Good King Wenceslas connected to Chapleau with memories of a childhood Christmas Eve as 'snow lay round about...'

DR G E YOUNG 'HOUSE BY NIGHT AT CHRISTMAS'

When Good King Wenceslas looked out and saw the snow with the moon shining bright in about the year 1000, he could have been describing Chapleau weather on almost any Christmas Eve in its history.




Before I go any further with King Wenceslas and his Chapleau connection as revealed in the popular carol 'Good King Wenceslas', I have only recently discovered that he was not really a king, but the Duke of Bohemia, and he was looking out on the Feast of St Stephen, the day after Christmas. To me it doesn't really matter as the carol brings back fond memories and delivers a message that applies any time.


Some readers will recall that my mother Muriel E. (Hunt) Morris directed many concerts and musicals during the 32 years that she taught at Chapleau Public School, and she was also the choir director at St. John's Anglican Church for years. Music was an important part of our home, and that's how I became acquainted with King Wenceslas as a boy. Mom would sing at home.

It became the carol that to me applied most to Chapleau weather at Christmas time. Looking outside before leaving for Christmas Eve service, "the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even. Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel..."

As we headed to St. John's, I would hum the carol and think to myself that all that needed to be added was the smoke going straight up into the skies, the temperature hovering at Fifty degrees below Fahrenheit and the music and wonderful display at Dr. G.E. Young's office building.

The lyrics were published in 1853 by the English hymn writer John Mason Neale.

Now, the carol addresses a subject that I never thought about much as a child growing up in Chapleau. I had my family, friends and a community where people cared about and helped each other in times of need.

Even though there were times when I missed my father James E Morris who was killed while on active service in the RCAF in World War II, I had my mother, my grandparents George and Edith Hunt and Harry and Lil Morris as well as my aunt and uncle, Elsie (Hunt) and B.W. 'Bubs" Zufelt and my cousins, and my aunt Marion (Morris) Kennedy.

But as the King walks with his page, "a poor man came in sight, Gathering winter fuel." The page tells him that this man lives "underneath the mountain."

On Christmas Eve in Chapleau those many years ago, as we greeted people on the street who were going to or coming from their respective churches, I never really thought about those who may be homeless and without food--- living underneath the mountain, so to speak.

The good King took immediate action though telling his page to gather food and wine and pine logs that they would take to the peasant and see him dine, "through the rude wind's wild lament, And the bitter weather."

The page was ready to give up as the night grew darker and wind blew stronger, but the King encouraged him and they made it to their destination.

As I reflected on "Good King Wenceslas" it struck me that one of the most incredible moments when I lived in Chapleau was a telethon broadcast over Dr. Young's cable TV system in the early 1980s to raise funds for those in need, and over $20,000 was raised during the show. I was cohosting the telethon with other local "personalities" , sponsored by the Chapleau Rotary Club, and as the donations poured in, I became more and more amazed at the outpouring of support.

As many of you know, especially my former students, I love metaphor and have been collecting them all my life. I hope I have not mixed them too badly as I have talked about the Good King Wenceslas connection to Chapleau.

At this Christmas time, I extend my very best wishes to my family and friends who have shared moments of their lives with me during the past year. Thank you so much and Merry Christmas.

My thoughts also turn to all the good people of Chapleau, past and present, and I leave all of you wherever you may be with the last words from 'Good King Wenceslas',

"Therefore ... be sure, Wealth or rank possessing, Ye who now will bless the poor, Shall yourselves find blessing."

Merry Christmas! my email is mj.morris@live.ca


GOOD KING WENCESLAS LYRICS

Good King Wenceslas looked out


On the feast of Stephen

When the snow lay round about

Deep and crisp and even

Brightly shone the moon that night

Though the frost was cruel

When a poor man came in sight

Gath'ring winter fuel



"Hither, page, and stand by me

If thou know'st it, telling

Yonder peasant, who is he?

Where and what his dwelling?"

"Sire, he lives a good league hence

Underneath the mountain

Right against the forest fence

By Saint Agnes' fountain."



"Bring me flesh and bring me wine

Bring me pine logs hither

Thou and I will see him dine

When we bear him thither."

Page and monarch forth they went

Forth they went together

Through the rude wind's wild lament

And the bitter weather



"Sire, the night is darker now

And the wind blows stronger

Fails my heart, I know not how,

I can go no longer."

"Mark my footsteps, my good page

Tread thou in them boldly

Thou shalt find the winter's rage

Freeze thy blood less coldly."



In his master's steps he trod

Where the snow lay dinted

Heat was in the very sod

Which the Saint had printed

Therefore, Christian men, be sure

Wealth or rank possessing

Ye who now will bless the poor

Shall yourselves find blessing

Michael reflects on Grey Street to Elgin Street as connecting link on first anniversary of Chapleau Moments with personal thoughts of home

NOTE: The following appears in the July 17 edition of the Chapleau Express. My thanks is extended to all those who have contacted me about my blog too.
A year ago when I accepted Mario Lafreniere's invitation to write a column for the Chapleau Express, I wondered if I would be able to come up with enough material for a month's worth of Chapleau Moments.

Since starting Chapleau Moments a year ago this week, I have often reminded myself of the words that Dr. J.B. McClinton shared with me in a Timmins restaurant shortly after my arrival there to begin my career as a daily newspaper reporter with The Daily Press in 1964. I was having coffee with Dr. McClinton, a great promoter of Northern Ontario and Highway 101 connection between Chapleau and Timmins, and he said, "So, you want to be a reporter.

"Look around you. There are stories everywhere. If you never left this restaurant for rhe rest of your life, you would never be able to write all the stories that happened in this place."

Well, "let me tell you" as my good friend Dr. G.E. Young would say when he started a story, if I continued to write for another 46 years, I would never be able to share all the stories about the people and moments that are part of Chapleau's history.

Let me first thank Mario for providing me with the opportunity to share some Chapleau moments with you -- the stories of the incredible people who have called Chapleau home -- those who still live there, those who now live somewhere else, and those who are no longer with us but left their mark on the life of the community since 1885, and before.

Let me thank all those who have contacted me during the past year with comments, story ideas and their recollections of the life and times of Chapleau. Maybe that's been the best part of the experience, reconnecting with so many of you over the past year and bringing back such wonderful memories of home.

And yes, I've discovered beyond any doubt that Chapleau is still considered home to those who have lived there, even if like me, they have been gone for many years. It has also been great to open emails from folks I do not know to read about their connection to Chapleau.

Of course, I am not really "from" Chapleau, having been born in Hamilton, Ontario, where my father, James E. Morris, who was born in Chapleau, was a flying instructor at the Elementary Flying Training School at Mount Hope, part of the Commonwealth Air Training Plan in World War II. He had joined the RCAF in 1940 but took leave to be a flying instructor, at the EFTS. My mother, Muriel E. (Hunt) Morris was born in Glasgow, Scotland and came to Chapleau with her parents just before World War I.

When my father went back into the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1942, we returned to Chapleau to stay with family while he was overseas on active service during World War II. We stayed after he was killed while on active service on July 16, 1943-- 67 years ago this week.

Many readers will recall my mother who taught at Chapleau Public School for 32 years, and let me say thanks to all those who have kindly remembered her in messages to me during the past year. While at the public school she directed annual concerts including Gilbert and Sullivan's musical 'HMS Pinafore'. Billy Kemp, Charlie Byce and Gordon Bolduc all had leading roles in this production, while Joan Kemp was the pianist.

Mom was also very active in St. John's Anglican Church where she was choir director. However, one of the great moments in her church life was undoubtedly in 1935 at a service marking the 50th anniversary of the parish. As one of the soloists she sang 'Now the Day is Over.' Her father, my grandfather, George Hunt was the choir director while the organist was Miss Nettie Herner, who later married Arthur Grout. My grandmother, Edith Hunt, along with Mrs. P.J. Collins were joint conveners of the banquet. In 1974, Mom married Ernie, the son of Mr. and Mrs. P.J. Collins.

My parents were married in St. John's Church in 1940. Mom died in 1989.

(Saying from Desmond Tutu, retired Archbishop of South Africa: "Ubuntu is an African word meaning 'I am who I am because of all who have contributed to my being'. I walk because someone held my hand as I was learning. I laugh because my mother laughed. Her laughter was carried from her mother, and hers. It is kept alive by family and friends. Losing our loved ones opens the way to compassion for others, and connects us all soul to soul.")

In my first Chapleau Moments column, I shared my tricycle ride from our home on Grey Street, uptown and across the old overhead bridge, to visit my grandparents, Lil (Mulligan) and Harry Morris on Elgin Street. It just struck me that trips from Grey Street to Elgin Street were actually started by my parents when they were dating in the 1930s -- a connecting link for us to both sides of early Chapleau. As I have noted previously my grandmother was a member of the Mulligan family who came to Chapleau in 1885.

This time let me tell you a bit about my father and some of his friends, and moments they shared growing up in Chapleau. Born in 1914 in Chapleau, he attended Chapleau Public School and Chapleau High School graduating from Grade 13 in 1933, and yes, one of his teachers was John 'Mac' McClellan. In fact, Mr. McClellan coached the juvenile hockey team he played on with Gordon McKnight, Don Robinson, Eric Young, Walter Moore, Bobby Perpete, B. McAdam, Joe Crichton and Romeo Levesque.

He also rose to the rank of Cadet Captain in the Number 1181 CHS Cadet Corps directed by Mr. McClellan.

In his application to the RCAF, he noted that he was involved in all school and local athletics, including track and field where along with Claude Turner and Ken Godfrey they won marathon relay races at Schreiber and Fort William in 1931, 1932 and 1933. In those years Chapleau had very active track and field club with a five mile race held in conjunction with July 1 celebrations.

After the war, the James E. Morris Memorial Trophy was established and it was won by Greg Lucas so many times that it was finally given to him. In the 1970s, the five mile race was revived and Greg would present the trophy to the winner.

Tennis was also popular and I learned to play from some of my father's friends including Greg, Eric Young and Charlie McKee, as well as Rev. Frank Leigh who would have been a bit older. We played on the St. John's Tennis court and, those guys could really whack a ball, and won some northern Ontario titles in their prime.

After graduating from high school, my father became assistant secretary at the Chapleau Railway YMCA for three years. The YMCA on Lorne Street was a beehive of activity in those years with rooms, a restaurant, sports activities and a bowling alley downstairs. As an aside the most famous bowler in my memory was Mrs. Mabel Young, Dr. Young's mother. Dr. Young was also one of my father's good friends. Mr. 'Pop' Depew was the secretary as the manager was called.

Of course, growing up in Chapleau meant skating in the "old" arena on Lorne Street as well as playing hockey on outdoor rinks including on the river by the present beach, skiing, hiking and camping and swimming.

Two of my father's good friends who shared memories of growing up with him, which I really appreciated were Clyde Fife and F.A. 'Nick' Card.

When I turned 16, and went to get my driver's license, Clyde was the examiner and when I arrived, and knocked on his door, he said, "I was expecting you today. I was there when you were born." And he was. Clyde had enlisted in the RCAF and at the time was stationed in Toronto. So, on the day I got my driver's license, Clyde told me stories, and finally asked, "How did you get here?" to which I replied, "I drove" . Clyde replied that seeing as how I had driven to his home near the old power plant, I could drive home and he approved my license. Clyde is the father of Robert Fife, now the Ottawa bureau chief of CTV News.

Nick, who served as reeve of Chapleau and also as a councillor grew up on Elgin Street almost next door to my Dad. In fact, until Walter Paradis built his home there, a vacant lot separated their houses. I don't know if it is still visible today, but almost across from their homes was a big rock on which they painted, "Kilgore was here."

My father's love of flying started at an early age when he would go down to the Chapleau waterfront and hang out with the early bush pilots who would fly in to Chapleau in the 1930s. An article in the Toronto Telegram after he was killed noted that he was involved with early bush pilots. In applying to the RCAF he wrote that he had acquired knowledge in "part time employment" around aircraft. According to my grandfather, he really was learning to fly planes, thinking that his mother did not know. She did. Mothers always know.

In 1936 he joined the Canadian Pacific Railway department of investigation and in 1939 was part of the security team for the Royal Visit of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth. He received his private pilot's license at the Fort William Flying Club in 1937.

In sharing a bit about my parents with you, I do so with a great sense of gratitude to them for making the decision to have my mother and I return to Chapleau while my father went overseas. Despite the tragic loss of him when I was so young, I was able to grow up close to my wonderful grandparents - George and Edith Hunt and Harry and Lil Morris - and among the greatest people I have ever known, the good people of Chapleau. Thank you for being the people you are. My email is mj.morris@live.ca

NO GREATER LOVE THAN THIS

"Greater love hath no man than this,
That a man lay down his life for his friends." John 12:13 (KJV)


Jim Scanland, my good friend and "one of the angels" of Christ Church Anglican here in Cranbrook. B.C., announced that on May 8 Victory in Europe Day (V-E Day or VE Day) will mark the 65th anniversary of the end of World War II in Europe.

On May 8, 1945, the World War II Allies formally accepted the unconditional surrender of the armed forces of Nazi Germany and the end of Adolf Hitler's Third Reich.

Jim, who served in the Royal Canadian Army in World War II, and was at D-Day in June 1944, has been active in Christ Church for many years serving for a time as lay minister. His wife Mary has also been a staunch member of the parish. They were among the first to welcome me to Cranbrook over 20 years ago.

At 87, Jim is still active in the Royal Canadian Legion, and plans to attend a service at the local cenotaph on May 8.

Rev. Yme Woensdregt, incumbent of Christ Church, said that on a recent visit to the parish, the Bishop referred to Jim as "one of the angels of Christ Church." He really is!

As regular readers will know, my father Flying Officer James E. Morris was killed along with four members of his flight crew while on active service in the RCAF on July 16, 1943.

My cousin Judith (Hunt) Botham recently sent me a most appreciated email telling me about a visit she made to the graves of my father and his flight crew. They are buried in Ripon Cemetery, Yorkshire, England.

Judith wrote that she and her husband Alan had just spent "a fabulous (warm, sunny!) weekend bird watching in Cumbria and the south of Scotland and decided to take a route home which brought us pretty close to Ripon so we took a detour to see if we could find your father’s grave.

"The tourist information chap was very helpful so after a visit to the incredibly beautiful cathedral, crypt 672 AD, main building about 1220 AD. (I’m sure your father would have visited during his time here) we set off to find the cemetery.

"It is good to be able to tell you that the cemetery, which is the city cemetery with a special small section for service men, is incredibly well kept and cared for.

"We found your father’s memorial stone straight away as it is the first in the war memorial section alongside 19 other Royal Canadian Air Force crew, plus service men from other forces.

"We think that the first row of grave stones is most probably his full flight crew as all 5 air men died on 16th July 1943.

"So very sad to see how young they all were.

Judith provided information from the gravestones and I have added some further details. My father was 28 years old while J W. Campbell from Yorkton, Saskatchewan was 25; G.B. Nesbitt from Shoal Lake, Manitoba, a graduate of the University of Manitoba was 26; V. F. Rector from Pickardville, Alberta was 23; and no further information on T. M. Kearns.

Judith added: "We found it an incredibly moving experience, how brave they all were to give up their lives fighting so very away from home. It brought it home to us just how hard it must have been for your mother left with a little one to care for and not even able to say goodbye properly."

My mother, Muriel E. (Hunt) Morris, died in 1989.

Thank you so much Judith and Alan for taking the time to visit Ripon Cemetery. Thank you so much Jim Scanland for your service to your community, your country and your church.

As I wrote this piece, it struck me as Judith mentioned how young those who served in World War II were, and of course it continues to this day. And remember they came from all over this great country to serve -- members of my father's crew alone came from Ontario, Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta. Jim Scanland is from British Columbia but was a member of the Fort Garry Armoured Horse Regiment, based in Manitoba.

Judith noted that the inscription on my father's tombstone is:
"Greater love hath no man than this,
That a man lay down his life for his friends."

So true.

And when we pause to reflect on VE Day on May 8, let us remember that "They shall grow not old...."

"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old"

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

from "For the Fallen" by Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

James E. Morris

On July 16, 1943, a Wellington bomber took off from an air force base in England. It was to be a short test flight around the airfield only.

The last entry in the pilot's log book written later by the squadron's wing commander was, "Aircraft exploded in air."

The usual telegram was sent by the war office, expressing regret that Flying Officer James E. Morris was killed while on active service in the Royal Canadian Air Force, July 16,1943. Similar messages would have been sent to the families of my father's crew who were on the flight with him.

The messages of condolences from the King and Queen, the government of Canada and others would come later, full of words like "a grateful nation," "supreme sacrifice," "for King and country."

Although I didn't know it at the time, July 16, 1943, was destined to be the most significant turning point in my life, and I wasn't even two years old when my father's plane exploded in air and crashed over the English countryside during World War II.

Muriel and Jim Morris

In fact, that date had a profound effect on my entire family. Nobody was ever quite the same again. Of course, in 1943, I wasn't really aware of what life was like for my mother, Muriel E. (Hunt) Morris, my grandparents Harry and Lil Morris and George and Edith Hunt, my father's sister Marion, and the close relationship they all had. When my father was killed we were in Chapleau living with Mom's sister Elsie and her husband B.W. Zufelt and their children. Part of the time we would be at my grandparents.

My grandmother Hunt was in England at the time working as a war nurse and my father had visited her the weekend before he was killed. She attended his funeral and burial in Ripon Cemetery, Yorkshire, England. Grandpa Hunt was with us in Chapleau.

My father, like so many who joined Canada's armed forces during World War II was an ordinary Canadian from a small town, in his case, Chapleau, Ontario where he was born and raised, called upon to perform the exceptional. There was absolutely no doubt in their minds whatsoever that it was the right thing for them to do.

After his death, The Evening Telegram of Toronto reported that my father took to flying in his early teens and became associated with several of Canada's early bush pilots who were operating in the Chapleau area. Actually he was going down to the waterfront and getting rides and learning to fly planes, thinking that my grandmother didn't know what was going on. But she did. Mothers always know!  He earned his first pilot's license at the Fort William Flying Club.

In 1940 my father enlisted in the RCAF at Moncton, New Brunswick. He became a flying instructor and was posted to No. 10 Elementary Flying Training School at Mount Hope. He was among the first instructors in the Commonwealth Air Training Plan. In 1942 he went overseas.

Flying Officer Jim Morris in England

My mother who likely never missed a Remembrance Day service in Chapleau, once told me that "Every day is remembrance day."

 I received an email from Stephen Hayter, executive director, of the Commonwealth Air Training Plan Museum in Brandon, Manitoba. Mr. Hayter wrote in part:
"The Commonwealth Air Training Plan Museum would be honoured to welcome your father's RCAF material into our collection.
"It is your father's story that we wish to preserve for future generations. I am so glad that you discovered us...
"Your father's name is also listed in our memorial book "They Shall Grow Not Old" which also states that he was part of #432 Leaside Squadron (Saevitir Ad Lucem), and that his Wellington aircraft #JA 119 crashed one and one half miles west of Malton, Yorkshire."  (http://www.airmuseum.ca/)

They shall grow not old, as we that are left have grown older. We will always remember them!

My email is mj.morris@live.ca
Please feel free to write me.