<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009</id><updated>2011-11-27T15:31:06.726-08:00</updated><category term='Blue Ribbon Cow'/><category term='Deer Meat and Hungry People'/><category term='Hockey Game'/><category term='Rule of the Road for Steamers'/><category term='Red Tape'/><category term='709'/><category term='Rolling RR&apos;s'/><category term='French Ship'/><category term='Home On The Hill'/><category term='PET SEAGULL BIDDY'/><category term='Raindancer song'/><category term='First Xmas'/><category term='Jimmy Norman MacDonald'/><category term='L H. CANN'/><category term='New Sandals'/><category term='Louisbourg 1939 -45'/><title type='text'>Louisbourg Stories</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>20</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-3528671012732614578</id><published>2010-07-18T05:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-18T05:41:01.817-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Louisbourg 1939 -45'/><title type='text'>Louisbourg 1939 -45</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;SPECIAL VE DAY 1995 EDITION&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;By&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;Jean  Kyte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;hr /&gt; &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;1939 &amp;amp; 1940&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;To the Louisbourg of     1939 the looming war declared by Great Britain and France on Germany  on September 3rd was     a minor affair that hardly rippled the even tenor of everyday life.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The previous February, Mayor Melvin S. Huntington  arranged     with Malcolm Patterson to introduce a bill in the Legislature  establishing the boundaries     of the town. The opening of the new Post Office on February 14 and  the Customs Office in     the same building on February 23 were signs of progress.  Swordfishing went on in the     summer and the fleet was welcomed as usual. On September 1,  Huntington noted in his diary,     " Germany invaded Poland today and the war that has been threatened  for many months     has begun." Up to then, nothing in the way of world news was  considered worthwhile     mentioning in his diary.&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;      &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;On September 3rd, Huntington and  D.M.     Johnston, then Chief of Police, attended a meeting in Sydney with  other Cape Breton     municipal leaders, "to organize the towns, City of Sydney, and rural  communities in     Cape Breton County, in preparation for possible air raids by enemy  planes..." Dr. H.     J. Townsend of Louisbourg was appointed chairman for Louisbourg to  deal with the Mayor to     organize an "Air Raid Precaution Committee" in the town. The first     "blackout" was on September 7. On September 10, Canada declared war.&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By September 14, an  ARP Committee was     organized, with Dr. Townsend as chairman, George Lewis, secretary,  R.A. Peters, Fire     Chief, D.M. Johnston, Chief of Police, Councillor Guy B. Hiltz and  Mayor Huntington. For     the duration of the war, this committee met faithfully to supervise  the     "blackouts" ordered from time to time by County officials.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;On September 27 Mayor  Huntington     wrote Lt. Col. Dobbie, Fortress Commander, Sydney, respecting the  defenceless condition of     the port of Louisbourg in the event of enemy attack. He suggested  that some action be     taken to protect the shipping piers of British Empire Steel and Coal  Corp., and the port     in general. The letter was politely acknowledged from Halifax noting  that "... it is     impossible adequately to guard all desirable points. Therefore, our  forces are     concentrated in those places which are considered vital to Canada."  However, copy of     the letter was sent to Ottawa.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The major topic of  interest in the     town was the question of a new lighting system. The Red Cross was  organized October 2.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;In April 1940 a  meeting was called to     consider the town's participation in the nation-wide YMCA War  Service Fund appeal. The     meeting was so poorly attended that the group decided to seek the  assistance of the     Women's Institute Branch and a week later the WINS agreed to help  with the fund raising.     On June 10, Huntington noted that Canada declared war on Italy. On  August 5, about 500     swordfish were landed and on August 17, the Mayor bought a revolver  as instructed by Town     Council, that had decided to arm the town's policeman.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;On August 19,  National Registration     of all persons 16 years of age or older, took place in Louisbourg as  well as Canada. Six     hundred and seventeen people registered in Louisbourg.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The N.S. Power  Commission started     putting up power lines. On October 19, there were twelve Lunenburg  sailing vessels in     port, and they sailed the next day.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;On December 10, a  town-wide Greek War     Relief collection was authorized. The sum of $162.00 was raised from  a town still in     depression times.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The number of vessels  entering port     either for bunkering or coal cargoes began to increase, and the town  became more familiar     with the flags of their countries - Finland, Greece, Latvia,  Iceland, Panama, Poland,     Yugoslavia and Norway. Norwegian ships were a familiar sight over  the years in the port,     with George Lewis the Norwegian Consul (since March 25, 1921).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;1941&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By 1941, particularly in     the spring and fall, life in the town became more lively. The S.S.  EMPIRE RAZORBILL came     in January 9 with damage to her hull caused by a German submarine  which had opened fire on     her somewhere in the Atlantic. She had been calling at the town for  many years, being in     the coal trade. Bad weather brought in three naval ships, one a tug,  for shelter. One     young man from town, Johnson Siteman, R.C.N., died January 19.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;In February, a War Savings Campaign was planned.     Louisbourg consistently achieved its quota of Victory Bond sales and  in 1942 raised     $110,600 or, 235% of its quota.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The N.S. Power  Commission began work     on a new lighting system in March. By June Germany and Russia were  at war. On July 14 a     meeting of the Community Club was held to arrange for comforts for  H.M.C.S. LOUISBURG.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;      &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;On July 22, the first swordfish  of     the season was landed and bought by Lewis and Co. The next day an  advance party for     Michael Lerner, international sportsman who pioneered the capture of  swordfish by rod and     reel, arrived. Lerner himself arrived the next day to begin his  fourth trip to the town.     During the next two weeks he landed seven swordfish, and donated the  proceeds to the     Queen's Canadian Fund war relief and the Community Club for the  comforts for H.M.C.S.     LOUISBURG.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mrs. Marion Hassler,  also a rod and     reel enthusiast, arrived in August and made a number of landings.  She sponsored a town     dance in the Masonic Hall, which was appreciated by the townspeople,  as was a showing by     Mr. Lerner of a movie taken by his professional photographer of an  informal concert by     young people of the town.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Meanwhile, fishermen  landed 350     swordfish up to the end of August.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The war was being  brought home slowly     to the town. The major industrial company in Louisbourg was the L.H.  Cann marine repair     shop on Commercial St. On July 26, 1941 there were three damaged  ships in the harbour -     the British ship BIAFRA had collided with another ship in her  convoy, the Norwegian S.S.     FIDELIO had rammed Big Lorraine Head (she was later sunk in convoy)  and S.S. IOCOMA had     lost her rudder and grounded near Port Nova. The pier underwent  repairs for three months     in the summer and fall.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Navy League of  Canada Branch was     organized October 16 and work started on the Hut on November 3.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;      &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The impact of war hit in the  winter     of 1941. On September 30 a Latvian Ship, S.S. EVEROJA, straggled  into port with a jagged     hole in her bow where she had been rammed by another ship in her  convoy. The ship repair     plants in Sydney were working&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;full time, so the  ship was sent to     the L.H. Cann repair plant at Louisbourg. Later in 1941 the harbour  began to fill with the     convoy ships from many lands.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;On November 19, a  detachment of the     Veterans Guard of Canada (the Home Guard) was organized with twelve  men, most of whom were     World War I veterans: Cpl. William MacKinnon, John Pope, Wilfred  Troke, Malcolm MacLeod,     D.J. MacIntyre, J.R. Defriese, Michael Murrant, Alex MacDonald,  Charles Dickson, Dan     Smith, Arthur Gaudet and James Pope. Their headquarters was the  I.O.G.T. Hall, now the     Louisbourg Library.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;On December 8, the  town was hard hit     with the news of death in England in an accident, of 21 year old  Ronald M. Cann, R.C.A.F.,     son of Mr. and Mrs. L.H. Cann.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;      &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;On December 23, 1941 the  corvette     "LOUISBURG" (Flower Class) paid a courtesy visit to the town and the  crew was     given a tour of the Fortress site, a dance and a lunch, and  presented with an address and     a picture of the surf at Louisbourg. There was a sense of loss and  personal&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;sadness when she was  sunk in the     Mediterranean in February of 1943.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;1942&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By 1942 the population     had grown to 1,008. The Navy League Hut opened in January. Ships  making a regular run to     Louisbourg for coal or landing iron ore for the steel plant at  Sydney were now being     escorted by naval vessels, and were having guns mounted as a defence  against submarines.     In February churches and public buildings were closed due to a  diphtheria epidemic. The     ban was lifted February 12. On February 17 a War Salvage Committee  was organized, and on     February 21 seven planes in formation flew over the town en route to  some unknown     destination.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;L.H.     Cann's ship repairing plant was busy refitting all Dominion Coal  Company Ships in     1941-1942.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Rationing of some  foods was taken in     stride as it was ordered by the Wartime Prices and Trade Board. On  June 20, sugar was     rationed (half a pound per week per person, replacing the voluntary  rationing of     three-quarters of a pound in effect since January). Sugar rationing  continued to November     27, 1947. Tea and Coffee were rationed in August (one ounce of tea  and four ounces of     coffee per week, but not both), and butter was added to the list in  December (one-half a     pound per week). Meat rationing came along later. Gasoline was also  rationed.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The ration book had  coupons which had     to be taken out by the seller of the provisions. Members of the Red  Cross collected meat     coupons and turned them in to the Board "thereby making more meat  available for     overseas." Meat coupons had "change" tokens - small blue disks with a  hole     in the centre. Inevitably some cheating took place, but most people  took the restrictions     stoically, feeling their sacrifices were helping the war effort.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;There was mail  censorship (Louisbourg     was an East Coast Port) and envelopes were duly stamped. Victory  Bond campaigns were     enthusiastically supported and school prizes were often a number of  $0.25 "war     savings stamps" which, when a booklet of $4.00 was completed, could  be turned in for     a War Savings Certificate.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;In September a  platoon of the Cape     Breton Highlanders Reserve Battalion held its first drill. The drill  instructor was Cpl.     MacKenzie, assisted by Corporal William MacKinnon of Louisbourg  (supervisor of the Museum     at the National Historic Site in West Louisbourg) a member of the  Louisbourg Detachment of     the Veterans Guard of Canada. The platoon members were: Howard  MacQueen, Trueman Hunt,     Archie MacVicar, Walter Jewell,Jr., Edward MacVicar, John MacDonald,  William Stewart, Alex     Hunt, George MacGillivary, Howard Magee, James Burke, James Harte,  Ernest Matheson, Albert     Bate, Carl Levy, James MacKay, George MacKay, William Hilchie,  William MacGillivary, John     MacKinnon, Wilfred Covey, Charles Crooks and Gordon Troke.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;A First Aid Squad  with a Nurses Unit     was organized with lectures by Dr. Moe Ulberg. Under Oscar Harris  and Ed Levy, the two     squads were composed of: Oscar Harris - Frank Stacey, Walter Jewell,  A. Covey, James     Harte, Joe Burke, Enoch Cann and Harold Cross, and under Ed Levy -  Charles Bagnell,Sr.,     Charles Bagnell, Jr., Ervin Levy, Wilson Levy, Murray Fleet, William  Burke and Ralph     Townsend. The Nurses' unit had Miss H.R. MacDonald (the Public  Health Nurse for the town),     Mrs. Ruby Stewart, Mrs. Winnie Kyte, and Mrs. M. Ulberg.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Battle of the  Atlantic     intensified in 1942. Many young men joined the Merchant Navy. In  May, the MONT LOUIS was     lost in the Caribbean, with William Bagnell, Jr. and John A.  MacIntyre among the     casualties. On September 5 the LORD STRATHCONA was torpedoed in  Wabana Harbour, Nfld. She     had been a regular caller to Louisbourg for years. Louisbourg was  the winter port for the     North Sydney-Port-aux-Basques passenger ships. The town came to look  on the visits of the     CARIBOU and KYLE as part of their own winter activities. On October  15 the CARIBOU was     sunk on her trip to Newfoundland with the loss of 137 of the 235  aboard. The town heard     the news in disbelief. It just didn't seem possible that a ship so  familiar and so much a     part of the winter routine could be a victim of war. Worse was yet  to come.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;On November 2nd., the  S.S. ROSE     CASTLE, a coal carrier with crew from the area, was torpedoed in  Wabana Harbour as well.     Pat MacMullin, whose family lived in town, was among those killed.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;In December, the  military negotiated     the site of the military camp on Kennelly's Point, and construction  started December 13.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;1943&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;In January, Minesweeper     J256 showed up with gear for anti-submarine nets and a gate. On  January 21, the U.S.     subchaser SC-709 went aground on a bar west of Battery Island and in  a dramatic rescue the     crew was saved by Louisbourg fisherman and crewmembers of the  barquentine ANGELUS and     given first aid in the Navy League Hut by local registered nurses  and a group of women     from town. The ANGELUS was later torpedoed in the South Atlantic,  with only two survivors.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;A collection of $404.50 was made for the Canadian Aid  to     Russia Fund. U.S. Coast Guard vessels began to visit on their route  to Newfoundland.     Louisbourg was District No. 6 and ration book distribution for the  town was carried out as     well as to Gabarus, Main-a-Dieu, Catalone and Bateston. The steam  barge BD3 (Boom Defence     3) was on duty during the winter.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;In May, "sugar for  canning"     ration coupons became available, 10 to 13 lbs. per person, to enable  women to take     advantage of home made jams, jellies, pickles and other preserved  food, to alleviate the     monotony of the daily diet.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Boy Scouts were  reorganized in     St. Bartholomew's Church, Town Council "adopted" the newly-launched  H.M.C.S.     LOUISBURG, named to replace the town's namesake sunk the previous  February in the     Mediterranean. In June, a CWAC platoon was welcomed to town and gave  a precision drill and     later a concert. The anti-submarine net was replaced in July.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;In October,  Louisbourg was the first     community in the county to "go over the top" with Victory Bond sales  of $117,600     against a quota of $85,000. The male members of the Navy League  tendered a dinner of     appreciation to the ladies who continued to supply sandwiches and  sweets each night at the     Navy League Hut to members of the Armed Forces and the Merchant  Marine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;1944&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;On February 3, 1944 the     S.S. FORT TOWNSEND collided with one of her convoy escort, H.M.C.S.  MAHONE, in a dense fog     off Louisbourg. She was given emergency help and sent to Halifax for  further repairs.     Causing more immediate excitement was the explosion from spontaneous  combustion of the     PHILIP T. DODGE in harbour at about 1.45 a.m. on March 14. Bemused  citizens were shaken     from their beds believing that a bombing raid was in progress, or  that a ship in harbour     was being torpedoed. Debris from the ship rained on roofs and little  fires burned all over     the ice of the harbour. No one was hurt but the ship was badly  damaged. It was repaired in     Louisbourg. On March 22 the WATUKA was torpedoed off Halifax, but  all hands, including     local men Capt. Ben Pope, Raymond Martell, Charles Martell, Willard  Troke, Gordon Troke,     Philip Tutty and James Kennedy were saved.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Battle of the Atlantic abated, and the invasion  of     Europe occasioned some optimism for the future. In April, Mayor  Huntington, George Lewis     of Lewis &amp;amp; Co, Ed Levy, and Eric Lewis met in Halifax with  government officials and     management of General Sea Foods Ltd. to discuss the establishment of  a modern fish plant     in Louisbourg. They continued to meet in Halifax and in Louisbourg  over the years     following and plan for the plant, which was finally opened in 1952.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ninety swordfish  were landed in July.     In September a public meeting was held to discuss post-war problems,  and in October     another meeting was held to arrange a civic reception to welcome men  and women who would     be returning from the Armed Forces. A banquet was held in the Navy  League Hut on December     28. A Civilian Rehabilitation Committee was organized, but it was  not particularly     successful, although it met periodically for the next couple of  years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;1945&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Council considered a     memorial suitable for veterans of both wars. In March, two Spanish  trawlers arrived. The     Spanish sailors scoured the shops in town buying soap and, for a few  days after they left,     townspeople had to wait until local merchants could restock their  shelves. The Spanish     ships had made the town their base in 1944 and continued to call. At  the same time, ships     were sailing under armed escort and armed trawlers and minesweepers  patrolled the coast.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Emerson Grant arrived home from  overseas in February 1945     and in March the anti-submarine net was taken up because of drift  ice. The Eighth Victory     Loan campaign launched April 23 was successfully completed by May 1,  a week before May 8,     V-E Day.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;V-E Day was  celebrated with general     rejoicing, followed by an abrupt slow down of activity both socially  and commercially.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;In July a naval tug  left for North     Sydney with three anti-submarine gate pontoons. This was the last  except for the one     anchored off the head of government wharf being used as a moving  buoy for the stern of the     Canadian frigate, ORKNEY, which was undergoing repairs and  refitting.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;On July 23 the first  swordfish were     landed. August 14 was V-J Day. On September 2 the R.C.A.F.station  officially closed, on     October 11 the Senior Naval Office closed, and on October 23 the  ORKNEY sailed. On     November 19 Mayor Huntington attended a 9th Victory Loan Campaign  dinner - in Sydney.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;ARMED FORCES IN LOUISBOURG&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;About the middle of     January 1943 a naval office was opened in the building that  originally housed the office     of A.A. Martell, M.L.A., then the Post Office until 1939, and more  recently, the Credit     Union. The naval barracks was the former Dundonald Inn. Commander  George A. Burton,     R.C.N.R. was in charge. He died in 1944.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By early 1943 convoys were commonplace to Louisbourg.     Sydney was designated an SC (slow convoy) assembly point, and ships  collected in     Louisbourg Harbour to load cargo and bunker (take on coal as fuel  for the ship itself)     while preparing to join the convoys.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The office closed  October 11, 1945.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;ARMY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By January 1943 Wolfe     Battery was established at Kennelly's ( Russell Pt.). It was  officially called "Fort     Wolfe."&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fort     Wolfe consisted of two 18-pounder field guns, and two sixty-inch  concentrated beam     searchlights "disguised as fishing shacks on the shore line." About  fifty men     from the Sydney Harbour and Canso Defences formed the winter  detachments at Louisbourg     although one year a unit from Quebec manned the battery. A submarine  would have to come     through the Channel at the mouth of the harbour on the surface  because of the shallow     depth of the water and the guns thus commanded the channel.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;         &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The camp was located on both  sides of     the road where the old Kennelly house once stood. On the east side  of the road were eight     round topped corrugated huts and on the west side, four or five  similar ones. Huts were     about 25 feet long and ten feet wide. On the west side two or three  wood and tar-papered     shacks were placed. Near the shore, there were two wooden buildings  housing searchlights.     The engines for generating the power were in a small wooden building  at the edge of the     trees east of the searchlight building. The guns were positioned on  two concrete gun     emplacements and one was mounted on a rubber wheeled carriage.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The  army detachment, except for a     small guard, usually decamped during summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;THE     R.C.A.F.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The R.C.A.F. station was     located on the old Louisbourg Road (Terra Nova Road) on property  owned by the late John     MacMillan and was established in 1942.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;It was called No. 6 Radar Station and was attached to  the     R.C.A.F. station in Sydney, Nova Scotia. A ration run to Sydney was  made each week for     supplies. About 80 to 100 men were stationed there. [The Radar units  extended from Iceland     to the United States East Coast.]&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The  station tracked planes over the     Atlantic and at one time received a commendation for tracking one  plane for 18 hours. The     equipment was manned twenty-four hours a day, with four shifts of  four to six men. They     also tracked ships.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The  station comprised an     administration building, housing the Orderly Room, a cook house and  dining room, a guard     house, H barracks with men sleeping on one side and a hospital and  games room on the other     side. The officers slept in one end of the Administration Building.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;In the  early days, as the heating     equipment was not completed, men were moved to the Dundonald Inn and  to private homes in     town. Some of the married men brought their families to live with  local families. A number     of local women married R.C.A.F. men and moved away after the war.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Commanding  officers of the RCAF were,     F/O B.F. Deshaw, P/O V. J. Hawkeswood, P/O W. H. Noble, F/O S. R.  Talbot, F/L J. M. G.     Dorais and F/O W. J. McLaughlin.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The  base closed on September 2, 1945.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;L.H. CANN'S SHIP REPAIR PLANT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Louisbourg Motor and     Machine Works Limited was incorporated in 1920 with three&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;partners, one of whom was L.H. Cann.  In 1924 Cann bought     out his partners and carried on business under his own name.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The  company did general machine shop,     motor repair and small marine repair work until 1941-42 when a  complete refit was carried     out on all Dominion Coal Ships.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;On  September 30, 1941 a Latvian ship,     S.S. EVEROJA, was sent to Louisbourg for repairs to a hole in her  bow. Up to this time,     the small marine repair shop was mostly used for fixing loose hinges  on deck doors,     installing light bulbs on ships and general machine work. To handle  the welding of a whole     new steel plate to the side of a ship, the plant underwent an abrupt  adjustment in     equipment, personnel and importance. Cann, the plant owner, issued a  call for workers. A     stenographer, the first trained one in town, was employed.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;During  the Battle of the Atlantic,     all available facilities were engaged in repair work and Cann's was  given a contract by     the Department of Munitions and Supply to refit Naval vessels. The  plant was enlarged, men     from all over Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, and Newfoundland as well as  other parts of Canada     were engaged and new machinery bought. During the war, fourteen  naval ships - H.M.C.S.     VEGREVILLE, GRAND MERE, COWICHAN, MULGRAVE, UNGAVA, DRUMMONDVILLE,  AGASSIZ, LA MALBAIE,     CHAMBLY and RIMOUSKI, and H.M.S. AYRSHIRE, BAFFIN, ANTICOSTI, and  CALLIFF - were refitted,     and repairs and refits made to many merchant ships, naval crafts,  scows, derricks and     fishing boats. The H.M.C.S MAHONE was towed in for temporary repairs  to get her to     Halifax, and the PHILIP T. DODGE was repaired after an explosion.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The  plant eventually had a work force     of 250, handling the machine shop, boiler shop, electrical shop,  carpenter shop, fitter     shop, welder house and compressor room. No time was ever lost due to  strikes or labour     difficulties.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The  employees supported the sale of     approximately $100,000 worth of Victory Bonds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;THEY ALSO SERVED ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Dominion Coal     Company with the Sydney and Louisburg Railway provided vital support  in the shipment to     Britain of coal, steel, fuel, food, munitions and civilian supplies.  Work went on     twenty-four hours a day, with three eight-hour shifts. The S &amp;amp; L  Station was managed     by A. Tilley, who also handled the Canadian Pacific Telegraph  business. Until his death in     1942, D. J. McInnis was superintendent of the coal pier, being  succeeded by Arthur     Hallett.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Lewis     &amp;amp; Co., founded in 1896, was the principal merchandiser in town,  as ships' chandler,     fish buyer, shipping agent, general store, fuel oil supplier and  office for various     agencies and services. Gordon P. Stevens, founded in 1914, was the  second largest general     store. Other businesses in town included Beavers Transfer, A. D.  Cann, fish; Crowdis     Hotel; Lloyd Harris, confectionery and groceries; B.W.Heckman,  confectionery and     groceries; Herbert Hopkins, fish; M.S.Huntington, newspapers and  confectionery;     D.M.Johnston, funeral director; Allister MacDonald, Rexall Drug  Store, which also had a     small lending library; Louisburg Co-op Society, groceries; Mrs.  Belle MacMillan, groceries     and household goods; Harold MacQueen, groceries, confectionery,  stoves and furniture; The     Royal Bank; Sullivan Bus Service; Wilfred Tutty, billiards, pool and  snooker; Fred Burke,     barber shop; Abe Cameron, bus and taxi service; Hugh Lynk,  insurance. The restaurants in     town were managed by Tom Wong (the Grubstake Restaurant building),  by Cecil Stevens (on     the site of the Royal Bank) and William Thomas who managed the Green  Lantern Restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;WHAT IT WAS LIKE IN TOWN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The citizens came face     to face with war with the arrival for repairs of the Latvian ship  EVEROJA, on September 30     1941.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The  ship's     crew, Latvians, Englishmen, Welsh and Scandinavians, provided the  town with a constant     source of gossip. The first week of the ship's arrival, the town  people reacted with a     mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Young girls who normally thought  nothing of walking     home alone at night were no longer permitted out unattended.  Suspicion was increased when     some of the crew became drunk and engaged in brawls on the main  street.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;However, the suspicion was alleviated     after the crew members attended several social evenings held in the  Anglican Parish Hall.     They displayed good manners (bowing from the waist when asking  permission to dance, and     quickly removing one of their own men who had become drunk.) Their  behaviour overcame the     initial antipathy and many townspeople accepted them socially,  inviting them to their     homes for dinner and to spend the evenings.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The ship remained over a month, and     the crew of about thirty became friendly with the townspeople and  particularly with the     men who repaired the ship. They had an orchestra of five aboard  which played for a number     of dances and one of the crew was a professional fakir, billed as  Rolando, who performed     such deeds as sticking a knife through his tongue and driving  needles through his breast     muscles. He treated the citizens to a free performance in a local  hall from which several     women and one man were carried unconscious.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;This first exposure to wartime     conditions which proved pleasant socially and financially for the  town was probably     largely responsible for the friendly attitude with which the people  greeted the numerous     servicemen, both Canadian and foreign, who were stationed at  Louisbourg during the war.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Between 1942 and 1944 the marine     repair plant increased its staff to 225 employees. Canadian, British  and American naval     vessels tied up at the wharves along with merchant ships. By this  time thirty-six men from     town had enlisted, leaving only the older married men for work.  Since they were mostly     jack-of-all-trades, skilled workers had to be imported - electric  welders, tinsmiths,     machinists, pipe-fitters. Of the 225 men employed at the plant in  1944, 115 were     "outsiders", of whom 18 had brought their families to town.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Along with the increase in population     through the war industry, there was also a rise in population due to  the building of an     airforce camp outside the town, an army base at the Lighthouse, and a  naval station in     town. At times it was estimated that the "from away" population  exceeded the     native population.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;This invasion of new  families,     servicemen and industry created a distinct break in the economy of  the town and in its     social life. For the natives who worked at the plant, it meant the  first steady employment     most of them had ever had in town. The security of a steady weekly  pay envelope resulted     in a rise in the standard of living which was quite apparent in  1944. The criteria for     this rise included enlargement of the large general store and  increase in staff; increase     in trucking operations between Sydney and Louisbourg to cope with  the greatly increased     demand for provisions; expansion of the ship chandlering company  which provisioned ships;     increase in number of scheduled bus trips between Sydney and  Louisbourg; higher status     gained by several families which had suffered from chronic poverty -  the higher status     resulting from the fact that the fathers obtained regular work at  the plant; and increase     in staff at the local bank and Post Office.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;A total of sixteen houses  were built     during the war. Of these, twelve were built by Louisbourg natives  who subsequently     occupied them.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Since most of the town  houses were     large, the housing shortage was solved by householders renting parts  of houses,&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;and taking in boarders. With     practically all Louisbourg citizens employed it meant the old  standbys of fishing and coal     trimming were largely ignored. Fishing boats and lobster crates were  left high and dry on     the beaches during the summer although absenteeism at the plant  became more prevalent     during June and July when call of the sea proved too strong for some  fisherman. The small     tourist business faded completely as government restrictions on  gasoline and travel became     more severe.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;With the men working at the plant or     on the pier, and young sons in the services or at sea, the mothers  had to adjust to the     tempo of wartime Louisbourg. Symbolic of the increased tempo of life  was the punctual     whistle of the plant which blew every eight hours, announcing a  change of shift. The added     burden of boarders which almost every wife bore meant people coming  and going at all     hours. This new responsibility for the housewife gave her a rise in  status in the     household since she felt she was an important cog in the machinery  of the war effort and     also in respect to making it possible to increase the family income.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The new positions opened in the Navy     League, Red Cross Society, War Savings Campaigns, blackout  committees and Home Front     organizations, offered fresh opportunities for women to contribute  to the war effort. The     local branch of the Women's Institute of Nova Scotia had been  organized in 1936, the Red     Cross in October 1939.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Women's Institute helped raise     money for a Canada-wide fund for an ambulance for overseas, directed  the voluntary     registration of women in town, filled "ditty-bags" for the Navy  League, bought     cigarettes for local servicemen overseas, made clothing for civilian  relief and comforts     for the Women's Auxiliary Service in Great Britain. It also  sponsored six blood donor     clinics in co-operation with the Red Cross, sent money for milk for  Britain, bought     Victory Bonds and organized a local share of the national clothing  drive. Red Cross     members contributed hand-knitted and sewed comforts for the armed  services and for     clothing campaigns and the "Blankets for Britain" campaign in 1941.  They also     held fund-raising campaigns and supported local causes, such as the  town tennis club, the     Navy League, the Salvation Army and families suffering natural  disasters, as well as     sponsoring various nursing courses, and the shipment of food or  clothing to two families     in Britain.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;With respect to recreational life,     Louisbourg citiznes no longer maintained the previous ritual of the  Saturday night show     and the intermittent church meetings. The knowledge that there might  be something doing up     town often prompted them to stroll up town after supper. This  gradually led to frequenting     the Navy League Hut and the restaurants and the Strathcona skating  rink until finally the     curiosity developed into a demand. Women who thought their dancing  days were over found     themselves eagerly sought as dancing partners. At first there was  criticism of married     women who attended dances and social affairs without their husbands,  but their new roles     were construed as `chaperons' for the younger people. This phase of  activity was     rationalized under the heading of `war effort' since women claimed  they were doing their     `small bit' to make things more pleasant for the servicemen. The  presence of these older     women at the social functions was also justified on the grounds that  the age level of the     girls attending the affairs was far below &amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;norm. Although the dances were     attended by girls as young as 13 or 14 years, there were sufficient  informal restraints     ensuring community surveillance over them, as they associated with  men far older than     themselves.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;In the case of the younger girls,     their mothers were usually present and accompanied them home after  the dance. The girls     themselves, particularly the high school group, which constituted  the most active group in     the social affairs, had decided it was more interesting to go stag  to the dances because     they could meet numerous men instead of dancing all evening with one  boy or one another.     Unless a girl was considered `serious' with a boy, she was  criticized by the other girls     if she attended the dance escorted. So it became the custom for all  the girls to go in     groups to the social affairs, and invariably afterwards the groups  walked home together,     accompanied by some of the servicemen. Since no restaurants remained  open after midnight,     parents knew what time to expect their children home, so few  lingered along the way.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;           &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The influence of these informal     restraints was obvious - there was no tension around as in many  other port towns by the     fear that there would be an onslaught of rape accompanying the  influx of servicemen. The     smallness of the town, and the ease with which the servicemen were  able to become     acquainted, and the natural inclination of Louisbourg citizens to be  friendly, led     generally to understanding and respect between the servicemen,  outside workers and     townspeople.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;END NOTES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Huntington Diaries,     kept by the late M.S. Huntington, former mayor, are an invaluable  source of information in     the town and are the source of much of the material in this note.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;1. M.S. Huntington, Diary, February 21, 1939.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;2. Ibid., February 14 and 23, 1939.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;3. Ibid., September 3, 1939.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;4. Post-Record, Sydney, N.S., article     "Louisburg Has Record of Fine Achievement in Repairs to Ships," by  Laurie Kyte,     undated, 1945.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;5. Louisbourg Branch, Women's     Institute of Nova Scotia. &lt;u&gt;History of Modern Louisburg 17-58-1958.&lt;/u&gt;  1958. Louisbourg     District Planning &amp;amp; Development Commission. 1988., p.50 6. THE  SCOOP, a privately     printed news sheet, Louisbourg, May 18, 1942.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;7. Reminiscences of Mrs. &lt;b style="background-color: #ffff66; color: black;"&gt;Cecelia&lt;/b&gt;     (Shaw) &lt;b style="background-color: #a0ffff; color: black;"&gt;LeDrew&lt;/b&gt;, who lived on Commercial St., Louisbourg, during the  war.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;8. Clipping, undated (most likely     from Sydney Post, Sydney N.S.)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;9. Mrs. &lt;b style="background-color: #ffff66; color: black;"&gt;Cecelia&lt;/b&gt; (Shaw) &lt;b style="background-color: #a0ffff; color: black;"&gt;LeDrew&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;10. Now, apartments owned by Brian     Harpell.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;11. Joseph Schull, &lt;u&gt;The Far Distant     Ships&lt;/u&gt;, published by Authority of the Minister of National  Defence, Ottawa, 1950, p.     72.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;12. Peter Moogk., "From Fortress     Louisbourg to Fortress Sydney," in K. Donovan, ed., Cape Breton at  200 (Historical     Essays in Honour of the Island's Bicentennial., 1785-1985)  University College of Cape     Breton Press, Sydney, Nova Scotia. p. 157., Also, Huntington Diary,  January 10, 1943.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;13. Letters to author from Steve     Burrell and Bob Parr, (1991). They served at the base during the  war.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Huntington Diary, September 2, 1945     and Directorate of History, National Defence Headquarters, Ottawa.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;14. Post Record, Sydney, N.S. Laurie     Kyte op cit.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;15. Laurie Kyte., op cit.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;            &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Many thanks for the support given by     all those who helped in the preparation of the Note, including James  Harte, Harvey Lewis,     Mrs. Edith (MacInnis) Smith, family of the late Dr. Elinor  Kyte-Senior, Louisbourg     Volunteer Fire Department, Sydney and Louisburg Railway Historical  Society, Mrs. James     (Mary) Pope, Mrs. &lt;b style="background-color: #ffff66; color: black;"&gt;Cecelia&lt;/b&gt; (Shaw) &lt;b style="background-color: #a0ffff; color: black;"&gt;LeDrew&lt;/b&gt;, Mrs. Margaret Smith,  Dan Joe Thomas, Garfield     Cann, Alex Johnston, W.W. Lewis Memorial Library, Branch 62 Royal  Canadian Legion, Steve     Burrell, and Sandy MacDonald.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt; &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;  &lt;em style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Louisbourg Heritage         Society, P. O. Box 336, Louisbourg, Nova Scotia, B0A 1M0, May  1995, ISSN 1183-5834,         ISBN 1-896218-02-4, Editor - William A. O'Shea&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-3528671012732614578?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/3528671012732614578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=3528671012732614578' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/3528671012732614578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/3528671012732614578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2010/07/louisbourg-1939-45.html' title='Louisbourg 1939 -45'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-1739009206621876577</id><published>2010-03-21T17:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T10:22:44.739-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='L H. CANN'/><title type='text'>L H. CANN</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="WordSection1"&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S6bARrmxyKI/AAAAAAAAHLk/LZHVAYNXgts/s1600-h/cann1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S6bARrmxyKI/AAAAAAAAHLk/LZHVAYNXgts/s320/cann1.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5pt;"&gt;L H. CANN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 20pt;"&gt;&lt;br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;"&gt;Work Of &lt;st1:city w:st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place w:st="on"&gt;Louisburg&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; Marine Engineer Highly Praised&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"&gt;- &lt;st1:place w:st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city w:st="on"&gt;LOUISBURG&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;, March 6—Out &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #170000;"&gt;of this publicity-neglected &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"&gt;port today came &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #170000;"&gt;a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"&gt;story on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #170000;"&gt;the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"&gt;feat of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #170000;"&gt;a small marine en­gineer who &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"&gt;has &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #170000;"&gt;won recognition through &lt;i&gt;&amp;amp; &lt;/i&gt;repair job to a freighter which is believed unequalled in Canadian marine &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"&gt;records. ,The &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #170000;"&gt;engineer is L. H.Cann, own-of the Cann Machine Shop, locat­ed on the harbor front of this, bustling summer resort. The story begins in February, 1947, when the big 5,000-ton freighter, Random, owned by the Newfoundland Railway, cracked a blade in its wheel a short distance from this port.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #170000;"&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #170000;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"&gt;DRY DOCK JOB&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #170000;"&gt;The crippled freighter made Louisburg Harbor and was berthed at the big Pier near Mr. Cann's ma­chine shop. The damage was sur­veyed and marine officials were of the opinion that it was a job for a dry dock — but how to get the ship -&lt;sub&gt;;&lt;/sub&gt;to such facilities posed a major question, She was unable to navigate through the thick ice with the damaged wheel. 'Mr. Cann was approached to give an opinion and to the amazement of marine officials suggested that his machine shop could handle the task and repair the ship while it stood in the icy water. The officials with tongues in cheek, gave him the green light and the difficult task started.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #170000;"&gt;Working under the &amp;nbsp;direction of Mr.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Cann,&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Doug&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Hahnon,&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; machine shop&amp;nbsp; foreman,&amp;nbsp; and a&amp;nbsp; group&amp;nbsp; of em­ployees,&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; commenced&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; to&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; repair&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; the blade from a raft. With a new part cast at the Sydney Steel Plant&amp;nbsp; and &amp;nbsp;with&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; expert&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; advice&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; from&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; George Beaton.,&amp;nbsp; mechanical&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; superintendent! at the Steel Plant, the job was completed in three days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"&gt;REMARKABLE&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; FEAT &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #170000;"&gt;Marine inspectors,, who&amp;nbsp; later&amp;nbsp; ex­amined&amp;nbsp; the&amp;nbsp; work&amp;nbsp; in&amp;nbsp; St.&amp;nbsp; John&amp;nbsp; and . Halifax,&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; stated&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; that&amp;nbsp; it&amp;nbsp; was&amp;nbsp; a&amp;nbsp; remarkable&amp;nbsp; feat&amp;nbsp; that such&amp;nbsp; a&amp;nbsp; welding job&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; was&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; successful&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; when it was considered&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; the&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; work&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; was&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; done while&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; a&amp;nbsp; portion&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; of the&amp;nbsp; wheel&amp;nbsp; was lodged&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; in&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; cold&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; water&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; and&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; terrific heat&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; was&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; applied to&amp;nbsp; the&amp;nbsp; exposed part. It was also feared that a chem­ical&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; action&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; would&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; result&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; from&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; the salt water&amp;nbsp; and&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; corrode&amp;nbsp; the&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; wheel. This, however, was not the case.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #170000;"&gt;Yesterday the Random docked here after plying the coast for more than a year with the wheel still functioning first rate. Today, Mr. Cann, who has repairing ships for many years, at this port, proudly points with pride to the job that "couldn't be done" after whjch has tabbed by one leading engineer as &lt;i&gt;a- &lt;/i&gt;"wonder job." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;In&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;the above pict­ure L. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;H. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;Cann, prominent Louisburg marine engineer, is shown Jointing with pride yesterday to a repair job that his &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;firm &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;accomplish­ed on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;wheel of the 5,000-ton Newfoundland &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;Railway &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;freighter Random. The work was done lasl &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;March &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;after marine experts said he cracked wheel could only &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;be &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;repaired on a dry dock. Mr. Cann thought different and tackled the job &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;while &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;the ship was standing in &lt;sup&gt;1&lt;/sup&gt; the icy water at Louisburg. Experts scoffed at the . idea of trying to weld the .wheel while one portion |vas submerged in cold water and ; terrific heat applied to the expos-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;- ed part. Yesterday &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"&gt;the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;Random docked at Louisburg—almost a year &amp;nbsp;after &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"&gt;the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;repair &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"&gt;job—&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;and Captain O'Keefe (smoking cigaret) said the wheel "worked like a charm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;- Captain O'Keefe stated that machine &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"&gt;engineers &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;who examined the 8 repair &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"&gt;job in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;Halifax and &lt;st1:city w:st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place w:st="on"&gt;St. &lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;John&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;."• described the work as a "wonder a job .believed unequalled in Canadian marine history.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1e1e1e;"&gt;On right is shown a closeup of the&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;repair&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; job.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Mr.. Cann&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; praised&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; the, &amp;nbsp;employees of his machine shop who', worked&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; under&amp;nbsp; his&amp;nbsp; supervision&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; andalso the expert advise supplied by George&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Beaton,&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; mechanical&amp;nbsp; superintendent of theSydey Steel Plant&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-1739009206621876577?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/1739009206621876577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=1739009206621876577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/1739009206621876577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/1739009206621876577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2010/03/l-h-cann.html' title='L H. CANN'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S6bARrmxyKI/AAAAAAAAHLk/LZHVAYNXgts/s72-c/cann1.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-5436244424386885525</id><published>2010-03-11T03:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-05-06T08:21:55.324-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='709'/><title type='text'>Local Heroes, Daring Rescue of the 709</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S55g1kmr46I/AAAAAAAAHLY/QFaJ_l4zzmU/s1600-h/rescue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="151" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S55g1kmr46I/AAAAAAAAHLY/QFaJ_l4zzmU/s200/rescue.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S5jRMTrU4iI/AAAAAAAAHCk/xYCoGJ1CtXo/s1600-h/sc709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="160" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S5jRMTrU4iI/AAAAAAAAHCk/xYCoGJ1CtXo/s200/sc709.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;1943 - USN submarine chaser SC 709 foundered off Louisbourg NS. Local fishermen effected a daring rescue under extremely adverse conditions. Stranded on a shoal &amp;amp; pounded by 12-foot seas, SC 709 quickly became weighed down by ice &amp;amp; began listing to starboard. Canadian naval authorities in Louisbourg judged it to be too risky to attempt a rescue. The sailors aboard SC 709 could be seen from the shore from time to time as they tried to move about on the wave-swept deck. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Mr. Yvon Chiasson, who was a crewman aboard a local fishing schooner, along with several local men, decided to try to reach them in two dories. These they had to drag across the shore ice until they reached open water. Then, they rowed into the teeth of the storm until they reached the wreck. The rescuers were able to remove eight of the sailors that were in the worst shape as the seas raged around them. Winds were blowing at 40 knots &amp;amp; the temperature had fallen to -20C. The American seamen were frostbitten &amp;amp; hypothermic by the time the rescuers reached them. "Those boys were in very poor condition, very poor indeed" Mr. Chiasson recalled. "The navy had no boat that could get close enough. When you're out there in the cold, with the water splashing all over &amp;amp; freezing on you, you're not going to last long." Fishing vessels, who followed Mr. Chiasson's route, saved the rest of the crew soon after. Mr. Chiasson's efforts were recognized in 2000 when he received the Silver Life-Saving Medal from the United States Navy at a ceremony held at Cleveland, Ohio. Rideau Hall has declined to honor Mr. Chiasson with the Canadian Life Saving Medal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S5jR6OKlCtI/AAAAAAAAHCs/d5rIZhpSoAg/s1600/709-gary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S5jR6OKlCtI/AAAAAAAAHCs/d5rIZhpSoAg/s320/709-gary.jpg" width="284" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-5436244424386885525?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/5436244424386885525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=5436244424386885525' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/5436244424386885525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/5436244424386885525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2010/03/local-heroes-daring-rescue-of-709.html' title='Local Heroes, Daring Rescue of the 709'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S55g1kmr46I/AAAAAAAAHLY/QFaJ_l4zzmU/s72-c/rescue.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-5223315720035401678</id><published>2010-03-08T04:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T10:24:12.442-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life before the fortress - Community - Living - The Cape Breton Post</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.capebretonpost.com/Community/2008-07-17/article-769043/Life-before-the-fortress/1"&gt;Life before the fortress - Community - Living - The Cape Breton Post&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div id="shadowbox_title" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; height: auto; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: relative;"&gt;&lt;div id="shadowbox_title_inner" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 5px; position: relative;"&gt;&lt;div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Author Elaine Sawlor with a copy of her new book, Beyond the Fog, which explores the stories of the 81 families whose expropriated properties were developed into the Fortress of Louisbourg. A&amp;nbsp;&lt;img alt=" - Author Elaine Sawlor with a copy of her new book, Beyond the Fog, which explores the stories of the 81 families whose expropriated properties were developed into the Fortress of Louisbourg. A book launch for Beyond the Fog will take place Friday at 5 p.m. at the Joseph Trimm Community Centre in Louisbourg. All are welcome.Laura Jean Grant - Cape Breton Post" height="200" src="http://www.capebretonpost.com/media/photos/unis/photo_525613_resize_article.jpg" width="133" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;aunch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: italic; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Author Elaine Sawlor with a copy of her new book, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"&gt;Beyond the Fog, which explores the stories of the 81 families whose expropriated properties were developed into the Fortress of Louisbourg. A book launch for Beyond the Fog will take place Friday at 5 p.m. at the Joseph Trimm Community Centre in Louisbourg. All are welcome. Laura Jean Grant - Cape Breton Post&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;for Beyond the Fog will take place Friday at 5 p.m. at the Joseph Trimm Community Centre in Louisbourg. All are welcome. Laura Jean Grant - Cape Breton Post&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-5223315720035401678?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/5223315720035401678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=5223315720035401678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/5223315720035401678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/5223315720035401678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2010/03/life-before-fortress-community-living.html' title='Life before the fortress - Community - Living - The Cape Breton Post'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-5156703978797843685</id><published>2010-03-07T06:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T11:40:03.697-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='French Ship'/><title type='text'>The French Ship</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S5O5G5ANW8I/AAAAAAAAGXY/i36VmEDeMG0/s1600-h/old-town-houses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="295" kt="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S5O5G5ANW8I/AAAAAAAAGXY/i36VmEDeMG0/s400/old-town-houses.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;After The British Left,&amp;nbsp; the villageof &amp;nbsp;Louisbourg grew with Irish and Scottish immigrants. Houses were built&amp;nbsp; on the ruins and even the foundations of the&amp;nbsp; of the Fortress. There is a story from the Kehoe Family that in the 1780's there was a knock on the door one day and a&amp;nbsp;French naval officer entered&amp;nbsp;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;He assured them that he meant no harm. " I just want to recover something that is mine" he said, and&amp;nbsp;went over to the fire place and removed a stone and pulled out a metal box. thanked them and left. They went out to watch them row to a waiting ship and sail away. Allister MacDonald&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-5156703978797843685?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/5156703978797843685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=5156703978797843685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/5156703978797843685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/5156703978797843685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2010/03/french-ship.html' title='The French Ship'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S5O5G5ANW8I/AAAAAAAAGXY/i36VmEDeMG0/s72-c/old-town-houses.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-548832522574246989</id><published>2010-03-02T04:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T04:19:38.795-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fortress of Louisbourg Launches One-of-a-kind Tour | News Releases | Government of Nova Scotia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.gov.ns.ca/news/details.asp?id=20090729001"&gt;Fortress of Louisbourg Launches One-of-a-kind Tour | News Releases | Government of Nova Scotia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-548832522574246989?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/548832522574246989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=548832522574246989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/548832522574246989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/548832522574246989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2010/03/fortress-of-louisbourg-launches-one-of.html' title='Fortress of Louisbourg Launches One-of-a-kind Tour | News Releases | Government of Nova Scotia'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-7195989379470437191</id><published>2010-03-02T04:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T04:19:55.376-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ghost stories at Fortress Louisbourg - HALIFAX.CityGuide.ca</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://halifax.cityguide.ca/ghost-stories-at-fortress-louisbourg-020846.php"&gt;Ghost stories at Fortress Louisbourg - HALIFAX.CityGuide.ca&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-7195989379470437191?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/7195989379470437191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=7195989379470437191' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/7195989379470437191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/7195989379470437191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2010/03/ghost-stories-at-fortress-louisbourg.html' title='Ghost stories at Fortress Louisbourg - HALIFAX.CityGuide.ca'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-551618246739269425</id><published>2010-02-28T04:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T10:18:52.788-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jimmy Norman MacDonald'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Raindancer song'/><title type='text'>Raindancer Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.raindancerii.com/pic_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="243" src="http://www.raindancerii.com/pic_c.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Jimmy Norman MacDonald (Big Jim) helped a friend sail a yacht to the Virgin Islands. He was on his way to the Airport to fly back to Nova Scotia when he saw a sign on a bulletin board.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"&gt;Wanted crewman for sailboat to sail to Nova Scotia. See Captain Ron at Schooner Raindancer II.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;So Jim found Captain Ron and asked about trip. "Are you a sailor?" asked Captain Ron. "No"said Big Jim, "I am a songwriter". "We could use a songwriter," says Captain Ron and Jim was welcomed aboard. Big Jim had never written a song before but Nova Scotia was a long way off and he had a lot of time to work on it. You can hear the song&lt;strong&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sl8fAPMEtS4"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S4pmtGJdX4I/AAAAAAAAGNE/F0BoQZxCcDk/s1600-h/col2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S4pmtGJdX4I/AAAAAAAAGNE/F0BoQZxCcDk/s200/col2.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.raindancerii.com/pic_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://www.raindancerii.com/pic_a.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-551618246739269425?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/551618246739269425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=551618246739269425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/551618246739269425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/551618246739269425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2010/02/raindancer-story.html' title='Raindancer Story'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S4pmtGJdX4I/AAAAAAAAGNE/F0BoQZxCcDk/s72-c/col2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-3140189168527446185</id><published>2010-02-06T15:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-07T15:47:51.865-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hockey Game'/><title type='text'>Hockey Game</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/1/1b/HowieMorenz19291930.jpg/200px-HowieMorenz19291930.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/1/1b/HowieMorenz19291930.jpg/200px-HowieMorenz19291930.jpg" width="146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 32px; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;My father, Charlie worked for a ship chandler that supplied the pilot boat to put the pilots aboard any ship entering the harbour to the docks.&amp;nbsp; He also put all the stores on the ship for the ship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 36.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; My father met a lot of Merchant Marine ships carrying coal to American and Canadian ports and became friends of the captain of the local tug boat which had to dock the larger merchant ships.&amp;nbsp; The captain and the engineer loved to listen to the hockey games on Saturday radio (a battery radio). They always wanted to play cards (45’s) in silence while the game was on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 36.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; We kids were always allowed to stay up and listen, too.&amp;nbsp; We dared not open our mouths to say one word – if we did we were sent to bed.&amp;nbsp; Discipline was number one when the hockey game was on.&amp;nbsp; We all got so much from Foster Hewett and I remember the night he let his son Bill, who was 12 years old, broadcast part of the game.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 36.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The engineer of this tug was a religious man and never said a cuss word in his life.&amp;nbsp; Mother moved her oak drop leaf table she used for cutting clothes, quilt patches, etc.&amp;nbsp; on because the oak&amp;nbsp; was hardwood&amp;nbsp; and it never got scratched.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 36.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The engineer thought the game was over, the Leafs won the game, Mother made them lunch and it was in the kitchen when all of a sudden &amp;nbsp;Howie Morenz scored a goal at the last minute&amp;nbsp; (the engineer was a Leaf fan) when the engineer put his fist up in the air and hit the table and said, “I’ll be damned!” and he broke the leaf in two pieces with his fist. Mother was upset about this table.&amp;nbsp; The men tried to fix it but Mother said it was never the same.&amp;nbsp; So every time she used it she would say, “That darn&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Howie Morenz&amp;nbsp;broke my table.&amp;nbsp; My father would tell her "Gordie Howe didn’t break your table the engineer did." She always answered, "if &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Howie Morenz&amp;nbsp;hadn’t scored that&amp;nbsp; darn goal, I would still have my table.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 36.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;h2&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Celia Shaw LeDrew&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-3140189168527446185?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/3140189168527446185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=3140189168527446185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/3140189168527446185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/3140189168527446185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2010/02/hockey-game.html' title='Hockey Game'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-9174837656647225900</id><published>2010-02-03T15:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T09:03:36.585-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rule of the Road for Steamers'/><title type='text'>Rule of the Road for Steamers</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;Rule of the Road for Steamers&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;When all three Lights I see ahead ~&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;I port my helm, and show my Red&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;Green to Green ~ or Red to Red~&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;Perfect safety ~ Go ahead!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;If to Starboard Red appear,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;It is my duty to keep clear;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;Act as judgment says is proper~&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;Port ~ or Starboard ~ Back ~ or Stop her!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;But when upon my port is seen&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;A Steamer's Starboard light of Green,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;For me there's naught to do, but see&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;That Green to Port keeps clear of me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;Both in safety and in doubt&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;I always keep a good look-out;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;If in danger, with no room to turn,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;I ease her! ~ Stop her! ~ Go astern!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 4.0cm;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="color: #3300cc; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;by Thomas Gray, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;December 1877&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-9174837656647225900?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/9174837656647225900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=9174837656647225900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/9174837656647225900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/9174837656647225900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2010/02/rule-of-road-for-steamers.html' title='Rule of the Road for Steamers'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-116247129815763007</id><published>2006-11-02T04:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T08:41:04.779-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='First Xmas'/><title type='text'>Our First Xmas Tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/29/3161/640/bossy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="494" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/29/3161/640/bossy.jpg" style="float: left; height: 494px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 432px;" width="432" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;by Celia LeDrew&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas Eve 1929 the temperature was 7 below and the sky was cold and clear and there was lots of snow. It had snowed for three days and the snow crunched under your feet when you walked. My father had come home from work early that afternoon and talked to mama on the back porch before he came in to get a gun to go hunting or tomorrow’s Xmas dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Papa always kept his guns strapped high on the wall so us kids couldn’t reach them. We watched as he took down a shot gun and he started out the door. He said to Mama as he left, “If I can’t get any partridge, I know I can get us a few rabbits”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama was in the kitchen making dinner - she could make a meal out of almost nothing. She told us to go to the dining room window and watch for Papa to come home and hope he shot some Xmas dinner. My brother and I looked in to the sunset, the tops of the spruce trees silhouetted against the bright red sky looked just like a Christmas card. There was a little hill on the road and we saw something move on top of the hill. We yelled to Mama that Papa was coming. She came into the dining room to look. “That’s not your father, there’s two people there and your father went hunting alone”. She went back to the kitchen. My brother and I looked and looked, It must be Papa but who was with him? It was getting dark and we knew the figure we saw was too big too be Papa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next thing we knew there was Papa coming in through the back shed door with four rabbits. Mama was pleased as that was to be our Christmas dinner. After dinner, Papa lit a lantern and said he would clean and skin the rabbits so Mama could prepare them. When the shed door opened we saw something in the shed. A few minutes later Papa came in with a little three and a half foot fir tree. He had strapped the tree to his back and that is why we thought there was two people. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life, it was a lush green and every branch was even. I don’t think we had ever had such an exciting moment than that. All of us kids were yelling at one another, we were going to have a Christmas tree. The only Xmas tree we had ever seen before was at the Mayor’s house.&lt;br /&gt;In these tough times not many people had them. Mama told us to get the dishes done and then we would decorate the tree. Everyone pitched in. We all knew we didn’t have any decorations and I wondered how we were going to decorate the tree. We finished the dishes and gathered together in the dining room. Mama came in with darning needles and a spool of thread. She gave me a bucket of cranberries we had picked earlier in the month and showed me how to string the berries.&lt;br /&gt;My brother was given a pot full of popcorn. We’d never had popcorn before, it was a luxury. I watched my brother to see how much popcorn had on the string. He only had strung about a yard and my cranberry string looked about three yards. We were so excited and busy getting these done. I looked over at my brother and saw he was putting one popcorn kernel on the string and two in his mouth. I told Mama and she switched jobs. No one liked eating cranberries raw. When we finished Mama told us not to put them on the tree that she would do it. She strung the strands across the tree and stood back to look at it. She decided that it need something else. She gave my brother 10 cents and sent to the store to buy 10 cents worth of molasses candy kisses wrapped in Christmas paper and twisted on both ends. I tried to figure out how to put them on the tree.&lt;br /&gt;Mama came back with the spool of thread and showed us how long to cut each piece of thread to tie on the twist of the candy and make a loop so it would catch on the branches. We thought it looked great as we sat by an open Franklin stove where we burned soft coal and the embers were glowing red. We sat admiring our first Christmas tree and we were excited as no one in town had one except the mayor. My brother and I thought it needed a star on top. We found an old cardboard shoe box that was so old it started to crumble when we cut it after we had drawn the outline of a star on it. As we were pasting it together my brother and I got into an argument about how many points should be on the star. My brother’s had four points and mine had five.&lt;br /&gt;Mama, the referee said mine was the best, but that it was too big and I would have to cut it smaller. All the points must have been pasted about three or four times as we weren’t the best when it came to cutting with scissors. My brother said the star should be silver and we used to save the foil from cigarette packages when people threw them away, but it wouldn’t stay on the cardboard. Then we remembered that Mama always bought Red Rose in a one pound foil package and she put the whole package into the tea can. We dumped the loose tea directly into the can and absconded with the foil wrap. Two sides of the foil had Red Rose tea signs from end to end and we couldn’t pull them off or we would break the foil. We soaked the foil in warm water and we tried to it off with our fingernails. Mama was always there to rescue. She told us to use the inside of the package. Now we had to put it on the top of the tree. Mama told us she would put it on and out came the needle and thread again. She punched a hole in the bottom two points, but it just flopped over. This time Papa came to our rescue. He said he had some stove pipe wire out in the barn and that it bends easily. He lit the lantern, took his pliers and went to the barn.&lt;br /&gt;Mama threaded the wire through the bottom of the star, but it still flopped over. Papa strung the wire from the bottom of the star to the top making it firm and at long last our star sat on the top of the tree like an angel. We couldn’t take our eyes off of the tree. To us it was the most beautiful Christmas tree in the whole world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one in our town had a Christmas tree. They couldn’t afford one. I had only ever seen one Christmas tree in my life. The mayor in our town had electricity in his house. They had four windows side by side in their living room and we could see it from the street decorated with red and green ropes, Christmas paper bells, gold, red and green balls. We knew we would never have a tree like that, only rich people had them. We had never asked for a Christmas tree because we knew we wouldn’t get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn’t take long to ask all the kids on our street to come see our tree. We were so proud of it. All the kids got a Candy Kiss, but not from the tree. Mama got the remainder of the bag of candy which was almost still full even after we had put them on the tree. All for 10 cents. From that year on we always had a Christmas tree and all our decorations were handmade. Mama could teach us everything that was possible under the conditions of the depression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father was earning $150.00 a month but when the depression hit, his boss told him he would have to let him go unless he was willing to work for $50.00 a month which he did and 10 cents for a spool of thread was a lot of money and we couldn’t waste one inch of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-116247129815763007?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/116247129815763007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=116247129815763007' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/116247129815763007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/116247129815763007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2006/11/our-first-xmas-tree.html' title='Our First Xmas Tree'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-115926838725321122</id><published>2006-09-26T03:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-07T04:14:26.496-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Home On The Hill'/><title type='text'>The Home On the Hill</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S3LmqhHuRCI/AAAAAAAAE-I/vrFGHWJksJY/s1600-h/charlie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S3LmqhHuRCI/AAAAAAAAE-I/vrFGHWJksJY/s200/charlie.jpg" width="131" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Home on the Hill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;By Charlie Shaw&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We live at the house by the side of the hill,&lt;br /&gt;A home away from home.&lt;br /&gt;A better place you couldn't find&lt;br /&gt;No matter where you roam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For when the rain beats on the windows&lt;br /&gt;Or the snow piles high outside,&lt;br /&gt;Your sitting here in comfort  &lt;br /&gt;With your roommate by your side.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nurses arc a kindly lot&lt;br /&gt;They are always happy and gay.      &lt;br /&gt;They make your bed and clean your room&lt;br /&gt;And bring meals on a tray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even those in wheelchairs,&lt;br /&gt;They greet you with a smile."&lt;br /&gt;There are a few exceptions,&lt;br /&gt;They are a bit senile.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes we get so lonely,&lt;br /&gt;And sometimes we blue,         &lt;br /&gt;But cheer up and do not worry&lt;br /&gt;There's a lot worse off then you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when we die, we don’t know where we go.&lt;br /&gt;For life is such a mystery that no one knows for sure.&lt;br /&gt;We hope that we will meet again&lt;br /&gt;On Heaven’s distant shore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm speaking for my self alone&lt;br /&gt;But what I say is true...&lt;br /&gt;If you are good to people,&lt;br /&gt;They will be good to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charlie Shaw was my grandfather, he wrote this in a seniors residence in Sydney when he was in his ninties. he died when he was 96.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-115926838725321122?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/115926838725321122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=115926838725321122' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/115926838725321122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/115926838725321122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2006/09/home-on-hill.html' title='The Home On the Hill'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S3LmqhHuRCI/AAAAAAAAE-I/vrFGHWJksJY/s72-c/charlie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-115357535124364689</id><published>2006-07-22T06:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T13:40:34.211-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rolling RR&apos;s'/><title type='text'>ROLLING WITH THE R’S</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S28zR2NSh-I/AAAAAAAAE2k/uPcp8BOp5nc/s1600-h/montcalm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S28zR2NSh-I/AAAAAAAAE2k/uPcp8BOp5nc/s200/montcalm.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;ROLLING WITH THE R’S&lt;br /&gt;Back in the 1930s Canada had one of the most efficient ice breakers in the world – the C.G.S. MONTCALM. It was used to break up ice in the St. Lawrence River.  Steel and coal were shipped from Sydney and Louisbourg.  In the winter Sydney Harbour would freeze so solid that no icebreaker could break the ice so all shipping was directed to Louisbourg Harbour, which was open all year around. &lt;br /&gt;When the C.G.S. MONTCALM sailed into Louisbourg Harbour it was a very exciting moment for the townspeople went to the docks to greet her. She was the most powerful, magnificent icebreaker in the world at the time.&lt;br /&gt;The MONTCALM’s crew were mostly all French from Quebec.  The Captain was English and his Chief Engineer was a six-foot, curly red-haired Scotsman from Scotland. &lt;br /&gt;All the crew would attend social events in the town.  The Catholic Parish was about two miles from the town.  They would put on card games of 45s and make a social evening with the ladies of the church supplying the sandwiches and cookies.&lt;br /&gt;I had never played cards and my friend Margaret Murphy, whose father owned a local grocery store, asked me to go to the card game.  She dealt me a couple of hands to show me how to play, so I agreed to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather became quite mild all day and that evening it started freezing rain – at 6 o’clock everything was sheer ice, and wet.  Margaret had her father’s old Chevrolet to take the Captain and Engineer to the card game.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they were at the store sitting around the old stove talking to Margaret’s father when we stopped the car at what was supposed to be the sidewalk.  There was a hill going up to the store from the sidewalk that had an incline of about six feet.  It was sheer ice. I went down before I could stand up.  Then Margaret went down.  It ended up we crawled up that incline on our hands and knees. I opened the door and left it open for Margaret as she crawled up.  This took some time with me waiting with the door open for Margaret. There was a conversation going on between the Captain and the Engineer as they walked to the car.  The Captain was telling the Engineer he spoke French very well for a Scotsman.  “The only thing I noticed is that you roll your ‘r’s’.” As he said this he slipped and landed on his bottom and slid down to the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marg piped up, “Anyone would roll on their ‘r’s’ tonight.  You can’t stand up.” We tried not laugh as the Captain picked himself up.  Marg’s father took the ashes from the stove and threw them over the little hill so they could get back to the car.  I am sure Marg could only drive about five miles an hour and we were a little late.  &lt;br /&gt;We got to the hall and everyone was waiting to fill the last open table.  We hurried to the table and everyone would ask why we were late and why we were laughing.  When we told them, they howled laughing, too.  In 45s, when you win at one table you go to the next.  So every table heard the story and laughed heartily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest, Father Doyle, was not amused, as this was a card game, not a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Circus.  There were players that were card shark players that had nothing else on their minds but o win and there were the players that went for pleasure to help with the church funds.  Finally Father Doyle asked one of his parishioners what was so funny.  He was told the story and he laughed so much he had to go back in the kitchen to straighten himself out.&lt;br /&gt;The game was over and prizes handed out.  Everyone started the lunch; it was then more of a circus.  Father Doyle said that it was not in good taste for some people at the game to be laughing so heartily when others didn’t know what the laughing was about.&lt;br /&gt;Finally Captain O’Hearn stood up and explained it to everyone and the Chief Engineer stood up and said, “I am so happy that I rolled on my r’s as it made a very entertaining evening for all.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-115357535124364689?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/115357535124364689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=115357535124364689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/115357535124364689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/115357535124364689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2006/07/rolling-with-rs.html' title='ROLLING WITH THE R’S'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S28zR2NSh-I/AAAAAAAAE2k/uPcp8BOp5nc/s72-c/montcalm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-112298480509591442</id><published>2005-08-02T05:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T13:57:44.348-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blue Ribbon Cow'/><title type='text'>Mother's Blue Ribbon Cow</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S283TtlOS6I/AAAAAAAAE28/BY_7_jy5vLs/s1600-h/holstein-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="303" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S283TtlOS6I/AAAAAAAAE28/BY_7_jy5vLs/s320/holstein-2.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was lucky to live in a resourceful family during the depression. We lived by the sea and my father was lucky to have his job, but he had to accept $50 a month, a third of his former salary.  He was also an able hunter and fisherman.  We had a small fishing boat to catch our own fish, so we had food on the table.  We always had  a barrel of salt cod or mackerel and we had a small barn where we raised two pigs for meat and a cow for milk, cream, butter and cottage cheese.  We were always reminded of  how lucky we were to have all this.&lt;br /&gt;We had a beautiful Jersey cow named Blossy and it was my job to take her to the pasture every morning before school.  I would lead her on a rope to the pasture which we rented for $3.00 a year.&lt;br /&gt;Blossy was a kind, gentle cow, with the most beautiful eyes.  It was always a pleasure to look after her.  She never gave us any problems.  At 5 o’clock, I would go back to the pasture and bring her home for the evening milking – keep her in the barn till morning.  Caring for the milk was a chore.  My mother mostly looked after her.  We had to separator so the extra milk was put in large black pans till the cream separated from the milk.  Mother would scoop it off with a spoon.  That cream was so thick.  Jersey cows were well noted for their cream.&lt;br /&gt;Later in the day we had the old wooden butter churn to make our butter. The milk that the cream was taken off was put in a large pot on the stove until it became curdled. Mother would put the curds in cheesecloth and on a fine day hung it on the clothesline to dry for cottage cheese.  Curds and cream was a delicacy in our household.  Even though we had lots to eat and home-made bread made twice a week, we had salt fish and pork.  Mother would always say ,”Go easy on the butter.”  When the bread was hot we kids would love to smother our bred with butter when Mother wasn’t looking.  She sometimes took the butter off the table if she thought we used too much.  We had a chicken pen.  Mother would put down eggs in Isinglass for the winter, occasionally a chicken was killed for dinner on Sundays.  We raised our chickens with a clucky hen.  I remember my mother borrowing a clucky hen to sit on the eggs to get our chicks and when the chicks were on the their own take the clucky hen back and give the neighbor a few young chicks  for the loan of the hen. We sold a few quarts of milk a day, never got much money for ti.  A few people paid and lots of time we were paid nothing.  Mother never complained.&lt;br /&gt;One day when my mother was walking home from helping some lady who had had a baby (Dr. O;Neil would always call my mother if he needed help) she was passing a house where a woman had six children, all very young.  She called my mother and told her, “We don’t have even a piece of bread to feed the children.”  So Mother asked me to take a double loaf of bread up to her.  “Put it under your coat so your father won’t see it.”&lt;br /&gt;The door opened as I was going out.  When my father saw the bread, he said, “Where do you think you’re going with that loaf?”  He took me by the hair and turned my head to where Mother was, and said, “Look what I caught this child with going out the door.”  Mother told him she was sending it over to Mrs.X who didn’t have a  bite for the children .  Mrs.X had a husband who drank every cent he ever got his hands on .  My father said, “Put the bread back.  I am not working to supply the drunk’s family with food.” &lt;br /&gt;Mother gave my father his supper and when he went back to work Mother said, “Put that bread under your coat and take it over to Mrs. X and don’t let your father see you.”  My father never did find out that Mrs. X got the bread.  Depression affected a lot less fortunate but Mother could never see children hungry.&lt;br /&gt;In 1932 the worst thing happened that could happen.  Our vegetable peelings were put in a bucket by the back door for Blossy’s treat.  She loved vegetable peelings.  I brought Blossy home from the pasture one night at 5 o’clock.  That night, someone forgot to take a potato out of the peelings and Blossy swallowed it.  That night she bloated  and was choking.  Mother sent for a neighbor, a blacksmith, to help us.  He put a broom handle town the cow’s throat to push the potato down.  It failed, and she died that night.&lt;br /&gt;We kids were crying our hearts out.  It was the biggest blow my mother and father had during the whole Depression. No milk, no cream, not butter, no curds and cream.  It was a disaster.&lt;br /&gt;My father  was talking to a man off a vessel that was bringing produce from Prince Edward Island and he said that they had black and white cows that gave three times the milk of a Jersey cow.  He said the cows were not that expensive.  So Papa borrowed $50 (a month’s salary) from his boss and sent Mother up to the Island on the produce boat to buy a cow. &lt;br /&gt;The owner of the boat charged a small passenger fee for herself and guaranteed Mother he would bring a cow back for her.  I can still see that two-master little vessel leaving the harbour right from our kitchen window.  It left all of us kids in a turmoil – the boat was old and it leaked and it always had the pump going . &lt;br /&gt;After five days the boat came back and we saw the black and white  cow on the deck strapped to whatever, we scrambled to the wharf so fast.  My father got the hoist that they haul up fish, got a piece of canvas to put under her stomach, and put it on the block and tackle.  At last she had her legs again.  A halter was put on and a rope to take her from the wharf to our barn.   We never saw so many people going in and out of our barn to see that blue ribbon cow that Mother paid the full $50 for the cow &lt;br /&gt;We kept her tied on a rope and stake for a few days to eat the grass behind the sheds and stores not far from our house.  The first bucket of milk Mother milked she kicked it over and we lost all the milk.  We lost a few more pails of milk before we could manage her.  We had to hold a dipper in one hand, milk with the other hand, and keep the milk pail far away from the cow’s hooves. She was a real kicker.&lt;br /&gt;At last when Mother thought I could handle the milking, she sent me out to milk. She watched when I started.  After a few kicks at my milking stool I managed milking in the dipper.  I found it so strange as old Blossy would let us put the pail down and milk with both hands, plus we got the job done faster.  We always had deadlines to meet – pasture and school.   One evening when I was alone I rigged up two poles and drove them under the cow to the barn wall.  I nailed them on a 2 x 4 of the barn.  I brought them across her legs to see if I could hold her legs back and milk with both hands.  I had nothing to fasten the poles on the other side I milked from.  I found an old anchor and strapped it by the door and tied the poles to that.  It wasn’t long when she kicked them right off the wall, and the anchor came down and spilled what milk we had.  After six months we finally got the cow tamed down to milk with both hands.  We found she was a real milker we never had enough pots and pans to keep all the milk. We sold more milk which gave Mother a few cents to buy extras like a spool of thread, etc.&lt;br /&gt;We kids were starting to grow up a bit, too.  We had an Aunt in Boston who sent all their old clothes to us and my sister Carrie found a beautiful blue Celanese dress in the bundle and it fitted her.  She washed it and hung it on the line outside to dry.  Our beautiful Blue Ribbon Cow was grazing close to the house and spotted the dress and by the time we got to her, half the dress was chewed right off to the waist.  We had to watch the cow and tie her away from the clothesline.  This cow was something else.  The cow was forever knocking down fences and my poor father would get home from work only to have to go and fix them. Milk or no milk he cursed that Blue Ribbon cow every day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-112298480509591442?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/112298480509591442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=112298480509591442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/112298480509591442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/112298480509591442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2005/08/mothers-blue-ribbon-cow.html' title='Mother&apos;s Blue Ribbon Cow'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/S283TtlOS6I/AAAAAAAAE28/BY_7_jy5vLs/s72-c/holstein-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-112298418984670649</id><published>2005-08-02T05:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T10:24:44.849-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Red Tape'/><title type='text'>Red Tape and Torpedo Nets</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/Sdyn6zOf3cI/AAAAAAAACJU/fyU4SMq6Nbg/s1600-h/a4.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322313488270351810" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/Sdyn6zOf3cI/AAAAAAAACJU/fyU4SMq6Nbg/s400/a4.jpg" style="display: block; height: 272px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;by&lt;br /&gt;Celia LeDrew nee Shaw&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During World War II shortly after VE day the Canadian Navy dumped tons of torpedo netting into Louisbourg Harbor. Torpedo netting was made of hawser steel wire and each link about twenty inches in diameter, which made a mesh buoyed at the waters surface and dropped to the bottom of the harbour to prevent torpedoes from entering past the torpedoes gate. The loaded merchant steamers were remaining at anchor to wait for convoys and orders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE lived in old frame house handed down from our grandmother on Commercial Street right by the government Wharf. The lot was 50 feet deep and right on the harbour with 180 feet of shore. Below our house was a beautiful sandy beach where we learned to swim and played in the sand that beach was our pride and joy our whole lives depended on that beach the beach processed every thing that children loved it was heart breaking to see the Royal Canadian Navy dump all this wire mesh on the beach I knew the first gale we would get the under tow would spread all over the whole shore line, not only the shore line would be messed up the lobster fishing that the fishermen depended on for there livelihood would be lost forever I spoke to my father that something should be done about it and he told me I would be wasting my time he said there was a war on and besides you cant fight the Royal Canadian Navy my attitude was how will I know if I don’t try he first person went was the Commander in charge of the Navy in Louisbourg he was very snarky and told me there was a war on and he had no time for such nonsense From there I went to talk to our mayor he to went down to speak to the Officer in charge same answer its impossible as there was a war on then I went to see the harbour master we had a long conversation about what the wire would do the lobster fishing he agreed that it would be disastrous so off he goes to the commander only to get the same answer this time words flew from both of them the officer walked away went to office and slammed the door there was about 160 men working on the marine repairs refitting the mine sweepers and other naval ships. I caught them all on there lunch time although they agreed it was wrong Celia we would like to help you and you cant buck the R C N This all happened from 9 am now its 1pm Mr L H Cann the owner of the marine company that serviced the naval ship she was reluctant to help me I asked him if he would give me the phone number of the naval headquarters in Halifax he gave the phone number perhaps only to get rid of me before I phoned the navy I went to the harbour master to get the phone number of the DEPT of Fisheries He agreed that I should carry on I asked to speak to the Commander of the navy when this commander got on the phone I was a little on the nervous side I explained all that happened I never used so many yes sirs and no sirs in my life This Commander was very sympathetic to my concerns about the fishing and the destruction this tons of wire will cause&lt;br /&gt;It was 3.30 in the afternoon and the commander said he would give it his immediate attention I then asked if I could have his name and rank in case I needed to contact him again.&lt;br /&gt;A navy minesweeper was in for refitting and the Captain and his wife were boarding with us. I couldn’t wait to tell them the good news and everyone laughed their heads off when I showed them the name of the man I was talking to in Halifax ‘Rear-Admiral L.W. Murray’. The Commander of the mine sweeper said we don’t ever get to talk to him. At that time I didn’t know the difference between a Sub-Lieutenant and a Rear Admiral no one wanted to believe me. I felt like a damn fool but I only had to feel like a damn fool till 8 o clock the very next morning my father called everybody to the window and before my eyes was a large scow with a large derrick lifting the discarded nets onto the scow. My fathers expression was I’ll be damned you did it a little girl you beat the Navy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-112298418984670649?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/112298418984670649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=112298418984670649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/112298418984670649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/112298418984670649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2005/08/red-tape-and-torpedo-nets.html' title='Red Tape and Torpedo Nets'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtLM0KBblb0/Sdyn6zOf3cI/AAAAAAAACJU/fyU4SMq6Nbg/s72-c/a4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-111409386414737634</id><published>2005-04-21T07:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-21T07:31:04.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/29/3161/640/motherclams1.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/29/3161/400/motherclams1.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother digging clams.(coal pier in bg)&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-111409386414737634?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/111409386414737634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=111409386414737634' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/111409386414737634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/111409386414737634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2005/04/mother-digging-clams.html' title=''/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-111409376244203402</id><published>2005-04-21T07:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-21T07:29:22.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/29/3161/640/%21%20hc00.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/29/3161/400/%21%20hc00.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Celia &amp; Harold on their Wedding Day&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-111409376244203402?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/111409376244203402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=111409376244203402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/111409376244203402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/111409376244203402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2005/04/celia.html' title=''/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-111125031209281602</id><published>2005-03-19T08:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T10:25:31.547-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Sandals'/><title type='text'>THE NEW SANDALS</title><content type='html'>Mother went to Glace Bay on the train shopping and bought me a new pair of summer sandals, leather smooth outside, rough inside, a T- strap with a buckle, had little punched out patterns on the front. I was so proud of those sandals as we had to wear laced-up high leather shoes that my father half-soled for so much there wasn’t much left of the shoes for the soles to hang on to.&lt;br /&gt;A beautiful summer day everyone of the kids going to the beach, Mother instructed me under no conditions was I to get those sandals wet, as the leather would shrink and get hard and I wouldn’t be able to wear them. She stressed that from the time I put them on and walked around feeling I had the best pair of shoes in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was outside our front door when some friends were going swimming and I joined them. I found it so hard to get the sandals unbuckled, everyone was in the water swimming while I was still struggling to undo the buckles.&lt;br /&gt;When I cam back from swimming, it took twice as long to get those sandals back on my feet and buckle them all the girls had left. There was one person left who had a little girl with her. Her name was Bessie. She had lost her leg when she was quite young and used one crutch. This lady was our telephone ope4rator and just everybody in our town knew her and loved her. The little girl was a neighbor’s child, Annie.&lt;br /&gt;The little girl wandered over to a bank where the sea had washed rounded stones. The tide had come in early, rushing in the fresh water brook that had a wooden bridge over it. I had to cross the bridge to come when I saw a little bird flapping around the edge of the rushing water. I went back on the opposite side of the stream to see what it was. When the lady with the crutch hollered across the fast flowing stream that Annie fell in the water. She tried to walk on those rocks – it was impossible. I was in tears. “Go get her, “ calling my name, several times. Crying her heart out. I told her I couldn’t undo the buckles on my sandals to go get her. Beside said, “Never mind the damn sandals, get Annie.” So I went into the rushing water past my waist, the rushing water almost took me for a ride too. I hugged the shore, keeping an eye on Annie and when I finally reached her, she grabbed me so hard she pulled me under, However, we got out and when I pulled Annie in, Bessie had finally walked the bank, and sat on the rocks holding little Annie and cried her eyes out. How lucky she was that I was there when everyone had gone home. So I told Bessie I knew I was going to be punished as my Mother told me not to get my new sandals wet. “Oh, never mind, dear, they’ll all dry out. Annie would have drowned if you weren’t there!”&lt;br /&gt;That was fine until I got home. Mother took one look at my wet sandals. I tried to explain but she wouldn’t listen. “I told you not to get them wet, and you have to listen to what I tell you – right upstairs to your room and stay there ‘till your father comes home.” I would call downstairs and say, “Mom, can I tell you what happened?” She answered, “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” I was left in my room, no supper, and it started to get dark when Papa came upstairs. I tried to tell him why the sandals were wet. “You didn’t listen to your mother, so you’re being punished.” Papa went down stairs, brought me up a lamp, a plate with one sausage and a potato with peeling on. I asked, “Is that all I’m getting for supper?” He said, “Yes. If it was up to your mother, you wouldn’t get that.” That was Saturday afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;On Monday, Annie’s uncle was passing our house. He came to Mother and told what a God’s blessing it was for me to have saved Annie’s life. Mother came in the house, shocked. We were in school. Papa came home for lunch and she told him the story was around town like a newsletter. Both parents sat down after our meal, and said they were sorry and would make it up to me. I didn’t get new sandals but Papa oiled them and stretched them on the ‘last’. I wore them ‘till they wore out.&lt;br /&gt;I was treated like a queen for about three weeks. I could do no wrong. Mom was not going to listen to anything I had to say, as the Big Words were “don’t get those sandals wet.”…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-111125031209281602?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/111125031209281602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=111125031209281602' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/111125031209281602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/111125031209281602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2005/03/new-sandals.html' title='THE NEW SANDALS'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-111124995414226890</id><published>2005-03-19T08:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T13:30:00.587-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PET SEAGULL BIDDY'/><title type='text'>PET SEAGULL BIDDY</title><content type='html'>When I was eight years old I found a young seagull on the beach not far from our house. It couldn’t have been hatched for very long, but it had legs, and could it run. It took me about half an hour to catch it. There were no adult birds around after petting it for a while no mother came to get it. I took it home. A big argument started. Mom said, “You are not keeping that gull in the house.” After a few sad stories, Mom said, “Keep it in a cardboard box overnight and let it go tomorrow.”&lt;br /&gt;It was such a soft, fluffy little creature it didn’t take long for the gull to latch on to me. I was always petting it and feeding it. The next day another fuss was made about keeping the gull for a pet. I was allowed to keep it in the barn. I would take it outdoors and it would follow me everywhere. If I sat down it would get quite close and sit down, too. It looked as if I was going to be able to keep it. I wanted to give it a name so I called her “Biddy.”&lt;br /&gt;My father warned me that they grow very rapidly and would have to have live fish so it could go back to the wilds. My brother and I knew we could catch lots of perch down by the wharf. We would take a pail, fill it with water and very carefully took the hooks out of the fish’s mouths so they would live. When we caught a half pail full we ran home and dumped them into a large tin washtub. The water was too deep and she was slow learning to swim. We would take a fish out and hold it in our hands for her. She would eat every one.&lt;br /&gt;By the time she was about six months old my brother and I felt she should learn to fly. We tried all the silly things. At first it didn’t help so my brother got a ladder and put it up against the barn, took Biddy up with us and we held her over and fly to ground, not very gracefully – her landing was very bad. We kept it up a little each day until she finally took off – she would fly around short trips and come to the washtub and squat until she had her fresh fish.&lt;br /&gt;About 9 a.m. one morning she took off and I called and called. She didn’t come back. I was feeling very sad imagining all the things that could happen to her. At lunch my father came home, when one of the pilots who Papa used to take out in the pilot boat to bring the big ships into the harbour, came to tell him about Biddy.&lt;br /&gt;This pilot and his wife had one of the most tidiest clean properties in town. It had a verandah right across the front of their house and somehow Biddy got in and couldn’t find her way, and she plopped all over the lady’s clean verandah. This is why the pilot was talking to my father. Then the order came, “Go get that gull off the verandah and take a pail and scrubbing brush and wash that verandah ‘till it pleases the owner.” I finally got it washed and cleaned, then rinsed with water from her well, but she insisted that I dry it before I leave. It seems I almost spent the whole day cleaning after Biddy.&lt;br /&gt;Biddy started to fly out with the adult seagulls. She was still in grey and brown feathers. If I called her she would come in to eat and go back. Finally when mating season came Biddy left for good. Every time I saw a Grey gull close I would think it was Biddy and call her but she didn’t come back.&lt;br /&gt;It was lonely after having Biddy. I missed her so much but always hecked every gull for years. It takes a long time for the feathers to turn white.&lt;br /&gt;Biddy gave me many happy hours as I had my very own pet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-111124995414226890?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/111124995414226890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=111124995414226890' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/111124995414226890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/111124995414226890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2005/03/pet-seagull-biddy.html' title='PET SEAGULL BIDDY'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11559009.post-111124970636662234</id><published>2005-03-19T08:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T13:30:17.408-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Deer Meat and Hungry People'/><title type='text'>Deer Meat and Hungry People</title><content type='html'>By Celia Shaw LeDrew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deer season in Cape Breton Island during the Depression was one of the big events of the year. Everyone would be talking about it.&lt;br /&gt;Weeks before the season opened I used to beg my father to take me with him as I loved to see the trees, birds, squirrels, partridges, pheasants- I was fascinated by everything that moved in the woods. My father always refused.&lt;br /&gt;When I was 16 my father bought me a single shot, Colt 22 rifle. My father trained me with the gun to shoot the seabirds that came in the harbour quite close to our house and barn which were built on a breakwater. He taught me with old light bulbs we would get from the Marine Repair shop next door. They would bob up and down in the water with the waves, so he felt this was the best way to teach me. He said I should be able to shoot a few ducks when he was at work and our Labrador dog would fetch them in from the sea.&lt;br /&gt;I had to shoot with a direct hit on three out of five bulbs. At first it wasn’t easy but after three or four times I shocked him by getting five out of five.&lt;br /&gt;I loved tramping through the woods that could be so silent, until an animal or a bird would make a move. You must stand very quiet and still to make sure what you were shooting at. Silence is golden when you’re out hunting for food.&lt;br /&gt;It was after the duck episode that I really wanted to go deer hunting but my father insisted it be not for girls. He said, “Never try to shoot a deer with a single shot 22 rifles, and don’t even try! And remember, there’s no such thing as an empty gun, even if it is empty!” We sure had to treat it as loaded.&lt;br /&gt;The day the season opened my father took his 45 Winchester repeater and went off for a deer. He was gone only six or seven hours when he came home with his prize. All us kids could think of was a good hot dinner in the winter and we all seemed to be very happy about my father getting the deer so early in the season.&lt;br /&gt;It didn’t take my father too long to prepare the meat for Mother to put in preserve jars and when the meat was prepared to her specifications out came the Mason jars, the big boiling pot to cook the meat. She would put in one row of meat in the jars and one row of bay leaves until the jars were full and added water. Then the jars were put in the big pot and boiled till the meat was cooked. Usually we had enough meat to do us for the winter but those who never went hunting or never owned a gun came to our back yard where my father was cutting the deer, everyone asking for a piece of the meat. No one was refused, but Mother was giving my father heck because she didn’t have enough preserved for the winter as he gave so much away.&lt;br /&gt;My father told my youngest brother to get a license and asked him if he would try to get another deer to please my Mother. My brother took two days to get a deer and brought it home where every cut had to be perfect.&lt;br /&gt;As he was cutting the meat, there had to be thirty or forty adults with a pot or pan or new paper saying, “I hope you have a piece for me.” I don’t think my brother ever looked up to see who he was giving the meat to. Most of the deer was given to other hungry people. Everybody shared food when plentiful, but he realized that he did not have very much left for my Mother.&lt;br /&gt;There was lots of talk about giving away the most of the deer. Finally, my father said to my brother to take me up to the business office and get me a license (one deer one license.) This was my big chance. My father had taught me and trusted me with the gun and it was O.K. to go look for another deer. They were very plentiful that year, and this was the last day of open season. My father gave me his 45&lt;br /&gt;Winchester repeater.&lt;br /&gt;My brother took me through the swamp. Brush and woods so thick I thought I’d never get out of it. When we came across a small clearing, there were deer everywhere. My brother said, “Aim for the shoulder.” One shot and it dropped right on the ground. My brother said, “Get right over there and put another shot in the head “ (he had to point out where), “and kill it outright. Not a bad shot for a first time.” Then the worst thing happened that could happen.&lt;br /&gt;My brother put his hand in his back pocket and pulled out the hunting knife and said, “Now go slit its throat, and bleed the animal.” I went around the deer in a few circles but fell to the ground. I don’t know how long I was there. My brother kept looking after the deer but stopped once in a while and with his hands scooped up some dirty swamp water and threw it on my face. When I came to my clothes were wet with swamp water, and mud all over me. Everyone in town ribbed me for years about always wanting to go deer hunting.&lt;br /&gt;I never went deer hunting again and never killed a deer since. It was only for food, which meant so much to all of us in the depression in our town.&lt;br /&gt;Many seasons afterwards the people that got some of the meat would always make sure when they saw me to ask if I would be going deer hunting this fall. Never! Never! Never! Once was enough to live down.&lt;br /&gt;When mother prepared the deer meat, every piece of fat or sinew had to be cut off. The meat was soaked in salt water over night, then parboiled in baking soda, to take the game taste off the meat, then into the oven to roast. She always saved bacon fat to baste the meat so it wouldn’t be too dry. The same treatment was given to the sea birds to take away the fishy taste of the fowl. The birds were always roasted with bread dressing. We had much to be thankful for as the Depression was more of a case of survival and we were all made aware of it, and we were all in the same boat.&lt;br /&gt;My parents were always teaching us to make things out of nothing. Mother was an excellent sewer and we wore hand me overs and hand me downs but Mother would make them to fit us kids so that we weren’t too poorly dressed. We never had new clothes for years. Mother would card wool and spin the yarn and we always had sweaters for the winter. She would dye the wool Royal Blue and Cardinal Red and the sweaters would always turn out to be red with blue trim or blue with red trim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 Point Buck&lt;br /&gt;My father went deer hunting the next year. He was way back in the bush probably 5 miles from the road when he brought down the biggest deer he had ever shot. It was a ten point buck and he was very pleased.&lt;br /&gt;He no sooner started to clean it when an American hunter came on the scene and offered him a hundred dollars for the deer. Papa said no thanks although it was very tempting. A hundred dollars went a long way in the thirties. But the pride of getting such a big deer won out and he had to cut it up into 3 pieces and make three trips to the road to take it home. All his life he would tell this story and finish it by saying. That deer was tough you couldn't stick your fork in the gravy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11559009-111124970636662234?l=celiastories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/feeds/111124970636662234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11559009&amp;postID=111124970636662234' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/111124970636662234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11559009/posts/default/111124970636662234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://celiastories.blogspot.com/2005/03/deer-meat-and-hungry-people.html' title='Deer Meat and Hungry People'/><author><name>Gary LeDrew</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/103192839251420564448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TaQ4Ax-yd7k/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAI0g/VpTQ0qbV1bg/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
