Uncategorized
September is upon us, which means that students and teachers all over the province are in the midst of settling into the school routines. This year, as with each new school year, they will be forging friendships, learning new skills, and making memories. For all the things about school that change drastically from one generation to the next, the making of memories is at least one aspect that the students a century ago have in common with those today. Over time, however, the ways that we have recorded and tangibly preserved our school memories has changed.
An ancestor of sorts to the school yearbook was autograph books. Autograph books, which were books circulated primarily by academics to collect signatures and verses from colleagues, have been around in Europe for centuries. Over the years, autograph books became more elaborate collections of verses, drawings, and messages to the book’s owner. These books, which can now be found sprinkled throughout local historical societies and archives centres, captured the sentiments of close school friends, imprinted the words of special teachers, and recorded events for the owner to reflect back on over the passing of time.
One example at the ETRC is the autograph book of Florence Mead, who attended Macdonald College’s School for Teachers in the fall of 1923. Florence was born in the Townships and grew up in the Sherbrooke and Hatley areas. She attended “Mac” (as she and her friends refer to it) at the still-young age of 16 and by 17 she was teaching at the Goodhue School in Ascot Township. Her autograph book is a captivating combination of mementos, diary entries, poetry, course assignments, song verses, and artwork. In particular, shown here, is Florence’s description of the freshmen’s initiation, involving thirteen pigtails, hot water bottles, molasses, and feathers. Wild times!
Teachers also gave their students souvenirs to commemorate their school year together. Found in the ETRC Archives is the souvenir card E. Pearl Orr had printed and prepared for her students at the South Ham School (district 3) for the 1900-1901 school year. Not only did it include a photograph of Pearl, which – at that time – would not have been cheap to have printed, she included a poem and listed each of her pupils’ names in clear, flowing cursive. The fact that one of these cards was kept through the decades, long enough to make it into an archive, can be considered an indication that it was a meaningful memento to at least one of her students.
Old diaries can be delightful windows onto the past, with descriptions of the day-to-day activities of a bygone era. They can also be useful tools for researchers, providing key data needed for their analyses, such as weather information or social interactions. The historical value of these records becomes limited, however, when we don’t have information on their authors. It can be disappointing when lovely old records, such as diaries, photographs, etc., are missing key information about who created them.
One curious case of a group of diaries with no author found their way to the ETRC some years ago. They were a splendid (and legible!) set of diaries spanning from 1920 to 1948, filled with daily entries on a variety of subjects and lists of household expenses. The one thing missing from these diaries: an identification of their author. No convenient “this book belongs to…” The silver lining? Instances such as this one are when the archivist gets to turn into super sleuth.
After making lists of the people mentioned with full names and of all the places named, along with some creative searching of the Canadian census returns, came the satisfactory and sweet feeling of success. The author of these diaries was Delbert R. Holsapple. Delbert, son of David E. Holsapple and Elizabeth Russell, was born and raised in the St. Armand West area. He married Lizzie Adams in 1891 and together they had a daughter, Elfrida. Delbert spent most of his life farming near Morse’s Line, selling produce and was active in the local community.
Even though Delbert’s diaries do not include his feelings about his life events, reading them begins to form a story that lifts from the yellowing pages. They are a record of the rhythms of farming but also the relationships with neighbours and community events, such as the Catholic chicken pie supper (which, for those curious, cost 35 cents for two people in 1933). In particular, these diaries span the Great Depression and the Second World War and are an interesting perspective on what it was like in the Townships during this time.
Perhaps you have some old family diaries and journals hanging around in the recesses of your closets or drawers. If so, this could be the perfect time to dig them out and peruse them. You never know what might be held within their pages.
On a cold and wet September morning in 1990, 60 runners gathered at Bishop’s University for a five and 12 kilometer race to raise funds for a feasibility study on the possible conversion of the recently abandoned Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR) line stretching from Lennoxville to Beebe. Although the event raised a nominal amount, it was part of the beginning of Sentiers Massawippi’s years-long mission to see the establishment of a recreational trail along this stretch of railbed.
Following Canadian Pacific Railway’s official abandonment of what was known as the Beebe Subdivision line early in 1990, a group of local citizens mobilized to form the Sentier Massawippi Trail (later becoming Les Sentiers Massawippi) organization. Initially, the abandoned line was eyed for two entirely different potential ventures. In addition to the “rail to trail” project, another group (Nostalgie de la Vapeur) had their eye on the line to establish a tourist steam train to run from Lennoxville to Beebe. It was not long, however, before Sentiers Massawippi’s lobbying efforts gained traction with the Town of Lennoxville and by June 1991, CPR announced that the first 13-km section from Lennoxville to North Hatley had been sold to the Town to convert to a walking and cycling trail.
From the beginning, the second section of the line (12 km) between North Hatley and Ayer’s Cliff, which lay along the edge of Lake Massawippi, was on more contentious ground. Property owners along the lake were wary of a public trail running through their yards and were keen to obtain the direct water access through the acquisition of what was once CPR’s right-of-way. By the summer of 1991, an association of Lake Massawippi homeowners had struck an agreement with CPR to act as an intermediary to sell the nearly 115 acres along the lake to the adjacent owners.
In September 1991, Sentiers Massawippi voted to start buying the land that made up the remaining 19-km section, from Ayer’s Cliff to Beebe. In 1992, the rails and ties were removed from the section but it would be a number of years before all the municipalities involved accepted the proposed nature trail and rehabilitation work was completed. The first 6 km from Ayer’s Cliff were opened in 1996 and with the group’s perseverance in face of repeated hurdles, the 19-km Tomifobia Nature Trail reached completion in 2002.
Sentiers Massawippi’s mission was not unique for the time period; as the kilometers of abandoned railway lines increased from the 1960s on, there was a growing impetus for this conversion from “rail to trail” with the desire to increase Canadians’ access to outdoor recreational space. Locally, however, Sentiers Massawippi was vital in the projects to establish the nature trails along this stretch of the countryside. The group was key in fostering political will to act on the creation of the trails and in highlighting the public interest in such a conversion. Thanks to their initiative, local residents and tourists have access to this scenic way to experience nature and native wildlife. Still, the road was not always easy-going following their momentous achievement and the group has faced major reparations following significant washouts in 2008, amounting to $26,000 in repairs, and restorations arising from acts of vandalism. Despite it all, Sentiers Massawippi remains dedicated to the maintenance of the Tomifobia Nature Trail for all to be able to take advantage of this beautiful greenway.
To explore what documents the ETRC preserves for Sentiers Massawippi or a number of the nature-related organizations, visit our online datebase: https://www.townshipsarchives.ca/sentiers-massawippi-fonds.
Walking down the main streets of any number of Townships’ towns – Coaticook, Rock Island, Danville, or Granby – passersby can find themselves taken in by the commanding neo-classical and second empire architectural styles of the buildings that once served as branches of the Eastern Townships Bank. Apart from the dramatic and almost intimidating nature of these buildings, the E.T. Bank played a meaningful role in the lives of the local population as it served farmers, artisans, and businessmen alike.
From the moment of its establishment in 1859, the Eastern Townships Bank was to be a bank supported by the people of the Townships and that served the people of the Townships. In fact, in 1863, 89% of the E.T. Bank’s capital was held by Townshippers. The presence of a regional bank and the access to loans meant that local businessmen and entrepreneurs were able to get their businesses off the ground. One small example of this was James H. Smith of Sutton, who received a loan from the Eastern Townships Bank so that he could become a dealer of carriages, harnesses, farming Implements, wagons, and cream separators. In addition to small businesses, the E.T. Bank invested in many of the large industries emerging in the Townships in the latter part of the 19th century, such as Jenckes Machine Shop in Coaticook, Royal Paper Mills in East Angus, and Paton Manufacturing Company in Sherbrooke.
The E.T. Bank had gone from a head office and two agencies in 1859 to 61 branches and 31 agencies in a span of 50 years. In addition to its more notable branches, the Eastern Townships Bank had a presence in a great many towns and villages throughout the region, including Roxton Falls, East Broughton, and Upton, which afforded smaller communities access to local banking services.
Beyond its practical involvement in the financial affairs of the region, the E.T. Bank displayed its Townships roots on its money and stock certificates; they bore farming and mining scenes as well as recognizable landscapes such as the iconic Lake Memphremagog steamer, the Lady of the Lake, and the Magog River Gorge in Sherbrooke.
The Eastern Townships Bank continued to grow into the early years of the 20th century but as shareholders from outside the region increased (by 1912, 64% of the Bank’s capital was held by those outside the Townships) and with increased competition from the major national banks, the directors of the Eastern Townships Bank elected to sell to the Canadian Bank of Commerce in 1912. Even though over 100 years have passed since its absorption into the Canadian Bank of Commerce, the Eastern Townships Bank continues to live on in the landscapes of the Eastern Townships. In the words of C.C. Colby: “[…] let us hope that the Eastern Townships Bank will never forget its years of youth amid the noble and beloved hills of the Eastern Townships!’
It’s funny how some things become ingrained in our memories from childhood, while others slip so easily away. I still remember the Ascot Consolidated School just outside of Lennoxville that sat at the end of Spring Road where it connects to Rte. 108, surrounded by the Experimental Farm’s fields. If you had tried to tell me recently that it was torn down in 1989, I would have told your dates must be wrong. From all accounts, however, it appears to have been demolished in the summer of 1989, meaning I was not quite six when it was demolished, and yet I can see the building so clearly in my mind’s eye. I can still feel the curiosity and wonder that the seemingly abandoned, run-down building evoked in my childish imagination (I learned later that AGRHS used it for storage for many years, so not quite abandoned).
We are a fortunate bunch, that a drive through country-side, small towns and larger cities in the Eastern Townships leaves us with persisting evidence of our educational heritage. From the one-room schoolhouses that have been preserved over the decades and academies that date from the some of the early days of settlement, to the words “high school” that remain etched into some of the local elementary school buildings. The Ascot Consolidated School attests to one part of this heritage: the process of consolidation.
The first steps of consolidating Quebec’s rural one-room schoolhouses into larger schools were brought forth early on in the 1900s. Following a survey of Protestant schools across the province by John Adams, a report was issued finding that rural schools were particularly struggling as many townships tried to maintain and fill their numerous small schoolhouses. To deal with this problem, Adams recommended that the schoolhouses be closed and larger, multi-grade schools be established to serve all the students in a school board’s territory. An early result of the Adams Report was the construction of a couple “consolidated schools,” with the hope that they would serve as examples of a more suitable educational model for other school boards across the province.
One of the model consolidated schools in Quebec was in the Eastern Townships, in Kingsey. By 1905, the new school was opened and included two classrooms with new books, maps and modern blackboards. In some communities, the move towards consolidation was met with resistance, as parents felt the long commutes and more impersonal learning environments would be detrimental to their children, while others were supportive, feeling that the greater resources of a larger, modern school would offer a better education.
Despite the initial push towards consolidation in the early 1900s, the government never made consolidation mandatory and, as a result, it was a gradual and largely organic process across most areas of the Townships over the first half of the twentieth century. In the face of a dwindling rural and English population, the move towards the consolidation of rural, one-room schoolhouses became unavoidable over time. Pushed by similar population shifts and educational reforms, Model/Intermediate Schools and Academies in towns and villages were expanded to become High Schools, offering elementary and secondary education to the surrounding areas.
The period of consolidation and local high schools would eventually come to an end in the 1960s, as new regional English high schools replaced local institutions in the secondary education of the Townships’ youth.
Author and award-winning translator, Joyce Marshall’s roots are found in Montreal and much of her adult life was spent in Toronto but some of her formative years have Townships connections. Marshall was born in Montreal on November 28th, 1913 to William Marshall and Ruth Chambers. As a girl, Ruth had been forced to quit school in order to care for her younger siblings after her mother had become bed-ridden. This forced end to her education was something that Ruth resented and, as a result, she strongly encouraged her daughters to seek out personal and economic independence.
Marshall attended public schools in Montreal until 1929, when she left to study at St. Helen’s School, a prestigious girls boarding school, in Dunham, in the Townships, until 1932. Her family had early ties to the Townships, as well, with her maternal grandfather having received a degree from Bishop’s University and lived for a time in Knowlton. Following graduation from St. Helen’s, Marshall went on to study English at McGill University, where she obtained her B.A. in 1935 and was awarded the English Department’s language and literature medal.
Following graduation, Marshall chose to leave Montreal, where she felt limited and stifled as an English-speaking, non-Catholic woman in the politically conservative Quebec, in favour of the fast-growing city of Toronto. Marshall had started to write fiction in her childhood and had her first short story published in 1936. She published two novels, Presently Tomorrow in 1946 and Lovers and Strangers in 1957, but some of her most well-known work is in short stories, published in magazines and anthologies as well as read on CBC Radio.
In 1959, Marshall had serendipitously found herself with her first translation job when she was asked by the CBC to translate one of Gabrielle Roy’s stories. In reflecting on her career, Marshall noted later that she was initially asked because her knowledge of French but her deep knowledge of Quebec literature, skill as a writer, and passion for the intricacies of both languages contributed to her success as a translator. Following her first translation of Roy’s work, the Quebec author reached out to Marshall to pursue further translations, which began a long professional relationship between the two. She recounts instances where she and Roy would spend hours over the proper translation of a single word or how to structure a passage in English so that it would convey the same meaning and flow as the French original. In 1976, Marshall won the Canadian Council award for translation for her version of Gabrielle Roy’s “Cet été qui chantait”.
In addition to her work as an author, editor and translator, Marshall was dedicated to various associations for the promotion and protection of writers and translators and remained active in literary world for much of her life. Joyce Marshall passed away October 2005 at the age of 91.
The beginnings of Clarenceville can be traced back to the late 1700s, about the time of the U.S.’s War of Independence, when those loyal to the British crown sought refuge in Canada. Among the early settlers were the Salls, Dericks, Beerworts, Vaughans, and Hawleys, who came to an area that was initially, called Christie’s Manor. It officially became Clarenceville in 1845, based on the name of the post office there, which was named for King William IV who was initially the Duke of Clarence.
Renamed in 1989 after the parish, the municipality is now known as St-Georges-de-Clarenceville. The town is located just north of the Canada/US border, in between Missisquoi Bay and the Richelieu River. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, Clarenceville served as an important supply centre for the surrounding agricultural communities as well as a customs post. At the turn of the 20th century, it included four churches, a hotel, two cheese factories, a mill, a school, a convent and six stores.
A drive through Clarenceville today will find only pieces of the past visible in its present landscapes, small testaments to the thriving village centre that it once was. Among the ETRC’s collection are a number of postcards from 1905 to 1915 with views from the Clarenceville of a century ago. They are fantastic windows onto a past long gone and offer so many views of the town that it’s almost possible to imagine yourself in Clarenceville 100 years ago, strolling down the dirt streets lined with trees, past all the shops and waving to familiar faces.
The IOOF, the Independent Order of Odd Fellows, or simply the Odd Fellows. But what gives them the self-proclaimed description of being “odd”? The order of Odd Fellows has its earliest beginnings in 18th-century England as a fraternal order of individuals desiring to do charitable things independent of religious and political affiliations. The IOOF was officially founded with the Washington Lodge No. 1 in Baltimore, Maryland in 1819, which set in place a more formal method of operation and organization for the order. At the time of the Lodge’s founding, Baltimore was suffering from a yellow fever epidemic and, in response to this specific need, their first objectives were to “visit the sick, relieve the distress, bury the dead and educate the orphans.” As time progressed, however, their motto became that of friendship, love and trust, commonly represented by the triple link.
Although the Washington Lodge received its charter from their parent order in England, the Manchester Unity of Oddfellows, in 1826 Manchester Unity granted an independent charter to the Grand Lodge of the United States. The first lodges of Canada were established in Montreal in 1843 under the IOOF. The first decade of Odd Fellow lodges in Canada was a time of accomplishment and flourishing, as the number of chartered lodges spread rapidly throughout much of the country. This quick expansion with a peak of 28 lodges was followed by an equally rapid decline, however, so that there only eight active lodges remained by 1854, none of which were located in Quebec.
Nonetheless, the IOOF had continued to grow in the United States during this time while also becoming the first national fraternal order to include both men and women when the Rebekah Order was adopted in 1851, establishing the Rebekah Lodges of the IOOF. Despite challenges faced by the Canadian lodges mid-century, they continued to grow into the 20th century. Among the approximately 100 lodges country-wide in 1906, six lodges were in Quebec with three in the Eastern Townships (in Dunham, East Angus and Magog).
Into the 1910s, the IOOF in the Townships appears to have experienced new growth as a number of Lodges and Rebekah Lodges were founded around this time. As with other fraternal organizations, the Lodges of the IOOF were involved with a wide variety of charitable works but, more uniquely, they also aimed to provide care for the elderly and orphans through the establishment of homes dedicated to their care. Lodges in the Townships contributed to this objective with the establishment of the Edith Kathan Home I.O.O.F. for senior citizens in West Brome. As with many similar organizations, membership in the I.O.O.F. has declined into the 21st century, resulting in the closure of a number of lodges.
Despite these challenges, however, the remaining Odd Fellows and Rebekahs in the Townships continue to persevere in their fundraising to help local homes, hospitals, and schools, as well as humanitarian organizations.
The colourful foliage does not lie: autumn has arrived in the Townships! And with autumn, we are stepping in to the “eating” seasons as the fall and not-too-long-off winter are often filled with comfort food, holidays, gatherings of family and friends. Thoughts of food preoccupied my quest for an article subject this week and, as a result, I bring to you the community cookbook, examples of which can be found in the archives.
While most of us are familiar with cookbooks, less familiar may be the recipe books contributed to by a local group in the community. In the early 1900s, these recipe books were often put together by women’s groups, such as the Women’s Institute or a church group. One of those in our collection is from the East Clifton Busy Bees, which was organized in 1914 as a teenage girls’ Sunday School class. Early on the group’s aim was to teach sewing and have Bible studies but over time broadened their activities to helping with the Sunday School programs and bringing food to the sick and shut-ins. In this context, the compilation of a cookbook fits right in.
Not only did these books contain family-favourite recipes, however, they also included what are now often referred to as “life hacks”: little everyday tips that make one’s life easier. In the East Clifton Busy Bees Cook Book, they call them simply “hints.” Need to get grass stains from clothes or keep your windshield dust-free? They have tips for that! Grass stains can be removed with molasses and a cut potato can help your windshield; who knew!? To further ‘flavour’ to these little gems, the cookbooks also may have included jokes, which makes perusing the pages a delight today.
With the Townships’ local orchards in mind, abundant with glowing, fresh apples, I bring to you a recipe for Apple Jonathan, submitted by Eva Ellis to the Busy Bees cookbook: Combine 3 cups apples, ½ cup brown sugar, ½ tsp. nutmeg in a bowl and then place at the bottom of a greased baking dish. Then, cream ¼ cup shortening with ½ cup sugar brown, followed by adding 1/3 tsp. vanilla, 1 egg (beaten), 1 tbsp. orange juice, 1 cup pastry flour. Drop by spoonful on top of the apples and bake at 350°F for 30-35 minutes. Bon appetit!
When the Sherbrooke Protestant Hospital officially opened its doors in 1896, its effective operation required not only trained doctors but also capable nurses. It was out of this need that the Sherbrooke Hospital School of Nursing was born.
The first two nurses to complete the ‘training’ were Jean Shirriffs and Blanche Thorpe, who were awarded certificates at a special ceremony in 1898. However, the first decades of the Sherbrooke Hospital’s nurses training program involved what has been described as something more akin to “bonded service” than a formal education. In the early years, a normal work day for a nurse was 19 hours and consisted of all manners of work, from carrying boiling water or patients in stretchers up to the third-floor operating room to washing linens and medical equipment by hand. In addition their nursing duties, it wasn’t uncommon for the nurses to be asked to go into Sherbrooke to seek donations.
Nurses seeking some respite from their long days were obliged to stay in less than pleasant quarters in the Sherbrooke Hospital until 1901 when the first nurse’s residence was built next door. Over the next two decades, the school continued to grow but it was not until the 1920s that standard exams were introduced and more formal training was established at the Nurses school. To help supplement what was offered in Sherbrooke, the school also began to foster affiliations with Montreal hospitals.
Following the construction of the new Park Street hospital in 1914, a new nurses’ residence was completed in 1919 to accommodate the growing needs. Despite various hurdles in professional programming and on-going ambivalence of hospital administrators towards the school, young women from across the region and even from other provinces continued to enroll in the program.
The Park Street nurses’ residence would remain their home until 1948 when the sale of the Sherbrooke Hospital property forced the nurses to be housed in military barracks until 1950, when a new residence and nursing school was built on Argyle Street. The building, called the Norton Residence, was partially the result of a generous donation from Harry O. Norton. The completion of the Norton Residence also marked a shift in the nursing program, as the academic curriculum was formalized and the administration of the school was reorganized.
Finally, in 1972, with the transfer of nursing education to universities and CEGEPs, the Sherbrooke Hospital School of Nursing witnessed the graduation of its final class and closed its doors. From 1898 to 1972, 798 nurses graduated from the Sherbrooke Hospital School of Nursing. Through the ups and downs its 75 years of existence, the school produced proficient nurses, taught life lessons that stayed with graduates for their lifetime, and forged lasting friendships. Reading the stories of early nursing, looking through photographs from their time during training (the serious ones with patients as well as those disclosing the shenanigans in the nurses’ residence), it’s impossible to deny the significance of this time in these women’s lives.