplasm of C.H. Spurgeon, with medium Mary Marshall, taken by T.G. Hamilton, May 1, 1929. UMASC H.A.V. Green Fonds
Thanks to the movie Ghostbusters, the word ectoplasm became popular in the 1980s, long after T.G.’s research involving ectoplasm took place between 1928 and 1934. Ectoplasm has been described as a vaporous substance that appears from the mouth or other orifices of a medium. Formless at first, it can change to resemble muslin or cotton batting before being reabsorbed into the medium’s body. T.G. thought of it as a living thing, directed by an internal intelligence. Ectoplasm has not been tested in a laboratory and, since World War II, it has not been considered a topic for credible scientific study.
The scientific methods that T.G. used in his “laboratory” are outdated today, but during his lifetime, as editor and contributor Keshavjee writes, psychical research was considered within the bounds of accepted scientific inquiry. There was a large body of literature on the topic and a number of well-respected scientists of the era accepted that strange things happened in the séance room. But, Keshavjee suggests, when the Hamilton séance activities began to be directed by an unseen personality called Walter, T.G.’s claims that he followed scientific methods lost credibility.
Today, questions about fraud hang over many psychic activities. Some people are convinced the Hamilton séances were fraudulent, others believe they were genuine. For the most part, this book accepts the Hamilton séance photographs without trying to address the issue.
In his chapter defending the Hamilton family psychical research legacy, Walter Meyer zu Erpen, founder of the Survival Research Institute of Canada and an archivist who has spent more than 30 years investigating these events and the people involved, concludes that the ectoplasm photographed by the Hamiltons was genuine.
Whether the appearance of ectoplasm was proof of survival after death is another question. In general, Keshavjee writes, there is little basis for belief that psychic phenomena inherently provide evidence of life after death. Meyer zu Erpen admits he is taking a middle-of-the-road position when he suggests that, in the Hamilton séances, only the ectoplasm samples with miniature faces of the deceased contribute to evidence for survival of human personality beyond death.
T.G. was convinced, however, that what he experienced in the séance room could only be the work of surviving spirts. For him, and for Lillian, survival was a fact.
The Art of Ectoplasm did not answer all my concerns, but for anyone interested in the Hamilton séances from an artistic, historical or psychical research perspective, it is worth going beyond the amazing photos and reading the text.
Full disclosure: as family historian, my research has been quoted several times in The Art of Ectoplasm and my father edited Intention and Survival.
The Art of Ectoplasm is available from the University of Manitoba Press, https://uofmpress.ca/books. It can also be ordered from Amazon, Indigo and other booksellers.
The advertisement in the February 24, 1928 edition of the Montreal Star called for three reliable men to apply for a special sales campaign for the Fuller Brush Company.
My dad, Edward McHugh, probably answered an advertisement similar to this one when he finished school in the late 1920s. He worked as a Fuller Brush salesman for two years in Montreal. Alfred Fuller founded the Fuller Brush Company in 1906. The company produced good quality brushes and increased its sales force by advertising for salesmen. But the secret of its selling success was that each salesman (they preferred men in those days) had to sign a pledge in which they promised that “I will be courteous; I will be kind; I will be sincere; I will be helpful.”1
The salesmen left cards like this one when no one was home:
As you can see in the above picture, my dad was a snazzy dresser. Knowing him, he probably took a lot of care with his appearance when he was out selling brushes. I remember him polishing his shoes every morning before going to work.
I assume that he succeeded fairly well at selling Fuller Brushes.2 But he must have been restless and in search of adventure because he left Montreal after just two years of selling brushes. Just travelling to Bermuda would have been quite an adventure in itself. He would have started his trip by going to New York City by train where he would then take an ocean liner. The Furness Bermuda Line and operated regular passenger and mail service between New York and Hamilton, Bermuda at the time.3
Edward must have encountered some challenges selling Fuller Brushes in Bermuda as he ended up working as a bell hop in a hotel that catered to rich patrons from the U.S. and Canada. The tips he earned helped him pay for business college when he returned home to Montreal.4
The Princess Hotel, Hamilton, Bermuda5
By the time Dad completed his business and accounting courses, Canada was in the Great Depression. He again got itchy feet again and moved to Drummondville, Quebec with his older brother, Thomas McHugh, his sister, Sarah Jane McHugh, and her husband, Jack Day. In Drummondville, he did not work as a Fuller Brush salesman, a bell hop, or in business or accounting. He apprenticed as an electrician at the Celanese and worked there for eight years until 1940, when he enrolled in the Royal Canadian Air Force as an aircraft mechanic at the outset of World War II. The RCAF trained my dad in aircraft hydraulics and he was assigned to Bomber Command stationed in Yorkshire, England, for the remainder of the war.6
It is no surprise that Dad did not become an aircraft mechanic after the war. He loved being an electrician and his started his own electrical company, Provincial Engineering. He eventually sold his portion of the business. I remember him saying, “the boss always gets paid last.” After that, he joined a firm and worked in a supervisory capacity on the electrification of towns in regional Quebec such as Sept-Iles and Chibougamau.
Dad was curious and loved trying new things. He never backed down from a challenge.
When my dad retired, he and my mom travelled to Bermuda regularly for their winter getaways. He must have enjoyed going back and perhaps even having a meal or two at the hotel he worked at when he was a young bell hop.
Genealogy Ensemble 