Category Archives: Military

Heatwaves and Victory Gardens

 

socialnotespotato

On Sunday, October 1, 2017, some members of Genealogy Ensemble will be participating in the Culture Days event at the Verdun Farmer’s Market, in promotion of Beads in a Necklace, our  book of family stories to be published in November.   My talk will focus on WWI Victory Gardens and the rising cost of living during that period.

The newspaper clipping, above, is from the social notes column of the Richmond-Times Guardian, (Richmond, Quebec) circa 1905. The very silly item about a big potato is probably my husband’s great-grandfather’s way of poking fun at small town pretensions.  Or is it?

The Nicholson family’s vast vegetable garden behind their charming red-brick house in the Eastern Townships of Quebec was no joke to them, not even in an era when pre-prepared foods like Heinz Beans, Jello, and Quaker Oats, were fast becoming house-hold names.*(1)

In 1911, with their four children were grown up, the large backyard garden that produced corn, beets, sweet peas, etc., was critical to the diet of this frugal Scottish Canadian family.

The potato patch was a particular concern:

“I put the Paris Green on the potatoes twice. Mrs. Montgomery came over to tell me that the bugs were eating up my potatoes. I was waiting to get someone to do it for me, as that was one thing I never attempted.

“But when she interfered thought we would try it. So one dark night, Flora (daughter) got the lantern and we went out when the bugs were asleep and gave them their dose. We dressed ourselves in the shed. You ought to have seen us. When we got through left our clothes there. Went to bed and dreamed all night that the bugs were crawling over us.”

So writes Margaret Mcleod Nicholson, in a July, 9, 1911 to husband Norman, who was away in Northern Ontario working as a railway inspector.

You have to admire Margaret’s style. Although her letters were often penned in haste and full of household concerns, ‘the local news’  as in gossip, and much high anxiety over finances, she certainly could paint a word picture when she wanted to.*(2)

In the spring of 1911, it was 57 year old Margaret’s job to care for the garden because her two older girls, Edith and Marion, were away teaching in Montreal, and her youngest, Flora, was very busy studying for final exams. Margaret and Flora were living alone for most of the year.

Although her daughters returned to Richmond for the summer, they came and went as they pleased, often in motorcars owned by wealthier neighbours. *(3)

Norman, in his letters home,  warned his wife not to work too hard out in the backyard, especially in hot weather, and the summer  of 1911, as it happens, was very, very hot.*(4)

tighsnapcorn

An ‘old-fashioned’ carriage in front of Tighsolas, the Nicholson home, circa 1910. A hire. The Nicholsons couldn’t afford to keep a carriage, let alone buy an automobile, like so many of their neighbours.

The same  letter continues:

“We have had dreadful hot weather. Just fancy, one night we slept out on the veranda. Took our mattresses down. The Skinners (other neighbours) were sleeping in theirs so that we were not afraid and we had Flossie (the dalmatian) with us but yesterday afternoon it rained so last night was cool.

We all had a good sleep and today is fine. We feel like working. I hope you did not have this extreme heat. We had quite a cold wave about the 24th but no frost.”

This sounds like typical Quebec  weather, doesn’t it?  So up and down.  It’s not easy cultivating a garden in this province. It takes perseverance.

Six years later, in the spring of 1917, most everyone in the west end of the city of Montreal was out on the street digging their wartime Victory Gardens.*(5)

Marion Nicholson, now a mother and homemaker living on York Street in lower Westmount, describes the scene in a letter home to Mom:

“Every vacant lot around the city has been utilized for gardens and I think it is more common to see people out digging and planting in these gardens than in a small town like Richmond. Some I think are making their first attempt.”

Her small family is no exception.  “Hugh (husband) and Willie (cousin) are making a garden. What success they will have I do not know. One thing for sure, the beds are straight (her underline) and square. I myself would prefer more in them.”

Marion (who is six months pregnant) then describes how she has hardly slept all week while tending her very sick toddler. She begs her mom to send as many crates of eggs as she can on the next train.

It certainly was an era of high-anxiety about food, nutrition  – and so many other things.

butterbill1917

Margaret’s 1917 butter bill. Inflation. The price of butter goes up from 30 to 40 cents from September to October.* (6)

Still, Marion closes her letter to her Mom by praising her comfort food:  “So, now to get a taste of your home-made bread. When I eat it, I close my eyes and I feel as if I were home. Thank you for all the good things you sent.”

orchard[1]

Edith, young Margaret, and Marion, far right, in summer of 1918 in an orchard in Richmond, possibly behind the Nicholson home as they had apple trees. (The newborn is in other pics.) This was the year of the Spanish Flu. It was safer in the countryside. Marion stayed an entire month in Richmond, until her husband, Hugh, begged her to come home in a letter. “The ice in the icebox has melted all over the floor, there’s no food in the house, the windows are kept open and it’s hot as Hades in here. Please come home and take care of me!” He was in the care of his sisters-in-law, who had better things to do in wartime Montreal  than to baby their brother-in-law. Edith, a Sun Life employee, volunteered in Soldiers’ Aid for the YMCA and for the Navy League.

  • 1. Most of the famous food brands of the 20th century got their start in 1900-1910 by advertising in magazines like the Ladies’ Home Journal with happy-family lifestyle ads with bigger graphics and fewer printed promises. “Pure” was the adjective of the day.

It was understood, even back then, that the home was evolving from a center of production to a center of consumption. Margaret, born in 1853, made everything from scratch, on a woodstove, with recipes she kept firmly locked in her head; Marion Nicholson, born 1886, would cook on a gas stove relying on her Fanny Farmer Cookbook; her daughter, also Marion, born 1917,  living in middle class comfort in 1950’s suburbia, would feed her brood nothing but canned vegetables, even canned potatoes, which she warmed on an electric stove.

  • 2. Norman was tickled by an anecdote from a November, 1909 letter, where Margaret vividly describes a back-and-forth argument she has had with a male relation over woman suffrage. The relation invokes St. Paul as was the custom. She replies “St. Paul has been dead for a long time. I don’t live in those days, milking cows and making fires.” Norman, who is active in local politics, replies in support of his wife: “Too absurd to think that a woman cannot exercise her franchise with as much intelligence as some of the male sex. And when you have to drag some of these supposedly intelligent men to the polls as you would cattle.”
  • 3. Margaret disliked motor cars. From 1909. “Mr. Montgomery is selling his horse and buying a car. Don’t you think he is foolish?” But, she was happy to go on drives when invited.
  • 5.  http://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/victory-gardens. Apparently, Victory Gardens weren’t only a way to add to the food supply; they were about improving morale on the home-front by making people feel useful.

 

  • 6. A Chicago Agency sent a very fancy direct mail advertisement out to Richmond homemakers in 1916 on behalf of a new product called Crisco Shortening asking, “Do you like the taste of fresh buns in the morning? Try Crisco.” A coupon was attached.

 

Finding British Regiments in Quebec, 1759-1760

The 1759 Battle of the Plains of Abraham, in which General Wolfe’s British invasion force defeated General Montcalm’s defending army, is the most famous battle in Canadian history. After the British also conquered Montreal the following year, New France became history and a new British colony in Canada was born.

Thousands of people took part in these events. British historians say that the fleet that sailed up the St. Lawrence River in the spring of 1759 carried between 10,000 and 12,500 British sailors and soldiers, while the book Combattre pour la France en Amérique lists 7,450 French soldiers.

Finding out whether your ancestor fought in this campaign is not easy, but the PDF attached below, Finding British Regiments in Quebec, 1759-1760, may help you make a start. This compilation lists the British regiments that fought at Quebec City and Montreal, and it identifies the places British regiments were posted during the 1759-1760 campaign.

The Canadian government website of The National Battlefields Commission www.ccbn-nbc.gc.ca/en/ describes the historical context of the Seven Years War (also known as the French and Indian War), while the searchable page www.ccbn-nbc.gc.ca/en/history-heritage/battles-1759-1760/soldiers/ lists the names of 7,279 British soldiers and 4,079 French soldiers who took part.

Marcel Fournier and a staff of about 30 researchers in Montreal and France identified 7,450 soldiers and officers who fought for France in New France, plus the names of another 1374 soldiers. These findings were published in Combattre pour la France en Amérique by La Société généalogique canadienne-française, Montreal, 2009 (in French only).

If you are interested in the soldiers who fought in British regiments, you should consult the two-volume In Search of the “Forlorn Hope”: a Comprehensive Guide to Locating British Regiments & Their Records (1640-WWI) by John M. Kitzmiller II, published in Salt Lake City by Manuscript Publishing Foundation, 1988. You will probably find it in a large library. This book is the source of the information complied here.

These two volumes, plus a supplement, tell you which regiment was posted where from 1640 to 1914. The book does this in reverse: you need to look up the name of a place or campaign and the book identifies the regiments stationed there. The supplement can also help you with genealogical research you might want to conduct in British War Office Records. Once you find your ancestor’s name, you may need to visit the Public Record Office, Kew, near London.

Another book, My Ancestor was in the British Army, by Michael Watts and Christopher Watts, published by the Society of Genealogists in the U.K. in 2009, lists dozens of other archives in England, Wales and Scotland in which military records are kept, including the soldiers and mariners who fought during the Seven Years War in North America. You can also try searching military records on the subscription website Find My Past, www.findmypast.com.

finding-british-regiments-in-quebec-1759-1760

 

Surgeon and Mentalist

Shortly before graduation from medical school at Queens University in Kingston, Ontario in 1883, William G. Anglin (my great grandfather) and a few fellow medical students attended the performance of a “thought-reader”, English mentalist Stuart Cumberland[1]. So impressed with what they had seen, they went back to their place and tried one of the simpler experiments.

 The operator was blindfolded, and the Medium, placing the back of the fingers of one hand on the operator’s forehead was to think intently as to what was required to be done. For instance – pick up an article from some position and place it in another position – the operator having previously gone out of the room while the experiment was being agreed upon. Everyone singly failed, and I was the last one to try. Immediately I went across the room and picked up a small object from the mantelpiece – crossed the room and placed it on the middle of a chair. Tore off the handkerchief from my eyes and said: “That’s what you wanted done”. “By George, you’re right, Anglin, we will try you again”, and I did correctly five or six other experiments – each a little more difficult than the last. Could not account for the success, but in every experiment I was conscious that I was doing the right thing. When my fingers touched the desired object, I closed on it with a feeling of certainty.[2]

The next week William left for Halifax to sail for Liverpool to continue his medical studies in England. He met a fellow doctor and, eventually the conversation turned to “thought-reading”.

It proved to be a very entertaining voyage for the passengers, as he successfully performed time and time again. A passenger would say – “Well, Doctor, I hid a pin somewhere on the ship – an hour ago” and blindfolded, William would take the passenger’s right hand and, holding the fingers to his forehead, he would say, “Think where it is”, and they would start upstairs and downstairs, and along corridors to the spot, and he would pick up the pin from a curtain or a chair wherever it had been placed.[3]

Later in life, his son Douglas, referring to his father’s diary, lamented “End of Diary – too bad – I wish we could have heard about my father’s time studying in London and Edinburgh, where he was entertained at many high society places on account of his thought-reading.”[4]

Following his medical degree from Queen’s in 1883, William spent eighteen months as the house surgeon at the Royal Infirmary, the Sick Children’s Hospital, and the Royal Maternity Hospital in England. Then he successfully completed the M.R.C.S. exam (Member of the Royal College of Surgeons) in England.

When he returned to Kingston, in the fall of 1885, he lectured for a session in surgery at the Women’s Medical College. A year later, he became Professor of Pathology and finally head of the department of Clinical Surgery.

Around that time, William built an addition to his parents’ home at 52 Earl Street in Kingston, which provided him with both office and home. 3

This is where he brought his childhood sweetheart and bride, Harriet (Hattie) Eva Gould, in 1886. The name ‘Dr. Anglin’ remains embossed in the upper portion of the glass of the front window to this day.[5]

He remained a member of the Medical Staff at Queen’s until May 1915 when he departed with the Queen’s Stationary Hospital for Cairo, at age 59. Cairo, Egypt - Dec 7, 1915 - Lt Col AnglinHe served as a civil-surgeon with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel until 1916 when he became ill with Malta fever and phlebitis. He was given a medical discharge and sent back home.

William’s attestation papers, dated May 1st 1915, declared that he was fit for duty but noted a missing middle finger on his right hand.  In 1904, it was reported that Dr. William G. Anglin was severely ill, and lost a finger due to this illness. There was much relief when it was announced that he would live.[6] Middle Finger The story told was that by using his “thought-reading” skills, he was able to physically draw down the infection in his right arm to his middle finger. The amputation of that one finger removed all traces of infection from his body probably saving his life… and enabling him to continue his work as a surgeon.[7]

 

 

 

[1] Wikipedia-Stuart Cumberland (1857–1922) English mentalist known for his demonstrations of “thought reading”.

[2] Personal recollections – W.G. Anglin, 52 Earl Street, Kindston, Ontario – November 14, 1927

[3] Personal recollections – W. G.Anglin, 52 Earl Street, Kingston, Ontario – November 14, 1927

[4] Written note from Douglas Anglin at the end of Personal recollections – W.G. Anglin, 52 Earl Street, Kingson, Ontario – November 14, 1927.

[5] Helen Finlay, owner-operator of  52 Earl Street Cottages, Kingston, Ontario

[6] The Kingston Whig, January 12, 1904,

Queen’s archives, Biographical History – Anglin, William Gardiner (1856-1934)

[7] As told to Lucy Anglin from Thomas Gill Anglin, grandson of W.G. Anglin, who read his grandfather’s diary