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nobelmemories · 7 years

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More Nobel Memories – Along The Nobel Road

Part IV

I have mentioned in these stories where the Harris’s and Langford’s lived on the old Nobel road in the 1940’s. I am including a picture taken of Herman Harris, Charlie Langford and Lawrence Rosewell, and Doug Langford taken about 1947 when they opened L & H Motors in Parry Sound. I have also included a picture showing a Glacier hole Lawrence and I visited a couple of years ago.

I thought I would start this sessions with my memories along the Old Side Road (Hammill Ave.) or the Original Nobel Road beginning with houses and places north of Portage Lake Road (Pineridge Dr.) To begin with I should remind people that they are my memories as I remember them from the early 40’s, their accuracy may have been blurred by time. They are not like telling a fishing story. Those are always different because in a fish story, it is your story and you can make the fish as big as you want, especially if no one else seen it and it got away. If you actually caught it and took it home. There is a requirement to make the story a little more accurate. Especially if there are witnesses. I do try to make my memories as accurate as I can and I do get straightened out by one of my friends or relatives from time to time. Then sometimes we just agree to disagree.

So here we go heading north on the Old Nobel Rd. on the left there were two houses, within the first two hundred yards. I can’t remember who lived in the one, but the one which lay about halfway to Hwy. 69 was occupied by a Jack Crawford and family. No relation to the writer. He must have left right after the war ended and the plants closed because I have no memory of them being there after that period. I heard years later that he moved to the Sudbury area to work in the mines. I do remember he shot a good sized bear one time. He had it hanging by the neck with the hide off of it. When you skin a bear, you skin it so that the claws, and head remain with the hide. With these removed, the hanging carcass looks just like a human being. This has always stayed in my memory and every once and a while you will hear on the news of the day, about human remains being found some were. Later you will hear that human remains have been analyzed and found to have been one of a bear. Do not judge too quickly, there are two things at work here, first the shock of finding what you think is human remains, and secondly, there is such a strong similarity.

Just slightly to the north of the Crawford property was the south end of the old water line that had been run down from the Nobel Plant. (Our bicycle superhighway through the bush.) This area had been cleared at one time and had grown up in thick brush about six or seven feet in height. We kids selected this area as a place to build our town. The water line was our highway and we made narrow trails all through the brush. These were our streets We set up a little town with all the usual businesses you would have in a town. We built little shelves and stocked the businesses with whatever supplies were required. We had signed to identify the streets and businesses. If it was a store we would collect empty containers from our homes or dumps, cereal boxes, cheese boxes, cigar or cigarette cartons. If it was a garage we would haul in old tires, cans or whatever was necessary. We would then barter or sell with imaginary money. I am sure any of the local kids will remember doing this or some of you did similar things. When our younger grandkids came to visit us in later years, I never could understand why they wanted to be entertained. We never seemed to have this problem when we were kids. There was always something to do whether is it was the Tarzan Tree ( a big beach on the Wright Property) or fishing for chub in Scott's creek. We would find something.

A few hundred yards north on the water line on the bush side there was an old green shack. It was covered in green rolled roofing. The owner had taken an additional piece of the rolled roofing and cut it in the shape of a big star about 2’ across and painted it silver. He then tacked it on the wall of his shack up about 7’ in the middle of the east wall. I can not remember his name. He mumbled to himself a lot and constantly wore army uniforms of one kind or another. I suspect he was a veteran suffering from PTSD, we called it SHELL SHOCK at that time. Mom always cautioned me to stay away from him as she thought he may have been some kind of child abuser. I and a lot of the other kids did not heed our warnings. In fact, it made us more curious than anything. I got to know him quite well and I never saw him do anything that needed to be worried about. He did fill our heads with good imaginations. He sure could tell good stories. I think for the most part we did not believe the stories but they entertained us something like a comic book of the time would. He didn’t seem to have any money and what he did have came from bottles he had collected or something he found in the dump. We dubbed him The Lone Ranger. He had a little garden which we would help him with sometimes, but other than that he seemed harmless. He snared a few rabbits, often had a little campfire going and that worked well as it always does to attract the kid. Looking back even at my life experiences behind me, I think he was a harmless person, some tragedy had affected his mental outlook and he was lonely.

On the right a little north of Jack Crawford’s residence was the Claudney residence. I just remember their daughter as in later years she built a cottage out on Hwy. 69 opposite the Esso and later the Shell service station. She was from Toronto I believe and use to come up and use the cottage as a summer residence. Her first name also eludes me. The Collison family later lived on this property.

Continuing north of the west side of the road were tow houses I forget the owners of the one, but the other I believe was the Dore’s and later the Kerr residence. I believe the Kerr children I remember was Duncan and Ann. They had lived in the village during the war years and moved to the Side road after. Ann, I believe in later years became a nurse and married Ron Anderson owner of the Island Queen. Switching back over to the east, the other side of the street and another 150 yards north was a small house owned and occupied by Orville Hodgins and family. I believe he had two female children. After the war, the house was torn down and he lived to Espanola for many years. Coming back to the west side there was a couple house as you traveled a slow corner to the left. I am not sure who was in the first one, it may have been Klingbells, just past their house and set a little further from the road was the Unger’s. I believe they had a son Gerald. Continuing north on the same side and right on a corner was the Chevrette house. It had kind of a barn shaped roof and I think shingle siding. I remember a Ronald Chevrette. This house I think was originally built by Ralph Crawford my uncle. At one time Uncle Sarnie and Ralph had been working together on the local snowplow. In a garage that was on Hammill Avenue on the east side of where Sarnie’s House was. It was a caterpillar type tractor on tracks. It had a V-plow and wings on both sides I think. There was a square metal frame built around it. There was a platform across the back of it that allowed the operators to walk back and forth to operate little hand wenches that operated the wings and v-plow, this allowed you to change the level or angle of the plow. It was still used to plow the old side road, Hammill Ave, and Portage Lake Road when I was a kid. We use to like to see it come through and open up the roads, but when they sanded the road that was not a good thing. It messed up our shiny games, as we use to play them on skates right on the packed ice road. We watched very close and everyone was familiar with the warning call of CAR! When one did come. The goalie would grab the goal posts, ( Someone’s boots ) and everyone would clear the road until the vehicle was gone by.

To get back to the story, Ralph was doing repairs on the caterpillar plow and attempted to crank start the motor while standing in front of it. It had accidentally been left in gear. It started and pinned Ralph to the wall of the garage, severely damaging his leg. He eventually got gangrene in the wound and it led to his death. This occurred I believe in 1937. I was only a year old but was told that Aunt Annie moved her four children to Parry Sound. Dorothy who married Tommy Green, Bob who married Helen Schell, Jean who married George Watkinson and Gordon who married Fern Culp. Of the four sibblings, Dorothy the oldest is the only one that has not passed on. She is working on her 96th.,year Tommy her husband and a well-known member of DEED Builders is also still alive and with her. They have both moved on to a retirement home not.

The next house another 150 yds north on the west side was the home of Ken Scott and his wife Rita Bilton. Ken was the son of Henry Scott who lived at the end of Portage Lake Road now Pineridge. The Ken Scott children were Allan and Sharron. Ken worked at the Crawford Garage and drove schoolbus and did mechanical repairs for Uncle Sarn his brother-in-law. Allan was close to my age and we got in many safari’s together. He had an equal inquisitive mind to mine and we attempted many things better left unmentioned. But we did have a lot of fun. I remember he had a weakness for dill pickles and would do almost anything for one. Lol. We spent many day squirrel and chipmunk hunting with our sling-shots. Bod Foley was often with us. I remember one time we were on a hunt across the road and railroad tracks from the Foley house, near the shore of Simm’s Lake. Bud shot a big red squirrel breaking its back. He ran over and picked it up, cupping it in his hand, allowing its head to come up between his thumb and index finger. The squirrel swiveled its head around and bit him in the webbing of the hand between the thumb and index finger. It must have cut a small artery because every time his heart beat a stream of blood would shoot out about four feet. The squirrel was still holding on, Buf opened up his hand and held it out Allan, saying: Squeeze it to make it let go. Allan reached out then pulled his hand back and said: I can’t, it’s too cute. Bud and I quickly disposed of the wounded squirrel and bandaged the hand up with a hankerchief and went on hunting. If I remember correctly, Bud had a few well chosen words for Allan.

The long driveway into the Nick Kott farm was located pretty well across the road from Ken Scotts. At one time the Kott farm consisted of a very large field that started north of the Orville Hodgins property to a point north of his driveway and almost back to Scott’s Creek. The end of the field actually extended east of the present north-bound lane of Hwy 400. Most of the field is covered with trees now. There is an interesting hole located at the back of the Kott field. We use to say the Indians ground their corn in these rock formations. I believe they were originally caused by the melting glaciers causing a harder rock of or boulder to spin around in a circle in the same spot grinding a hole into the granite. These holes come in various sizes. The one back of Kott’s field is formed so you could sit in one hole and put your feet in the other. I have seen others in my travels. One other is just off the north side of Hwy 559 in Carling about a tenth of a mile past the entrance into east Carling Bay Road. It is a little ways off the road on the north side about a tenth of Km past Larry Ritchies.

About a month ago I was having lunch at the Orillia Costco. We had picked up our lunch but there were no empty tables. I saw a couple sitting at a table that looked to be alone, so I asked if they would mind if we shared theirs. They welcomed us and during our lunch we started conversing. I found out that the man’s name was Billy Carruthers. When he found out I was from Nobel, he told me that during the war his family had lived on the Kott farm. He told me that there had been some pretty lean times there. I also learned that we had gone to the Nobel school together.

The next house north of the Kott driveway was owned by Jim Odd and his wife. I remember several of their children, there was Edna, Louis, Clayton, Norma and George. They hailed from the town of Restoule and many of them returned there in their later years. I remember spending one Halloween evening there when I was quite young. They had dumped a large number of apples in a wash tub. The girls coached me on how to retrieve the apples with my hands behind my back. As I remember I got quite wet. They were always a friendly fun family. Many of them have passed now but they are still remembered. These kids usually attended our skating partied on Portage Lake, and skiing and toboggan parties on the old golf course.

The next house on the same side just past the Odds was owned by Norm and Lena Knectel. I spent several deer hunting trips with Norm. He was really good to do more than his share of camp duties and often ended up as camp cook. He loved to tell camp stories. I remember they had hunted a couple of days before I was able to join them at the Van Wagner camp at Deep Bay in Carling. Oscar Mace was telling a story as usual and apparently Norm had missed a deer. I was never sure how much was truth and how much got added on in these stories. Oscar claimed that he had been dogging and came up on a hill where he could look down on Norm standing on his watch. He claimed that the deer ran right across in front of Norm and that Norm instead of shooting the deer, followed its progress with his rifle on it. He kept following the deer with his sights and each time he would yell bang, eject a shell, yell bang and eject a shell again, until the deer was no longer in Norm’s sight. Oscar claimed he knew the cause, it was that all the previous year norm had practiced with an empty rifle at flies on the wall in his house. He would sight at a fly on the wall, call out bang, work the action and got to the next fly. When he got nervous on seeing the deer he did what he had trained himself to do. Whether it was true or not, it was a good story and we all had a laugh at poor Norm’s expense. I do know that Norm was very much in love with hunting and loved to tell his succesful stories which were very entertaining, providing you had lots of time. When Norm told a story he told the whole thing. What time he left where he went, what kind of trees he walked by, where the stumps were, how many bays in the lake he walked around. Plus anything else that came to mind while he was in the process. He did fill out the gang and was a valued memory. Thanks for his presence. I knew all of Norm’s children but always seem to miss one. I remember Glen, Betty, and I think there were two others. Norm’s wife Lena was a sister to Henry Daub and they originally hailed from Nippissing Village, not too far west of Restoule. I met Henry in my later years up at Warren, Ontario. I also remember that Lena was a great friend to my mother, especially in her more senior years. Thank you Lena, you were appreciated. Next to Knectel’s as you started up the big hill on the Side Road was a small cottage and an English Lady lived there, but I cannot remember her name.

Across the road from Knectel’s was the Gonyavick (not sure of the spelling) residence. I remember them having chickens and one boy I remember who often joined us in our PEE WEE games. I think his name was Wally. I remember there was a trail that went in just north of their house and went from the Sideroad over the pipeline out to Hwy. 69.

The next house on top of the big hill and close to where Kim Dixon now lives was owned by Herman Harris and his wife. There two children that I remember was Ron and Shirley. Next to them was Charlie Langford and his wife and their children Doug, Joan and Marilyn.

Charlie Langford and Herman Harris started L & H Motors in Parry Sound which Doug and his boys Steve and Bruce later took over. The next house to the north on the west side as you started down the hill, was owned by Joe Emery and his wife and a large number of children whose names have escaped me. I do remember that Joe had quite a drinking problem and at time life was pretty hard for the rest of the family.

At the bottom of the hill on the east side was the home of Herman Rosewell and his wife Florence Crawford. I have so many wonderful memories of visiting here. This was family to me in the truest sense of the word. Uncle Herman and my dad were good friends as well as being brothers in law. They had started the Crawford Rosewell Hunt camp together on Cranberry Lake, near Marsh Lake in the early forties and hunted there for many years. Uncle Herm was no slouch when it came to telling hunting stories and many a time as a young child I would be sitting on the floor listening to the two men reminisce and tell another hunting story. I remember one time when I was ten or eleven years old going up with my brother Deane, Lawrence Rosewell, probably Otto Kraus and some other boys and we went hunting rabbits with our .22’s back by Scott’s Creek. It was a cold winter day and there was lots of snow on the ground. We had a special spot to cross the creek where a large white pine had a limb that grew out over the creek. It was near some fast water and the ice was not too thick. So we unloaded our rifles and one of the boys swung across with the limb. The rest of us then tossed our rifles across to the first one. Then each of us in turn swung across using the limb. I was the last one to go, I took a run; grabbed the limb and made a mighty swing. I swung across the river okay, but did not let go until I got halfway back. I landed in the middle of the river and broke through the ice into about 4 feet of water. I floundered to shore and we headed back. The closest place was Uncle Herm’s and Aunt Florence’s. Aunt Florence had me strip off and soaked me in warm water in the round laundry tub. It would be quite a sight to do that now. Just believe me. LOL. She then gave me a couple of cups of hot chocolate. I remember I never even got a cold. I was always treated with love and affection in that house. There were three kids in that family. Enid was the oldest, she was the boss and always told us what to do, and still does, but does it with love making it okay. Lawrence was next. He was born on the same day as my brother. May 2, 1934. He was the inventor and fixer up in the family. From as far back as I can remember he was always tearing things apart to fix them. He still is. He is a well known mechanic throughout the area. The difference between Lawrence and most mechanics is that he not only removes and replaces. When you can’t find a part to replace, he will make one. He has a natural curiosity and ability to figure things out. He is generous to a fault. There are not many people in Nobel and area that he has not helped at one time or another. The last child was Rod. Rod was the kid when I was growing up, being just that much younger. In our senior years I have really learned what a great guy his is. There are not many days go by that we don’t make some kind of contact. When we were kids Lawrence made a bobsled, It was about eight feet long and had a short bobsled fixed solid at the rear and another short one that swiveled on the front. We would pile on about eight kids and go down the big hill on the Side road. It would go from the top of the hill almost to Ken Scotts driveway. It was really great until they sanded the roads. I also remember him making a go-kart with the gas engine out of washing machine. There was always some new tool or toy he would come up with. I,m not sure who started it, but I remember we were all good with sling- shots, and before we got our own rifles we would collect empty .22 shells up, we then cut the heads off of the self lighting match heads. We would fill the .22 shells with the match heads, crimp the ends of the shell close, then drop a rock on them. They would go off like a cherry bomb. We got some bigger rifle shells and tried doing the same. We laid the finished product on a flat rock, then got about six feet above it, picked up as big a rock as we could lift and tried to drop it on the shell. It took a lot of rocks before it finally went off. It sounded just like a high powered rifle. For you parents reading this, I don’t think you can still get the right matches to pull this trick. I think it was about 1949 that Uncle Herm and Aunt Florence built a new home and moved the family down to what is now the corner of Lake Forest Drive and Nobel Road. That is the Week’s Construction Yard. This home had some memories for me but the best were at their first house.

The last story I will tell for this session also involves the Rosewell’s I often think of it this time of year. I was six or seven years old, so it must have been the 24th. Of December 1942 or 1943. I was all excited as the next morning would be Christmas morning. We were living in our house on Hwy 69 just south of what is now Pineridge Ave. We all got dressed up in our Sunday best. Mother had on a wool coat with a heavy weave, it was brown with a full fur collar. She had on a nice flowered dress scarf and a blue hat with a fancy twirl to it. She had on what looked like swede overshoes with a ring of fur around the top of it. Dad had on dark coloured galoshes that pulled over his shoes, heavy dark pants and a full length overcoat that was heavy like the old army trench coats. He was wearing a fedora. My brother Deane and I were similarly dressed in ski jackets and wearing a helmet type hat. My jacket was brown in colour. We were going to Uncle Herman’s and Aunt Florences for Christmas Eve supper. I knew Lawrence would come up with something exciting to do. We walked up to there house on the Side road, had supper and headed back somewhere between 8 and 9 PM. I think it was around Chevrette’s corner that it really started to snow heavy. Within a matter of minutes you could see your tracks. The four of us were talking and laughing, because of the evening well spent and the impending Christmas morning. It is one of my most memorial memories and I recap it each year at this time.

So much happiness, so much love. I wish all of my readers a similar memory and a very Merry Christmas. Garry

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