Author: ETRC Archivist

A box covered with little holes, cords zig-zagging all over the place, connecting and disconnecting to jacks, speaking politely to clients all day long.  This was the work of the telephone operator in the time before dialing a series of numbers connects you almost immediately to whomever you wish to reach.  Once long distance calls were made possible through technology and businesses and homes were increasingly connecting to the telephone network, switchboards operated by humans were necessary for calls to reach their destination.

At first, switchboards were operated by young men but it was found that women tended to be politer to customers and it was not long before it became a female-dominated job. This new industry gave women an opportunity for some economic independence and work outside of the home.  Although telephone operator work typically fell to young, single women, it became a life-long career for others, such as Rose (née Robinson) Thompson in Ayer’s Cliff.

It was uncommon for mothers in the early 1900s to have jobs outside of the home but for Rose Thompson, a widow, telephone operator work gave her a chance to support herself and her young son, Lysle.  Following the sudden death of her husband, Cortez J. Thompson, in 1916, she moved from Cassville where they had farmed to Ayer’s Cliff.  In 1919, Rose began to work at the switchboard of the Ayer’s Cliff exchange of the Eastern Townships Telephone Company and became the office’s manager in 1923; a position she would continue to occupy for 30 years.

By the end of 1953, Bell Telephone had acquired the Eastern Townships Telephone Company and Rose chose to leave her career as Ayer’s Cliff’s telephone operator and office manager at this time.  At the E.T. Telephone Company’s final banquet in late 1953, of the twelve “telephone pioneers” (meaning the employee had over 21 years with the company) that were honoured, eight were women.

While the switch to the Bell Telephone network marked the end of an era for the locally-owned Eastern Townships Telephone Company, the manual switchboard would remain in place in Ayer’s Cliff and continue to be largely operated by local women until the spring of 1962.

Do you have local photographs of people at work at a switchboard or other memorabilia related to telephone offices and switchboards in the Townships?  If so and you would be interested in donating them to the ETRC, please get in touch with us!

Barbara Rose Eardley-Wilmot was born June 30, 1915 to parents Rev. Canon Charles Revell Eardley-Wilmot and Rose Meredyth Bowen.  Her father, Charles, served as an Anglican minister at various churches throughout the Diocese of Quebec from 1908 to 1941, when a stroke forced his early retirement.

By the time they found themselves in Hatley in 1923, it was Barbara’s third home in her eight years, which was not unusual for a clergy family.  In the early years at Hatley there was one particular Christmas that stood out in Barbara’s memory as she later described the year when the Eardley-Wilmots made sure that Christmas came to a family that had little money and a very sick wife/mother.

That year, Rev. Eardley-Wilmot’s wife, Rose, directed her two oldest children, Barbara and Cecily, to wrap some of their own presents up for the two children and to find decorations (cookies, ribbons, tags) for a small tree the Reverend had cut for the less fortunate family.  The Eardley-Wilmots even prepared their own turkey for them, content with chicken for themselves.   In her recollection of Christmas morning, Barbara wrote: “All up, had some breakfast, horse all ready and harnessed to the cutter, bricks in place, turkey to keep them warm in their pan, and away we go, Dadie, Barbara and Cecily, the trip would be about ¾ of a mile, all goes well, dashing through the snow, when the horse balked. We had changed direction onto a side road where we were headed, and run into a big KAHOO. This was a large snowdrift, higher than the horse, and though I got out and talked to him, all he would say was ‘neigh.’ Cecily and I tried to knock some snow out of the way, then we heard bells. There was the other rig [cutter] behind us.  Thank goodness, Dad had brought a shovel, just in case, so we were soon back on course.”

The Eardley-Wilmots successfully delivered all of the Christmas goodies to the family that year and this act of giving would remain etched into their memories for a lifetime.  Even though Barbara and Cecily were young at the time, probably around ten and eight years old, they remembered this particular Christmas with a special fondness, recounting it decades later with detail.

It’s perhaps not the first thing we think of when reflecting on the World Wars of the 20^th century but love and marriage were ever-present even during this tumultuous period.  In particular, love (or, at times, enthusiastic pen pals) played an integral role in the war effort as it helped boost morale.  Sometimes this looked like a couple quickly getting married before a soldier was shipped overseas.  Other times, this looked like dedicated letter-writing by family, friends, and love interests to those serving overseas.

Romantic relationships also bloomed as servicemen intermingled with the local population while stationed overseas, and, in some cases, resulted in marriages.  Once the war was over, many of these new brides followed their men to Canada, becoming known as the “war brides.”  It is estimated that approximately 54,000 relatives and dependents returned with Canadian servicemen following WWI and approximately 65,000 wives and children of servicemen were transported to Canada after WWII.  It is worth noting that there were some husbands of Canadian servicewomen who also immigrated following the war, and were dubbed with the unfortunate moniker “male war brides” in some of the press.

Most of the war brides were British, though some were from other European countries, and met their husbands while the servicemen were on leave, convalescing, or training in England.  Although there were official military policies to discourage the marriage of servicemen and servicewomen to local civilians, it was an inevitable occurrence during the wars.  Once peace was declared and the servicemen returned to Canada, the process of bringing their new brides and, often, children, was begun.   The war brides and children coming to Canada after WWII, in particular, were transported overseas on converted luxury liners and troop ships, landing at Pier 21 in Halifax and then boarded trains to take them to their destinations across Canada.

For some women, the move to Canada was an exciting adventure while others regarded the departure from their family and homeland with sadness and trepidation.  After arriving in their new communities, the war brides were often invited to special welcoming events hosted by local groups such as the Women’s Institute and the Imperial Order Daughters of the Empire.  At one event, which took place in Ayer’s Cliff, the local ladies shared tips on gardening, dressing for the climate, and recipes for dishes “much loved by all Canadian men” with the new-comers.   Many war brides adjusted to and embraced their new community and country over the months and years but for some it proved to be too much to overcome, and they separated or divorced their husbands and returned to England.

Interested in learning more about the experiences of war brides?  Joyce Hibbert’s The War Brides (published in 1978), consisting of excerpts from interviews with war brides of Canadian servicemen, is a fascinating account of this group of women.

This month the ETRC would like to enlist the help of readers to identify a few of our numerous unidentified photographs.   All of these photographs come from a collection of documents that are primarily from the Lake Massawippi and Hatley areas and, so, it is likely that these photographs picture people and places from those areas.  In one, which comes from a group of three images, we see the construction of what appears to be a dam.  Is it possibly the Eustis dam on the Coaticook River, near Route 143?

The studio portrait photograph shows a family from around the 1920s.  Unfortunately there is no photographer’s stamp to help us narrow down a location but perhaps a reader might recognize one of these smartly-dressed people.

The final images we have today are a jovial-looking group, gathered at a clubhouse perhaps, and what seems to be a school photograph, both from around the late 1940s or 1950s. Do you recognize any of those pictured or have thoughts on their location?

Please get in touch if you can help us solve some of the unknowns of these people and places and help us preserve history!

Crisp air, leaves beginning to change, and getting back into the routines of school are part of how we’re ushered out of summer and into autumn.  With the start of school also come the sights of children travelling to class, some by bus, some on foot and others by parent drop-off.   With this in mind, a browse in the archives led me through some of the changes in how children and teachers travelled to school over the decades.

An early diary from a teacher, written in 1836, recounts her experiences as she taught for 12 weeks in the “wilderness.”  The teacher, known only as “Mabel,” was 17 at the time and she describes herself as having been “tenderly reared” so her foray into the backwoods is recounted with some dramatic flair.  While she does not give her specific location, she was probably teaching in the area of either Brome or Shefford County.  In 1836, the walk she and the school-aged children of the family she boarded with took to the schoolhouse involved removing and replacing fences, crossing clearings, and much bending and weaving as they navigated the dense woods.

Walking would continue to be the primary mode of travel to school into the 20^th century but, as reliable roads were established and the population increased, other methods emerged.  One of these was the “horse bus,” pictured here, likely from the East Clifton area, which could transport a number of children to school during the cold winter months.

In the 20^th century, the Townships began to see a shift away from local, one-room schoolhouses towards consolidated schools, which partly emerged from the notion that this would result in a better education for the area’s youth but also stemmed from a gradually declining rural population.  With schools farther away, it became necessary to find ways to transport students who were no longer able to walk there.  One new method was the motorized school bus. By the 1930s, bus technology had advanced enough that school boards were making use of them in increasing number and, in 1939, the iconic ‘school bus yellow’ was adopted as the standard colour for the buses.

As a quintessentially Canadian way to get to school, the Bombardier B12 snow bus made its way onto the scene in the late 1940s as a way to reliably transport children to school over snow-covered roads when the early school buses were not able to.

Looking for an interesting conversation starter with family this Thanksgiving?  Ask your grandparents or great-grandparents how they travelled to school!

This article was written by our summer archives technician, Jazmine Aldrich.

“It all began way back on December 21^st 1935,” wrote Henrietta Kathleen Warren – or as many knew her, Kay – in her travel journal. The young Montrealer was eager to be on her way. “I had spent the day before in a feverish rush – as is usual. I’d left too much until the end – consequently it was 1:00am when I got to sleep.” Kay’s last-minute preparations nearly eighty-four years ago are a timeless echo of many travelers’ experiences today; her travels, however, were far from ordinary for the period.

In this account, Kay recalls her experiences travelling in Algeria. She departed from the Lycée des Jeunes Filles de Nîmes in France where she had begun work in the autumn of 1935; she was acting as a teaching assistant in English conversation in exchange for room and board. A graduate of McGill’s Royal Victoria College in Classical Studies and Education, she found the perfect opportunity to teach in Nîmes while simultaneously exploring the traces of Antiquity tucked away in the former Roman world.

From her locus in the South of France, she seized any opportunity to explore the country on day-trips and holidays. She travelled through Paris and watched “La Corrida” – Spanish-style bull fighting – in Nîmes. She also travelled through Cannes, Nice, Carcassonne, Gard, Grenoble, Versailles, and elsewhere in France. Based on her photographs and souvenirs, it seems as though her love of antiquity drew her to every ruin of the Classical world that she could reach, in France and abroad.

In Italy, she visited Rome, Venice, Pisa, Naples, Genoa, Milan, and Capri. She made a trip through Algeria, and visited Monaco, the United Kingdom, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Belgium, Denmark, Germany, Austria, and what was formerly Czechoslovakia. Little did she know that in a few short years, one of the bloodiest conflicts in human history would decimate many of the beautiful cities and marvelous old-world countryside that she was discovering.

Kay’s wanderlust in her twenties prepared her for a remarkable life as a wife, mother, and dedicated community member. In 1936, she returned to Canada to teach at Miss Edgar and Miss Cramp’s School in Westmount. She married Harry Milne in 1941 and following the Second World War, they settled in Magog to raise their two daughters, Catherine and Jean. Though the rest of her life is typically associated with her extensive community involvement, the travel bug would stay with Kay for the rest of her life: she visited Denmark in 1970 and England in 1977, among other trips within Canada and abroad. She preserved the memories of her travels in the postcards, journals, letters, brochures, and photographs, which now make up part of the Henrietta Kathleen Warren Milne collection at the Eastern Townships Resource Centre.

For a short period in the early 1900s, Captain B.V. Naylor made his mark on the tourist and shipping industry along the Richelieu River near the Quebec/Vermont border.  Born in Noyan in 1858, Benjamin Naylor’s mother died while he was still a baby and so he went to live with his maternal uncle and aunt: Reuben and Rebecca Vaughan.  With this upbringing, Benjamin learned the ferry and shipping business from his uncle Reuben, who had worked on the Richelieu for much of his life.

To accompany Capt. Ben Naylor’s lumber and coal shipping business, which he operated out of an office at the docks at the Richelieu Bridge near Noyan, he also endeavored to take advantage of the emerging tourism industry with a passenger ferry that offered day trips to popular recreation spots along the Richelieu River.  He began this enterprise with a steamer named the Richelieu, a small, single deck boat, and then upgraded to the Majestic, which could carry up to 400 passengers and featured a bar and staterooms.

Naylor’s next steamer, the Nirvana, sank when some mischievous stowaway muskrats, which had been loaded onto the ship along with some hay, chewed a hole in the hull.  Although the Nirvana was never refloated, its engines went to the Missisquoi, which was among Capt. Naylor’s most well-recognized steamers.

Among the popular summer destinations along the Richelieu was Fort Lennox, on Île-aux-Noix in the Richelieu River.  The island served a military purpose during the American War of Independence when fortifications were built and in the War of 1812 when dry docks were added.  Fort Lennox continued to be occupied until 1873, first by British troops and then by convicts awaiting the completion of the St-Vincent-de-Paul penitentiary.

After this, Fort Lennox was essentially abandoned and became a favourite picnic destination, which Benjamin Naylor was able to benefit from when he rented it in 1899 and offered ferry excursions over to the island.  In 1921, however, Fort Lennox was transferred to Parks Canada and became a National Historic Site.

It appears that Capt. Naylor left the shipping and ferry business by about 1910, having sold his last large steamer, the Ojibway in 1908, and later his yacht the Windsor.  He spent the rest of his life as a farmer, writing to his sister in 1918 that “it will be a pleasure to pass my few remaining years in a little rest and comfort.”  Likely to Capt. Naylor’s surprise, his “few remaining” years turned into almost 20 when he died in 1935.

Horse-drawn carriages, dirt roads, and covered bridges.  They all seem to just go together when we think of the past.  CanadaPost’s recent issuing of a new stamp series showing Canada’s historic covered bridges speaks to the continued admiration our society has for these picturesque structures.  However, perhaps surprisingly to some, Quebec and New Brunswick were somewhat unusual in Canada for the proliferation of covered bridges across the landscape, while neighbouring Ontario, for example, had very few.  The Eastern Townships alone can count 222 covered bridges in its past!

By the mid-1900s, the region’s covered bridges were disappearing at an alarming rate as the demands placed on these structures changed with truck transport and widespread use of the automobile. In addition to demolition for ‘modernization,’ covered bridges also faced the threats of spring thaws and flooding, fires, and even the occasional theft of their wooden boards for campfires or personal construction projects.

By 1964, the number in the Townships had dropped to a mere 45 covered bridges and a number of those would have to fight to see 1974. By then, the number had dropped again by almost half.  One particular campaign, launched by the Richmond County Historical Society, was to save the last covered bridge in the county.  Known as the Gibson or Salmon Creek Bridge, it was located in Upper Melbourne and crossed the Salmon River.  Their diligent efforts over six years were rewarded in 1971 with the repairing and raising of the bridge courtesy of grant from the Canadian Heritage Society.

While the Historical Society’s hard work was enough to save the Salmon Creek Bridge from demolition, it couldn’t save the bridge from other forces and was destroyed by fire in May 1988.  Sadly, of the 23 bridges that survived the demolitions of 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, three others would also be lost by fire: the Rexford Bridge in Saint-Catherine-de-Hatley in 1985, the St-Camille Bridge in 1996, and the Capelton Bridge in 2002.

Today, 18 covered bridges still stand in the Townships.  The oldest is the John-Cook Bridge in Cookshire; built in 1868, it once crossed the Eaton River but following the re-routing of the river, it now spans a creek.  At 206 feet, the McVetty-McKenzie Bridge near Gould is the longest bridge still standing.  Scattered throughout the Townships, show-casing different construction styles, some still open to automobile traffic and some now accessible only to pedestrians; these gems are important reminders of a past era and are charming destinations for a summer drive.

Horse-drawn carriages, dirt roads, and covered bridges.  They all seem to just go together when we think of the past.  CanadaPost’s recent issuing of a new stamp series showing Canada’s historic covered bridges speaks to the continued admiration our society has for these picturesque structures.  However, perhaps surprisingly to some, Quebec and New Brunswick were somewhat unusual in Canada for the proliferation of covered bridges across the landscape, while neighbouring Ontario, for example, had very few.  The Eastern Townships alone can count 222 covered bridges in its past!

By the mid-1900s, the region’s covered bridges were disappearing at an alarming rate as the demands placed on these structures changed with truck transport and widespread use of the automobile. In addition to demolition for ‘modernization,’ covered bridges also faced the threats of spring thaws and flooding, fires, and even the occasional theft of their wooden boards for campfires or personal construction projects.

By 1964, the number in the Townships had dropped to a mere 45 covered bridges and a number of those would have to fight to see 1974. By then, the number had dropped again by almost half.  One particular campaign, launched by the Richmond County Historical Society, was to save the last covered bridge in the county.  Known as the Gibson or Salmon Creek Bridge, it was located in Upper Melbourne and crossed the Salmon River.  Their diligent efforts over six years were rewarded in 1971 with the repairing and raising of the bridge courtesy of grant from the Canadian Heritage Society.

While the Historical Society’s hard work was enough to save the Salmon Creek Bridge from demolition, it couldn’t save the bridge from other forces and was destroyed by fire in May 1988.  Sadly, of the 23 bridges that survived the demolitions of 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, two others would also be lost by fire: the Rexford Bridge in Saint-Catherine-de-Hatley in 1985 and the Capelton Bridge in 2002.

Today, 18 covered bridges still stand in the Townships.  The oldest is the John-Cook Bridge in Cookshire; built in 1868, it once crossed the Eaton River but following the re-routing of the river, it now spans a creek.  At 206 feet, the McVetty-McKenzie Bridge near Gould is the longest bridge still standing.  Scattered throughout the Townships, show-casing different construction styles, some still open to automobile traffic and some now accessible only to pedestrians; these gems are important reminders of a past era and are charming destinations for a summer drive.

“On the morning of the 3^rd day of February 1839 while yet dark, their dwelling house was surrounded and violently entered by a large number of armed Rebels from the United States who, after first binding and subsequently most barbarously and dangerously wounding [Abraham Vosburgh and Peter Vosburgh], memorialists, with sabers and bayonets, pillaged and set fire to the house and burned their barns and sheds with their contents together with a valuable stock of horses and farm cattle.”

In reading rebellion loss claims such as this one, which took place in Caldwell’s Manor on the western side of Missisquoi Bay, it would be easy to imagine a countryside overrun with looting and vandalism.  However, in reality, the people of the Eastern Townships found themselves divided in opinion but, ultimately, kept themselves out of the most heated parts of the Rebellions of 1837-1838.

As the political tensions in Lower Canada escalated through the 1830s, culminating in the Rebellions of 1837-1838, it is not representative to generalize which side “most” of the early settlers of the Townships supported.  There were vocal and active local groups, accompanied by newspapers largely dedicated to influencing political opinion, that expressed support for either side of the dispute.  While the complexity of the Rebellions is too much for a short article, it can be boiled down to (in very general terms), a dispute between the British-dominated Legislative Assembly and the Patriotes: a group of largely French-Canadians, led by Louis-Joseph Papineau, whose initial main desire was to implement a more balanced government structure (taking power away from the British minority), which would in turn also allow for a more even distribution of government funds.

For those in the Eastern Townships, the early stance of the Patriotes was appealing to many.  In general, the 1820s and 1830s had been economically difficult times in the Townships and, with their small population and geographic distance from Montreal and Quebec City, there were groups of settlers that could get behind political changes that held the possibility of more funds directed to the region and better representation in government.  However, as the political stance of the Patriotes became more radical, they lost much of the earlier enthusiastic support from English-speaking groups.  As a result, armed conflict was avoided in the Townships, unlike in other areas of the province.

Yet as the Patriote militants fled the province following the ultimately unsuccessful rebellions in Upper and Lower Canada, those living along Quebec’s southern border continued to endure ongoing threats to their property from the rebel groups.  Once in the United States, the Patriotes found local support among some Americans who fancied helping the Patriotes overthrow the yoke of British oppression.

The extent of their action, however, was only to destroy the property of those deemed to be supporters of “Her Majesty’s government,” in quick cross-border raids, leaving those nearest the frontier most susceptible.   The complete destruction of Abraham and Peter Vosburgh’s property, described earlier, was the result of one of these raids.  Other surviving accounts such as that of Francis Manie and Isaac Johnson in Foucault recount similar experiences to those of the Vosburghs.

With the passing of the Rebellion Losses Bill in 1849, those who had suffered great losses were able to receive some compensation for damages caused by the Rebellions.  It is unknown, however, if the gentlemen named above ever received any compensation.