CPR running trades in early days part of great railway experience, Harry Pellow writes

         

Harry 'Butch' Pellow 2012

 Harry  'Butch' Pellow, a member of one of Chapleau's earliest families, is better known as one of Canada' foremost architects, but took time to share the history of some of the early days of the running trades on the Canadian Pacific Railway.

Harry is the son of the late Aldythe and C.A. 'Bill' Pellow. He was the architect for the Chapleau Civic Centre, Chapleau Recreation Centre, Cedar Grove Lodge, Chapleau General Hospital and the golf club house.

His brother, Dr. William R. 'Bill' Pellow assisted with the research for this article.

On a personal note, Butch is my lifelong friend, and once again I thank him. 

by Harry 'Butch' Pellow

In the beginning trains were run by commonly understood rules; communications were sent  in Morse code and later telephone and then combined into multiple copies on a parchment type paper and transcribed by dispatchers along the line. Conductors and enginemen were guided by cross-Canada Company timetables which instructed arrival and departure times, distances between sidings and which trains had priority and which did not. There were frequent changes in instructions originally given, and it was a challenge to ensure that information was properly transcribed and passed to engine crews en route.  This was not a perfect system and injury and even death were commonplace.  Today we take so much for granted.  If we have a true emergency we just dial 911 and there is a response network at hand already placed in active mode to relieve stress and within a few minutes we are whisked away and into an emergency unit of a hospital and treatment begins immediately. It was not so on the CPR in the early days.  

          The most dangerous area for the brakemen was with the couplers that held the train together. They became a symbol of the perils of railroading and, known as the link and pin system, were responsible for thousands of injuries.  The brakeman was required to hold the link in one hand and the pin in another and split timing was essential to make the connection between the cars. 

Dr Bill with his father "Bill" Pellow

One fraction off in timing or a slip and there could be loss of fingers and hands and even death. On occasion the brakemen were crushed between two cars being coupled. The Railway Safety Act corrected this dangerous occupational hazard in 1893. In the early years collisions in various forms occurred frequently resulting in death and life threatening injury. It was not uncommon for Chapleau’s shop whistle to signal such an event and we recall even in our own lifetime the signal that would alert every home and every person that some serious accident has taken place and alerted those who must to be ready to come to the station ground and be prepared to assist. 

Chapleau station 1886

          Chapleau is mid-way between Cartier (Nemegos Subdivision) a distance of 136.4 miles and White River (White River Subdivision) a distance of 129.9 miles and a hundred years ago the travel time would have been 4 to 5 hours between each of these points. By the 1940’s transcontinental passenger runs would have this timing chopped to 3 hours and 10 minutes. As we know, transcontinental passenger service is no longer provided in Chapleau and so too, the sights, sounds and smells of the old iron horse are extinct.

          

A glance at a early photo of engine 275, the first came to Chapleau  in 1896,  is what were referred to as “the ‘small power tea-kettles”.  They were designed to handle in the order of 400 tons which compared with engine “1950” the largest ever built prior to 1909 and later the 5433 which handled in excess of 1940.  These are numbers most relevant to the men who ran the engines but demonstrate some relevance to the scale of equipment required to pull loads through Chapleau in its trek westward.

Engine 1950 (Ian Macdonald collection)

          In a very short time from the late 1880’s into the early 1900’s there was a transition from wood burning steam locomotives to those using coal for fuel. Automatic stokers were still somewhere in the horizon and not yet invented.  The engineers of the day were constantly alert to the level of his coal and water and to run short on either was a fault.  To run out completely was a serious offence and was unforgivable.  To run out of water and have your boiler explode, and if you survived, meant termination from the Company. The tenders were small and fuel and water needed replacement often. No wonder that the location of stations were originally determined by the presence of both wood for fuel and water for steam. It would take a few more years to see boilers that moved “superheated steam” and had a pressure of 275 psi.  Engineman of the day were truly engineers and demanded respect which they received.  The “butchers”, who were engineers without skill in handling an engine or the braking would wear their firemen down in short order by abusive handling of the controls and the engine crew were constantly on the deck hand firing. In the day the engineer was call “sir”.  

Chapleau Yard 1886

    

          Life as an enginemen was not a comfortable job in summer or winter but in winter canvas hung down from the ceiling to keep out the cold and the effects of Northern Ontario’s severe weather; there was the penetrating sub-zero cold and the snow and rain.  The wind chill factor was unheard of and if it was 50 or 60 below (F) outside it was almost as cold inside the cab despite the boiler heat or the stoker’s coals. The windows were ill fitting and often opened for visibility. One’s comfort was not a consideration but “running the night express on time and on schedule was critical”.

          Life as a fireman demanded strength and endurance, patience and understanding. There was   a stability pole placed in the cab for the fireman to back into and provide a fulcrum and swivel point   as he shoveled coal from the tender into the firebox and the novice, not used to the sway and roll of the engine, would invariably be hurled off balance and his shovel of coal would wind up at the feet of the engineer and not in the firebox.  Not a popular move. The prospect of promotion was motivation to persist however; and the possibility of a prestigious job as engineer with better pay, better schedules and respect made it worthwhile. 

          This column briefly describes life for the running trades in Chapleau in 1900 when the Railway was little more than a dream; but yard, rail and line maintenance, passenger comfort including awesome dining service, sleeping car accommodation, refrigerated water and ice cooled Pullman cars; and of course their signature hotels, were a very big part of the great railway experience that was created as well, and it lasted for over 125 years. We will never understand or enjoy it again.

Edythe Mary Hunt described as gallant Red Cross nurse attending wounded from Dunkirk expedition in World War II

Edythe Mary Hunt planned to return to her home in Chapleau from England on September 1, 1939 on the SS Athenia  just as World War II broke out.

On September 3, the Athenia was torpedoed by a German submarine and sunk in the Atlantic Ocean, but she was not on board. At the last minute, she had cancelled her passage, deciding to stay in England for what  was expected to be a short war.

She joined the 130th Durham Nursing Unit of the British Red Cross, and finally returned to Canada in 1944 aboard the Queen Elizabeth  arriving back in Chapleau on October 19, four and one half years after she went to England. 

To honour all women who served in time of war, as we mark Remembrance Day, I decided to share the story of Edythe Mary Hunt, during World War II, as compiled by my cousins Betty (Zufelt) Gartner, Anne (Zufelt) McGoldrick, Joan (Zufelt) Cotter and Leslie (Zufelt) Morin. To us, she was "Nanny", our grandmother.

My sincere thanks to them for writing Nanny's story -- and a special thanks to Betty and Anne for answering my questions and sending me information. Except where noted, all information comes from my cousins.

Nanny with daughters Elsie left and Muriel right on 80th birthday

Our grandparents, Edythe and George Hunt, arrived in Chapleau in 1913 with their two daughters, Elsie, my cousins' mother, and Muriel, my mother. Elsie married B.W. 'Bubs' Zufelt and my mother married J.E. 'Jim' Morris.

Nanny went to England in the Spring of 1939 upon learning of her mother's failing health but her mother died before she arrived. Her sister Sal  lived in England.

After she joined the nursing unit, for a time she was on a night shift "walking through the rubble from the bombings with air raid sirens wailing." 

She went to work at The Infirmary "using a flashlight or 'torch' as it was called, with thin black paper over the light, carried light down on the ground. She was on call to various Red Cross hospitals in Britain over the next few years, nursing the lads returned from the infamous Dunkirk expedition. As well as many wounded British, she also attended to German prisoners."

Back in Chapleau, the family collected and wrapped food parcels to send to her and her sister Sally as well as other relatives since food in England was becoming scarce.

"The blackest day of the war came when the news arrived on July 16, 1943, that Muriel's husband, Flying Officer Jim Morris  and all his crew had been killed when the Wellington which they were testing exploded in mid air. The funeral a few days later in Ripon was heartbreaking as Jim was their dear boy".

When my father went overseas in 1942, my mother and I had returned to Chapleau, and were living with the Zufelt family and spending time with his parents, Harry and Lil (Mulligan) Morris.

After Nanny returned home, she told me that my father often rode on his bicycle to visit with her and our Aunt Sal, and had been there the weekend before he was killed.

By 1944 when the Atlantic was becoming clear of German submarines, she applied for passage back to Canada. She travelled on the Queen Elizabeth and sailed totally in the dark at nights on the Atlantic arriving in New York on September 17 and Chapleau on September 19.

I still recall her arrival. She got out of Uncle Bubs' truck in her uniform, and her arm was in a sling. I was so impressed, but really I couldn't wait to go and tell my friends, Mr. Hopper and Mr. Brownlee that my grandmother was home, and that Hitler had wounded her. She had actually sprained her wrist.

The Chapleau Post of November 3, 1944, described her as "one of the gallant Red Cross nurses who received and attended the wounded who returned from Dunkirk."

She told the newspaper that the "thrifty British manage very well and one never hears any grumbling or complaints from them." She was amazed at the amount of food and goods on the stores in Chapleau and so much of it unrationed.

My cousins noted that it "took several weeks for this unshakable lady to learn to cook and bake again as she was not used to such an abundant supply of food. She picked up the pieces of her life and carried on with her family, church, lodge and Legion until her death on October 19, 1966."

Their history of our grandmother's role in World War II concludes with a reference to the meaning of the word indomitable -- invincible, unyielding, resolute, firm, persistent, courageous. 

"Every one of them describes Nanny Hunt and that is how we remember her." Well said! Thanks Betty, Anne, Joan and Leslie. My email is mj.morris@live.ca

In Nanny's prayer book is the following from the King's Speech, at Christmas 1939

"I said to a man who stood at the gate of the year,

Give me a light that I may tread safely into the darkness,

and he replied:
Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God,

that shall be to you better than light

and safer than the known way."