Recalling two of the earliest Catholic Schools

John Baxter of Keswick, Ontario has contributed this profile of his family. The Smythe's were once valued residents of our Valley and his Great-Grandfather also had a leadership role in another 'Lost' community - the Irish immigrant enclave that toiled for several decades at Spurr's Cove in Fairville.

John wrote "Reading this Blog has reminded me of my days in Saint John's North End, particularly time spent in the area of the valley now “lost'”. More curious than those resurrected memories however, became the discovery that I had ancestors who lived in the valley some 100 years before me. My genealogical pursuits developed a new path when I realized that indeed there is a part of my family story buried in the forgotten places of the valley.
One very curious discovery was a street once called 'Military Road’. (now Magazine Street). Oddly enough, not once during my youth did it occur to me that 'Magazine' had a military connotation. My grandmother Minnie Smythe, lived on Military Road during the 1880's. I learned that her father was then Principal of St. Peter's Boys School, a fact that was already forgotten by the time I attended St. Pete's nearly a century later. It seems to me a colossal loss of collective memory and a failure not to have passed on such relevant history to succeeding generations.

Minnie’s father was teacher/principal Bernard B. Smythe. I am in fact a fifth generation descendant of an Irish Catholic immigrant baptized with the name Bernard. Our first 'Bernard' set sail from Newry, Northern Ireland circa 1844, settling in Saint John with his wife Sarah, along with their toddlers Mary and Bernard Bartholomew. Not surprisingly the latter went by the much abbreviated moniker of “BB”. He was raised on the West Side in Fairville. The neighborhood was called “Spurr’s Cove,” and also known as “Union Point”. Though his father worked in a sawmill, he apparently put enough by for his son's education.

“BB” became the teacher at the Catholic School, located at Spurr’s Cove in Fairville. It appears from a street plan in the 1875 Atlas of Saint John County, that the B. Smythe ("Smith") family property was adjacent to Union Point School. BB rose to leadership in that predominantly Irish Catholic community and was elected, though barely twenty years of age, vice president of the Catholic Total Abstinence Society. It may well have been his youthful fervor to serve that inspired him to move his young family of two daughters to Portland, where in 1880 Catholic teachers were in short supply. Following the proclamation of the New Brunswick School Act, the Irish Christian Brothers gave up teaching in two Saint John schools and the Portland school in 1877. This might well explain the trek BB and his wife Kate, (Monohan) made to a new home on Military Road, at the foot of the rocky slope behind Fort Howe.

It is sad and unfortunate that scant records have been compiled on the history of St. Peter’s School. I had little information beyond the bare facts of BB's ten years at what quickly became the epicenter of Catholic education in Saint John's North End. He was principal of the original Boy's School and taught grades 7 and 8. (It would be a marvelous undertaking for someone to research a detailed history of the school and its teachers). During their ten or more years on Military Road, "BB's" wife Kate gave birth to five more girls.

Eventually, BB left his teaching career to become a Customs Inland Revenue employee and moved his family across town to Sydney Street. Ironically their eldest daughter there met Thomas Louis Baxter, son of a liquor dealer and mariner! How well did that sit with BB?! The Baxter’s were across Queen Square on Harding Street. Temperance leader BB passed away at the young age of 57 (in 1901) and not long after that Mary Elizabeth Smythe wed Tom Baxter at St. John the Baptist Church. Bernard's beloved name was bestowed upon the Baxter’s youngest child, Bernard John in 1915. Forty-one years later I was baptized with the identical name.

Widowed, Kate Smythe returned to the valley and lived for several years at 44 Paradise Row. Two of BB and Kate's daughters caught the eyes of young men in the valley. Regina married Thomas Morgan whose family had a dry goods store on Main Street. Mary Lauretto espoused Harry Kinsella, son of Paradise Row marble cutter, Augustine Kinsella. The Kinsellas lived at No.165. Their business was at 210-212 Paradise Row. Fifty years later I lived at No.137 which is the house pictured earlier in this blog. My dad worked not far from that house. He was a clerk and supervisor at the Canadian Pacific Express freight shed on Mill Street. It was a busy spot, trucks (with the CP beaver emblem), unloading boxcars at ramps and the CP office populated by men working away at old Underwood typewriters, filing their shipping documents. It seems like I can still smell the mix of tobacco smoke, paper and wooden floors that were dad's office environment. The Express office was relocated to South Bay in the late 1960's.

As the valley population disappeared, so too has the Smythe family. Fully half of the Smythe girls moved to 'The Boston States'; four died unmarried at young ages. My grandmother was the only Smythe to remain in Saint John, until her death at the family home, 17 Harding St., at the age of 54. Sketching this wee portrait has deepened my awareness of my Smythe ancestors, a project which I attribute to the enthusiasm Ron Jack has poured into The Lost Valley blog." - B. John Baxter

Minnie Smythe is in her 20's in this portrait made by the Climo Studio. Her father was Principal of St. Peter's Boys School through the 1880s.
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Because Spurr's Cove will be unknown to most readers, we have provided a map. It is now Lee Cove. John's ancestor was participant in one of the most divisive issues in the history of New Brunswick, the battle over separate schools. It's an amazing situation that a subject which once generated intense anger in Saint John, the question of who had the right to decide the education of children, is never resurrected save by students in graduate school. Too much of our collective memory, as John notes, has been lost.

Catholics fought tenaciously in the 1870s for the right to educate their children in their own way, but it would be many years before a sufficient number of trained teachers were available. Outmigration of teachers was a constant problem. In the case of the Union Point School located at Spurr’s Cove, in one year a bright fifteen year old Catholic girl was appointed Principal. Her talents and popularity were such that she was soon invited to teach at St. Malachy’s in Saint John. But there was also a Protestant school in Fairville, near the old train station. In 1878 Daniel McGinnis was invited down from Blissville to take charge of it. He lasted nearly five years by putting up with who knows what, because of his need to support his family. Then in April of 1883 he was ousted for the crime of being a Catholic.

The outrage of one editorial writer is left to us : “The Trustees for District No. 2, Lancaster at a meeting held April 29th passed a resolution dismissing Daniel O'Connell McGINNIS, School Teacher, for the reason that he was a Roman Catholic. It is it hoped that such bigots as themselves be removed from an office by such action they disgrace.” In 1883 Bernard Smythe was no longer in Fairville and was keeping busy as Principal of St. Peter’s Boys School in Portland.

Jack Humphrey painting of the Portland Valley resurfaces after 75 years

A lovely watercolour painting of the Lost Valley has resurfaced in Toronto after more than 75 years and is now on display in a Saint John art gallery. The painting is one of a series painted by Jack Humphrey during the Great Depression and in this picture he depicted a corner of the Portland Valley as it appeared to him from Fort Howe. The painting was framed back-to-back with an untitled Winter Scene which may well depict a street down in the Valley. The "double watercolour" is now on consignment with a Saint John art dealer who is exposing it to the local trade. Jack Humphrey pictures of equal quality usually fetch from $1200 to $1600 so it may be assumed that this pair could realize in excess of $4000.

Humphrey's wonderful painting depicts the green shouldered valley choked by a motley aggregation of mismatched, angular tenement buildings done in a style he would later describe as "semi-abstract paraphrases" which meant to him "a true enlargement of experience". His rapidly executed sketch is certainly abstract, with no attempt to register clutter such as chimneys, utility poles or drying laundry. It is a fine example of his abiding fascination with the juxtaposition of ancient rock surfaces and crowded patterns of living space his native city. This flash image is distorted by camera angle and the glare of artificial light on glass. The water colour is actually in pristine condition, having been hung facing a wall for many years. The suspension wire is evidence that this Lost Valley picture was subordinate to a Winter Scene which the owner preferred.

A more recent photo of the painting taken by the Saint John gallery. A restless but gay scrum of Victorian tenements and nary a wisp of chimney smoke from the cooking stoves.

This bold Winter Scene may well have been painted in the Valley, although any attempt to pin down location would be an exercise in futility. The mixed street scape of grey tenements chock-a-block with red brick town houses, and the reminder of gritty industry lurking moodily in the background. It is a familiar composition for Saint John of that era.

By way of comparison this sketch, VIEW NEAR FORT HOWE, made in the early 1930s, also emphasizes the chaos of angles and surfaces. It adds just enough reportorial detail that we might now use it to illustrate the era of the Hungry Thirties in Saint John history.

Jack Weldon Humphrey was born in Saint John on January 12, 1901. The son of a boot and show wholesaler, he early developed a keen love for his native city and had a burning desire to record a compelling landscape he understood was unique but also vulnerable to great change. He was particularly fond of the old Portland-Saint John valley and painted its length and breadth. He knew every rock outcropping and cinder surfaced alleyway firsthand, perhaps as well as the schoolboys who often scrambled up the valley walls to investigate the artist at his work.

During the 1930s Humphrey established his reputation in a series of works which interpreted the urbanized valley and the rotting infrastructure of the old waterfront. Some of his first sales were to Canada's National Collection. His portraits of the local poor whose eyes mirror the uncertainty of the Great Depression, are particularly important to the visual record of the city. The artist lived on Orange Street and kept a studio on Prince William, but in the late 1950s he bought the century old house at 10 Spruce Street and in so doing joined the many thousands living in what we now cherish as our Lost Valley.

New Brunswick History for the Schools - a century of textbooks

Regular readers will note that my blog articles are often rather personal. And why not ? If I wasn't proud of my Saint John origin, I wouldn't be making such a fuss about the Valley and it's lost heritage. In my previous blog I mentioned my studies at U.N.B., but it was not at university that history first fired my imagination. The genesis of an infatuation with provincial history lies deep in my boyhood and I am fortunate to actually recall the spark which ignited my life-interest in Saint John history. For some of us, schooling did make a difference. I have always understood that it was my red covered Grade 5 history textbook which served as my earliest roadmap for discovery and which nurtured my sense of place. A valued copy was packed with my possessions when I moved to B.C. in 1981.

The first provincial history text used in New Brunswick schools, written by G.U. Hay, D.Sc. It was published by W.J. Gage & Co. of Toronto in 1903.

Unless I'm mistaken, there were three separate provincial history texts adopted for use in New Brunswick schools during the Twentieth Century. Our people have always stubbornly guarded their privileged position in the first rank of Canadian achievement, and early on leaders decided that our students needed a bulwark against the cultural hegemony fostered by Confederation with brash inland rivals. A school book extolling provincial achievement was just the ticket.

The first was A HISTORY OF NEW BRUNSWICK by George Upham Hay, and it was the inspirational text of my grandfather's generation. I'm quite attached to my copy because it bears the rubber stamp of the old St. Peter's Boys' School, which once stood on Military Road behind Fort Howe. My grandfather, Harold Brown, attended in the 1920s, before the advent of Holy Trinity, and I attended in the 1970s, by which time St. Peter's had become co-educational. Hay's book ran to 176 pages and it is arranged in twenty two chapters. I note that he covers the topic of "sectarian religious instruction" and the fact that "arrangements" had to be made to allow Catholic children to "receive religious instruction by their own teachers in the school-rooms after hours." (Religious distinctions, ie. funding, were still very much alive in the 1970s, and I well recall having a private meeting with School Superintendent Travis Cushing, in order to negotiate my way into Saint John High School.) Prof. Hay was well established in scientific and literary circles and it shows. His concluding chapter describes locally prominent poets, historians and scientists as well as a few heroes of the South African War. Today I discovered that the 1903 textbook has been scanned and you can read it online.

This textbook, OUR NEW BRUNSWICK STORY, has many supporters who claim it was the "best" N.B. history text ever placed on the curriculum. It was written by Jessie Lawson and Jean Sweet and produced by the Canada Publishing Co., Toronto, in 1948.

Hay's slim book soldiered on for forty five years, unchallenged. It took the enterprising writing team of Lawson & Sweet to boldly sweep it off of school desks. The prolific duo from Saint John filled in the missing half century of event and progress, producing a 345 page provincial history entitled OUR NEW BRUNSWICK STORY. It was a treasury of fact and lore which teachers and students grew to love. After their book shipped to schools in 1948 they adapted and supplemented their material for a book to entertain Canadian readers, THIS IS NEW BRUNSWICK, which Ryerson published in 1951.

NEW BRUNSWICK: The Story of Our Province, was published by W.J. Gage Limited in 1965. It was used at the Grade 5 and Grade 6 level in school.

This is the little red textbook, written by George MacBeath, Ph.D and Dorothy Chamberlin, M.A., which truly excited my interest in local history. My family having fled from domestic calamity in the far distant Ottawa Valley, we sought refuge on home soil. Two of us attended the new Centennial School for one year, and for me it was Grade 5. Our family sheltered in a rotting flat on Main Street, waiting to pounce on one of the "comfortable" apartments in the Rifle Range controlled by the Saint John Housing Authority. We were struggling and life was pretty raw, but that book offered just the sort of distraction I needed to keep me out of trouble. I ate it whole, accepting the how we fit in and it why all the pieces made a whole. The joy of it was in trying also to discover the origins of my favorite bits. Today as I struggle for lebensraum, forced to share precious square footage with a massive library which thinks it's a member of the family, I do not begrudge the inch of pine board which supports that red reader.

I do not know anything of the current text used to instruct New Brunswick students on their provincial history. Still, given the high quality of textbook editing and printing today, I imagine the replacement text must also be something quite special. Those areas of the province which have French language schools are now receiving a new 160 page text, which chronicles Acadian history. It was co-authored by Maurice Basque, Acadian historian at the University of Moncton. The education minister approved the book, Histoire des Acadiens et des Acadiennes du Nouveau-Brunswick, in a ceremony held in July 2007.

N.B. Education Minister Kelly Lamrock accepts the new Acadian history text for use in French language elementary schools, July 2007.

Recently I acquired a charming little book which reminded me of those excellent green days of youthful discovery. It is DESTINATION SAINT JOHN by Kumari Campbell, one of twelve in an excellent series on Ports of North American produced for children by Lerner Publications of Minneapolis. The historical content is strong and detailed, using Elizabeth McGahan's book, The Port of Saint John: From Confederation to Nationalization 1867-1927 for historical reference. I don't have grandchildren yet, so I cannot enjoy sharing this gem with a young mind. I hope some of you have that privilege.

DESTINATION SAINT JOHN, offered by the Lerner Publications Company, Minneapolis, in 1998. It is one title in the "Port Cities of North America".

I suppose it's one thing to produce wonderful books for children, and quite another to get them them to read it them. The provincial education minister, Mr. Lamrock, now chairs Canada's national council of Ministers of Education, has just reported that illiteracy in New Brunswick is at a staggering 48%. As usual excuses are made and the cry goes up for more money. I thought the solution might be to require students to read more and try to keep their busy mouths closed. It would also help to make it illegal to show Hollywood movies in schools, and require teachers to get on their feet and instruct. That's a pipedream, I know.

The Gathered and the Scattered

My favorite leisure reading includes anything by John Steinbeck. He was the caring American whose accessible proletarian novels have long defended their beachhead on the fortified shores of Canadian high school curricula. If we have a Canadian equivalent, I have yet to make that discovery. Saint John has produced many creative writers, two centuries worth, but as yet no equivalent to Steinbeck. That is literature's loss, I think, because there has been more exotic human-material bred in my native city than was imortalized in the entire, glorious Steinbeck canon. I could never fathom the prejudices of Canadian writers. Why has the CANLIT crowd failed to exploit Saint John's potential as an incredibly versatile setting for historical novels? Why no comic tales on par with Steinbeck's CANNERY ROW, a novel in which the texture of the coastal community is as important to the story and the antics of its inhabitants?

My recounting of valley memories in this Blog does no not allow space for detailed biographical studies or of breezy stories - but have no doubt that our Lost Valley once hosted an extraordinary cast of characters. Distant voices often recall the heyday of the brawler, the bootlegger and the brothel, who also toiled to earn their daily bread, and I hope to describe a few of that generation. Steinbeck passed verdict on humanity in THE GRAPES OF WRATH- "There ain't no sin and there ain't no virtue. There's just stuff people do."

Steinbeck labeled the rise and decline of his fictional Cannery Row in Monterey, California as "the gathered and scattered," and I have always held that phrase as the most apt description of the social history of Saint John. I don't expect anyone to snatch up that title for a book anytime soon, because such a volume would have to be written. The thematic phrase would not be suitable for the scrapbook-type history which is common to many cities - the usual Friesen or the Arcadia template construction of landmark photos and postcard views. Our fascinating and productive ancestors deserve more tribute than that.

I was thinking today about Steinbeck's wonderful language and his essential humanity, while I was leafing through decades old copies of the journal ACADIENSIS which I brought to the West Coast in 1981. Then freshly graduated in History from U.N.B., I had been thoroughly exposed to the great transition decade, when proponents in history departments across Atlantic Canada abandoned the study of the dominant "national" history in favour of embracing regional themes. They shifted gears because they had to! Until the 1970s almost all of the writing had been of pre-Confederation Maritimes history, and the deficit was felt to be contributing to a wider socio-economic malaise.

In the Autumn 1978 ACADIENSIS, E.R. Forbes condemned the failure of "mainstream" (read academic) historians to write history which explored regional themes. This he marked a diservice to Maritimers' who were then engaged in an "obvious, and sometimes desperate, search for an historical perspective which would help them to understand their plight in a modern world." Those of us who now read the Telegraph Journal online, understand that Saint Johner's are still searching for any local-global perspective which offers some promise of a bright future.

My attention was drawn to an article by Alan Brookes, Out Migration from the Maritime Provinces, 1860-1900 (Spring 1976). Brookes was at the time doing valuable work, including the linking of 2,807 families who had out-migrated, by cross-indexing U.S. and Canadian census data. At the time I read and heavily annotated his article, Saint John was the center of my universe. I had no inkling that I might soon leave New Brunswick. I am now one of Steinbeck's "scattered".

Saint John Jewish Community disperses:

Sad news. The great scattering does continue. It was announced last month that the Jewish community in Saint John has sold its current place of worship - the Shaarei Zedek Synagogue and even its history museum. There are plans to level the property for uptown redevelopment. Since the city does not require the contents of the building I assume that the Jewish archives will be donated to the the P.A.N.B., as much of the effort to collect and catalog the scarce material was underwritten with public funds.

I have an article in the works which will describe the contribution of Jewish families to life and commerce in the Lost Valley. In the interests of accuracy I am taking my time, but I am already prepared to refute a bald statement recently penned by the curator of the Saint John Jewish Historical Museum. She alleged that there was once an "old Jewish Ghetto" in the North End. That was never the case and I cannot imagine why she would believe it.

The first Jewish synagogue "S" once perched on the valley wall, above the ICR Station. The current place of worship - the Shaarei Zedek Synagogue, has been sold and the land is to be assembled for a major project.

While a student at U.N.B. I had planned to specialize in Immigration History, and I then devoted my spare hours to researching a proposed book on the Atlantic Chinese. Brookes' work, and any comparable study of population mobility, guided my own study of chain migration. Immigration is still a professional interest and I suppose that fact goes some way toward explaining why this Blog exists. The deliberate postwar de-population of much of urban Saint John, through the Urban Renewal demolitions and other planning measures, is a worthy topic. Beyond that research I do also suffer the pangs of nostalgia. [For more on this, read my article "Flaneur" . It's in The Runagates Club, my other Blog.]

The Ahavith Achim Synagogue perched atop the south wall of the valley. On the north wall of the valley stood three churches - Holy Trinity, Zion Methodist and St. Paul's. The synagogue was dedicated in early 1899. It contained classrooms and a ritual bath.

This is a detail from a panorama image made in January 2008. The old red brick Carnegie Library (so essential to my needs in the 1970s) still survives, but the book stacks are gone. The Ahavith Achim Synagogue once occupied a lot approximately where that hideous blue structure now sits. The red Z marks where on the north valley wall, Zion Methodist Church once stood. Sabastien Benoit has posted this panorama photo on his FLICKR page.

Ground Zero - the North End and the Cold War

The type of air raid sirens installed in Saint John during the Cold War.
My earliest childhood memory is one of contagious fear. I have distinct recollections of listening to adults discuss an impending nuclear attack. Smile if you please, but in October of 1962 the Cuban Missile Crisis terrified people. It almost lead to a nuclear war and Saint John was known to be on the Soviet target list. In 1962 I was only four years old, but old enough to understand that the "big people" were scared. On Churchill Boulevard a few anxious families emerged from their homes after supper and gathered in small groups to share their thoughts. I have a permanent image of a large aircraft passing in the night sky. It had a rapt audience. Voices fell silent and anxious grey faces followed the twinkling navigation lights until the drone of aero engines was absorbed by distant hills. Someone blurted out news of a neighbors fear. "The McIntyre's took their mattresses to the basement. They're going to sleep in the basement!" I recall that nobody laughed at the gossip. I was too young for school but I know that North End kids were being given rudimentary instruction by their teachers on surviving the initial hydrogen bomb blast.

A Canadian warning poster of the Cold War period. There is no longer a civil defence program in Canada, and the sirens have been dismantled.

One of my favorite memories of childhood in the North End was the annual testing of the air raid siren. Wherever I happened to be, I would stop what I was doing and absorb the raw power of the rising wail. But it was the delicious descending tone, lasting a full minute, which always thrilled me.

The "On Guard, Canada!" Civil Defence Convoy heads down into the Valley in the Spring of 1953 . The WW2 anti-aircraft batteries were by then all dismantled. The ancient rock wall of Fort Howe looms in the distance. It offered the city no protection from the air burst of a Soviet atomic bomb.

Saint John had a well organized civil defence program during the Cold War; perhaps the best of any Canadian city of comparable size. It was organized largely by the tireless Lt. Col. E. M. Slader, a veteran of WW1 and later Chief of Police, who battled long and hard for the funding of civil defence projects. Some interest was generated in 1953 when ON GUARD, CANADA! , a national tour promoting civil defence, arrived in the city. [If any reader saw the exhibit, I would enjoy hearing from you.] The show was called a "convoy," adding a sense of urgency to its public education mission. It was eight trucks filled to bursting with exibits promoting awareness and the need for protective measures. Local schools were encouraged to bring students to view the trailer displays. Few knew, but that same year Col. Slader was tasked with preparing plans for the only feasible option to atomic attack- the evacuation of the city.

That evacuation provision, never supported by the City or the Province, was abandoned in 1959 and planning turned to effective rescue coordination. In one major exercise, which involved the skills of 1200 regular army troops, militiamen, police and civilian volunteers, simulated mass casualties were evacuated through the valley to secure positions in East Saint John. (I understand that an expose-type article was published not long ago in the local newspaper, which described "discovery" of defence planning for the Saint John Target Area at the height of the Cold War, but I haven't seen it. I am currently interested in the impact which Civil Defence preparations, and the acquired knowledge of C.D. leadership, would have on the welfare of families living in the Saint John Valley.)

Excellent examples of the great need for civil defence planning arose from the many fires which had plagued Valley residents for decades. One telling example was an inferno which destroyed five buildings on Main Street in October of 1950. The blaze, between Sheriff and Simonds Streets, put 150 people on the street, 78 of them children, and killed Fire Captain L.J. Hayward. Civil Defence Wardens immediately mobilized municipal and corporate resources, including buses and trucks. Within 24 hours Col. Slader had called a meeting of all Welfare Agencies in the City, with a finance committee chaired by Travis Cushing, the Civil Defence Welfare Officer. Their "Can do!" response to calamity in the North End, was the genesis of a dedicated nucleus of talent, of tasks willingly borne by men who knew each other well, and who accepted responsibility for protecting their neihghbors. A decade of joint civil-military preparedness followed, which not only served the city well but I would argue, set precedents for the planning of the truly massive displacement and resettling of Valley residents during Urban Renewal "campaign" of the 1960s.

The Eye of the Beholder 1814-1817

Four months ago I launched this Blog with a description of how the Lost Valley appeared almost 200 years ago. Saint John was then enjoying a greater trade with the U.S. and was poised on the threshold of the first of several economic surges which rapidly filled the valley with industry. Roads became streets and a small city was shaped - Portland, N.B. My first article, "In 1814 the Valley was Pristine" was intended to gently introduce a theme which I believe has been ignored by other historians. In Saint John, the creation of popular images, especially reproducible imagery such as engravings, photographs and ultimately picture postcards, had a profound impact on the popular imagination; the effect was to embed perceptions of place and purpose which local residents held about their community for generations.
The power of those images, coupled with the workaday challenges of besting a rugged landscape, have had an inordinate effect on development decisions over the years. Not much has changed. The City Fathers still keep a weather ear cocked for any itinerant commercial prophet who can guarantee just one more generation of profit to be squeezed from rock and tide. Hence the current fascination with exotica such as a Love Boat terminal and plans for condo towers to cluster on prime vantage points around the old harbour. What pretty new photographs they will make! Isaac Erb must be restless in his crypt.

Today I want to discuss the oldest views of the Valley, but in future I will discuss the work of a few Saint John commercial photographers who had a disproportionate influence on local thinking; perceptions which are now fossilized in the books written by popular historians over the last half century. The influence of popular images has always been strong, and they informed the views of the educated decision makers, those whose political decisions lead to the massive North End demolitions in the 1970s and accelerated the depopulation of the inner city. Rather than building a ring-road, they thrust an expressway through the heart of Saint John, and cut away every aging feature which did not conform to their aesthetic.

The earliest surviving renderings of the forseshore and the east-west valley which bordered the urbanized peninsula, are paintings or engravings in which artists frame the city in the centre of a composition, usually with Fort Howe on the left and a tree or cabin on the right. Later in the century, as economic development was shared with Carleton on the western side of the harbour, artists sought new vantage points and their pictorial compositions would offer quite different impressions of the port city.

All artists working in the colonies took their cues from London. Painters like J.B. Comingo, of Nova Scotia, were definately influenced by what they observed in the well illustrated travel books published in England, and on display in every fashionable home from Fredericton to Halifax. Engraved Canadian views bound into George Heriot's Travel's through the Canada's (1807) are a prime example, but the publishing phenomenon was only just starting. By the time William Henry Bartlett was on the scene, everything from childrens toys to porcelain dinner services were illustrated with tricked out images from British North America.
J.B. Comingo's 1814 painting is a faithful rendering of Saint John, but he surrendered to Georgian conventions of pictorial representation. Note the emphasis on foliage in the foreground and the carefully placed human figures - including both an aboriginal family and a couple of redcoats from the garrison. Comingo's composition was influenced by illustrations in travel books imported from England. Compare this to Stennett, who painted the city from the same vantage point. [N.B.M. - the Webster Canadiana Collection]

We do not have Ralph Stennett's original painting but we do have this copy by Charles Turner of London, engraved cira 1815. Turner engraved over 600 plates during his career and often added or removed detail. Here, everything in the foreground is likely his creation. Stennett showed us some evidence of the first wharves in Portland, with vessels alongside. The aboriginal family are mere set decoration, representing a vestige of the "wild" frontier. Church spires project above the horizon, which was given an odd curvature. [Library and Archives Canada/C-014143]

The foreshore sketched in January 1817 by John Elliott Woolford. A few new houses appear in the valley but Woolford's sketch removes the south valley wall, giving Fort Howe more prominence. We should not attribute the lack of figures to the cold weather. This was a raw pictorial record, and not an image for the market. The huge boulder pile may have been ancient burden dropped by the retreating ice of the Wisconsin glaciation, 10,000 years ago. (Farmers clearing fields don't pull huge rocks uphill.) Woolford also took the time to quickly sketch the harbour, from a position just to the north of the boulder pile. [Nova Scotia Museum of Cultural History]

John Elliott Woolford was an experienced draftsman who accompanied Lord Dalhousie on a tour of inspection of Nova Scotia from 1817-19. The Vice Regal party visited Saint John in the dead of winter, January 1817, and their steam powered side wheeler passed through the falls and on up the St. John River. Woolford was in a hurry and rode far enough west to get Fort Howe and the city in one view. Then he sketched, including all of the uninviting clutter in the foreground which any London engraver would have ignored. Of course many people today prefer the perfected image, to those which reveal aging, wear or failure. J.E. Woolford's complete body of work, including all of his sketches and a book of engravings produced in 1819, were repatriated to Canada just over twenty years ago. I was not aware of this picture when I wrote about Comingo's 1814 water colour of Saint John. Though I had seen the Turner engraving I knew nothing of Stennett who turns out to be somethiing of a runagate. Perhaps I was premature in declaring Comingo's canvas the earliest depiction of the valley. Sooner or later I will find the definitive answer.

As early as 1970 Elizabeth Collard was trailblazing the search in England for old books containing Canadian images, and writing about the joy of finding "an unregarded copy on a dusty bookshelf". Although Collard is gone, the hunt for lost art continues. We owe the discovery of Woolford's pictures to another intrepid sleuth. In 1985, under the provisions of the Cultural Property Import and Export Act, federal money was made available and the Woolford-Dalhousie collection was purchased and divided among four Canadian museums or archives. With any luck, additional views of the valley will turn up.

Another Uncle, another link to the Lost Valley

Yesterday, just as I was preparing to post my article on the Victoria Rink, I opened an email which let me know that another Saint John uncle had passed away. I want to enlarge upon my first thoughts, pulled from yesterday's blog...

"I begin on a personal note, reminded that the chorus of my cherished Saint John memories is falling silent, one voice at a time. Uncle Allen McGrath, died early this morning, after a short family vigil. Allan's wife Phyllis was a Valley girl whom I mentioned in an earlier Blog article. Her husband's second passion was country music, and he loved to perform Hank Snow and Johnny Cash. In my youth I was a beneficiary of those singing weekends because some of my earliest pocket money was earned babysitting while the McGrath's were out playing the Legion Halls and other clubs. My uncle enjoyed a crowd. Just a month ago my cousin Susan sent me a set of photos she took at the annual family Christmas party in Saint John. There was my uncle Allen, grinning like a bandit, crushing poor Santa's lap. Good for him! Requiescat in pace!"

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January 1962 - Allen McGrath at 19, employed as a driver by Willett Fruit Company on Paradise Row. It's been a long time since Willett trucks were on Saint John streets or anyone has worn the Willett uniform. I'm sorry to say we don't know who the pretty young lady was.

I received this photo early today from my cousin Susan (McGrath) Thornton. Her dad is to be buried on Friday from Brenan's Funeral Home on Paradise Row, and of course the whole family may be there as I write this. Over the years I have been away from Saint John I've thought about my uncle many, many times. He was actually from Chatham, N.B. but moved to Saint John early, looking for work. They were a hard luck family but the boys all seemed to make out. I recall one McGrath brother who worked for Ocean Steel and another who left the province in the 1960s and did a full tour in Vietnam with the 101st Airborne. He came back safe. My uncle Allen was a plumber but he held many other jobs over the years, including a stint at Saint John Drydock. I knew him best as a weekend musician.

What startled me about this photograph, take in January 1962, is that it is yet one more link to the Lost Valley. I don't know how my uncle came to find work at Willett Fruit Company Ltd., but I do know that the girl he married, Phyllis Brown, was raised in a house on Paradise Row, only a few hundred feet from where that photo was taken. Several of the Brown girls, including my mother, did seasonal work for the Willett's. Further, my uncle is today at rest in Brenan's Chapel, just across the street from where that photo was taken. I've mentioned in this blog that back in the 1950s, when still a schoolgirl, my Aunt Phyllis used to pop into Brenan's at this time of year to get warm. I cannot imagine the montage of images fixed in her thoughts today! I wish her strength.