Short Story: Gord’s Top Ten - "Canadian Railroad Trilogy"

Don’t Mess With the Navvies

Many years ago for Christmas my older son compiled some of my favourite songs on a CD. "Canadian Railroad Trilogy" by Gord Lightfoot starts it off, and because the CD is in my workshop and this is birdhouse-building season - one of a few - I listen to the song almost everyday. I never tire of it. After a ‘shed night’ (def.: when friends and I sip ‘Pepsis’ for an hour or two in my shop) I’ll listen to it, sometimes repeatedly, while I put chairs away and sweep peanuts out the door. 

Here are some of my favourite lines:

We are the navvies who work upon the railway
Swinging our hammers in the bright blazing sun
Living on stew and drinking bad whiskey
Bending our backs til the long days are done.

We are the navvies who work upon the railway
Swinging our hammers in the bright blazing sun
Laying down track and building the bridges
Bending our backs til the railroad is done. 

(Listen to the full 1967 version here)

In my mind it is a magnificent song from beginning to end. It takes me across Canada upon iron rails and a fine melody. And all along the way I see and hear and feel the work done by the navvies with their heavy, swingin’ hammers.

At wikipedia I read the following about the song:

The "Canadian Railroad Trilogy" is a song by Gordon Lightfoot that describes the building of the Canadian Pacific Railway. This song was commissioned by the CBC for a special broadcast on January 1, 1967, to start Canada's Centennial year... In the first section, the song picks up speed like a locomotive building up a head of steam.

While Lightfoot's song echoes the optimism of the railroad age, it also chronicles the cost in sweat and blood of building "an iron road runnin' from the sea to the sea." The slow middle section of the song is especially poignant, vividly describing the efforts and sorrows of the nameless and forgotten navvies whose manual labour actually built the railway. (Wikipedia)

 [“Canadian Prairies fly by, April 2012”: Photo by GH]

[“Sunset on the Prairies”: Photo by GH]

And who are the navvies? Here is what I know.

In my own experience I’ve only come across the word once in the many books I’ve read over the years, and I discovered it recently (thus the posts about it) in a book entitled ‘The Day We Went to War’.

I read the following:

Those in the civilian army of the Air Raid Precautions responsible for enforcing the blackout, especially air-raid wardens with their cry ‘Put that light out!’, soon became targets for the public’s pent-up fury and frustration (re frequent black-outs and other things)... e.g., A Bradford navvy was of the opinion that ‘Three quid a week’s too much for just playing cards and such-like for them buggers... And if they say  they’ve homes to keep and they’ve themselves to feed, I’d make them live in barracks.’ (pg. 334 - 335)

Well, there you go. Don’t mess with the navvies, eh, men who know hard work and the value of a quid.

More information isn’t hard to find. 

For example: 

A "navvy" depicted in Ford Madox Brown’s painting ‘Work Navvy’ is a shorter form of navigator (UK) or navigational engineer (USA) and is particularly applied to describe the manual labourers working on major civil engineering projects. The term was coined in the late 18th century in Britain when numerous canals were being built, which were also sometimes known as "navigations", or "eternal navigations", intended to last forever. (wikipedia)

[“We are the navvies... swingin’ our hammers”:

Canadian Encyclopedia]

As well, the Canadian Encyclopedia serves as another source of information about navvies: 

Almost every leading figure connected with the building of the CPR has been immortalized in a Canadian place-name... The top dogs had mountain peaks named for them or in the case of Cornelius Van Horne, a whole mountain range. But what about the men who actually built the railway? Where are their names recorded, except on tombstones along the way?

The railway navvies were a mixed lot. Charles Peyton who walked down one stretch of track looking for work saw a band of Italians at one spot and a team of Englishmen a few kilometers later. He met a scholar who could speak and write Greek, a surgeon from Montreal and a pastor from Chicago. Generally, though, Peyton found the men to be a rough lot with ill manners and disagreeable mouths. They were there for the $2.00 to $2.50 a day, which was good pay for the time. [The Canadian Encyclopedia]

And yesterday a friend dropped off - unbeknownst to him, in such a timely fashion - a copy of The Rocky Mountaineer Mile Post. I quickly learned that some navvies worked for half price and worked in extremely dangerous conditions, as can be seen in the last line of the highlighted paragraph.

["Many died from hard labour"]

The last line of Lightfoot’s song - "And many are the dead men too silent to be real" - pays tribute to the navvies, and, as of yet, I don’t know of another song that does.

"Canadian Railroad Trilogy" is in ‘Gord’s Top Ten’ for many reasons, and now you know some of them.

[Prairie sunset, seen aboard The Canadian (VIA train) GH]

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Perhaps you know of another song that mentions the navvies. Please let me know.  

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Canada’s Global Warming File PT 3: Thick rhetoric

Canada’s global warming file is thick on rhetoric.

A recent headline, built around words belonging to Peter Kent, Canada’s federal Conservative Environment Minister, proves as much.

[rhetoric n. impressive, but insincere, exaggerated]

“We’re halfway home,” says Mr. Kent. 

But where’s home? And would I want to live with him there?

Conservative Prime Minister S. Harper ripped up the Kyoto Protocol and replaced it with his own targets. Out went the stringent and the necessary. In came the weaker, the global warming brush off.

And though federal officials admit more must be done, and Kent says “the Harper government has been working hard,” very little action has actually been done by our government, thus paving the way for even less to be done in the future.

Though Canadians can give a nod to a few provincial governments, do many believe 'federal standards for fuel efficiency on light cars and trucks’ will lead us toward a sustainable future related to fuel, energy and resource use? 

[“I highly doubt it,” says an environment critic.]

Peter Kent’s words are nothing but rhetoric and hyperbole.

I have more faith in Clark Kent, bicycles, smaller meals and conservation of vital resources.

You?

[Photos by G.Harrison]

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Please click here to read Canada’s Global Warming File PT 2: Peter Kent vs Clark Kent

Link to Free Press article by D. Akins

“GO WEST, YOUNG MAN”: Chasing my dad Part 5

["The miles rolled by (south of Longlac)"]

The following notes are found in my journal for Day 3, i.e., Monday, April 23, 2012:

“This will be my second full day on the train and I think I have a routine. Shower @ 6 - 6:30 a.m.; fumble for clothes from tight storage areas (a lower berth may be worth the extra $); get to breakfast by 7:00 - 7:15; Chef’s Omelette - can’t go wrong, and coffee isn’t bad(!); pack up unnecessary items so porters can shift beds into window seats; read, write, relax, take a few photos, cookies and tea @ 10; lunch @ 11:30-ish (ain’t life grand!); easy kap-easy p.m., read, relax, have a beer @ 3 p.m., finish Sudoku, etc. ‘til supper at 5 p.m.... catch the drift?”

Well, did you catch the drift? My life on Via Rails ‘The Canadian’, which included ‘tens-ies’ and ‘threes-ies’ and roast beef at five, could not have been much more pleasant. Had a former Prime Minister of Canada dropped by at 11 p.m. to fluff my pillows I would not have been surprised.

Stymied momentarily, perhaps. How much does one tip a former PM for fluffing pillows?

Thoughts related to my dad drifted through my head on occasion. Perhaps it was because the chief purpose of the trip related to ‘chasing my dad’, i.e., making an effort to walk in some of his footprints, at least the ones he’d made while on Vancouver Island in 1944 and ’45.

In his naval memoirs he wrote, “Then I went to Givenchy III, known as Cowards Cove, at Comox on Vancouver Island. It was absolute heaven there. Just normal routine; I trained a few zombies on cutters, and played ball five or six times a week under a good coach.”

["Navy buddies Chuck and Doug played ball,

and occasionally drank Riverside dry"]

I was fully aware, of course, that I was heading toward Comox and Vancouver Island, and getting closer with every passing hour. As I scanned acre after acre of trees in Northern Ontario from the comfort of a leather seat, I hoped the Comox ball fields were still there, and wondered if a few old cutters still existed at Givenchy III or The Spit.

Dad also wrote, “At Givenchy III I passed professionally for my Leading Seaman rating and Acting Coxswain, classed very good.”

In one hand-written copy of this same line Dad had underlined ‘very good’, so I knew it had meant something to him to make progress, so to speak, up the chart. He had very pleasant memories of Givenchy III, and I wanted to have a few as well.

He shared the following story too: “We used to go to the Riverside Hotel in Courtenay and rent room number 14 because it had a window that opened into an alley just about hip high. Then we proceeded to drink Riverside dry, go to a dance and return to the room and find another dozen sailors who had come in the alley window. The room was crammed, and when we left on Sunday morning the manager’s head turned to and fro, like someone watching a ping pong game. He was utterly astounded but never called a halt because we were such nice guys.”

["The Riverside Hotel is at the top of the street,

third from photographer, fronted by trees"]

In my opinion, this is a great story. Dad’s memories are vivid, contain hints of his good sense of humour and reveal he was part of a pretty nice, friendly group of sailors. 

Prior to my trip I contacted a museum curator in Courtenay and I learned the Riverside Hotel burned down in 1968, so there would be no Room 14 to visit, no alley window for me to peek into in order to judge for myself how easy it would have been to steal a night’s sleep. However, I learned the dance hall was still just around the corner from where the hotel had been and I was planning to visit it and have a good look around.

No wonder then that thoughts related to my dad visited me throughout my days on The Canadian. And thoughts were inspired by views out the window as well.

In my own journal notes from Day 3 I also read the following:

"Quick Thots - 1000s of damaged, tilted, grounded (i.e., upon the ground) telephone poles captured my imagination, and would have captured Dad’s too."

[Dad collected telephone pole insulators. He would have had a field day!]

["Some poles carried more than 20 souvenirs... insulators"]

"10,000 insulators, clear, blue."

[That’s 10,000 per mile. In his younger years, Dad picked them up one or two at a time from the ditches around Norwich, his hometown.]

"$1 each for true Canadian souvenir. 'From the Prairies.' 'From Northern Ontario,' etc."

[$1 for an insulator. Not a bad deal. Another passenger, however, said the miles of unused copper wire would be worth more money. He was probably right. But I had eyes on something else.]

"Tonnes of old lumber in skids, fence slats, old sheds and houses. Why, we could make a fortune in birdhouses."

["There are a lot of birdhouses in that old lumber"]

Who is 'we'? Dad built hundreds of bluebird houses for the fields and fence rows around Norwich, and now I make dozens each year as well. I’ve been able to pick up most of my lumber from friends, the curbside and buyers who have a few spare boards in their garage. Driving to Northern Ontario for fence slats isn’t in my future, but I know 'we', i.e., Dad and I, would have had a good conversation or laugh about all the lumber going to waste beside the CN line he rode when he was a 24-year old. 

["One of Dad's birdhouses hangs in my workshop"]

The miles rolled by. I didn’t count them, or the insulators. (After reaching one million I gave up.)

I counted my blessings instead.

[Photos by G.Harrison]

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Please click here to read “GO WEST, YOUNG MAN”: Chasing my dad Part 4

Zoom w a View: “One of the greatest old general stores in Ontario”

This photo from Wawa, Ontario is going on five years old, and is from a motorcycle trip I took in August, 2007 to Thunder Bay.


The subject, one of the greatest old general stores in Ontario, is about 100 years old, I think. I’m only going by fuzzy recollections.

As well, I can’t recall it’s name. I know it’s not Robinson’s General Store, because I’m pretty sure that one is in Dorset, Ontario.

It might be Young’s General Store, situated just off the Trans-Can 17, as one enters Wawa.

Maybe you can help. Does the moose or old guy in the flannel shirt look familiar to you?

[Photo by G.Harrison]

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Please click here for more Zoom w a View.

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The Canadian dream is dust?: Initial thots about pensions

[Freedom 55... forget about it. Freedom 75 is now the norm, but only if you save 15 - 20 per cent of your monthly income “as if your house is on fire.” The Canadian Dream is dust. Jan. 30, G.Harrison]

I know how lucky I am. I retired at age 53 (Freedom 53 - who knew?) with almost a full, guaranteed pension after a stellar 32-year long teaching career.

[Definition: stellar, adj. - cool, brilliant, as in “he read to his students almost everyday and not once threw a rebellious child out an open door, or window even.]

I know nothing is actually guaranteed except death and taxes, as many people, for some reason, like to remind me. So, saying my pension is guaranteed, when it relies on the veracity of the economy and on-going good health of the stock markets, is really a bit of a stretch.

I also know not everyone is as lucky as me and I should shut up about my good fortune. Many have no pension now, or are not working toward one and have no guarantee of one - even a small one - in the future. No wonder discussions related to pensions raise the heat in the room for many people.


["I'm looking for ideas about pensions": 'Toon' by GH]

But they must be discussed because most Canadians will require some form of support after their working years. And few can organize their life as well as I can, i.e., to work part-time, as I do now, until my 87th birthday, dance at the party (I’ll do the fox-trot; easier on the knees), eat two big pieces of chocolate cake after opening gifts, and then pass away peacefully in the night with nothing but a smile and smidge of icing on my lips.

Many of us can agree that the number of Canadians requiring support will rise, e.g., perhaps double over the next 20 years, as more boomers reach retirement age. And we know that the number of workers in the workforce is declining (due in part to a weakening of the Canadian economy as good jobs go to cheaper labour markets), so the ratio of taxpayers to pensioners is declining. (Has the term ‘gray tsunami’ been taken? If not, I’m coining it here, and that’s what pension funds see over the horizon).

So, what can be done to support Canadians in their post-working life, their golden years (the ‘days of denim and T-shirts’ as I like to say), so that all our dreams don’t turn to dust?

Let’s throw some ideas out, like wet spaghetti against the wall, and see what sticks...

More to follow.

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Please click here for more about Canadian dust.

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