THE CARTERS
MY MEMORIES AND REFLECTIONS
BY WILLIAM JESSE CARTER
Ghostwritten by Hugh Munro Carter as
though written in the late 1920s.
First compiled September 2001.
Edited October 2004
FOREWORD
By Hugh Munro Carter
The essential facts of my grandfather’s life are in my possession, and I have taken few liberties, except to imagine some of his thoughts. The way he expresses his attitude towards his family and his wife is based on fragmentary evidence, but I believe it to be accurate. This belief is augmented by many references to him by my father, Robert Stewart Carter, which created a picture of a self reliant, compassionate and sensitive person.
Some of the observations about places came from my historical readings.
I have ventured two scenarios for which I have scanty evidence. One is his first trip to the west via Minneapolis; I don’t know if his wife accompanied him or whether she followed later. Second, I don’t know the details of how he and his second wife, Christine Andersen, came together. I do know she was born and raised in Minneapolis.
INTRODUCTION
Family members have nominated me to tell what I know about the CARTERs – their coming to Canada, struggling to get started, raising their families, and in a general way what has become of them. I was born in 1855, and I am writing this in 1930. During my lifetime I have come to know much of what has happened to the Carters, many of them my descendants. I straddle the generations because I sit in the centre of the family chart and the family knowledge flows in to me from both directions. Good reasons for nominating me.
I remember my grandfather, Robert Carter, who emigrated from
Ireland. I heard him mention his
parents in Ireland and also tell of the initial difficulties in Canada, the
hardships, the efforts to get land, and the challenges of surviving in the raw
primitive frontier. And it was raw!
I participated in the
opening and settling of the Canadian prairies and became acquainted with many
of my fellow pioneers. Eventually I
compiled a journal of many early settlers, sprinkled with many
photographs. The original is in the
library of the University of Alberta, * and
I hope it will be of value to my descendants, and to scholars and
researchers. Today in Edmonton I look
back on an exciting period for Canada and for the family, and take pride in
Canada and how it is developing, and with what my sons and other family members
have accomplished, and are still accomplishing.
It wasn’t until 1907 when I returned to Otonabee for my father’s funeral that I gave any thought to ancestry. Where did we originate? Who are we? If only I had asked my father and especially my grandfather about our ancestors! A few bits of fragmentary knowledge are available, but nothing that digs very far into the past.
My grandfather, Robert Carter, was the first of our line of Carters to emigrate from Ireland to Canada about 1819. His first wife was my grandmother, Elizabeth Maharry, who died shortly after giving birth to her third child who, sadly, also died. Her first two children were my father, William, (b.1824) and my Aunt, Mary Jane (b.1826). With the death of Elizabeth, he had, at 30, two infants without a mother. What a way to start in this new land with primitive living conditions! More about Robert later, but I first want to relate what I know about Robert’s parents.
They were William Carter and Rebecca Julian who lived and died in Ireland. Robert was born in Rathdowney Parish, Queen’s County * near the town of Mountrath where a number of Carters lived. Many are shown in the parish records but we have no hard evidence to connect us with any of them, except for Robert. His birth date and place of birth are shown on his army record. We don’t know who William’s parents were, except for their names, nor where they originated. However, we do know the Carters originally came to Ireland from either Scotland or England because they were Protestants. That tells a lot. They were planters! Much more on planters later.
We have only legendary fragments of life in Ireland. Robert was known as Bob the weaver. He told us he lived in Mountrath and we know that Mountrath had woolen mills about that time. His father, William, was said to be an officer in the army, but another fragment says that he and Robert worked a farm together. Still another reports that Catholics invaded the farm and Robert’s father was murdered. The tombstone of Robert’s sister, Eliza (Carter) Fife, in the Fife cemetery in Otonabee, Ontario states she was born in Queen’s County, Ireland on 2nd August 1798, but we have not been able to find corroboration in Ireland.
Separating the threads of truth from the fuzzy fabric of family stories is difficult. However, legends begin to solidify into facts with the birth of Robert. Many hard records such as land documents show some highlights of his life in Canada. But the deeper mystery of where the Carters originated in Britain is eluding us; further research may reveal the facts, and several avenues wait to be explored. They were undoubtedly among the Protestants the British subsidized to settle in Ireland to dilute the Catholic influence thus promoting greater British control, and possibly planter records might be uncovered and researched.
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Army Record |
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The Regimental Description & Succession Book of the 97th Regiment of the British Army, 1817-1818 (War Office series 25/542A, at the PRO, Kew) list the following information regarding Robert Carter: |
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According to the Regimental Pay Lists, the entire regiment
was discharged at the same time. |
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PUTTING IT TOGETHER
Most of the records of births, marriages, and deaths at St. Peter’s Church in Mountrath are still intact. It is fascinating to explore the 14 volumes starting from 1749. The spidery handwriting adds to the mystique of being carried back in time when people lived very differently. Sadly, one key book is missing which may have some evidence about our ancestry. In the surviving 14 books many Carters are listed. Intriguing references to more than one Robert Carter living in the same time frame as Grandfather Robert stare out of the pages at us tantalizingly. Did he have cousins or uncles in the area? Unquestionably, but so far, the link to these Irish Carters in the Mountrath/Rathdowney area cannot be documented.
Similarly, although many Julians are recorded, there are no links to Grandmother Rebecca. It was not uncommon in those days to fail to record the births and activities of women, although they do appear in the registers of marriages and deaths.
Records of “planters” have not yet been researched for mention of Carters, and these may prove fruitful. Planters were English and Scottish Protestants who were encouraged by successive British governments to settle in Ireland. It started shortly after 1607 when the earls of Tyrone and Tyrconnell and nearly 100 chiefs left Ireland forever, worn out emotionally by the grinding, encroaching, and brutal methods of Britain, which for generations had been trying to bring Ireland to heel. Their departure left Ireland, particularly the north, weakened and vulnerable. The British started the plantation process in Ulster, and it was quickly successful. Over succeeding generations they imposed the same despotic policies in other parts of Ireland. Dublin became the main British stronghold and Rathdowney, Mountrath, and Maryborough *, were examples of smaller colonies that were centered on the manor house of the Cootes family near Mountrath.
Plantation embodied a systematic erosion of the legal rights of the Irish to assist the subsidized British immigrants to take possession of a large proportion of the land. The British rigged the rules in favour of the Protestants. For example, in some areas, on the death of an Irish farmer his land was required to be put up for public auction. The subsidized British Protestant usually won out. In many cases, if the land were not taken up by a planter, as they became known, the law required it to be subdivided into as many parts as there were sons of the deceased. Thus if the land didn’t fall to a planter, the plots became smaller and smaller. The custom of primogeniture, common in England, was thus negated in Ireland to weaken the power of the individual landowner.
Despite the ascendancy of British control, most Irish, including a substantial proportion of Protestants lived in deep poverty. Many of the planters found they had traded one country’s feudalism for another. At the time of Grandfather Robert’s boyhood, many landholdings were 10 acres or less and on these it was scarcely possible to grow anything but potatoes, which in many cases provided virtually the only food for the family. Even milk and butter were seldom seen. The small crops of grain and the few cattle or pigs on some small landholdings went towards the payment of rent or tithes to landowners who became increasingly hated.
It is no surprise that emigration became a major escape for both Catholic and Protestant. Although the Catholics were more numerous – 3,150,000 to 1,350,000 – and although Protestants owned much of the desirable land, poverty didn’t take sides. Most, regardless of faith, were simply dirt poor. Even some of the better off Protestants who had several animals and a variety of food on the table were harassed by night raids by Catholics who set barns on fire, or cut udders off the cattle, or stole some pigs for food. Many of these farmers gave up, and joined the exodus. An example was Christopher Julian, whose journal comprises a separate chapter in Climbing Our Family Tree. Mountrath and Rathdowney were beyond the Pale, and thus more vulnerable.
Add to all this the
enforced union of Ireland and England in 1800.
Local political clout was weak in the large union. The land was governed by a few. Westminster was far away and uninterested in
the people of the country it thought it had finally subdued. The Irish considered themselves abandoned.
In this environment of an Ireland weakened by British policy over several generations, Grandfather Robert joined the British army on 7th July 1814. It was not uncommon for Irish, protestant and catholic, to join the British army, and it still goes on today. Then and today, the army was a refuge for many. It meant eating regularly and it represented stability and safety. He was 21 *, and enlisted as a private. He didn’t rise above this rank until just before discharge, on 14th November 1818 when he was promoted to corporal.
It is not certain he was sent to Canada. Family legend says he arrived in Spain just too late for the Peninsular War. Two priorities would have faced the British military at that time: either send the regiment to Belgium for Waterloo, or to Canada to fight the War of 1812-14 against the Americans.
Soon after he enlisted
his regiment was sent to Canada, presumably because of the 1812-14 war with the
United States. Despite the severity of
the weather, he must have liked what he saw, and he undoubtedly learned that
discharged soldiers were given favoured access to ownership of land in Upper
Canada, as Ontario was known. It seems
he was on his own in Canada about 1819, and we know he was married in Cobourg
in October 1824, and that my father was born in December. (Married just in time!) His wife was Elizabeth Maharry (perhaps
Meherry), also Irish (probably from Co. Down).
We have been able to identify her parents as Hugh Maharry and Mary
Jackson, and her brother as Robert Maharry.
Although I was only seventeen when he died, and he lived with Uncle James, not with us, I had come to know him quite well. He was a likeable, highly energized, straightforward man with a barrel chest, a hearty laugh, and a hearty sense of humour. Once, when I was at Uncle James’ house after church, and helping the young ones with their alphabet, he interrupted and insisted I pronounce the letter ‘I’ as though it were ‘OY’. “We mustn’t lose the Oyrish way,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
Here is a chart showing the relationships between the early Carters. All of the offspring of William and Rebecca were born in Ireland, as were Mary Brinnon, Ellen McMannah, and Elizabeth Maharry and probably Edward Cowan. John Fife was born in Scotland.
The next chart moves down a generation, displaying the offspring of Robert Carter
Two years after my father was born in Cobourg, a baby sister arrived on the scene, my aunt Mary Jane. Then one year later, in 1827, tragedy struck. My grandmother died from the complications of giving birth to a boy, Hugh. Mother and son died a week after the birth.
Grandfather once remarked she was a wonderful person, and I could tell he loved her deeply, but it was evident he adored his second wife Ellen, whom I regarded as my grandmother. I suspect she was more a true partner-mate . She was probably more mature and determined than my real grandmother, Elizabeth Maharry. For one thing, Ellen and Robert were much the same age (38 and 40 when they married) whereas Elizabeth was only 26 when she died bearing her third child, nine years younger than her husband. She was not much more than a child when they first lived together.
What grandfather did, and where he went, and how he looked after the children between 1827 and 1830, we don’t know. However in 1829, John Beavis and his wife Ellen were farming in Otonabee at Concession IX, Lot 21, south half, on which they had settled in 1827. In that year, John suddenly died, leaving Ellen with three children, James 8, Adam 6, and Stephen 2. In that frontier land, where a daily living was scraped from the land, and cash was scarce, this was a calamity of the first magnitude. I have no knowledge of how they survived the winter of 1829-30. It must have been grim.
On June 7, 1830, Grandfather Robert and Ellen Beavis were married. Perhaps Robert had been working for the Beavis’s, and when James died, stepped into the breach. It is not clear whether Robert’s two and Ellen’s three children all ever lived in the same household. To me, it looks as though Ellen, in the dire circumstances of losing her husband, arranged for the children to be ‘placed’. There are reports that Adam grew up among the Fifes and Nelsons (Neilsons). We don’t know about the two others, James and Stephen.
So Grandfather married the woman my father regarded as Mother – Ellen Beavis (neé McMannah). This was her third marriage. Her first gave her the name Beatty, the second Beavis, the third Carter. My father didn’t remember his real mother, and regarded Ellen as his truly loving and sweet mother. After Ellen and Robert married, two more children arrived, Elizabeth and James Julian, half siblings to my father and my Aunt Mary Jane . I didn’t know Grandmother Ellen was not my real grandmother until my mid-teens when it tumbled out on a family Sunday afternoon. Equally, I hadn’t known that Uncle James and Aunt Sarah were not my father’s full siblings. Uncle James fathered nine children, only one of which was a boy, my cousin Charlie. Eight sisters! I was blessed with only one brother and one sister.
The land records reveal that Robert purchased title to Lot 27, Concession V (200 acres) in Otonabee on 11th April 1834. In his application to buy the land, Robert cited his army service, which undoubtedly gave him priority, or helped in negotiating the price. The Beavis farm was taken over by James Beavis, the son of Ellen and John. Census records show that Ellen was living there with her son just before she married Grandfather Robert.
Carving a living from a
large swampy forest, and turning it into farmland were the principal
ingredients of a hard and sometimes cruel, but not unfulfilling life. Many didn’t last and drifted away. Some just perished, unable to survive the
punishing 
winters where it could
be -35°. It took immense doses of hard
work and just plain guts to keep going.
The only help for original settlers was a meagre handout from the
authorities when granted land title, and wonderful neighbourly assistance in
times of crisis. Robert and Ellen wouldn’t have been eligible for the settler
handout, but they would have had something to bring to the new purchase –
experience, including hard knocks.
Grandfather’s initial holding comprised Lots 27 and 29 in Concession V, each of 200 acres separated by another lot 28 of the same size. He paid £100 for each, a large sum in those days. The southernmost, 27, abutting the road to Peterborough is where they cleared the land to create a farm. Lot 29 remained untouched for many years. In 1841 they bought half the lot in between, lot 28, and my father bought the remaining half in 1862. Thus Robert and his two sons eventually owned all three, totaling 600 acres. He gave my father 100 acres when he was 23, and repeated the procedure with Uncle James when he reached 23.
Robert and Ellen’s legacy was large for those days especially considering they started from scratch. My father and Uncle James had two adjoining prosperous farms on the 600 acres. Years later when I returned to Otonabee in 1907, I was struck with how much land had been cleared on the two adjoining farms. My father had sold his in 1901 at the age of 76, unable to cope any longer, and he and his second wife Annie, my stepmother, had been living in nearby Keene since.
It is a sadness of my life that I saw my mother only occasionally after I left home at the age of 22. She died at the early age of 60 in 1885 when I was far away in Prince Albert struggling to get established. The pressures of raising a young family (Donald was 4, Bob was 2 and wee Graham was 1), together with the crisis of the Riel rebellion prevented my travelling home for her funeral. 60 was not really an early age to die in those days. Many women died much younger, either in childbirth, or from excessive child bearing, and burnt out by the dreadful drudgery of looking after a family and a household, primitive by modern standards, without the labour saving equipment of today.
Many other threads make up the mixture of fact and family folklore in the tapestry of the early history and origin of the Carters. Some of my descendants have researched much more about the Carters and related families. A wealth of information awaits those of you who are interested and curious about your beginnings. There’s much about the Carters, but you will be enriched by learning about the families of Beavis, Beecham, Bryant, Cameron, Clarke, Colwill, Dunkin, Eason, Fife, Goepel, Graham, Guthrie, Harding, Herlihy, Julian, Love, Lyon, Macdonald, Macrae, Munro, Plunkett, Stewart, Tremayne, Wilson, and Yielding. Every lineage reveals some gems.
MY EARLY LIFE
I was born and grew up on part of the Carter acres in the Otonabee Township, a few miles east of Peterborough, Ontario. When I was 20, I moved to Peterborough, and shortly after marrying Catherine Cameron went west, spending most of my life in Saskatchewan and Alberta, with one interlude in Montreal. I have always been a builder, which has given me great satisfaction because in a small way I have contributed to the development of our wonderful country.
My father William was a quiet, gentle, industrious person and I respected him mightily. He was non-judgemental and tolerant, with a tough inner core. With his and my mother’s guidance my growing up years were wonderful. My brother Thomas and sister Jane were also very happy in this household. We hadn’t much materially, the winters were harsh, and the work tough and never ending, but we were never hungry and always had adequate, if plain clothing. Most important, we had a warm and loving home. We went to the Bethel Church every Sunday, and later in the day my father would read from the bible which we always found enriching, a large factor in the happiness of our family. The tender, yet expressive, way he read contributed to our enjoyment. In most homes in our township, families had bible reading on Sunday afternoon, except in the spring and the fall when seeding and harvesting used most of our available time.
From the time the snow left the ground in April to the first snow in November or December, I cannot remember not having to work very hard from the time I was a small boy. Except for going to school and Sundays, it was work, work, work. I didn’t know of any other way of living, and I realize I enjoyed it. In fact, we never looked upon it as work – it was just living. Whenever a lull in the normal farm chores occurred, we cut down trees, and pulled stumps from the earth to open additional arable land. I can still remember the thrill of learning new and more intricate tasks as I grew. I suppose I was about 12 when I was entrusted with operating the stump puller on my own. And so I progressed, learning how to milk, to care for the horses, to muck out the stalls, to plow the land, to sow crops, and to harvest.
Our home was often a
refuge for my cousin Charlie (he was baptized Silas Whitfield but always wanted
to be known as Charlie). His father, my
Uncle James, was a despotic and intolerant man – quite opposite to my
father. He forced his strict religious
views and habits on anyone he could bend to his will, and especially with his
children he was brutally harsh and intimidating. Perhaps refuge is the wrong word. My cousins never ran to our house to escape theirs, but they
crossed our land to go to and from school.
They often stopped, especially for a warm-up in winter, and my mother
always had cocoa and a cookie ready.
On these visits, they confided their troubles, and it was clear Uncle James was an unreasoning tyrant. His oppression brought a double tragedy because he eventually lost both his daughter Sarah Jane and his son Charlie. Neither would take it and each left home in bitterness, never to return. I was fifteen years Charlie’s senior and as a result didn’t hear the details of his leaving until much later, but was not surprised, already familiar with the breach Uncle James created with his daughter.
When Sarah Jane told her father she wanted to marry John Brown, he stormily replied that she must give up all thought of marrying him or leave the house at once. He disliked and despised John Brown because he was an accomplished violinist and played for dances, making him a Satanist.
She packed her personal belongings and despite her mother’s entreaties left at once. He never forgave her the double sin of disobedience, and of marrying a musician. Years later they were briefly reconciled when she fell ill with pneumonia, and it was thought she was dying, resulting in a visit from her father. Beside her bed he forgave her and peace was temporarily restored. However, she recovered. Certain she had duped him, he never spoke to her again. Undoubtedly, his harsh despotic nature was embarrassed by his tender words when he thought she was dying.
Although our home was often the scene of tears and wailing by my cousins about the harshness of their father, my parents never openly took sides. However, their soothing manner revealed their sympathies. To my knowledge Uncle James never criticized my father, which was surprising because my uncle obviously knew his children found comfort in our home. If the two brothers ever spoke about private family matters I shall never know. My father was nine years his senior and although quiet and kind by nature he was always resolute on matters of principle. I suspect that Uncle James could not or dare not challenge the strength of character of his older brother. On the other side of the coin, I can’t imagine my gentle father taking Uncle James to task about his own private family relationships.
At twenty Charlie also left home, never to
return. Respect and affection for his
father had been drained from him. He
first went to Calgary, wandered to San Francisco, and eventually ended up in
Juneau, Alaska, where he became well
known, liked and respected, and at one time was mayor. The tale of his very active life and of the
many descendants from his marriage to Alphonsine Lovely is another fascinating
chapter in the story of the Carters.
His granddaughter Sarah Lupro has compiled it, and I warmly recommend
it.
Woodworking and hand tools intrigued me, and with my father’s encouragement, I was able to attend Peterborough College, learning the techniques of carpentry, and taking a few business courses. It was during this time that I met Catherine Cameron and we quickly discovered a mutual attraction. We were married in 1876. The Camerons were a prominent group of families, originally from Scotland, most of whom lived at the eastern end of Otonabee Township, and in the adjoining township of Asphodel. Catherine’s parents were Donald and Margaret (neé Neilson). Despite the distance from Peterborough to the Cameron’s home, I was usually able to visit them on Sundays. I went home on Friday evening, helped out on the farm on Saturday, and joined the Cameron family on Sunday for church followed by dinner at the Camerons. Those weekends were filled with happiness – seeing my parents, my brother Tom, my sister Jane, and my future wife, Catherine, or Kate as she was known.
The Cameron clan was an admirable, hard-working, honest and friendly group. When I asked Mr. Cameron for Kate’s hand, he beamed with pleasure, and paid me the compliment of saying he was sure I would never shirk my responsibilities, and he knew I would prosper. He said my family were fine people. My mother and father were also delighted – they had known the Camerons since childhood and particularly liked Duncan and his late wife, Margaret. They had known her as Margaret Neilson, before she married Duncan. Unfortunately, she died two years before I spoke for Kate’s hand, but Duncan was sure she would have been delighted.
In our community in the Otonabee and Asphodel townships, most knew everyone else, although they didn’t meet often. We were all farming families and had to work hard. From April to October there was no time for getting together except at church. Every hour of daylight was used in looking after the animals and the crops. In the winter, we saw a little more of each other at church socials and family get togethers.
My father never discouraged me from detaching from farm life. Both my parents were strongly inclined to encourage the three of us to be independent and self-reliant. During college in Peterborough I found ample work to pay my way, and when I finished college I started my own carpentry business and quickly got lots of work. It was a thriving growing town serving a large area with building activity flourishing. Kate and I saved every possible penny to build a fund to take us on a big adventure. During our engagement I shared with her my dream of going west to the prairies of Canada where new land was being settled, towns were establishing, and construction was everywhere. She became as excited as I at joining the pioneering westward surge. We were two young people in love with the exuberance of adventure ahead.
Why not stay where our
own communities were expanding? The
first waves of immigrants to Otonabee, Asphodel, and Peterborough from 1820 to
1840 had now established themselves; their children were educated with many now
taking over from their parents.
Opportunities still abounded.
The pioneering excitement, however, had shifted westward to the North
West - the areas now called Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and Alberta. The great prairies with their enormous
potential to produce wheat and cattle were beckoning. We were fascinated and attracted by what is now called getting
in on the ground floor!
THE BIG ADVENTURE
– THE WEST
Before I begin the story of our big adventure, I want to explain about our given names. Kate and I discovered that each felt deprived because we had only one given name – William, and Catherine. Many friends had two, a few three. It didn’t seem fair! So we decided to adopt second names. I chose Jesse and Catherine picked Stewart. Childish? I suppose so, but we were only 20 and 22 and full of ourselves. It was a secret for some time.
Why did I choose Jesse? Jesse James, the famous American outlaw, was a sort of folk hero at the time. The Unionist forces in the American civil war treated his parents, Southerners, very badly, resulting in Jesse being caught up in intrigue and treachery and becoming part of the guerilla forces under Quantrill, where he established a reputation for marksmanship and daring. At the end of the war he and other members of the band surrendered but soon after, he was treacherously shot and wounded. He was declared an outlaw and was on the run until his death in 1882. About the time Kate and I were married in October 1876 he was leader of a gang of bank and train robbers “The James Band” and had much public sympathy. He was regarded as a Robin Hood although today it seems he robbed only for his own gain.
In any event, at the impressionable age of 22, I was captivated by his hero status and chose Jesse as my second name. At that time he was admired by many, especially the young, but now in later life I realize he was a criminal and probably deserved what he got.
Why did Kate choose Stewart? Kate’s mother died three years before we were married. Kate was 17 and it hit her very hard. Her grief drew her even closer to her maternal grandmother of whom she was very fond. Her grandmother, Cathrine [note spelling] Stewart had married Andrew Neilson, but was frequently referred to as Cathrine Stewart. So my Catherine chose Stewart for her second name, much to the delight of her grandmother who told us she couldn’t imagine a nicer compliment.
Winnipeg has often been called The Gateway to the West. But it’s really the start of the west. My aim was to go to Prince Albert in the Northwest Territories (now in Saskatchewan), but first I had to reach Winnipeg. How to get there? One choice was to sail across the Great Lakes to the western end of Lake Superior, a route not recommended because of the perils of the lake and of the difficulty of getting from the lake head to Winnipeg.
The alternative was to travel through the United States to Chicago, then on to Minneapolis, and north from there. In the mid-1870s a railway was thrusting north from Minneapolis toward Winnipeg, making Minneapolis decisively the best route. If the rail link were not completed by the time we reached the area, we could resort to the river steamers on the Red River. An extra bonus for me in choosing the U.S. route was that the Welland Canal on the Niagara peninsula was on our way. Reports of a shortage of labour and high wages at the canal were inviting.
The canal first opened in 1829, an engineering and construction feat of the first magnitude. It ranks ahead of the building of the Panama Canal, considering the engineering skills and construction capabilities of the 1820s. The Panama Canal was not started until after 1900 and opened in August 1914.
The Welland Ship Canal cuts across Niagara to connect two of the Great Lakes – Erie and Ontario. The difference in elevation is 326 feet, and the natural connection, the Niagara River, is impassable to shipping because of its falls and rapids. In 1829 the first canal ran from Lake Ontario halfway across the peninsula then cut back to the Niagara River. A start, but only barely satisfactory. The second leg was opened four years later creating a canal right across the whole peninsula, entirely eliminating river navigation. It served for many years, but as traffic increased and ships became larger, it became inadequate.
In 1871 the Government of Upper Canada (now Ontario) allocated the vast sum of $22 million for enlargement and modernization. When Kate and I arrived in 1877, the work was nearing completion. (It was finished in 1878.) The wages were extremely good. Hiring was active because some workers were drifting off recognizing the end was in sight. This, together with pressure from the government to finish on time made wages very buoyant. An aura of excitement in the whole area was stimulating.
It worked out better than expected. The great advantage for me at only 22 was, after demonstrating I was an expert carpenter, I was placed in charge of other men. I was assigned gangs and given the responsibility of completing construction jobs. This invaluable experience was the foundation for my future career as a builder and contractor. I absorbed many techniques to add to my carpentry skills. I learned how to hire, train, organize, and supervise crews, cast concrete, and use steel as a construction material.
Kate found work with the canal authority helping to prepare meals. Overtime was often available for both of us and we worked hard and saved our money. Despite our youth, we generally were exhausted at the end of each day, and were mighty glad when Sunday arrived. Kate found time each Sunday to send news back home to our families. After a year we had a substantial nest egg, and were ready for the next stage of our great adventure. We wanted to avoid Chicago because it was a centre of agitation, strikes, and general unrest. It was a booming city with huge potential, but not our cup of tea. Because of the growth of the railways in this part of the States, we had choices, but in the end we took a steamer down Lake Erie to Toledo, then a train into Chicago, and immediately caught a train to Milwaukee, avoiding a stop in “the windy city”. Eventually we wound up in Minneapolis.
A small boarding house gave us the opportunity to rest for a few days and enjoy the luxury of a bath. On the train we had slept upright on the hard seats, and the only washing facilities were the hand basins in the lavatory. But we were young, resilient, and excited, although we had to admit to being tired and a little scruffy. The pause in Minneapolis was mighty welcome.
A river steamer took us from St. Paul along the Red River to Winnipeg. We arrived on the 24th of May, 1879. Winnipeg’s population was about five thousand. It was an immensely busy place with a constant stream of newcomers, most heading further west. Feverish building couldn’t produce houses and stores quickly enough, and many merchants were operating in tents. Briefly I was tempted to stay realizing I could make a good living, but my goal of reaching Prince Albert prevailed. The Canadian Northern Railway was providing huge stimulation to the opening up of that part of Canada.
I invite you to read my “book” FORTY YEARS IN THE NORTH-WEST, compiled in 1919, to which I already have referred, for a description of our trip from Winnipeg to Prince Albert. Also refer to volume II of HISTORY OF THE PROVINCE OF ALBERTA by Dr. A.O. Macrae in the library of the University of Alberta, which has a short biography of me.
We left on May 26th staying only two days in Winnipeg. Six of us were from Peterborough, and we teamed up with another six in Winnipeg. The trip was by bull train, or a number of carts pulled by oxen. We arrived on July 24th, a tough 58 days. Katie and I were tired but not exhausted and in good spirits as we contemplated our future.
It was disappointing that the Canadian Northern decided to
run their main line through Saskatoon instead of Prince Albert. We had to be content with a spur line north
from Saskatoon. The expectation that
the main line would run through here was the principal reason I had chosen Prince
Albert and now I had to settle for a much slower pace of development. In 
retrospect, I can see
the wisdom of routing through Saskatoon because Prince Albert is close to the
northern fringe of arable land for the area, whereas Saskatoon has ample
wheat-growing land both to the north and south.
All our children were born in Prince Albert. Six boys, but unfortunately no girls. Sadly two of the boys didn’t survive to manhood. William Herbert died at three, and Graham tragically died in Montreal at 15. He fell out of a tree onto his own knife. I am so proud of the other four. Donald is prospering as a businessman in Edmonton, Bob thrived for a while in Calgary, then failed, but made a fine comeback in Vancouver. Fred farmed in Lloydminster, and later both worked and farmed in Powell River, B.C. Hugh, buried in California, died from complications resulting from being gassed in the Great War. Splendid men! Splendid Carters!
Despite the disappointment of the railway decision, there was ample work in Prince Albert as the community built itself up literally from bare land. Especially lucrative
were the contracts I was winning from the Canadian Northern. Principally I was building stations and other buildings for the railway which was taking me further and further from home. However, my reputation as a builder of stations was spreading, and I was delighted when the Canadian Pacific Railway, far to the south, operating from Winnipeg through Regina and on to Calgary offered me a job.
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They had been under intense pressure from the government in Ottawa to push their line through to Vancouver speedily, as part of its agreement with the government of B.C. The inducements for the Canadian Pacific were large grants of land, and now that the line to B.C. was complete (through trains started in 1886) the railway was intent on developing the land and making some money from it. So they needed men like me, as well as others for this large expansion.
It was really an offer we couldn’t refuse and Kate and I readily made the decision to accept and move to Calgary. It was 1890, and the lure of going further west to an area even more like a frontier than Prince Albert was irresistible. Also, the winters were pretty fierce in Prince Albert and we believed Calgary would be milder. Away we went! I knew that in 1886 Calgary was a settlement mostly of tents, and on our arrival four years later I was impressed that buildings were going up in great numbers, and like so many places on the prairies, it was growing quickly.
We had five small boys to move ranging from Donald at nine to baby Hugh, less than a year old. Kate and I had our hands full. However, once we arrived life became much easier than in Prince Albert. The CPR assigned us a company house, plain, but comfortable and spacious. Kate was pleased despite the larger house required more housework. Since my mandate was to build stations on the line north toward Edmonton, and south to Fort McLeod, I was often away several days at a time, putting an additional load on her. However, we were able to employ a mother’s helper which made it possible for Kate to look after our family of five little ones, get the housework done, and get the older boys, Donald, Bob, and Graham off to school on time.
It was a busy time. My responsibility took me as far as Fort McLeod, 100 miles south, and to Edmonton about 200 miles north. Many stations and subsidiary buildings were needed along both lines. I appointed several sub-managers but there were few conscientious and responsible people around so that I had to visit each of these sites frequently to ensure quality. As the building became more distant from Calgary I found that away from home more than I would have liked. During this phase I sometimes stayed in Edmonton, and liked what I saw. It was active, serving a large agricultural community close at hand and also further – into the Peace River area where the new strain of wheat, developed by David Fife of Otonabee (!) was making it possible to produce a crop in the short growing season. Much sought after as a superior grain, it was commanding a premium price.
We had been in Calgary for only two years when there came a major shift in my career and our life. A senior official of the CPR was also a director of the Montreal Street Railway. I came to his attention as a contractor who got things done, and would not cut corners on quality. He offered me the job in Montreal of taking charge of the construction and building department of the street railway. I had heard of it. Still a fairly new company, it was already vast, manufacturing its own rolling stock for its own use and for sale to other similar companies in other cities. There were several years of construction ahead. It was an offer not to be refused. It was a great challenge, the salary handsome, and a company house went with the job. We were on the move again!
This time we traveled in comfort. We were quite spoiled. We had two large first class drawing rooms on the train. The dining car was regal with sumptuous meals and outstanding service. Our principal problem on the trip was to keep the boys active and amused on a rather long dreary four-day trip. When we arrived in Montreal we were treated royally. Company staff took care of all the details of luggage and transporting us to our home. The boys were agog and Kate and I very impressed. We had two servants in the new house, and it was quite different from the frontier living we had just left.
Montreal was a sophisticated mature city, the financial capital of Canada, and the gateway to Europe. It was an important rail center with lines radiating to Upper Canada and the west, to Halifax on the Atlantic, and to Boston, New York, and Philadelphia in the States. Although I had never lived in a big city, I didn’t feel the country bumpkin. Kate was pleased that she was much nearer to her family in Otonabee and Asphodel.
We arrived in 1893 and
quickly adapted to a very pleasant life style.
It was a huge bonus that there was no travelling so that I could enjoy
my family fully. We enjoyed the winter
activity of skating and tobogganing, and we had family holidays together in the
summer. We celebrated our 20th
wedding anniversary in 1896, and splurged on a family photograph on that
occasion. Tragedy struck in 1897 when
Graham, 12, fell out of a tree in our garden and fell on the knife he was
holding. A family death is always hard,
but when it happens to a youth of 12, it is cruelly poignant. It was particularly difficult for Kate. She was the loving centre of the family,
treasured her boys beyond measure, and it was painful to see her in deep
anguish.
Donald reached 16 three years after we arrived, and started work in the Street Railway as an office boy. When Bob reached 16, two years later, he too started as an office boy, Donald in the meantime having progressed to an assistant to the chief clerk. They didn’t work in my department, but I heard favourable reports about them. It was at this time that W.G. Ross [William Gillies Ross] was beginning to make his mark. He was the controller of the company and was a genius at finding ways to make the company more efficient and productive. He was of great help to me in reorganizing the costing system in construction. It was not long after I left the company that he was appointed Managing Director (today’s designation would be President and CEO). He was one of Montreal’s outstanding men, an all-rounder in every way who went on to success after success, accomplishment after accomplishment.
In 1901 deep disaster struck us. Kate had not been too well for some time, and when the snow left the ground about mid-April, she wanted to visit her family in Otonabee and Asphodel and I most happily agreed. She and I had been there in 1897 when her father died, and we also visited in 1899. This time it was not easy to get away just as construction was gearing up for the summer, so I asked Donald to go with her. A few days after they left, a telegram signed by both Donald and Kate’s brother Donald told me that Kate had developed pneumonia and that I should come immediately.
When I arrived in Cobourg, Donald Cameron met me at the station and we set out for his farm in his trap and his fastest mare. Kate was very weak but managed a lovely smile. I’ve sometimes wondered whether an unexpected visit to someone ill is a tonic or a dreadful warning, but in this case the doctor told me she was dying before I saw her, so the point was moot. Since my early days on the farm, I had never cried, but I broke down when Kate slipped away the next day. It was a crushing blow. We had had such an adventurous, happy and fruitful life together, and were truly in love all the days of our married life. She was only 45.
Many Camerons, and neighbours, as well as my father and his wife Annie, and Uncle James and several of his children, attended her funeral. It was in the church she had gone to as a girl. We buried her in the Fife cemetery, not far from my grandfather Robert and several other Carters. My son Donald, only 20, was devastated. Frequently on the train on the way back to Montreal, he stifled his sobs. The others – Bob, Fred, and Hugh were sobbing when we reached home. How to console young people when they lose their mother?
The void left by Kate stalked us. A meal was never the same. A holiday was not a holiday. So when two years later, in 1903, the main load of construction eased, I was ready to get back to my beloved West. The ten years in Montreal had been good to me except for the dark hole left by Kate, but it was time to make a move. The youngest son, Hugh, was only 14, but the others were working, Fred just entering the work force. The five of us talked over and over about going west, and finally we all wanted to get going. The plan was to head for Edmonton.
Donald, Fred and Hugh decided to meet me there, and Bob decided he would strike out on his own for a while and would try for a job in Winnipeg. For a trip down memory lane I decided to go by the same route Kate and I had originally taken through Minneapolis in 1879 then to Winnipeg and take the train from there to Edmonton. We left Montreal in the summer of 1903, A few days later I was in Minneapolis.
Somewhat to my surprise, the boarding house Kate and I had stayed at was still operating, run by Mrs. Anderson and her daughter Christine. I was quite attracted to Christine, and stayed a few days longer than I intended. She was 37, and had lost the love of her life many years before in a tragic drowning thus ending a long engagement. I had scarcely noticed her in 1879. She had been only 13, and was helping her mother after school serving at the table and cleaning up. Now she was a charming gracious lady. We strolled about the town together, and at the end of a few days, I asked her if we could correspond, and she agreed with obvious pleasure. To make a long story short, after a few months of writing, I returned to Minneapolis, and we were married. We were later blessed with a son, Emmett William, and we lived most happily together.
I found Edmonton had grown much larger, and it bustled with pioneer activity. Many settlers had arrived during the 90s, anticipating the arrival of the railway, which actually didn’t happen until 1905, causing much celebration. Edmonton had arrived! The Canadian Northern, with which I had had a close association in Prince Albert, reached Edmonton on its route to the Yellowhead Pass in the Rockies. That same year Edmonton was selected as the capital of the newly formed Province of Alberta, again promoting a lot of celebration. A year later the University of Alberta was founded. I had certainly come to a burgeoning centre with a bright future.
I had no difficulty getting started in the contracting business. I knew several of the pioneer families and readily was introduced to others. There was an abundance of construction and workers were busy everywhere. There was no unemployment! In addition to being an important wholesaling and retailing hub serving northern Alberta, Edmonton was fast becoming a major meat packing centre, and this industry added to the impetus for growth. Despite the rather frigid winters, or possibly because of the cold, the climate in Alberta is ideal for prime beef cattle, as is well known today.
Because of the visible growth of the beef industry and coincidental with getting started in the contracting business, the boys and I decided to lay plans for a cattle ranch. About 175 miles east of Edmonton on the border between Alberta and Saskatchewan is the town of Lloydminster. Homestead lots were readily available, and in 1904 Donald and Fred each filed for adjoining lots of 160 acres each. Two years later, Hugh, now 17, filed for the third lot in the section. In 1907 they needed another person to file for the fourth lot, and I obliged. We Carters now had a full section, or one square mile. Unfortunately, for a number of reasons the dream didn’t reach fruition. Donald moved into Edmonton, Hugh went into the lumber business, and finally only Fred and his family were left. The land didn’t prove suitable for a ranch so Fred farmed for crops. Finally in the mid-20s the farming was yielding such a meagre living that Fred followed Bob’s example, sold out, and moved to the west coast. He settled in Powell River.
After Edmonton was selected as the capital of Alberta plans were quickly drawn up for a suitable building to house the legislature. It was to be a stone structure, and I was the successful bidder to supply the stone. This was a huge contract, helping mightily in establishing and enhancing my reputation. Donald joined me for a time, but eventually wanted to have his own business, and started by securing the agency of the Dominion Bridge Company for northern Alberta. In 1905 Bob ended his wanderings which, after working as a salesman in Winnipeg for about a year, had taken him to Trail, B.C., Spokane, Washington. Seattle, Vancouver, and God knows where else. He chose Calgary attracted in part because when we lived there he had started school. Donald helped him to get a couple of agencies, Dominion Bridge, and The Pedlar People, and soon he too was launched in his own business.