Granny Bowers Story From Fraserburg Should Attract Our Attention

 

Photos by Suzanne Currie

THE STORY OF GRANNY BOWERS SHOULD ATTRACT OUR ATTENTION

GRANNY BOWERS LIKE SO MANY OTHER RESIDENTS OF RURAL MUSKOKA, DEALT WITH HARDSHIP AND POVERTY AS JUST THE TRIALS OF DAILY LIFE IN MUSKOKA

     A preamble to today’s post

     

    By Ted Currie

     As a regional historian toiling about the archives, I have no apology to offer, having specialized now for many years in the pioneer, homesteading period of our district; because I suppose it’s the case I appreciate the very large scale privation these immigrants to our part of Ontario suffered, and often failed at, because they were truly looking for a better, more prosperous way of life from the cities overseas. Even as an antique dealer since the mid 1970’s, I have possessed a particularly keen enthusiasm for the folk art furniture in traditional pine, that came from those modest log shanties and cabins that protected the settlers for those long and frightening winters spent largely in isolation. Although in local history, I was often, by circumstances of a publisher’s order, to work on more politically and economically slanted chronicles, of the movers and shakers of the communities from the late 1800’s, I wouldn’t do anything more than the basics to pass editorial scrutiny. Given the opportunity, I’d be right back doing what I enjoyed most, and that involved investigating still further what it was like to live that existence of severe hardship on the slim possibility a profitable homestead could be achieved with the right combination of stubborn determination and economic savvy. I have had the very great pleasure of reading some incredible stories about frontier survival and amazing resourcefulness, such that I have never been won’t for much else in local history to keep me gainfully employed. I have a deep reverence for these pioneer folks, and all those who have suffered the disadvantages of financial hardships, who have also had to cope with living rurally without possibility of changing their fortunes; other than to say that survival was their fortune. So when I began reading, more about the new Muskoka fortunes, and how fertile the region for more big developments, and larger scale lakefront installations, to satisfy those who have vast fortunes to invest, the only rub for me, was that this joyous potential was crowding out the reality of our legacy, in what determines the true cultural identity of Muskokans in general. And when the media, especially in recent years, basks a little in this truism of Muskoka’s out of control real estate price escalation, it’s getting harder and harder to hold on to the past, as that critically important memorial beacon, that should infuse a respectfulness about what hardship and poverty has meant to the character of this so called paradise on earth. Although rich and the not-so-rich have cohabited here since the beginning, one has never eclipsed the other and for good reason. Hundreds of thousands of local residents, and families dating back to the founding years, have worked for those of considerable means, and from external business economies, helping them achieve a decent living standard, and regular, if only seasonal employment. For some reason today this seems to have become a taken-for-granted relationship, and that, I believe is a mistake.  The Diary of Granny Bowers is just one of many homesteading accounts that has riveted me over the years, about the amazingly inspirational stories about those folks who really did build the foundation of today’s social / cultural / economic realities, that for this historian, are more revealing than most of the contemporary overviews that tend to disregard how it all came together from the late 1850’s. I have sort of made it a life-long project to represent and protect the integrity of our pioneer heritage; that made us locals stubbornly determined to make a good life here in what we have long called, our own “God’s Country,” that wasn’t all about prestige and wealth. Was it a good place to call home, however modest?

     I CAN STILL REMEMBER THE CHRISTMAS SEASON, I FOUND MYSELF, ON NUMEROUS FRONTS, REPRIMANDING  LOCAL MEDIA OUTLETS FOR WHAT I BELIEVED WERE INSENSITIVE EDITORIAL COMMENTS. MADE ABOUT THE INCUMBRANCES (VIA STATISTICS) OF POVERTY REARING IT’S UGLY SELF IN THE HEART OF THE EFFERVESCENT MUSKOKA. WHETHER IT WAS A PROBLEM WITH WORDSMITHING AND EDITORIAL OVERSIGHT, IT SEEMED TO REPRESENT POVERTY AS A CUMBERSOME, DEPRESSING REALITY THAT WAS INTERFERING WITH OUR "BRANDING” PROMOTION, BEING PITCHED IN AND ABOUT MUSKOKA. YOU KNOW THE ONE ABOUT THE PLAYGROUND OF THE RICH AND FAMOUS. THE HAMPTONS OF THE NORTH. HEAVEN FORBID THAT THE REALITY OF FAILING PERSONAL ECONOMIES SHOULD TARNISH OUR IMAGE HERE IN THE PRESUMED LAP OF COTTAGE LUXURY; PORTRAYED THEN AND NOW, AS AN OASIS FOR THE “HAVES” AND ALL THOSE OTHERS WHO CAN AFFORD TO COTTAGE OR LOUNGE AT A LAKESIDE RESORT. SO I GAVE THEM A LITTLE HISTORY LESSON. ONE THAT COULD HAVE BEEN EASILY GIVEN BY GRANNY BOWERS, FROM THE LITTLE 1942 BOOKLET, PUBLISHED BY THE SOCIETY OF ST. JOHNS THE EVANGELIST, IN BRACEBRIDGE.

     THE MUSKOKA WILDS WERE FULL OF DESPERATE STORIES OF THE POOR AND DESTITUTE, WHO ALTHOUGH PENNILESS AND HUNGRY, STILL WORKED AT CLEARING THEIR HOMESTEAD GRANT LANDS,  ATTEMPTING YEAR AFTER DISCOURAGING YEAR, TO GENERATE CROPS FROM THE THIN, ROOT AND ROCK STREWN SOIL. MANY OF THESE COURAGEOUS SOULS DIED TRYING TO CARVE OUT SUCCESSFUL FARMSTEADS, AND ARE STILL BURIED IN UNMARKED GRAVES ACROSS THE COUNTRYSIDE. THE SUFFERING WAS EXTREME, AND SO MANY OF THESE SETTLERS WERE RECRUITED BY UNSCRUPULUS EMIGRATION AND STEAMSHIP LINE AGENTS, WHO PAINTED THE FRONTIER OF CANADA, IN MUCH GRANDER TERMS THAN WERE WARRANTED. WARNINGS AND ADVISORIES WERE FEW, AND USUALLY BURIED WITHIN THE GLOWING REVIEWS, PUBLISHED IN SETTLERS' GUIDE BOOKS. THUS, SO MANY ILL PREPARED SETTLERS ARRIVED IN THE HARSH ENVIRONS OF CANADA, AND MUSKOKA IN PARTICULAR, THAT FAILURE WAS OFTEN IMMINENT. GRANNY BOWERS' STORY IS PART OF THIS UNFOLDING TRAGEDY, THAT IS MOST OFTEN OVERLOOKED, WHEN WE'RE CELEBRATING THE HERITAGE OF OLD BOATS, STEAMSHIPS, RESORTS, AND OUR COMMUNITIES. GRANNY BOWERS' STORY IS HONEST BUT DEPRESSING. SEEMS A LOT OF FOLKS DON'T LIKE BEING DEPRESSED BY WHAT THEY READ. AS AN HISTORIAN, I WANT TO KNOW THE TRUTH. NOT THE GLOSSY OVERVIEW, AND POPULAR, "FEEL GOOD" HISTORY, WE MOST OFTEN RECEIVE, IN OUR HERITAGE PUBLICATIONS TODAY.

     THE POWERFUL STORY IN THIS TINY, UNASSUMING LITTLE BOOK, IS PRECIOUS TO ME, AND IT IS WHY I DECIDED TO RE-PUBLISH THE MATERIAL IN THIS BLOG. IF YOU ARE JUST JOINING THIS FOUR PART SERIES, YOU CAN ARCHIVE BACK TO THE FIRST AND SECOND CHAPTERS, BY GOING TO THE BLOG HISTORY. THE BOOKLET WAS PRINTED IN SMALL QUANTITY, AND THERE ARE VERY FEW LEFT FOR PUBLIC VIEWING.

IN GRANNY BOWERS' WORDS

   (MRS. BOWERS' AND HER HUSBAND, WITH CHILDREN, ARE IN THE COOKSTOWN VICINITY, WITHOUT MONEY OR LODGING, AT PRESENT IN THE TEXT)

     "We told the hotelkeeper there that we had no money but would like to stay all night; we told them of our hard times, and one man wanted to take up a collection for us. He started with ten cents. But my pride was hurt and I decided to move on. But a rich lady and gentleman came in and persuaded them to keep us all night. In the morning we had a bit to eat in our room and started again to Carlooke and arrived there about noon and went into a boarding house to warm ourselves and found they were old neighbours of ours. They used us good and we had a good dinner; all we could eat. And when we were refreshed we continued on to Alliston and stopped awhile at my sister Annes, where we left our little girl and then went on to my mothers. Once there I was settled for the winter. Then he went back to Allandale to cut wood. He worked here till the 20th of March with Squire Little and all he saved in that time, from Xmas to March was $1.00. The rest went for board, tobacco and drink. With the dollar he bought enough calico fro a dress for myself and the little girl.

     Granny Bowers writes, "Somewhere the middle of April, he sent me a letter with 15 cents. He said for me to try and get up to Angus and pay the 15 cents for fare on the train from there, down to where he was. I thought he must be pretty hard up if that was all he could spare me. And I was too independent to use it. I would have to walk twelve miles anyway to take the train. In about five days I made up my mind to go to him, about 25 miles, and I walked all the way. I started at 8 o'clock in the morning and arrived when the five o'clock train was coming in. He met me about a mile from his work. The man he was working for had paid him some wages to come and get me. He took the baby I had been carrying and carried it into camp. When we got in he kindled the fire and put the kettle on for tea. He went about three miles to Allandale for bread, butter and eggs and we had supper. But I was too tired to eat and wanted to lie down and rest; I was not well for a week. I was so sore from carrying the child. Then about a week later he went to Alliston and got the little girl that we had left with my sister Anne.

     "In the shanty was a heap of straw in the corner for a bed and an old quilt and old stove, and cracked stove pot. This was all we had to make a start with. I had to take my white undershirt to make a sheet. It made a good sized sheet too for skirts were made very full in those days. Then we had the quilt to put over us. We had to do with this till fall and we had all summer to get a few more things together. The woodcutting wasn't much of a job so we had to go in for haying and harvesting for Squire Little. We did four or five acres of wheat for him and eight acres of oats for another man. He cradled it with the grain cradler while I raked and binded. Then we pulled nine acres of peas for the Squire, the pea-vines were seven feet long and a very heavy crop. Then we did odd jobs such as digging vegetables and the like till fall set in. I got my share of the wages for all the work I did. In the fall we went to Barrie to do our shopping. I got some hay ticking for a bed and some flanellette for sheets and he got groceries and provisions. Then we were more comfortable. We stayed there that winter and bought some land from the squire, where we moved to a little shanty near-by in March. Then we stayed there all that summer while he put up a small house on his own property. Here in August, my third child was born.

     She reminisces that, "My husband and another man had been making shingles and a few days before my baby came, I packed twenty-one bunches. He got a man to haul them out to the station and should have got $1.25 a bunch for them. He did not get home till the next day and came in shivering with cold and could not give any account of the money but 37 cents. He had been drinking and it had either been lost or stolen. We were out of bread at the time and when the baby came ten days old, I carried him a mile to pick berries to earn the bread with the other two children toddling after. When another load of shingles was made, he had to take the money he got for them, to pay the man for hauling them out, so we had nothing that time. It happened when we were living there in Inisfil near Barrie in the year 1867. About that time my husband's father died and his mother wanted us to go to Mulmur and live near her, and so we went. His brother had a job chopping, so my husband helped him from March till May. It was about three miles from his mothers so my husband thought we might as well live in the shanty with his brother where they were chopping, and I went in for sugar making and when the work was done, we moved back near his mothers. We remained there all summer and winter and it was here my 4th child was born. My husband received five acres of the farm, as his portion of the estate, so he built himself a nice house on his own land. At that time his mother was bothering us a lot and we could not do as we liked on our own property and so after my fifth and sixth children arrived, we decided to go to Muskoka again."

     She penned in her journal, "In the spring of the year, 1873, when my youngest child was five months old, we moved and started in with the other pioneers. He sold his property in Mulmur and bought a good yoke of oxen, a good cow and ten hens for a start. The oxen carried us to Muskoka. When we arrived there, we found some other people had settled on the land we had when we first came out, so we had to find another homestead, and build another log house. We found a spot in the wilderness and cut logs and put up our house the first year in a temporary way. It was ready to live in on the 4th of November and it was a very bad winter, with four feet of snow. The place had a good beaver marsh and my husband cut a stack of beaver hay for the animals for the winter but they would not eat it as they had been used to better, so we had to sell the oxen and wagon for $40, and the cow for $18.00, so we just had the hens left. There was no work for men in the country then....only cutting cordwood at 40 cents a cord, and not very much of that unless you went three or four miles looking for a job. We made snow shoes that winter from basswood bark and a broad runner hand sleigh and started to make shingles. He went a mile and a half to get the timber. He had no saw like there is now, just common cross-cuts (old style)....no lance teeth. He used to get the tree down the first day, and two shingle cuts off and hauled home on the hand sleigh. He would cut away at the tree till it was all hauled home, and then he made a saw horse and riving block, and made shingles all winter in the house. He rived them and I shaved them, and our eight year old boy packed them; about thirty one or thirty two thousand that winter."