A Spec. Editorial from 1956
Beach Memories
By Dorothy Depew
In the second of two articles. Miss Depew continues her memories of fishing days at the Beach, off Station Four. She tells of an era that has become a part of the history of, the Hamilton district.
Grandfather's fish shanty was quite a place. It was a little low building on the lake shore, and it even had a front porch. Inside it contained about everything from coal stove to fish boxes. Here he had his posts set up for the "simming", (sewing the leads and corks to the nets), kept his tools and paint for mending his boat or a broken oar.
The walls were usually covered with calendars showing pictures of Clipper ships, or lobster men.
His fish shanty was to his end of the Beach what the general store is to the four corners. It was the men's club. Here on winter days or Sundays the men would drift in and out all day; their "membership fee" was usually a lump of coal picked up along the way while walking up the track.
In fact, sonic "members" used to mount the coal trains as they crawled;, by the Beach Road and kick off the coal all the way up to the shanty. Even the train crew would kick' off some themselves, and were known to be most generous to poor families along the line to the Canal.
Politics, sport, fish, weather— everything was discussed in these shanty sessions. Usually a checker or card game was in progress in one corner, the players taking turns at "simming" as well as at cards.
If Lake Ontario had his dander up and spumed right in the shanty door — a Nor'easter — Grandfather would retire to Grandmother's kitchen. There, behind a huge wood-burning range and in the company of many heavy socks and mittens —arid a cat or dog—he -would proceed with his industry of making his own leads. He would heat his bucket of lead, and make his sinkers with his own mould.
The correct attire for a fisherman in Grandfather's day was long woollen underwear, not necessarily red, heavy flannelette shorts, usually grey in colour, a pair of socks, a heavy pair of woollen trousers, and a second pair of heavy socks were drawn up to his knees, and the trousers tucked inside them.
Then came the rubber boots, usually two sweaters—according to the weather. Oilskin overalls, slicker and Sou'wester completed his costume, and then the heavy mitts.
The oilskins were sort of sticky, and when wet they gave off an odour that I can still smell in my imagination.
My Grandfather was a great weather prophet. A glance at the sky, a sniff of the breeze,, a squint at the lake, and he would predict "fair or foul" weather for the morrow. He would also comment on the condition of the lake, whether a sea would be "runnin"" or it would be calm. Nine times out of ten he would be right.
Another winter chore Grandfather had to do was to fill his ice house with ice cut from the Bay and which was hauled by team to his ice house. The. Men's Club always assisted with this. The ice house was constructed of rough boards to form four walls. There was no roof to it.
The huge blocks of ice were lifted from the sleighs with tongs and were placed in layers, each layer being covered with a thick layer of sawdust.
Grandfather raised a family of six sons and one daughter. Fishing breeds independence and all his sons went into business for themselves, in whatever field they followed. Only two of his boys were able to follow in his footsteps, and became fishermen with their own boats and outfits. The others could not take the cold, crippling; dampness of the work. The one and only daughter was the heartbreak of/Grandfather's and Grandmother's lives. She was a cripple and for all her 30 years never left her chair. She had Grandfather's patience and endurance, so that in time she taught her crippled hands to crochet. Grandfather's kinswomen felt greatly honoured when she bestowed a piece of her "work" on them. It became a cherished family possession.
Grandfather's homestead was a low, white frame house. A veranda ran around three sides of it. At intervals, pink climbing roses climbed to the porch roof. The one at the kitchen door was most fragrant and was often admired. In the front of the house the lilac bushes were heavy with bloom each spring.
The six sons trudged the long way to the old school on Van Wagner's Beach to get their education. All the children at that end of the Beach went to school there. On vacations, the boys helped fish, or tended the vegetable garden on the Bay-shore lot. Soil on this shore was noted for growing fine potatoes.
Grandfather sold, his fish to the local hotels, and in the summer, some city ones. The city hotels usually came after theirs. The boys sometimes delivered to the local ones for him. 'In summer, there was usually a little group of cottagers waiting, when the boat pulled in, for a fish dinner for summer guests.
All Grandfather's family were baptized in the little white church just east of his home on the lake side. It was just the Beach Church then, being Anglican in faith. It is recorded with great pride and honour that Grandfather's only Canadian granddaughter took her baptismal vows and received the "laying of the hands" by beloved Bishop of Niagara and Primate of all Canada in the church of her forefathers, now dedicated as St. Andrew's-by-the Lake.
After the sons were grown and left the homestead, Grandmother was called to higher service. The lifting and constant care of a crippled daughter took heavy toll of per strength. Grandfather then forsook his beloved lake to give more time to his. daughter. Missing a mother's care, she soon followed and Grandfather died not long afterward.
It is one of the brightest memories in the life of' the Canadian granddaughter of holidays spent with Grandfather — those were red-letter days, indeed, when he took her out on the lake with him.
When the net was set, he would sit down beside a little girl sitting like a statue, having warned her not to move. With a loving arm around her, he would put her tiny hand on the tiller, and youth and age would sail the boat home.
Beach Memories
By Dorothy Depew
In the second of two articles. Miss Depew continues her memories of fishing days at the Beach, off Station Four. She tells of an era that has become a part of the history of, the Hamilton district.
Grandfather's fish shanty was quite a place. It was a little low building on the lake shore, and it even had a front porch. Inside it contained about everything from coal stove to fish boxes. Here he had his posts set up for the "simming", (sewing the leads and corks to the nets), kept his tools and paint for mending his boat or a broken oar.
The walls were usually covered with calendars showing pictures of Clipper ships, or lobster men.
His fish shanty was to his end of the Beach what the general store is to the four corners. It was the men's club. Here on winter days or Sundays the men would drift in and out all day; their "membership fee" was usually a lump of coal picked up along the way while walking up the track.
In fact, sonic "members" used to mount the coal trains as they crawled;, by the Beach Road and kick off the coal all the way up to the shanty. Even the train crew would kick' off some themselves, and were known to be most generous to poor families along the line to the Canal.
Politics, sport, fish, weather— everything was discussed in these shanty sessions. Usually a checker or card game was in progress in one corner, the players taking turns at "simming" as well as at cards.
If Lake Ontario had his dander up and spumed right in the shanty door — a Nor'easter — Grandfather would retire to Grandmother's kitchen. There, behind a huge wood-burning range and in the company of many heavy socks and mittens —arid a cat or dog—he -would proceed with his industry of making his own leads. He would heat his bucket of lead, and make his sinkers with his own mould.
The correct attire for a fisherman in Grandfather's day was long woollen underwear, not necessarily red, heavy flannelette shorts, usually grey in colour, a pair of socks, a heavy pair of woollen trousers, and a second pair of heavy socks were drawn up to his knees, and the trousers tucked inside them.
Then came the rubber boots, usually two sweaters—according to the weather. Oilskin overalls, slicker and Sou'wester completed his costume, and then the heavy mitts.
The oilskins were sort of sticky, and when wet they gave off an odour that I can still smell in my imagination.
My Grandfather was a great weather prophet. A glance at the sky, a sniff of the breeze,, a squint at the lake, and he would predict "fair or foul" weather for the morrow. He would also comment on the condition of the lake, whether a sea would be "runnin"" or it would be calm. Nine times out of ten he would be right.
Another winter chore Grandfather had to do was to fill his ice house with ice cut from the Bay and which was hauled by team to his ice house. The. Men's Club always assisted with this. The ice house was constructed of rough boards to form four walls. There was no roof to it.
The huge blocks of ice were lifted from the sleighs with tongs and were placed in layers, each layer being covered with a thick layer of sawdust.
Grandfather raised a family of six sons and one daughter. Fishing breeds independence and all his sons went into business for themselves, in whatever field they followed. Only two of his boys were able to follow in his footsteps, and became fishermen with their own boats and outfits. The others could not take the cold, crippling; dampness of the work. The one and only daughter was the heartbreak of/Grandfather's and Grandmother's lives. She was a cripple and for all her 30 years never left her chair. She had Grandfather's patience and endurance, so that in time she taught her crippled hands to crochet. Grandfather's kinswomen felt greatly honoured when she bestowed a piece of her "work" on them. It became a cherished family possession.
Grandfather's homestead was a low, white frame house. A veranda ran around three sides of it. At intervals, pink climbing roses climbed to the porch roof. The one at the kitchen door was most fragrant and was often admired. In the front of the house the lilac bushes were heavy with bloom each spring.
The six sons trudged the long way to the old school on Van Wagner's Beach to get their education. All the children at that end of the Beach went to school there. On vacations, the boys helped fish, or tended the vegetable garden on the Bay-shore lot. Soil on this shore was noted for growing fine potatoes.
Grandfather sold, his fish to the local hotels, and in the summer, some city ones. The city hotels usually came after theirs. The boys sometimes delivered to the local ones for him. 'In summer, there was usually a little group of cottagers waiting, when the boat pulled in, for a fish dinner for summer guests.
All Grandfather's family were baptized in the little white church just east of his home on the lake side. It was just the Beach Church then, being Anglican in faith. It is recorded with great pride and honour that Grandfather's only Canadian granddaughter took her baptismal vows and received the "laying of the hands" by beloved Bishop of Niagara and Primate of all Canada in the church of her forefathers, now dedicated as St. Andrew's-by-the Lake.
After the sons were grown and left the homestead, Grandmother was called to higher service. The lifting and constant care of a crippled daughter took heavy toll of per strength. Grandfather then forsook his beloved lake to give more time to his. daughter. Missing a mother's care, she soon followed and Grandfather died not long afterward.
It is one of the brightest memories in the life of' the Canadian granddaughter of holidays spent with Grandfather — those were red-letter days, indeed, when he took her out on the lake with him.
When the net was set, he would sit down beside a little girl sitting like a statue, having warned her not to move. With a loving arm around her, he would put her tiny hand on the tiller, and youth and age would sail the boat home.