# 08. Henri Alain

Source: Printed pages 107-111 | Source scans 114-118

Narration note: This script is prepared for an Onward-style family audiobook. Dense genealogy tables, indexes, source lists, and personal-record forms are intentionally kept out of the audio lane and remain available in the website and PDFs.

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Recently I helped with the building of our new church, St. Dominic, in Hudson Bay. I served on the finance committee. The old building was too small and no longer met the needs of the people. The church contracted the services of Leson Construction. Still, much remained to be done so Smokey Alain and I contributed what we could to assist with the finishing. Lee Lessard also offered his help on occasion. Ray Leyshen was hired to do the painting. The church was blessed on June 8, 1984.

Alice is busy in her retirement years. She enjoys oil painting - especially landscapes - and handwork. She is often crocheting or knitting baby clothes either for my grandchildren or for hers. Alice had four children from her previous marriage to Wilbert C. Michie. "Wib", as he was known, died in 1970.

Alice is a charter member of the O.O.R.P. and was active in the Anglican Church as well as in other community organizations.

Together, Alice and I enjoy travelling to visit family and friends or simply to see the many parts of our country. We both enjoy fishing. We purchased a motorhome in 1979 and use it a good deal. When we are not travelling, we are home to family and friends on Prince Street in Hudson Bay.

JOE LESSARD

This is a brief biography of Joe Lessard and his families from approximately four to sixty-three years old, as told by himself in September 1986.

As I understand I was born in Meota, Saskatchewan, and at 15 months was hospitalized in North Battleford with pneumonia and, according to Mom, I wasn't expected to come home alive. During this period Dad and George, 9 years old, our oldest brother, had gone to our other farm for spring seeding and on the morning of April 30, 1924, the building they were living in accidentally caught fire and both were severely burnt. They were taken to the hospital in North Battleford where Dad died the next day, May 1, 1924, and George died on May 17, 1924. Later this same year, Therese was born on November 24, 1924.

A short time later we moved to Delmas, Saskatchewan, where Mom met and married Louis Strasser on August 13, 1927 and then in 1928 the family moved to Veillardville, Saskatchewan, where Mae was born on May 15, 1928. After a few years the relationship became strained and eventually they separated on February 20, 1934.

After thirty odd years of separation, they reunited around 1965/66 and lived in Headlake, Ontario, until Louis died at 70 years of age on September 27, 1970. Shortly after this, Mom came down to Brampton with us and then to St. Joseph's Villa in Dundas, Ontario, where she lived for fourteen years, passing away in her 89th year, on January 16, 1985. She had been born November 9, 1895. Joseph, her first husband, was born November 9, 1891 and died at 33 years old. Mom and Dad (Joseph) were married April 14, 1914.

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JOSEPH ROLAND DONALD LESSARD

Born February 12, 1923 in Meota, Saskatchewan.

Baptized February 18, 1923 by Rev. Pere A. Wafelle of St. Jean Baptist de La Salle Catholic Church in the parish of Delmas, Saskatchewan.

Godparents were Joseph Beaupri and Eva Lessard.

When I was four years old we moved from Delmas to Veillardville, Saskatchewan, where we lived for approximately ten years, leaving for Ontario and settling in Tillsonburg, in the fall of 1938, then on to Hamilton in about 1941 and going into the Army in late 1942. I then trans-ferred to the Navy in late 1944 and was discharged in late spring 1946 from Toronto, Ontario, naval base. Perhaps, before going on, I should reflect a little on the past.

Needless to say, at four, Delmas was rather limited in memorable experiences, but a few things that come to mind are: the two-storey white house which had a cistern, a danger area; Martin mixing up some sugar and dry cocoa and having me eat some and almost choking; and Gene breaking his leg and the resultant warnings of what can happen if you climb chairs.

For some reason the trip from Delmas to Hudson Bay is a complete blank, but I'm sure there would be some interesting happenings along the way.

Veillardville/Hudson Bay Junction, to me, that was our home and still think of it as such. Although, needless to say, Brampton was and still is very important to us, what with four of the five children born and still living there and having spent most of my working years there. Paul, our oldest, and his family have been in Winnipeg since 1983. But many thoughts come to mind, during the ten-year period around Veillardville where all my schooling took place.

We left for Ontario, I think, in April. If we had stayed until the end of June I might have passed out of Grade 5. I can still hear one of the better and later teachers (the one from Vonda, Saskatchewan) telling the whole one-room school, No. 4269, all ten or eleven grades, in a moment of exasperation, saying, "Your whole vocabulary consists of 'gee,' 'gosh' and 'darn'."

The area softball teams were The Merry Makers and The Outlaws. What still puzzles me is where did the time and daylight hours come from. They played sometimes three nights a week - Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings - no artificial lights in those days. After, some of them went to pick up the mail from the 11:00 p.m. train and some of the players and friends lived as far as two or three miles away and everybody walked.

Chores, for me, involved bringing in the wood, helping with the chores in a limited way and, one winter while Martin and I were cutting 8-foot pulp on the quarter, southeast of Mor-rison's quarter, I almost got killed. While Martin was limbing and cutting to length, I was skidding the 8-foot long pieces of pulp to a loading point and, at 10 or 11 years of age not being too experi-enced, I hooked the chain too far from the end and while being skidded and not being a very large piece, the front end hit a low stump and the back end came up and over and just clipped my heel. Had I been just a little further back I would have been not only shorter but likely 6 feet under.

A much more pleasant experience was when my sister Clara and her husband Louis invited Therese and me to spend some time with them in Flin Flon. To begin to understand and appreciate this experience, you have to cast your mind back to approximately 1935 or 1936. It had been just a few years before that the teacher at school, when hearing what she was quite sure was the noise of a plane, hurriedly cleared the school and told us to look up in the sky, for what to about 99% of us would be seeing a plane for the first time. And perhaps just a year or two before that, on a Saturday evening, our family went to Mr. Clar-ence Smith's place via sleigh and horses to listen to the radio for the first time and, of course, heard the Amos and Andy program. So yes, our trip to Flin Flon was very memorable. The warn-ings we had, to stay together and to be careful, soon became more meaningful as we boarded the train for our first time in the wee hours of the morning, with all the commotion of a busy trans-fer point, different types of people - lumber-jacks, trappers, Indians - people talking loudly, quietly, sleeping, snoring, smoking; the aisles full of feet, arms, legs and packsacks. The quiet commotion at what seemed to be bush stops, with a hectic commotion at La Pas, the worry of would someone be at the Flin Flon station to meet us and then getting there ... the end of the line and everyone going into action. Needless to say, it was exciting but also created some apprehension until Clara came to the rescue.

Back home, and during the summer, Mom had to go to La Pas for an operation. As it happened, it was a particularly dry summer and there were fires all over and ground fires were part of the problem. Actually, we had some ground fires at home close to Morrison's but they seemed to be at a standstill. As I recall, Gene was away fighting fires so that left Martin, Therese, Mae and me at home. A short time later, however, the fires supposedly got worse and Martin said he also had to go and fight fires. I think it had something to do with the fire starters working more efficiently than the fire fighters!!! So now, being the oldest at home, I thought the proper thing to do was to assure Mom that all was well, so wrote her a letter giving her all the details. Guess what, not too many days later, Mom was back home.

A few years later, I think Gene was working in lumber camps with our main horses and Martin was out working someplace else, so that only left us with Old Nigger at home, an old black horse who you could say was semi-retired. However, the sleighs were equipped for team use, so I paired Old Nigger with our young Bull and so, I also had a team that winter to do the odd job on weekends. When I reflect on this now, I can't help but think that Old Nigger must have been very insulted.

The following goes back to when we lived on the original farm south of the school and Gene, Martin and I used to sleep in a big double bed. To have more room, I used to sleep in the centre but my head at the foot of the bed. Well, every few nights I used to hear Gene and Martin make a noise as though they were eating, so would ask them if I could have some of what they were eating. They always replied that they were not eating, they were just chewing their cud. Even though I was only 5 or 6, I never did believe them and it was only years later that they finally admitted that, yes, they had been eating.

On to Ontario. But before I go into any detail, I'd just like to say a few words here about our mother who, for all intents and purposes, had brought up six children, during what was likely the worst economic period in Canada's young life and decided that if we, the children, were to have a chance that she had to expose us to a situation that did not necessarily guarantee something better, but that at least there was the potential of something better and, for this, I will be forever grateful.

When I heard of the impending move, I was excited because what I had learned about Ontario in school, which was likely very little in relation to the overall, I liked. Besides, I suppose I was at an ideal age, too young to understand all the ramifications, but old enough to imagine all the new and different things that we would see and experience. Because of my age, I was not involved with the nuts and bolts of the necessary planning but it's not too difficult to imagine that major planning and gut-wrenching decisions would have been inevitable. With the financial situation of the day, the time of year with regard to weather, and getting the car and trailer out to travelable roads, required luck, yes. For example, bad snow storms, but more importantly it required an abundance of strength, courage and astuteness.

Finally, the day came to move the car and trailer out. Luckily, Joe Dupont of Wynyard, Saskatchewan, who had come north in the fall to work in bush camps with his horses, was leaving Hudson Bay to go back before the spring break-up. So, in that way the old '27 Chevrolet, which had split tire rings, and trailer were brought out of Hudson Bay, south I think to Sturgis, or thereabouts, where Gene had it stored until we were already to go and came back home.

A few weeks later the final departure was set and it was decided that Gene, Martin and I would take a freight (ride the rods) to where the car was and drive from there to Wynyard, Joe Dupont's home, where we would meet Mom, Therese and Mae, who came out by train with a number of trunks and boxes. After a few days of car and trailer packing, we set out in earnest for our first target, which was Oklee, Minnesota, where Mom, Dad, George and Gene had originally come from as a young family. The rest of the family was born in Saskatchewan. However, before getting to Oklee, we had what you could call a tire shake-down and had up to 13 flats in one day. The reason for the tire trouble was due to the Depression. With the resultant lack of money, lack of use by the people we bought the car from and so tire rot. Tires were not bought in Canada because they were cheaper in the States. And so, with more time than money, split rims, three pairs of hands, we became tire changing experts. But, like the old story goes, there's always something good with something bad, because when we got to the States and all the tires were replaced, it made all of us quite happy.

We then stayed around Oklee for about two months and met all our local uncles, aunts, cousins and many of Mom's old friends. We then left on the last, but much longer, part of our journey to somewhere in the southern part of Ontario.

Some of the highlights along this part of the trip were:

Chicago, Illinois, where we parked the trailer and went on to the Chicago Zoo nearby, where we saw animals that we had heard and read about, plus so many more animals, birds, etc., etc., etc. - from Veillardville to Chicago in a couple of months is simply impossible to describe here.

At the end of the day, we went back to get the trailer but, lo and behold, there was no trailer to be found - can you imagine the concern and anxiety? All our clothes, a big supply of food, all gone. Well, after driving around, a police cruiser stopped us, found out what we were looking for and then took us to where they had taken it. However, on sizing the situation up, they then took us or directed us to a park where they said it would be safe to park for the night.

Shortly after leaving Illinois, we stopped at the Indiana Sand Dunes in the State of Indiana and saw more sand than I had ever seen before, or since.

The next highlight that comes to mind is arriving at the Burlington Lift-Bridge which parts in the centre and has hinges at each end. As we were approaching the bridge, it was on its way up and we finally came to approximately two blocks length from it before we had to stop. After sitting there a few minutes, we then saw the biggest ship we had ever seen, inching its way through the canal (which joins Hamilton Bay to Lake Ontario), passing the bridge and then, finally, the bridge coming down and letting us go on our way. Our trip to Niagara Falls from the bridge ran through the heart of what is called the Niagara Peninsula which is known as Ontario's fruit belt. In those days, the highway passed near the bottom of the Niagara Escarpment and in and out of fruit orchards. Here we were from Veillardville, Saskatchewan, in the midst of apples, pears, peaches, grapes, cherries and then, lo and behold, Niagara Falls there in front of us.

Then we were on the Maid of the Mist, a sight-seeing boat that takes people for a ride on the river at the foot of the Falls where you hear the thunderous noise of the Falls. Then, perhaps the highlight of highlights, approximately 100 feet under the Falls and looking out from three different portholes, one at the immediate edge of the Falls and two more further in and coming out directly under the Falls. No, it wasn't a miracle, but neither was it a mirage, but it was 1937 and I think and hope that to our dying days we can and will be always grateful to our mother for not waiting for the above to happen, but actually and personally MAKING it happen.

After Niagara Falls, and considering the time of year it was, it was time to turn our attention to the purpose for which we had come East. And gradually we started working our way towards the tobacco areas of Ontario which, in the main, are Simcoe, Delhi, Tillsonburg and, to a lesser extent, Aylmer -- all within perhaps 60 miles on Highway #3, approximately 10 to 20 miles north of Lake Erie. However, this wasn't an easy task because there was only one car and a number of quiet young people and no home that could be used as a home base. The potential was there if all hands could be put to use and, with Mom's ingenuity, needless to say this did come about. First Ma found a place where she, Therese, Mae and I could not only work together but also could live where we worked. Then Martin and Gene found work nearby so the car was available and we were on our way. We were working approximately 10 miles out of Tillsonburg so, on rainy days, Ma and Gene went into town, found and bought a lot, and shortly after a home was on its way. When the harvest was over, we moved into our house which was not much more than a shell, and Therese and Mae started school. I was 14, but too shy to go, so got various odd jobs until late fall when the tobacco factory opened up. I think it took a while to get in there because I was young, small and shy.

However, after a month or so of not getting in, my friend (his name was John Phur) who had recently come from Estevan, Saskatchewan, and I decided that if we couldn't get in through the front door, what did we have to lose by trying the back door?

This factory hired about 500 people during the fall and winter months and the men worked in groups of about 15, each man with a stall or box about 2½ feet square and 10 inches deep in a long straight row, side by side, so if they hired, they would hire 15 at a time. If they hired it would be from approximately 6:00 a.m. to 7:00 a.m. but you never knew when, so the earlier you came, the closer one would be to the door, but there would always be perhaps 50 to 200 men standing around waiting.

The superintendent that did the hiring was a big, 6 foot plus, southern man and he would come out and scan the crowd and point to faces he recognized and beckon them to come with one finger. After running out of recognizable faces, he would then say, "You, you, you" until he had his count but sometimes an extra one or two would manage to squeeze by. Being that we had a rough idea of the layout and what went on inside, we went around to the Shipping/Receiving doors where there were always truck drivers around and got in and then went further in among large tobacco hogsheads (barrels) 4 to 5 feet high, 5 to 6 feet across and used them to keep out of sight, and to find out where the stalls were that were going to be filled, so that when the 15 men came thundering through to the area, we could join in the rush and get ourselves a stall. And this is exactly what happened. The problem, though, was that there were two men too many so when Old Black got there and saw this, he stopped near the end of the stalls and eyed his way along. When he got to me, his glance slowed down because I was short, small and young, but what I read in his eyes was, if he was smart enough to get in here and get a stall, he deserves a chance to keep it. Fortunately, I was able to stay until the plant closed in the spring.

Along with other short-term jobs in the area, an interesting one was where Martin and then I worked in Woodstock, a machine shop where the regular night shift hours, which we worked, were from 6:00 p.m. until 7:00 a.m. (13 hours) and every second Saturday night off. I think I made 10¢ an hour and Martin about 50% more. I stayed here for about six months, then moved to Hamilton where the war industry was revving up and paying much better and with better working conditions.

Then my three years and a bit in the Service which took me from Toronto (where I entered the Service) to St. John's, Newfoundland, on the east to Victoria on the west, where I spent one winter, seeing snow one night for about half an hour while on the way back to the ship from a dance. Getting up the next morning for Mass, the snow had disappeared and that was the snow for me that winter. Eventually, I was sent back to Toronto for discharge and, while there, met a beautiful and enchanting girl at a dance at The Knights of Columbus Hall in Toronto. Her name was Helen Tapper and she subsequently, perhaps a year and a bit later, became my wife on June 26, 1947.

Helen had been in the Air Force for a little over three years and after discharge had come to Toronto to live with her oldest and married sister. But they had both originally come from Torbay, a small town just east of St. John's, Newfoundland.

After our marriage we lived in Toronto for about five years on St. Clair Avenue West, near Avenue Road, in a house that was subsequently sold. Shortly after our leaving, it was demolished along with a number of other houses, and Imperial Oil built their new head office on the site.

While we only lived here, on St. Clair Avenue West, for five years we have many memorable memories to recall. As a starter, it was our first home which we moved into on returning from our honeymoon. A bed-sitting room and a shared kitchen, and Paul was born here November 3, 1949. While here, I worked for the Toronto Transportation Commission (T.T.C.) driving streetcars, city buses and, on weekends, for the Gray Coach Lines (which was and still is owned by the T.T.C.) on intercity runs, for over three years.

In 1952 we moved to Brampton, Ontario, where I worked for a flexible metal corrugated and interlocking hose and expansion joint manufacturer, whose products are used to absorb and control pipeline and metal ducting motion, due to thermal growth and mechanically induced vibration, such as on a compressor. Sizes ranged from 3/16 inch to 11 feet inside diameter and up to 11 x 28 feet on rectangular inside dimensions.

Being in sales, it afforded me the opportunity to speak with and visit with a wide range of people in the steel, forestry, mining, chemical, and all types of manufacturing ranging from railroad locomotives and aircraft to plastics. Actually, in one case, one of the larger com-