Gowan Gillmor, Sensitive To Rural Muskoka Dwellers As Well As Sharing Their Privations

 

Photos by Suzanne Currie

GOWAN GILLMOR - HE HAD GREAT SENSITIVITY TO THE RURAL DWELLERS OF THE REGION - AND SHARED THEIR PRIVATIONS

By Ted Currie

     I can almost hear the soft settling of his snowshoes pushing forward across the lowland, as today’s mid-autumn dusting paints The Bog white against the remaining colored leaves of the hardwoods, yet to fall to the spongy ground of the water-logged forest floor. It entertains the voyeur-writer, to imagine the slow, plodding movements, passing from light to shadow in these Muskoka woodlands, as the tall Irishman pushed onward to his chosen destination, which could easily have been a ten to twenty mile snowshoe if inclement weather had prevailed. He had ministering to perform, or to tend the ill in a “sick house,” as it was his personal conviction, that someone had to help those who could not help themselves. And this put the man they called “The Tramp,” in constant danger of injecting the air of the infected house, and becoming ill himself. He never thought about his own vulnerabilities. And if he should have encountered someone on his march through the snowy woods, who he believed needed a warmer coat, hat, or mitts, he would gladly, and at great personal risk, have removed the clothing and offered these items as a necessary gift; even though the greater risk was to the older man, himself, who might well have frozen to death as a result of his act of generosity. It would often be the case that new coats and mitts had just recently been purchased by members of his Rosseau congregation, but that didn’t matter when a greater need arose, than only his personal comfort. I have a feeling that even the creatures of the forest were friendly toward the traveling missionary, reverent of his kindly way of treating all of God’s beautiful acres. 

     I'VE BEEN SHIVERING, A LITTLE THIS PAST FEW MOMENTS, I SUPPOSE THE RESULT OF MY THINKING ABOUT GOWAN GILLMOR’S MANY WINTER-TIME HIKES THROUGH THESE SAME MUSKOKA WOODS.  WHILE WRITING THE LAST PORTIONS OF TODAY'S FEATURE POST,  I HAVE HAD TO STOP AND SHIVER AWAY IN SILENCE, FEELING EVEN IN THE WARMTH OF THE ROOM, THE CREEP OF COLD HE WAS SO CAPABLE OF ENDURING. LODGED HERE AT OUR HARVEST TABLE, OVERLOOKING THE SEMI SNOW-COVERED GARDEN,  HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW, IT HAS BEEN THE PERFECT RESPITE TO REMINISCE ABOUT MY HERO OF LOCAL HISTORY. THIS HAS ALWAYS BEEN MY INTIMATE WALDEN POND, AND GOWAN GILLMOR HAS BEEN, IN SPIRIT AT LEAST, A FREQUENT GUEST.  THE PAPER JACKET OF HIS BIOGRAPHY IS GETTING PRETTY WORN, AND THE SPINE A LITTLE RAGGED, JUST AS HIS COAT AND PANTS WOULD BE, WHEN HIS FRIENDS IN ROSSEAU WOULD FUNDRAISE TO GET HIM A NEW WARDROBE. WHICH OF COURSE HE WOULD WIND-UP GIVING AWAY TO SOMEONE WHO HAD A GREATER NEED. THIS BOOK IS A FAITHFUL COMPANION TO ME, AT TIMES WHEN I HAVE CONCERNS ABOUT THE LATEST BAD NEWS OF A BADLY STRESSED YEAR, AND WHEN THE POOL OF OPTIMISM SEEMS PARTICULARLY SHALLOW. HIS FAITH IN HUMANITY NEVER FALTERED NO MATTER WHAT HE WITNESSED, AND WHAT HE EXPERIENCED OF HUMAN GREED AND CRIMINALITY. HE ROSE ABOUT IT ALL, AND UNDERSTOOD HOW KINDNESS BESTOWED  RESTORED FAITH EVEN IN THOSE MOST SKEPTICAL AND UNHAPPY WITH THEIR LOT IN LIFE. I CAN’T HELP BUT BE UPLIFTED BY THIS WONDERFUL STORY ROOTED IN MUSKOKA AND ROSSEAU. 

  

     "A MAN OF THE PAST BUT NOT YET SO LONG PAST THAT SOME OF US STILL WELL REMEMBER HIM IN THE FLESH IN HIS LATER LIFE," WROTE BIOGRAPHER E. NEWTON-WHITE. "FOR HE WAS ONE OF THOSE WHO TOOK THEIR PART IN THAT EPIC MOVEMENT OF DEVELOPMENT; WHEN THE GREAT TRANS-CANADIAN RAILWAYS WERE LAYING THEIR STEEL THROUGH NORTHERN ONTARIO, ON THEIR LONG DRIVE TO THE FAR PACIFIC; AND SPURS FROM THESE WERE PUSHING NORTHWARD. THESE WERE THE TIMES WHEN THE LOCATING ENGINEERS, THE LAND SURVEYORS, AND THE MINERAL PROSPECTORS WERE TRAMPING COUNTLESS MILES OF HITHERTO UNTRODDEN WILDERNESS; AND WHEN THE FIRST SETTLERS OF THE SCATTERED ARABLE LANDS, WERE GOING IN TO THEIR LONELY LOCATIONS IN THE NORTHERN BUSH. IT WAS A SEVERAL DECADE PERIOD OF MANY, MANY CHANGES. THESE WERE THE TIMES WHEN THOSE WHO MOVED AMONG THE EVER-DRIFTING, EVER CHANGING HUMAN CROWD OF TRANSIENT PIONEERS, KNEW MOSTLY EVERYONE, AND WERE KNOWN BY MOSTLY ALL; ESPECIALLY WHEN LANGUAGE WAS NO BARRIER. THEY MET AND RE-MET IN BRIEF ENCOUNTERS, ON LONELY TRAILS, ON THE PORTAGES, IN WOOD-CAMPS, IN TAR-PAPER HOTELS, HALF-WAYS (HOUSES), BOARDING CARS, SETTLERS' CABINS, THE CABOOSES OF WORK-TRAINS; SOMETIMES THE NEAREST LOCK-UP! THEY MET IN THE COURSE OF ALL THE VARIED ERRANDS, JOURNEYINGS AND HALTS OF MEN ON THE MOVE IN A NEW LAND; JOB TO JOB, INSPECTION TO INSPECTION; HOPE TO HOPE, THE OCCASIONAL BINGE. THEY MET SEEKING SHELTER FROM STORM, COLD AND WET; LONG WAITINGS FOR STAGE OR STEAMBOAT, OR THE 'MIXED' IN SESSIONS OF STORY-TELLING, IN EARNEST DISCUSSIONS OF GREAT ISSUES AND TRIVIAL, IN THE CLASSLESS COMPANIONSHIP OF THE BOTTLE, AT BLIND PIGS, THE CARD GAMES AND THE BROTHELS. AND FOR SOME, THE GATHERINGS OF THE FAITHFUL AT RELIGIOUS SERVICES, HELD IN ALL MANNER OF IMPROVISED CHURCHES BY PRIEST AND PREACHER; IN BOX-CARS, WAITING ROOMS, BARS, COOK-TENTS; WHEREVER TWO OR THREE COULD BE GATHERED TOGETHER IN THE SUPREME NAME. THAT WAS THE FRONTIER OF THOSE DAYS. NOT A TRACE OF IT REMAINS' IN ITS PLACE, AS THE THINGS THEN BEGUN ABUILDING."

     GOWAN GILLMOR FOUND THIS, THEN, THE LAND OF OPPORTUNITY, AND APPLIED HIS HUMANITARIAN WAY OF LIFE, FOR THOSE THAT NEEDED FRIENDSHIP AND SPIRITUAL RENEWAL MOST OF ALL!

     "I STARTED OUT FROM TEN MILE LAKE ON FOOT, AND HAD BEFORE ME SEVERAL MILES OF UNBROKEN, LONELY ROAD; CROSSED HERE AND THERE BY WOLF TRACKS. THIS TIME, TO MY JOY, THERE WAS A FRESH SNOWSHOE TRACK AHEAD OF ME. (AND THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN AN UNBROKEN TRAIL AND ONE USED EVEN BUT ONCE, IS EXTREME). I KNEW AT ONCE THAT THE SNOWSHOER WAS A GOOD MAN, BY THE LENGTH OF HIS STRIDE, WHICH NEVER SHORTENED, AND THE STRAIGHTNESS OF HIS TRAIL NEVER WAVERED. AND SURE ENOUGH I FOUND AFTERWARD THAT HE WAS MY OLD FRIEND, COMING HOME FROM A LUMBER CAMP," WROTE GOWAN GILLMOR IN HIS JOURNAL, PUBLISHED IN THE BOOK, "GILLMORE OF ALGOMA - ARCHDEACON AND TRAMP," BY E. NEWTON-WHITE," IN CANADA'S CENTENNIAL YEAR, 1967.

     THERE WAS ALWAYS A QUESTION WHY GOWAN WOULD REFUSE OFFERS OF A HORSE RIDE OR DRIVE IN HIS MISSION WORK; AND SEVERAL WERE THE SUGGESTED REASONS. ONE WAS THE MATTER OF FODDER; USING MONEY WHICH COULD HAVE BEEN USED FOR PEOPLE; ANOTHER, QUITE VALID, WAS THE LACK OF STABLING AT MANY OF THE PLACES HE VISITED," WRITES E. NEWTON-WHITE, IN THE ALGOMA DIOCESE PUBLICATION, FOR THE ANGLICAN CHURCH OF CANADA. "HE SAID THAT HE WOULD HAVE TO GO HOME EVERY NIGHT THEN; BUT THERE WAS ALWAYS A CORNER WHERE THE 'OULD TRAMP,' COULD LIE DOWN. AND MANY VARIED EXPERIENCES DID HE HAVE DOING THIS LAST. HOME FOR HIM WAS WHERE HE FOUND IT. ANOTHER REASON WAS THAT ON MANY OF THE TRAILS HE USED, HE COULD NOT HAVE RIDDEN BECAUSE OF THE WINDFALLS AND OVERHANGING BRUSH. ANOTHER SUGGESTION WAS THAT HE HAD A DISLIKE FOR HORSES ARISING FROM THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF COTTIE'S DEATH; BUT THIS ONE CAN BE RULED OUT COMPLETELY.

     "MORE LIKELY THAN ANY REASON WAS ONE WHICH MIGHT BE INCOMPREHENSIBLE TO MANY MODERN PEOPLE, AND SOME PARSONS! HE LOVED WALKING. 'SHURE IT KAPES ME FIT'; AND THERE WAS NO DOUBT ABOUT THAT - IT DID. BUT THERE WAS ANOTHER REASON, USUALLY UNADMITTED. WHEN HE WALKED, HE WAS FREE TO THINK HIS THOUGHTS; AND THEY WERE DEEP AND GLAD. BY DAY, HE WOULD WATCH THE BIRDS AND ANIMALS, AND STOP AND TALK TO THEM. BY NIGHT WATCH THE STARS, AND TALK TO THEM TOO! BUT ALWAYS HE COMMUNED WITH GOD, ON WHO MAY TELL WHAT SUBJECTS, AND ALWAYS FOR HIS FELLOW MEN, WE ARE SURE. ANENT HORSE-BACK RIDING; A LONG TRIP ON GLARE ICE ON LAKE MUSKOKA BEHIND A FAST HORSE AND CUTTER, REMINDED GOWAN OF HIS BOYHOOD. 'ONCE UPON A TIME, IN IRELAND, WE USED TO GET THE LOAN OF A PONY AT WEEK ENDS; HIS USUAL PACE WAS A CANTER. THE SOUND OF HIS HOOVES ON THE HARD ROAD WAS LIKE 'SATURDAY, SATURDAY,' AND THAT IS WHAT THE BOYS CALLED HIM. I RECALL THE HEXAMETER LINE 'QUADRU-PENDANTE PUTREM SONITU UNGULA CAMP,' JUST LIKE A HORSE CANTERING."

     THE AUTHOR RECORDS THAT, "GOWAN ONCE TOLD HIS FRIENDS, OF HAVING TO SPEND A LARGE SUME OF MONEY (FOR HIM) ON A PAIR OF HIGH BOOTS OF STOUT LEATHER, BECAUSE 'THE FARM DOGS DON'T SEEM TO KNOW AN ARCHDEACON'S LEGS FROM ANY OTHER LEGS,' WHICH BRINGS A MEMORY THAT HIS PRESENCE SEEMED TO WORRY SOME DOGS. AT A FARM HE WAS VISITING, THE DOG, USUALLY FRIENDLY TO STRANGERS, PERSISTED IN STANDING ON HIS HIND LEGS AT THE WINDOW, TRYING TO LOCATE HIM IN THE HOUSE, WHINING AND BARKING. STILL MORE ABOUT PAROCHIAL VISITING; THE MEMORIES ARE, THAT WHERE THERE WAS A PIANO HE DID NOT KNOCK AT THE DOOR BUT WALKED IN, SAT DOWN, AND PLAYED HYMNS TO ANNOUNCE HIS ARRIVAL. AT SOME HOMES HE WOULD GIVE A RECITAL OF MANY HYMN TUNES, EACH PLAYED ONCE, BUT ALWAYS ENDING WITH 'ETERNAL FATHER.' THIS ONE HE WOULD PLAY OVER AGAIN, VERY SOFTLY, AS THOUGH TO HIMSELF; HIS LISTENERS WOULD WONDER WHERE HIS THOUGHTS WERE THEN. AS FORTUNATE ONES MAY TESTIFY, SOME OF THESE LITTLE RITUALS HE KEPT UP LONG AFTER ROSSEAU DAYS. AT ONE HOME, THAT OF THE DOCTOR PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED (A COTTAGER ON LAKE ROSSEAU), WHERE HE MIGHT TURN UP AT ANY OLD TIME, HE MIGHT ANNOUNCE HIS ARRIVAL BY CALLING, 'HERE IS THAT WRETCHED OLD TRAMP AGAIN,' (PROBABLY IN AN IRISH VERSION OF A HOUSEWIFE'S TONES) IF SHE HAD THE CHANCE, THE DOCTOR'S GOOD LADY WOULD SEE THAT HIS CLOTHES WERE WASHED AND MENDED.

     "BUT SOMETIMES GOWAN HIMSELF WAS VISITED. THERE WAS THE TIME WHEN HE HAD PROMISED TO 'CHAIR' A SCHOOL CONCERT ABOUT EIGHT MILES AWAY. IT WAS A BITTER COLD NIGHT, AND HE WAS ALL READY TO START WALKING, WHEN A DRUNK STUMBLED INTO THE PARSONAGE AND POLITELY WAVED TOWARD THE PIANO, AND SAID, 'PLAY SHUMTHIN!' GOWAN OBLIGED AND THE DRUNK-ONE SAT DOWN ON THE SOFA AND IMMEDIATELY FELL FAST ASLEEP. NOW GOWAN COULD NOT PUT HIM OUT TO FREEZE, COULD NOT LEAVE HIM ALONE IN THE HOUSE, COULD NOT GO FOR HELP. HE HAD TO STAY WITH HIM, KEEP HIM WARM, AND MAKE HIM BREAKFAST IN THE MORNING. OF THE CONCERT THERE IS NO RECORD. TRULY, THE APPEAL OF GOWAN GILLMOR'S PERSONALITY TO CHILDREN, WAS ABSOLUTE. HIS LOVE FOR THEM WAS SUCH THAT, THE RECIPIENTS OF THAT LOVE HAVE ALWAYS REMEMBERED IT. THE LETTERS WE HAVE HAD FROM THOSE WHO WERE YOUNG WHEN HE WAS ACTIVE, PROVE THIS. A CHILD OF THAT TIME REMEMBERS HIM AS 'VERY TALL AND STRAIGHT, WITH PIERCING BLACK EYES, AND A MOST FRIENDLY SMILE.' THIS CHILD ANECDOTE OF GOWAN'S EARLY DAYS IN ROSSEAU, IS IN PART, CONTRIBUTED BY THE PRINCIPAL CHARACTER HERSELF. SHE WAS THEN A SHY LITTLE THING WHO NEVER SAW STRANGERS, LIVING WITH HER PARENTS AND A BROTHER AND A SISTER. THEIR HOME WAS TWO MILES OUT, AND SHE COULD NOT GO TO THE VILLAGE CHRISTMAS TREE."

     E. NEWTON-WHITE NOTES IN GILLMOR'S BIOGRAPHY, THAT, "THE OLD LADY REMEMBERS HOW MR. GILLMOR BROUGHT 'FOR LITTLE ME,' A LOVELY DOLL, ALL BEAUTIFULLY DRESSED IN HANDMADE AND EMBROIDERED GARMENTS.' SHE REMEMBERS CLEARLY EVERY DETAIL OF THAT DOLL AS SHE SAW IT THROUGH THE CRACK OF THE DOOR. EVEN GOWAN COULD NOT COAX THE LITTLE MITE TO COME FOR IT, BUT HE FINALLY PERSUADED HER TO PUT HER ARM AROUND THE DOOR, WHILE HE PUT THE DOLL IN HER HAND. THEN SHE FLED WITH HER TREASURE. FOR ANOTHER STORY WE HAVE NO DATE OR PLACE, BUT AN EX-ROSSEAU LADY TELLS IT. GOWAN HAD HEARD OF A YOUNG BOY OF A NON-ANGLICAN FAMILY, LYING QUITE ILL. HE WENT TO THE HOME AND WAS MET BY A STRANGER NURSE. HE TOLD HER THAT HE HAD SOME MEDICINE FOR THE BOY, AND MIGHT HE SEE HIM. THE NURSE WAXED INDIGNANT AT ONCE; IN OTHER WORDS, WENT UP IN THE AIR. INDEED, LOUDLY, SHE WOULD NOT ALLOW ANY MEDICINE OTHER THAN THAT THE DOCTOR PRESCRIBED. SAID GOWAN, QUIETLY SMILING, 'OH, THIS WON'T HURT HIM. IT'S JUST A JACKKNIFE'. 'AN D'YE KNOW, I THINK IT DID MORE GOOD THAN THE DOCTOR'S STUFF. I DO; I DO INDADE'."

A PARTING OF THE WAYS; AND A SAD ONE IT WAS - NEW RESPONSIBILITIES FOR GOWAN GILLMOR

     "In 1907 came the definite parting from Rosseau and its people. Gowan, writing his own notice of appreciation, (as was evident), in the Missionary News, said, 'They would not permit him (himself) to leave without some expression of regard - indeed they seemed rather loath to part with him, for he had warmed himself into their hearts - an address was signed and presented, together with a purse, far from empty, and a good leather suit-case on which are the letters 'G.G.' One suspects a few quiet and embarrassing tears being shed on that occasion." One member (of the congregation) said, "Our memories of the Archdeacon will remain precious as long as life shall last.' Another said, 'He is one of the great in my memory.' Another said, 'We know now the secret of the love he inspired in us. It was his kindly, selfless life; and because in all those long years of service, as he walked through the new land, he walked with God.' Some of us would give much to have such things said of us." E. Newton-White writes, "He (Gowan) had been stationed at Rosseau for over fifteen years, during which time he had tramped in his ministrations, over practically the whole of Parry Sound and Muskoka districts. Now the whole Diocese of Algoma was to be his field; and to this diary he said this; 'I am now on the move once more, and I pray the Saviour will give me strength and power to the work well. I can have no more rest until I lie quietly in my grave.' His prayer was answered.

     "A Rosseau lady remembers another lady, who used to write for the Old Toronto GLobe's Homemaker Page, over the name 'Gowanne.' This writer had lived in Muskoka and had been baptized and prepared for Confirmation by the Archdeacon. The Rosseau lady wonders now, might this have been actual or a pen name? A whimsical remark, Gowan was known to have made to the parents of these namesakes. 'How are you going to explain to the young fellow, when he is old enough, how he came to be named after a poor old Tramp!"

      "If Gowan knew all the constellations he also knew all the plants and flowers of the north country. His eye for beauty was very keen, and he could cleverly adapt these things in all their range to his sermons, in the most vivid terms. Survivors of the children of those days can well remember the way in which natural phenonmena, and wildlife, would creep into his discourse. An Alberta lady, once of Gravenhurst, has treasured memories of him in her childhood. Especially she recalls, a Sunday School Christmas Concert, which he opened with a most fascinating account of his approach to the town at dusk, that evening, and seeing the Evening Star, rise over Gull Lake, 'with fairies accompanying it.' He held us spellbound. Another Muskoka story, as told by a Gravenhurst businessman, noted that "On one of his regular trips, Gowan had to pass an empty house, said to be haunted. One day, curiosity got the better of him, and he went inside to look around. He moved very quietly, and listened. Hearing a mysterious noise upstairs, he went cautiously, all ready to come down in a hurry. There was nothing. Then he found the sound was coming  from the attic. Taking some time to gain courage, he finally climbed the attic ladder - 'and there, sitting up and staring at me, was a groundhog. Yes, a groundhog! And d'ye know he was almost as scared as I was?' The grumpy-looking groundhog provided the peg, upon which many an apposite tale could be hung to fit an occasion. The groundhog being, as Gowan would say, the most curiosity-stricken person of all our Little People; he had only to stand close to the hole, in which one had vanished, at his approach, and it would appear again. First the tip of its nose, then its eyes, then its ears and finally its shoulders. Then they would talk; Gowan would ask questions or make the statement, and the wood-chuck would reply in perfectly good Connaughtese brogue. The uses of such discussions were inexhaustible. It is almost certain that the haunted house episode was expanded, into such dialogue many times, at appropriate junctures; but if so, they are lost to posterity."

     E. Newton-White tells the story of a near fatal encounter in a most vulnerable circumstance. "In the northern bush, on a cold winter's night, Gowan was traveling on snowshoes, and found that he could not reach his destination before very late. He decided to light a fire and sleep in the snow. Before his fire was going, he heard the distant howl of a wolf, then another and another. Before long the cries were coming from all directions, and closing in! Soon they were forming a fairly close circle around him. Their eyes and fangs and sinister movements in the darkness, would be described with telling effect. Then a large wolf, evidently the leader (and Irish it would appear), slipped to the front, eyed Gillmor very closely, sniffed, then wheeled suddenly to the others, 'Och! That's only ould Gillmor! Let's go, b'ye,' and they vanished. Once, in a child audience, the suspense over, a bright one asked, could he not have climbed a tree? But that would not have helped; the wolf-pack kept a trained beaver for just such emergencies.

     "Another story example concerned a corpse; and was not quite as macabre as that sounds. Gowan was visiting a lonely settlement in the bush; a place unknown to him. He had been walking all day, and was tired. At dusk he came to a dark and gloomy looking house, where he asked for shelter for the night. The man who came to the door looked worried at his request; and called to his wife. The two had a whispered discussion, and then, the man said glumly, 'All right, you can stay. But you won't like your room.' When Gowan went to his room later, he found it bitterly cold. Lowering his voice, he would say solemnly, 'An' what d'ye think was in that room? A dead body!' At this he would pause, while his listeners would gasp and ask him whatever did he do? 'Why, blew out my light and went to sleep, of course.' Then, with another pause to let it all sink in, he would add in a relieved voice, 'It was just a dead mouse, y'know!' Years after telling this yarn, to a somewhat impressionable person, she reminded him of it. But the Archdeacon looked genuinely horrified. 'Oh,' said he. 'I ought not to have told you that one'."

     His biographer concludes his story with the following observations. "A better term than 'passed' for him and for us, would be that 'he tramped.' Just as he once told his parishioners that he would be 'tramping' from Rosseau out into the wide Diocese, so now he tramped from Algoma into the Greater Life." "He died (at 78 years of age) on the first of September, 1928, and was buried from the Pro-Cathedral of the Diocese, at the Alter of which he had made his Priestly vows forty-three years earlier. Never could the incomparable burial service of the Anglican Rite have shown greater beauty; never could the simple ritual have carried greater meaning."