Interview by phone with Zane Fanning - son of Laurie Fanning, Mill Shift Boss, Stirling Mine – April/20
Jeanette: I’m speaking with Zane Fanning, son of Laurie Fanning who worked at the mine. You were telling me that you remember a few things (about Stirling). You were talking about your maternal grandmother whose maiden name was?
Zane: “Gay”
Jeanette: And you said she married Eddie Langley.
Zane: Edward Langley, yes.
Jeanette: And you were about to tell me that the connection (to Stirling).
Zane: My father went to work at Stirling Mines in 1952. I was four years old. I spent my first four years between Drum Head, Nova Scotia and Port Hood, Cape Breton. Drum Head is where my father grew up. My mother was born on Port Hood Island and spent her adolescent years in Port Hood.
My father served in the R.C.N. during WWll. When the war ended, he returned to Drum Head and tried his hand at fishing. Then he worked on one of the Great Lakes iron-ore freighters for about a year. Shortly after that he went to work for Mindemar, or Stirling Mines.
Jeanette: About the Langleys?
Zane: There were two Langley families in Stirling. Harold Langley worked at the mine and Edward Langley, my grandfather, ran a barber shop in a pool hall, on the Mine Road. My grandfather and my grandmother Lillian, lived near the top of the Mine Road, opposite Morrison’s store, close to Stirling Road. Harold Langley and Edward Langley were cousins. Both were born in Seal Harbour, Nova Scotia.
Living with my grandparents were my uncles Orville and Cyril. Cyril worked at the mine but Orville was barely in his teens. My mother was their oldest child. She was born on Port Hood Island, on the other side of Cape Breton. My grandparents had thirteen children (including triplets) but only five survived into adulthood.
Jeanette: Where did you live in Stirling?
Jeanette: I’m speaking with Zane Fanning, son of Laurie Fanning who worked at the mine. You were telling me that you remember a few things (about Stirling). You were talking about your maternal grandmother whose maiden name was?
Zane: “Gay”
Jeanette: And you said she married Eddie Langley.
Zane: Edward Langley, yes.
Jeanette: And you were about to tell me that the connection (to Stirling).
Zane: My father went to work at Stirling Mines in 1952. I was four years old. I spent my first four years between Drum Head, Nova Scotia and Port Hood, Cape Breton. Drum Head is where my father grew up. My mother was born on Port Hood Island and spent her adolescent years in Port Hood.
My father served in the R.C.N. during WWll. When the war ended, he returned to Drum Head and tried his hand at fishing. Then he worked on one of the Great Lakes iron-ore freighters for about a year. Shortly after that he went to work for Mindemar, or Stirling Mines.
Jeanette: About the Langleys?
Zane: There were two Langley families in Stirling. Harold Langley worked at the mine and Edward Langley, my grandfather, ran a barber shop in a pool hall, on the Mine Road. My grandfather and my grandmother Lillian, lived near the top of the Mine Road, opposite Morrison’s store, close to Stirling Road. Harold Langley and Edward Langley were cousins. Both were born in Seal Harbour, Nova Scotia.
Living with my grandparents were my uncles Orville and Cyril. Cyril worked at the mine but Orville was barely in his teens. My mother was their oldest child. She was born on Port Hood Island, on the other side of Cape Breton. My grandparents had thirteen children (including triplets) but only five survived into adulthood.
Jeanette: Where did you live in Stirling?
Zane: My father built a small house next to the lake on Five Island Lake Road (see picture above). It was about a kilometer from the mine. The car in the driveway is our 1949 Ford. It was my father’s pride and joy. We heated the house with coal. There was no running water or bathroom but we were warm. The barrel beside the driveway was our well. It was set in a spring. It would freeze over sometimes but never so much that we couldn’t break the ice and get at the water. The outhouse was tastefully behind the house and out of view.
Jeanette: it looks like a nice little place.
Zane: When I was old enough, my job was to fetch the water from that barrel. We used a coal bucket to carry it. It was a clean new bucket, of course. A coal bucket had greater capacity and it flared out on one side. This made it easier to pour into the stove’s hot-water tank and the drinking water pail that sat on the counter top.
For a six-year-old, however, it was difficult to carry it up the steps to the house. Much of it ended up soaked in my pantlegs or my shoes. I told my father that the water was heavy. He made some remark like, “get used to it, soon they will be making lots of it in Cape Breton.”
I saw the pictures of the men drinking beer at the mine. I have similar pictures in an old family album. I don’t think it was common for people to sit around drinking at the end of a shift.
Jeanette: it looks like a nice little place.
Zane: When I was old enough, my job was to fetch the water from that barrel. We used a coal bucket to carry it. It was a clean new bucket, of course. A coal bucket had greater capacity and it flared out on one side. This made it easier to pour into the stove’s hot-water tank and the drinking water pail that sat on the counter top.
For a six-year-old, however, it was difficult to carry it up the steps to the house. Much of it ended up soaked in my pantlegs or my shoes. I told my father that the water was heavy. He made some remark like, “get used to it, soon they will be making lots of it in Cape Breton.”
I saw the pictures of the men drinking beer at the mine. I have similar pictures in an old family album. I don’t think it was common for people to sit around drinking at the end of a shift.
Annabel's picture
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Zane's picture
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Jeanette: I wouldn’t have thought.
Zane: No, so I don’t know what that was. I believe they were celebrating something in particular. I don’t think it was the closing of the mine because I thought operations ended it 1957.
Jeanette: People are saying 56/57. I think it may have been the end of 56. The picture is on my website of the back of the mine was in the Chronical Herald in Dec 1957 so whether it was an old picture that somebody had taken before that or they took it that day before the dismantling, I don’t know. But I think it was the end of 56. There were a few people still kept on for maintenance, or whatever. (Editor's note: Clarification from Wendell Holmes who worked at the mill and who is in these pictures - The mill had just closed (April/56) and a few men remained on to remove equipment etc.This was their closing party. Some of the men in the picture were working in other parts of the mine, heard about the Get Together and joined in).
Zane: So, if I were to say, when did I live there, my guess would be 1952- 1956.
Jeanette: They were still building things in 51 – 52. In 51, I believe the big bunkhouses were being built in 51. Between 52- 54 there were a lot of people working there. (Editor's note: According to Wendell Holmes, the Mill started being built in 51 and was completed in 52. He started working in the mill in the fall of 52.)
Zane: No, so I don’t know what that was. I believe they were celebrating something in particular. I don’t think it was the closing of the mine because I thought operations ended it 1957.
Jeanette: People are saying 56/57. I think it may have been the end of 56. The picture is on my website of the back of the mine was in the Chronical Herald in Dec 1957 so whether it was an old picture that somebody had taken before that or they took it that day before the dismantling, I don’t know. But I think it was the end of 56. There were a few people still kept on for maintenance, or whatever. (Editor's note: Clarification from Wendell Holmes who worked at the mill and who is in these pictures - The mill had just closed (April/56) and a few men remained on to remove equipment etc.This was their closing party. Some of the men in the picture were working in other parts of the mine, heard about the Get Together and joined in).
Zane: So, if I were to say, when did I live there, my guess would be 1952- 1956.
Jeanette: They were still building things in 51 – 52. In 51, I believe the big bunkhouses were being built in 51. Between 52- 54 there were a lot of people working there. (Editor's note: According to Wendell Holmes, the Mill started being built in 51 and was completed in 52. He started working in the mill in the fall of 52.)
Going to Framboise
Zane: Framboise is a place we went quite often.
Jeanette: Yeah it was only 3 miles away. Where would you go there?
Zane: We went to Framboise Cove. You mentioned that you came from Framboise to swim in Five Island Lake. We thought that was funny. People from Framboise were coming to Stirling to swim in that leach infested lake, while we would go to Framboise, walk the sandy beaches and swim in the ocean. In fact, I almost drowned there one time. A couple of times actually. Perhaps you were wiser.
Jeanette: That’s why we didn’t swim there. Laughter. There’s an undertow there.
Trips to Louisbourg and “The Shoulder Bone” story
Zane: Another place we would go once or twice each summer was to Louisbourg. This was long before there was any restoration or reconstruction in Louisbourg.
Jeanette: Oh yes, I remember that too when I was a kid. There was just a museum.
Zane: My father and I were walking around a section of that property and he told me that he believed it was the old hospital grounds of the Fort. He saw something poking out of the ground and he pulled it out; it was a man’s shoulder blade.
Jeanette: What!!! Ooh
Zane: Yeah, I remember my mother saying, “put that back.” My mother was quite superstitious. But no, he put it in his pocket and took it home with him. So, in that little house, there was a living room and the kitchen and then there were two bedrooms. One was for my parents and one was for the washing machine and everybody else. Anyway, there was a shelf just before you went into the bedrooms, the two doors were side by side with a long shelf above them. He kept the shoulder blade in a basket on top of the shelf. When somebody came to visit, the bottle of rum would come out and he would take the shoulder blade down and put it on the kitchen table. The discussion would always lead to speculation about who the former owner was and what had happened him, and all that stuff. My mother didn’t like any of this. She said, “we have to get rid of that.”
So, anyway, a year or so after he found this bone, we had a very bad thunder and lightning storm. Sharron and I were in the bedroom. Penny was still quite young. The storm was quite severe and we were terrified. To reassure us, my mother sat in a rocking chair, just under the archway so we could see her, and began knitting by the light of an oil lamp. I think the power had gone out. She began counting the seconds between the flashes and the sound of the thunder. Each time she did this she would tell us how far away the lightning was. Close to midnight, the storm reached its peak intensity and there was a tremendous downpour that accompanied it. She did her best to comfort us. And I remember there was this huge clap of thunder, like something out of a Stephen King movie. It vibrated the house so much that the basket, that served as a little coffin for the shoulder blade, fell off the shelf and landed in her lap in the middle of her knitting. I will never forget the scream as she ran outside, with nothing on but her nightie, into that pouring rain. I jumped out of bed and ran to the open door to see what she was doing. When she reached the shoreline, she threw everything that had been in her lap into the lake. She wouldn’t touch the scapula, so the basket, the knitting, the whole works, needles and all, were tossed into the lake.
The timing was perfect. As she stood there soaked and sobbing, my father arrived home from his 4-12 shift. I had a better view of things when the Ford’s headlights provided a bit more detail. When my father tried to ask what had happened, she expressed a remarkable amount of hostility. I heard some words that I had never heard from her, before or after. The discussion was very much one-sided but there seemed to be an agreement that human remains would no longer be brought home as souvenirs.
The Crock of Beer story.
Zane: My father made a batch of home-made-beer. I believe he said it was malt-beer. The container used for the fermentation process was a large earthenware crock. Together with the beer, it weighed over a hundred pounds. The project sat in the living room, behind the television, for a month or more, and gradually took over. Sometimes it would startle me when I reached behind the TV to turn the knob that stopped the picture from flipping. It would suddenly release a belch of gas that always caught me off guard. My mother was not pleased.
Several weeks after the beer stopped bubbling my father invited his colleagues from the mine to partake of it. It was too early for me to go to bed but I was told to stay in my room and not to come out during the “party”. The men began to arrive, one or two at a time. Most had been drinking before they got there.
The climax of the event was when it was decided to move the crock from the living room to the kitchen, my father and two others, one may have been my uncle Cyril, managed to lift the crock off the floor and began the short but difficult journey to the kitchen table with it. I was watching through the crack of my bedroom door. As they approached the table, they had second thoughts. It was just possible that the table wouldn’t hold the weight. They changed direction and headed for the kitchen counter. As they neared the edge of the countertop, they misjudged the height of it, slightly, and the crock collided with it. There must have been a hairline crack in the ancient vessel because the bottom fell out of it. The entire contents hit the floor like a tidal wave. The beer was several inches deep in the kitchen and began to spread all throughout the house. As I stood behind the bedroom door my socks began to soak up a share. Everyone stood with expressions of shock and disappointment.
Some of the elixir made its way outside through the solitary entrance, but most remained on the floor. No amount of mopping up was going to solve this problem. My father went to his workshop and reappeared a few minutes later with a brace and bit. He bored several holes in the floor to give the beer someplace to go. From my vantage point I couldn’t see what was happening, but I knew that nothing was going to plan. It was later said the Uncle Cyril removed a section of the skirting from the side of the house, crawled under, and tried to salvage some of the substance with an empty coal bucket. I cannot verify this.
Zane's Grandfather
Jeanette: Laughter. So, Cyril. Was he your mother’s brother?
Zane: Yes, he and my uncle Orville lived with my grandparents in a small house at the top of the Mine Road. It may not have been the first house but it was near the junction with Stirling Road and on the west side of the Mine Road. Cyril stayed in the bedroom that looked towards the main road. It was below Morrison’s store on the opposite side.
Jeanette: Did your grandfather work at the mine?
Zane: No. He contracted polio when he was a four-year-old and lost the use of his right leg. He spent the rest of his life traversing with a heavy-duty wooden crutch under his arm. He worked at many things but never mining. He worked in a lumber camp as a cook, he even fished for a living for a while, but most of the time he barbered. After leaving Nova Scotia, my grandparents lived much of their lives in Toronto, with another uncle. When my grandfather was in his mid-seventies, he was walking home one night when someone tried to mug him. He took his would-be assailant out with the heavy crutch and held him on the sidewalk until the police arrived. He was deadly with that stick.
In Stirling he ran a barbershop in the old bunkhouse. It was the same building they used as a pool hall and a movie theater, apparently. My memory isn’t clear on that. I believe that I was the only customer that he paid to sit still. He would put a plank across the barber’s chair to place me in the right position. I remember pool tables in that building because when I was very young, my uncle Orville sat me on one of the tables and fed me a can of dog food. It didn’t do me any harm, I guess. The strange thing is that I think of the movie theater being on the right side of the Mine Road (as you approached the mine gate) but I’m told it was on the left. My sister Sharron is three years older than me. She would recall more accurately than I can. She was at least eleven years old when we left Stirling.
Jeanette: People said it was across from the Chinese Restaurant which would put it on the left.
Zane: I can’t say for sure. I remember the Chinese restaurant for a very specific reason. We were picking up an order of food and I was told to go in and get it. Just as I turned to go into the restaurant, I realized that I forgot the money. I turned and reached out for it just as my mother was closing the door. My hand got slammed in the door and I believe it took a few weeks for it to heal.
The Stirling School
Stirling school, picture likely taken on or after 1952. The names of the children are listed under this picture on the Photo Page.
The Stirling School
Zane: Do you see the picture, the second one where you see Yvonne
Pottie on the left at the top?
Jeanette: Yvonne Pottie, would she be Joe Pottie’s daughter?
Zane: I believe so. In the back of the photo, the girl with the curly blond hair, I think that is my sister Sharron.
Jeanette: OK, I see her in the picture there. She’s about the sixth person in. She has curly blonde hair.
Zane: Do you see there in front, the little girl, Amy Bardswick? They have “Bardswick” but I thought it was “Barswick”. I didn’t think there was a “D” in the name but apparently there was. Just before we moved away, I took what money I had saved and bought her a box of chocolates. My parents drove me up to her house. I knocked on the door and I believe I gave them to her mother. I don’t think Amy knew that I had a crush on her.
Jeanette: So, she’s the little blonde girl that has her hand up in the picture?
Zane: Yeah, she has her wrist covering her forehead. The sun must have been shining in her face.
Zane: Do you know how many grades were taught at Stirling School?
Jeanette: I think they had grade 12 at one point because I see pictures there with two groups of students which were probably from grade 6 – 12. My cousin George Morrison is in the picture. He’s be in grade 11 then.
Zane: When we moved to Stirling I believe I was four because we were there a year before I was allowed to go to school. I turned five in April of 1953 and they started me in grade 1 that September.
Zane: My sister Sharron took me to school the first day. I think I was five. She let me sit at her desk with her. I was terrified but felt secure because I was with her. Then the teacher came to me and said she had a desk for me about four isles away. Reluctantly, I went over and sat in the desk that she indicated. I obliged her, not just because I respected her authority, but because I could still see Sharron. I still felt secure.
Shortly after, however, the enormous rolling doors came from each end of the room and met in the middle. Now there were two rooms, with Sharron on one side and me on the other.
Jeanette: Ok. Yes. Dividers.
Zane: And now I was separated from her and I was not a happy camper. But I remember that day. So, in that school they were able to divide it with those big doors; make one large room or two smaller ones.
Jeanette: Yes, the one in Framboise had that too. They had one big room but then it could make two rooms but half the size.
Zane: Do you remember, just above the blackboards, were the ABC’s. In 1982 I went back to the school. It was a workshop or mill of some kind at that time. The alphabet was still on the wall and I took the first three letters home with me. I suppose I’m a sentimental thief.
Jeanette: When I was in grade 3 or 4 (in Framboise) the kids from Stirling came there because the school had closed but we would go there on our way swimming, stop off at the old school. There wasn’t a mill in there then. It was just an abandoned school. We would go in there. I remember, the chalk board there but I don’t remember the ABC’s (but I do remember them in the Framboise School).
Zane: That’s me on the left. Young Jimmy Mitchel, Jim Mitchel’s son, is in the middle, his sister Judy is on the right. Jim and Jessie Mitchell lived close to us. Just one driveway further along the lake. Jim was the medic at the mine. They had two children. Young Jimmy was about a year older than me, so we were sort of best friends, Judy was my age. We saw each other almost every day. They are in the picture in front our house leaning against the 53 Chevrolet "Bel Air", next to Davie Crockett (me). My sister Sharron is three years older than me. She hung out with older kids, including Yvonne Pottie. They are both in one of the school pictures.
Cyril’s Ford Prefect
Zane: See Cyril, I mentioned Cyril, he was the sweetest guy, handsome and a little crazy. He was living with his parents, and he had that old Prefect. It’s an English car with the big fenders and the headlights were mounted on the fenders. It looked like a Model A or something like that. Anyway, he let me sit in it (on top of a wooded crate or box) and pretend I was driving. I was about seven. It was parked in front of the house near the top of the mine road. My sister Penny, who would have been three at that time, was playing on the floor beside me. I guess no one thought any harm could come to us if we stayed inside the car. Uncle Cyril told me not to move the gear shift but didn’t say why. After he left us there, I, of course, moved the shifter and the car started rolling down the hill toward the mine gate. Just inside, behind the screen door, someone noticed that the car wasn’t there anymore, so everyone ran outside and started chasing it down the road. The hill was not very steep but the car was making considerable speed. I couldn’t see much of what was going on behind me but was told that my grandfather was leading the pursuers.
I didn’t know which pedal was the brake, and couldn’t reach the pedals anyway, so I steered toward a telephone pole to try to stop it. My timing was off. I missed the pole but one of the tires caught in a rut or something and the car flipped on its side. There was some damage to the car but neither Penny nor I was hurt. I stood on top of Penny, just long enough to get a look outside, then ducked down and did some moaning and groaning to capture a little sympathy. Everyone arrived right after that, frantic to see if we were ok. One of the security guys at the gate may have come over to check as well. I don’t recall exactly. Surprisingly, I ended up bearing little responsibility for that incident.
The consequences from that day came a few weeks later. The damage I caused to my uncle’s car happened shortly before the commencement of hunting season. One day, just after lunch, Cyril arrived at our door. He was carrying his hunting rifle and a small bottle of rum. He entered the kitchen and joined my parents who were already sitting at the table. He divided the remainder of the rum into two coffee cups. Everyone was quiet for a few minutes. Finally, my father took a sip of the rum and put the cup back down. That was the moment when Cyril said to my father, “Can I borrow your car? I think I know where I can get a deer before suppertime.” I could tell my father didn’t want to lend his car, but what options did he have? The Prefect wasn’t yet road worthy, it was his brother-in-law asking a favour, and his own son had created this situation. It was clear from the look I got that this was what he was thinking. “I guess so”, was the only possible response. They finished the rum and my uncle left.
Just before suppertime Cyril returned. He backed the 49 Ford in the yard and came in the house. More rum came from his pocket along with the car keys, dangling from the little war-amps license plates. Both were placed on the table. They had another drink together but there was only small talk. He declined an invitation for supper and then a drive home. This was unusual for Cyril but all seemed well when he left.
Shortly after, my father went on a mission for my mother to Shaw’s store (perhaps). When he returned, my mother took the article from him that she needed and then asked, “What’s that white stuff all over your pants?” “When I was in the store a few minutes ago I was asked the same question. I brushed it off before I got back in the car.” Then a strange look came over him and he went back outside. He opened the car door and noticed that the blanket (another name for gun rest) that was usually spread over the front seat, was covering only the passenger’s side and the bulk of it was piled up beside the front-right door. When he removed the blanket, he could see where the white substance had come from. The truth came out later that evening during a visit to my grandparent’s house.
Cyril spotted a deer in a field as he drove along some road. He stopped the car, opened the door and proceeded to remove the gun from its resting place on the seat beside him. Three fingers of his right hand were inserted into the lever-action, the index finger came to rest on the trigger, and the thumb released the safety. It was a well-practiced move. As he withdrew the gun, however, the front sight caught in the blanket and everything came to a stop except the hand. The 30-30 discharged inside the Ford. The bullet ripped through the seat (the white material turned out to be the seat stuffing) struck the seat’s frame, mushroomed, and tore a large hole through the front right-side door. My father said it looked like a torpedo came through the side of a ship from the inside. Most interesting was the fact that when Cyril returned the car, he never thought to mention it.
I made the assumption that the damage to the Ford and the Prefect must have been comparable because to my knowledge, no money was exchanged. I think they called it even. A few weeks later the wounded 49 Ford was traded for a 53 Chevrolet. So that is another one of my many memories from Stirling.
Jeanette: It sounds like an interesting time for sure. And you never swam in the lake. I know it did have leeches.
The punt Laurie Made
Zane: I spent a lot of time at the edge of the lake. In fact, my father built a punt in the workshop he had beside the house. You can’t see it in the picture. We called it the garage, but it was just a workshop and a place to store coal.
There is a long story about the punt that I won’t go into now, but at one point, Jim Mitchell’s son and I took the punt out on the lake when my father wasn’t home and we got into some trouble and needed a rescue. My father was a little upset with me because he had just finished it and the paint was still wet when Jimmy and I borrowed it. When it finally was returned to the garage and set back up on the saw-horses, dirt and sticks were stuck to it everywhere and it had to be sanded down again.
Swimming, the Pump House, The Catholic Church
Zane: Where did you go swimming?
Jeanette: At the Stirling lake (Five Island Lake) but not around the road where you lived. So, continuing on towards Loch Lomond, where the lake starts on the main road, there was a pump house. It wasn’t a pumphouse when I swam there, it was just a foundation.
Zane: Wasn’t there a community hall or something there at that end of the lake? We had a Christmas concert in it.
Jeanette: It would have been the Catholic Church. You’d go past the lake, after you couldn’t see the lake anymore, on the left-hand side, there was a road that went up there and there was a Catholic Church there.
Zane: There was some kind of a building there. I could see it from my side of the lake. I didn’t know what it was. I just know we had our Christmas concerns there. I thought it was some kind of community hall or center. So, you clarified with me that it was the Catholic Church.
Jeanette: There was something about that, some people said they went to dances there; and concerts for sure. My cousin (Donald Morrison) went to a concert which his older brother George was in. Another person (Pearl MacLeod MacDonald) said there was an alter there but they would move things out of the way when they would have concerts there.
Zane: There was a stage.
Jeanette: Yeah. I think the stage was probably the alter (rearranged). I’m not sure (what other activities went on there) but it was the Catholic church and they did have concerts there. And when the mine closed up, they
took it apart and then they made a Glebe house at the other Catholic church down here (in Glace Bay) St Leo’s (as per Father Norman MacPhee’s interview).
Jeanette: On the Stirling (Five Island Lake road) where Enos Sampson and they were, on the road there, you can see it, there is somebody building something there now.
The Dam, Dan Alex’s old mill, Angus Morrison’s place
Zane: On the other side of the lake that’s where you went swimming?
Jeanette: Yes, when you pass the road (Five Island Lake Rd) that would take you down to your place shortly after that, you start to see the lake (on the right). Right there, we had a little pathway. We used to do some exploring there. So, we would walk along the lake to the right and there was a dam there. If you drove down the road where you lived, there was an old house on the left-hand side. The Morrisons lived there. Angus Morrison and his family.
Zane: So, down the Five-island lake Rd, you’d go off (the main road) to the right? and you say on the left-hand side along there was the Morrisons?
Jeanette: Yeah, there was an old mill, Dan Alex (MacLeod) had an old Mill close to the road – the main road.
Zane: Do you mean like a water mill?
Jeanette: No, a sawmill. And then later on he took it (the equipment) down to the school when the school closed. He had an old mill there around the time the mine was going. It’s on my map. And then Morrison’s would be next. And then there was a little stream that crossed the road,. Well that little stream went into the lake. At that point there was a dam there. I guess it was there to dam up the water because they got the water from the Stirling Lake. That’s where that Pump House I’m talking about was - where we swam.
Zane: Somebody lived there. That was three times I almost drowned. That little stream, I crossed it every day of my life practically. But somebody lived there; there was a little road, not a big house but an old man lived down there. He had his house next to that stream. The other end of the house was at the edge of the lake. And he had a pond in there and he had trout in it. It was almost like he had his own private little fishpond, right at the mouth of that stream and that might be where the dam and the Pump House were.
Jeanette: That sounds like that was his (Angus Morrison) place. When we were kids we’d walk over from the pump house (foundation) and go to that dam and I always wondered what that was there for. Recently I figured that the Mine did that so the water would build up in the lake, when it got low, I guess, and that water got pumped out to the Stirling Mine to the Mill and to the houses (and other buildings).
Jeanette: I was going to ask you if you noticed seeing big pipes that were made out of wood? That’s what they had; they had these big wooden pipes leading from the pump house at Stirling lake (Five Island Lake).
Zane: I don’t remember that. I’m sure the mine would be using that as a source of water.
When the Fannings left Stirling
Jeanette: When your family left Stirling, where did they go?
Zane: When we left Stirling, when the mine closed, we moved to New Brunswick. Heath Steele Mines was just opening up when Stirling Mine was shutting down. We moved to a small community called Sevogle. Heath Steele was located about 60 kilometres north of Newcastle. Together with Chatham and the surrounding villages its called Miramichi today. (Editor’s note: As per Wikapedia, Heath Steele Mines was a Copper, Lead and Zinc mine. which ran from 1956-1999. Zane recalls that it closed for a time between 1958-1961)
Zane: One day we were in Stirling and two days later we were moving to New Brunswick. About half a dozen families from Stirling went there – the Potties, I think Posers, and a family called Mossman are some of those I know of.
Jeanette: Were they on your road too?
Zane: Mossman’s were on that Stirling Lake road where we lived, just up the road a little further toward Patterson’s Lake. John Mossman, worked at Stirling Mine. When they moved to Miramichi, they ended up living right across from us. John Mossman, sadly, was killed in a mining accident at Heath Steele, I’d say in 1957 or thereabouts. I remember that John worked underground and a chunk of what they called “Loose” fell and struck him on the shoulder. He was in the hospital somewhere, probably Newcastle, and I happened to be in the house when someone came in and told his wife and sons that he had died.
Jeanette: They must have left in 1956 when the mine was pretty well shutting down.
Zane: I was surprised when I woke up my first morning in Sevogle to find the Mosmans living across the road from us.Zane: My father helped turn what had been a general store into a duplex. Potties lived upstairs and we had the ground floor.
Jeanette: So, was that Joe Pottie and his son Nazaire?
Zane: And Hilda was one of his daughters. And they had a brand-new baby just around the time they moved from Stirling. When we lived in Stirling, they lived up a side road, almost directly across from our driveway. Sampsons also lived up on that lane. There was a log cabin up there, as I recall.
Jeanette: Yes, that was Enos’. He built that. Apparently, a lot of people helped him.
Zane: It was always difficult to find a place to live when you move to these small places. We moved many times, during my early life. Beginning with Stirling, I attended seven different schools in as many communities, by the time I was in grade eight. I am amazed at the amount of investment the mining companies put into these sites and close them just a few years later. Look at Stirling for example. Four years is a short life span. Stirling mine lasted not much longer than the life span of a hamster. Think about it.
Jeanette: You mentioned Poser.
Zane: There was a Bruce Poser. Bruce Poser worked at Stirling, right?
Jeanette: Yeah and he lived over on the stretch there.
Zane: And I think Bruce Poser ended up working at Heath Steele Mines and his wife‘s name was Helen. Do I have the right family?
Jeanette: Yes. Helen Burns, she was from Fourchu. She met him there I guess. I remember her coming down and visiting her sister Peggy and they had a store up there.
Zane: My mother and Helen Poser became friends and remained so for many years. I don’t know what the Posers did when Heath Steele Mines closed from 1958 to 1961 but our family lived in various parts of Ontario during that time. When we returned to Newcastle, New Brunswick in November 1961, my parents would remain there for the duration of their lives. Helen and my mother remained friends for life.
Conclusion
Zane: The last time I went to Stirling was in the fall of 2014. I took a few pictures. Someone has a camp where our house used to be. The only sign that I can remember is a slight depression in the ground where the outhouse used to be.
The world has changed a good deal since then. Now when I tell stories to younger generations, they sometimes show skepticism when I mention outdoor toilets, no running water, and the absence of central heating. They also marvel at the amount of freedom we had as children. If parents today allowed their kids to run loose like we did, they would be arrested, or at least, family services would be at the door. It has gone to the opposite extreme, I think. Hopefully, they will find a happy middle ground.
I moved around a lot, but Stirling is one of those places - a piece of my life is there. I get Nostalgic and I like to go back and look at the place.
There is a special place in my heart for Stirling. It is a piece of my life. I didn’t work there but my personality, values and attitude began to form there. I started school, learned to catch fish, make bows-and-arrows, face up to bullies, and enjoy a few hundred yards of freedom in all directions. It was only four years but when I left there it represented half of my life. Every decade I go back and pace my way to school and down past where the shops used to be. Then I sit by the lake where our home used to be and think about things.
I have many questions that I wish I had asked my parents and grandparents but never got around to it until it was too late. So many mysteries remain for me, about people, about Stirling and other places I lived while growing up. About two years ago I started writing down stories about my early life. I find it therapeutic. More importantly, I hope these antidotes will answer some of the questions that my children may have someday.
I want to emphasize that these stories, and the responses to your questions come from the point of view of someone who was between 4 and 8 years old at that time. That and the 64 years of fog between then and the present day. Much of it is a combination of what I recall directly, along with various versions of these events I overheard my parents and grandparents telling others in the months and years that followed. In other words, I cannot verify that every detail is fact. That is why I call the stories I have been writing a work of fiction. If I can remember even three quarters of it exactly, it would be remarkable. I was told that there is no such thing as pure fiction or pure nonfiction. It’s just a matter of degree.
Jeanette: Great Stories about Stirling, Zane. I look forward to reading your compilation of stories/Novel when it is completed to hear more of your life adventures.
Cyril’s Ford Prefect
Zane: See Cyril, I mentioned Cyril, he was the sweetest guy, handsome and a little crazy. He was living with his parents, and he had that old Prefect. It’s an English car with the big fenders and the headlights were mounted on the fenders. It looked like a Model A or something like that. Anyway, he let me sit in it (on top of a wooded crate or box) and pretend I was driving. I was about seven. It was parked in front of the house near the top of the mine road. My sister Penny, who would have been three at that time, was playing on the floor beside me. I guess no one thought any harm could come to us if we stayed inside the car. Uncle Cyril told me not to move the gear shift but didn’t say why. After he left us there, I, of course, moved the shifter and the car started rolling down the hill toward the mine gate. Just inside, behind the screen door, someone noticed that the car wasn’t there anymore, so everyone ran outside and started chasing it down the road. The hill was not very steep but the car was making considerable speed. I couldn’t see much of what was going on behind me but was told that my grandfather was leading the pursuers.
I didn’t know which pedal was the brake, and couldn’t reach the pedals anyway, so I steered toward a telephone pole to try to stop it. My timing was off. I missed the pole but one of the tires caught in a rut or something and the car flipped on its side. There was some damage to the car but neither Penny nor I was hurt. I stood on top of Penny, just long enough to get a look outside, then ducked down and did some moaning and groaning to capture a little sympathy. Everyone arrived right after that, frantic to see if we were ok. One of the security guys at the gate may have come over to check as well. I don’t recall exactly. Surprisingly, I ended up bearing little responsibility for that incident.
The consequences from that day came a few weeks later. The damage I caused to my uncle’s car happened shortly before the commencement of hunting season. One day, just after lunch, Cyril arrived at our door. He was carrying his hunting rifle and a small bottle of rum. He entered the kitchen and joined my parents who were already sitting at the table. He divided the remainder of the rum into two coffee cups. Everyone was quiet for a few minutes. Finally, my father took a sip of the rum and put the cup back down. That was the moment when Cyril said to my father, “Can I borrow your car? I think I know where I can get a deer before suppertime.” I could tell my father didn’t want to lend his car, but what options did he have? The Prefect wasn’t yet road worthy, it was his brother-in-law asking a favour, and his own son had created this situation. It was clear from the look I got that this was what he was thinking. “I guess so”, was the only possible response. They finished the rum and my uncle left.
Just before suppertime Cyril returned. He backed the 49 Ford in the yard and came in the house. More rum came from his pocket along with the car keys, dangling from the little war-amps license plates. Both were placed on the table. They had another drink together but there was only small talk. He declined an invitation for supper and then a drive home. This was unusual for Cyril but all seemed well when he left.
Shortly after, my father went on a mission for my mother to Shaw’s store (perhaps). When he returned, my mother took the article from him that she needed and then asked, “What’s that white stuff all over your pants?” “When I was in the store a few minutes ago I was asked the same question. I brushed it off before I got back in the car.” Then a strange look came over him and he went back outside. He opened the car door and noticed that the blanket (another name for gun rest) that was usually spread over the front seat, was covering only the passenger’s side and the bulk of it was piled up beside the front-right door. When he removed the blanket, he could see where the white substance had come from. The truth came out later that evening during a visit to my grandparent’s house.
Cyril spotted a deer in a field as he drove along some road. He stopped the car, opened the door and proceeded to remove the gun from its resting place on the seat beside him. Three fingers of his right hand were inserted into the lever-action, the index finger came to rest on the trigger, and the thumb released the safety. It was a well-practiced move. As he withdrew the gun, however, the front sight caught in the blanket and everything came to a stop except the hand. The 30-30 discharged inside the Ford. The bullet ripped through the seat (the white material turned out to be the seat stuffing) struck the seat’s frame, mushroomed, and tore a large hole through the front right-side door. My father said it looked like a torpedo came through the side of a ship from the inside. Most interesting was the fact that when Cyril returned the car, he never thought to mention it.
I made the assumption that the damage to the Ford and the Prefect must have been comparable because to my knowledge, no money was exchanged. I think they called it even. A few weeks later the wounded 49 Ford was traded for a 53 Chevrolet. So that is another one of my many memories from Stirling.
Jeanette: It sounds like an interesting time for sure. And you never swam in the lake. I know it did have leeches.
The punt Laurie Made
Zane: I spent a lot of time at the edge of the lake. In fact, my father built a punt in the workshop he had beside the house. You can’t see it in the picture. We called it the garage, but it was just a workshop and a place to store coal.
There is a long story about the punt that I won’t go into now, but at one point, Jim Mitchell’s son and I took the punt out on the lake when my father wasn’t home and we got into some trouble and needed a rescue. My father was a little upset with me because he had just finished it and the paint was still wet when Jimmy and I borrowed it. When it finally was returned to the garage and set back up on the saw-horses, dirt and sticks were stuck to it everywhere and it had to be sanded down again.
Swimming, the Pump House, The Catholic Church
Zane: Where did you go swimming?
Jeanette: At the Stirling lake (Five Island Lake) but not around the road where you lived. So, continuing on towards Loch Lomond, where the lake starts on the main road, there was a pump house. It wasn’t a pumphouse when I swam there, it was just a foundation.
Zane: Wasn’t there a community hall or something there at that end of the lake? We had a Christmas concert in it.
Jeanette: It would have been the Catholic Church. You’d go past the lake, after you couldn’t see the lake anymore, on the left-hand side, there was a road that went up there and there was a Catholic Church there.
Zane: There was some kind of a building there. I could see it from my side of the lake. I didn’t know what it was. I just know we had our Christmas concerns there. I thought it was some kind of community hall or center. So, you clarified with me that it was the Catholic Church.
Jeanette: There was something about that, some people said they went to dances there; and concerts for sure. My cousin (Donald Morrison) went to a concert which his older brother George was in. Another person (Pearl MacLeod MacDonald) said there was an alter there but they would move things out of the way when they would have concerts there.
Zane: There was a stage.
Jeanette: Yeah. I think the stage was probably the alter (rearranged). I’m not sure (what other activities went on there) but it was the Catholic church and they did have concerts there. And when the mine closed up, they
took it apart and then they made a Glebe house at the other Catholic church down here (in Glace Bay) St Leo’s (as per Father Norman MacPhee’s interview).
Jeanette: On the Stirling (Five Island Lake road) where Enos Sampson and they were, on the road there, you can see it, there is somebody building something there now.
The Dam, Dan Alex’s old mill, Angus Morrison’s place
Zane: On the other side of the lake that’s where you went swimming?
Jeanette: Yes, when you pass the road (Five Island Lake Rd) that would take you down to your place shortly after that, you start to see the lake (on the right). Right there, we had a little pathway. We used to do some exploring there. So, we would walk along the lake to the right and there was a dam there. If you drove down the road where you lived, there was an old house on the left-hand side. The Morrisons lived there. Angus Morrison and his family.
Zane: So, down the Five-island lake Rd, you’d go off (the main road) to the right? and you say on the left-hand side along there was the Morrisons?
Jeanette: Yeah, there was an old mill, Dan Alex (MacLeod) had an old Mill close to the road – the main road.
Zane: Do you mean like a water mill?
Jeanette: No, a sawmill. And then later on he took it (the equipment) down to the school when the school closed. He had an old mill there around the time the mine was going. It’s on my map. And then Morrison’s would be next. And then there was a little stream that crossed the road,. Well that little stream went into the lake. At that point there was a dam there. I guess it was there to dam up the water because they got the water from the Stirling Lake. That’s where that Pump House I’m talking about was - where we swam.
Zane: Somebody lived there. That was three times I almost drowned. That little stream, I crossed it every day of my life practically. But somebody lived there; there was a little road, not a big house but an old man lived down there. He had his house next to that stream. The other end of the house was at the edge of the lake. And he had a pond in there and he had trout in it. It was almost like he had his own private little fishpond, right at the mouth of that stream and that might be where the dam and the Pump House were.
Jeanette: That sounds like that was his (Angus Morrison) place. When we were kids we’d walk over from the pump house (foundation) and go to that dam and I always wondered what that was there for. Recently I figured that the Mine did that so the water would build up in the lake, when it got low, I guess, and that water got pumped out to the Stirling Mine to the Mill and to the houses (and other buildings).
Jeanette: I was going to ask you if you noticed seeing big pipes that were made out of wood? That’s what they had; they had these big wooden pipes leading from the pump house at Stirling lake (Five Island Lake).
Zane: I don’t remember that. I’m sure the mine would be using that as a source of water.
When the Fannings left Stirling
Jeanette: When your family left Stirling, where did they go?
Zane: When we left Stirling, when the mine closed, we moved to New Brunswick. Heath Steele Mines was just opening up when Stirling Mine was shutting down. We moved to a small community called Sevogle. Heath Steele was located about 60 kilometres north of Newcastle. Together with Chatham and the surrounding villages its called Miramichi today. (Editor’s note: As per Wikapedia, Heath Steele Mines was a Copper, Lead and Zinc mine. which ran from 1956-1999. Zane recalls that it closed for a time between 1958-1961)
Zane: One day we were in Stirling and two days later we were moving to New Brunswick. About half a dozen families from Stirling went there – the Potties, I think Posers, and a family called Mossman are some of those I know of.
Jeanette: Were they on your road too?
Zane: Mossman’s were on that Stirling Lake road where we lived, just up the road a little further toward Patterson’s Lake. John Mossman, worked at Stirling Mine. When they moved to Miramichi, they ended up living right across from us. John Mossman, sadly, was killed in a mining accident at Heath Steele, I’d say in 1957 or thereabouts. I remember that John worked underground and a chunk of what they called “Loose” fell and struck him on the shoulder. He was in the hospital somewhere, probably Newcastle, and I happened to be in the house when someone came in and told his wife and sons that he had died.
Jeanette: They must have left in 1956 when the mine was pretty well shutting down.
Zane: I was surprised when I woke up my first morning in Sevogle to find the Mosmans living across the road from us.Zane: My father helped turn what had been a general store into a duplex. Potties lived upstairs and we had the ground floor.
Jeanette: So, was that Joe Pottie and his son Nazaire?
Zane: And Hilda was one of his daughters. And they had a brand-new baby just around the time they moved from Stirling. When we lived in Stirling, they lived up a side road, almost directly across from our driveway. Sampsons also lived up on that lane. There was a log cabin up there, as I recall.
Jeanette: Yes, that was Enos’. He built that. Apparently, a lot of people helped him.
Zane: It was always difficult to find a place to live when you move to these small places. We moved many times, during my early life. Beginning with Stirling, I attended seven different schools in as many communities, by the time I was in grade eight. I am amazed at the amount of investment the mining companies put into these sites and close them just a few years later. Look at Stirling for example. Four years is a short life span. Stirling mine lasted not much longer than the life span of a hamster. Think about it.
Jeanette: You mentioned Poser.
Zane: There was a Bruce Poser. Bruce Poser worked at Stirling, right?
Jeanette: Yeah and he lived over on the stretch there.
Zane: And I think Bruce Poser ended up working at Heath Steele Mines and his wife‘s name was Helen. Do I have the right family?
Jeanette: Yes. Helen Burns, she was from Fourchu. She met him there I guess. I remember her coming down and visiting her sister Peggy and they had a store up there.
Zane: My mother and Helen Poser became friends and remained so for many years. I don’t know what the Posers did when Heath Steele Mines closed from 1958 to 1961 but our family lived in various parts of Ontario during that time. When we returned to Newcastle, New Brunswick in November 1961, my parents would remain there for the duration of their lives. Helen and my mother remained friends for life.
Conclusion
Zane: The last time I went to Stirling was in the fall of 2014. I took a few pictures. Someone has a camp where our house used to be. The only sign that I can remember is a slight depression in the ground where the outhouse used to be.
The world has changed a good deal since then. Now when I tell stories to younger generations, they sometimes show skepticism when I mention outdoor toilets, no running water, and the absence of central heating. They also marvel at the amount of freedom we had as children. If parents today allowed their kids to run loose like we did, they would be arrested, or at least, family services would be at the door. It has gone to the opposite extreme, I think. Hopefully, they will find a happy middle ground.
I moved around a lot, but Stirling is one of those places - a piece of my life is there. I get Nostalgic and I like to go back and look at the place.
There is a special place in my heart for Stirling. It is a piece of my life. I didn’t work there but my personality, values and attitude began to form there. I started school, learned to catch fish, make bows-and-arrows, face up to bullies, and enjoy a few hundred yards of freedom in all directions. It was only four years but when I left there it represented half of my life. Every decade I go back and pace my way to school and down past where the shops used to be. Then I sit by the lake where our home used to be and think about things.
I have many questions that I wish I had asked my parents and grandparents but never got around to it until it was too late. So many mysteries remain for me, about people, about Stirling and other places I lived while growing up. About two years ago I started writing down stories about my early life. I find it therapeutic. More importantly, I hope these antidotes will answer some of the questions that my children may have someday.
I want to emphasize that these stories, and the responses to your questions come from the point of view of someone who was between 4 and 8 years old at that time. That and the 64 years of fog between then and the present day. Much of it is a combination of what I recall directly, along with various versions of these events I overheard my parents and grandparents telling others in the months and years that followed. In other words, I cannot verify that every detail is fact. That is why I call the stories I have been writing a work of fiction. If I can remember even three quarters of it exactly, it would be remarkable. I was told that there is no such thing as pure fiction or pure nonfiction. It’s just a matter of degree.
Jeanette: Great Stories about Stirling, Zane. I look forward to reading your compilation of stories/Novel when it is completed to hear more of your life adventures.