 David Morrison Blaikie
A Nova Scotia
lumberman
1909-1976
2. The Hupmobile
It was at this point that Roy and Glenn bought a car. The word "car" is
merely a courtesy title, used because it wasn't a wagon or a sleigh. It
was an old Hupmobile roadster and bore little resemblance to the cars
nowadays, either in appearance or performance. We have always referred
to it as the "Hup".
If you can visualize an old beaten up roadster without any top, with
small, high wheels above which were mudguards in very precarious
condition, with only two gears and a reverse, very slack of power in low
gear, and with practically none in high gear, you still wouldn't have
much idea what this decadent pile of junk was really like.
It had a very temperamental motor that might or might not go when you
wished it to, and if it did go was still likely to stop any time. And
you had to do more than wish it to go. You switched on the key, then
walked to the front of the car where there was a crank to start the
motor. If you were lucky, it started quite easily. If you were not so
lucky, about 98% of the time, you cranked until you were out of breath,
then after a few crude words of disparagement, you raised the hood and
surveyed the interior.
There was often a base wire or some other trouble that could be seen. If
it was cold you went to the house for a kettle of hot water to pour on
the carburetor. Eventually it usually started. Your longest trip at that
time would be to Truro.
Flat tires
If the motor didn't let you down, you could be fairly sure of one or two
flat tires on the trip. As I remember, the machine didn't boast a spar
tire, you had some tire levers, a pump and a patching kit, and if a tire
went flat you took it off, patched the tube, put it back on - with
difficulty - and "presto" - you were ready to go again.
This was the third car to be owned in Upper Stewiacke. I can remember
when Hedley Fulton, our local merchant, bought the first one. Before
that, an occasional car drove through the village and everyone rushed to
the window to have a look. No cars, of course, were ever on the road in
the winter.
Before too long Roy and Glenn got rid of this monstrosity and bought a
Model 'T' Ford. This much, at least, could be said for the Ford; it was
better than the 'Hup' or, to make the picture more accurate, the above
sentence could be re-phrased: The 'Hup' was worse than the Ford. To
anyone who has used cars having only an automatic transmission, the old
Model "T" would present some surprises.
Planetary transmission
Chief among these would be the "planetary" transmission. I don't know
why it was called "planetary" unless perhaps the idea for it originated
at about the same time as the planet. Anyway, there were three
foot-pedals - the brake, the reverse, and the low-gear, on your left was
a hand lever which you pushed ahead with your left hand whenever the low
gear had given you sufficient velocity to hope that high gear might now
take over.
On this car also, there were only two gears besides the reverse. At the
same time you pushed this hand lever, you let the low gear pedal come
back, which it would do of itself. When it was half way back, the car
was in neutral. When it was back all the way, the car was in high gear,
provided the high gear lever had been pushed ahead.
This may sound a bit complicated, and it was. Nevertheless these cars
were very popular, mainly because at that time there was nothing any
better on the road. The last Model 'T' was built in 1927.
Fall of 1929
At this point I'll leave the cars and come back to school again in the
fall of 1919. Our teacher that year was quite young. She had rather a
hard year. There were several girls in high school who were older than
she, one of whom was two years older. There was no actual trouble, but
in some little underhanded ways, those girls made life miserable for the
teacher. And she was a good teacher, one that I always look back on as
one of my best. But I'd like to have seen Flossie, my sister, step into
that room. She could be as sarcastic as the devil, and I'm very sure
that bunch of girls would have been no match for her.
We also had a good teacher next term. She was Anna Starratt, from
Portapique. She was slightly deaf, but it wasn't wise to count on this,
as she had extra-sensory perception in all her other faculties.
Once in awhile we had a spelling match. The arrangements for this were
very simple. Two captains were chosen by the teacher, and they made
alternate choices until the whole school was lined up, on apposite sides
of the room. I can remember one match when Amelia Cox was teaching.
Being seven years old at the time I had thought how wonderful it must be
to be captain of a team, so Amelia appointed Parker Cox and me as
captains. I don't remember which side won the match.
If you misspelled a word, you were out of the match, and this was
continued until the last survivor stood alone on the floor, and until he
(or she) was "spelled down". The good spellers liked these matches, the
poorer ones didn't.
Other matches
The geography matches were similar to the spelling matches, except that
the teacher announced a letter, for example the letter 'G', then
proceeded to count to ten. If by that time you hadn't come up with a
place beginning with the letter specified, you were out of the match.
And a place named by one pupil couldn't be given again. It had to be
another one, which made the matches more difficult as time went on.
Also there were arithmetic matches. Sometimes it was mental arithmetic
at others you used a pencil and paper. anyone who came up with a worn
answer was out of the match, and the one coming up first with the
correct answer, counted double for their team.
For outside activities at that time there was a fair variety, and most
of the games required little equipment. We played ball, usually with a
solid rubber ball - India rubber. Nobody could afford a baseball. These
rubber balls were hard.
Dave Wright
I remember an occasion when Dave Wright, who lived in the house later
occupied by Hedley Tree, was splitting wood in his door-yard. The
door-yard was adjoining the school-yard, and there was no fence between
the two. Dave was splitting away, stooped over and with his back towards
the school-yard, and he was probably fifty to one hundred yards distant
from the batter.
Fred Cox hit a high ball which went up in the air nearly out of sight,
and when it came back to earth it landed fairly on Dave's back, right
between his shoulder-blades. It nearly floored him. After rubbing his
back and glaring at the players, he disappeared into the house. It was
noticeable thereafter that when the ball games started he always seemed
to take a coffee-break.
There was a game called 'Steal the Crown'. A line was drawn across the
school-yard, and two sides were chosen, who lined up on each side of
this line.
The Crown, usually a stick of wood, or several sticks, was placed at
maybe thirty or forty feet from the line. The idea was for the opposing
side to "steal the crown", for which he had to be fleet of foot.
Endurance test
If you got to the crown without getting caught, and got hold of the
crown, you still stood little chance of getting back. But it was an
endurance test. There were no rules about how far you could go, and
often the "stealer" crossed the main road and took to the fields. Since
there were more crowns to be guarded, only a few fleet runners went
after the thief, who, if he was lucky, might make a detour and get back
without getting caught.
If caught, you had to stand by the crowns until one of your own side
came to free you, which simply meant tagging you. Sometimes there were
three or four prisoners at once. This was where the younger participants
came in handy. They were watched less closely than the older ones, and
if you could sneak down and "free" three or four of your
fellow-prisoners, it was hailed as an achievement. You were mostly
caught, but three or four fleet ones were freed. It was a game that
could go on and on.
The next year - 1921-22 - was my first year of high-school. Frances
Foster, another local girl, was our teacher. I don't believe she liked
me, and I didn't care much for her either. She was a fairly good
teacher, at any rate she worked hard to get her pupils to grade. She
wasn't too good at mathematics and was worse in languages. I took French
and Latin that year, or rather I was exposed to them, but it didn't
take.
Little training
The teacher herself didn't know much about them either, and at best it
was a case of learning to read and write French, as none of the country
teachers of that period had the foggiest idea how to pronounce the
words. Latin was even worse. I carried on fairly well in mathematics,
which came easier to me, but in Latin and French I made very indifferent
marks, which became worse in succeeding terms.
At that time everyone from Grade 9 on, had to write Provincial
examinations. Upper Stewiacke was the examination station for this area,
the nearest other one being at Truro. I can distinctly recall the first
morning of Provincial Exams. The person in charge was a benevolent,
elderly minister - Mr. MacKean. He talked without sounding his 'R's',
and there were two or three of the boys who could mimic him so well it
was hard to tell whether it was they or they minister talking.
On that first morning there was an air of nervous expectation among the
pupils, and especially among those who were writing for the first time.
We had all been conditioned to expect these exams to be hard and
merciless. But to my surprise the English paper, which came first,
didn't seem too bad, and I got through it with the feeling that I had at
least made a pass. In fact, none of the papers were that bad, and when
at long last my marks came back to me - on September 13, three weeks
after I had begun Grade 10 - I found that I had passed quite easily.
Darrell Laird
This was one year I had a seat-mate other than Parker Cox. Darrell Laird
was his name, and for the benefit of a few people who would remember
back that far, he was a nephew of Mr. and Mrs. John Fulton, and that
particular John Fulton - I know of two others - was a brother of Alex
Fulton, Tom Fulton's father.
Darrell had moved to their place with his Mother, who was a sister of
Mrs. Fulton's. They lived where Homer Johnson later lived, and since
that place has been mentioned before as the one where John Bentley
lived, I should explain that since Mr. Bentley's death, a number of
families have lived there, and at this time it was John Fulton.
Darrell arrived there in the summer vacation of 1921, and we became the
best of friends. He was a good swimmer, and he taught me how to swim
too. We were together most of the time, and I missed him sorely when
they left, in May of 1922. His own home had been in Winnipeg and he and
his Mother had spent four years in Montague, P.E.I., as Darrell's health
had not been good, and the doctor had advised the move to P.E.I.
Winnipeg
After spending the year in Upper Stewiacke, they went back to Winnipeg.
We wrote back and forth for a few years, but that gradually came to an
end, as such things often do, and for many years I hadn't heard from
him.
During the summer of 1969, Eva - my wife - and I were spending a few
days in Winnipeg. Wondering if he was still there, we found his name in
the telephone directory, and telephoned him.
I had a pleasant phone conversation with him, during which he invited us
to dinner that night. It is a rather strange experience to meet, after
an absence of 47 years, some one who had been a close personal friend
when you were only in your early 'teens. Actually, I wasn't thirteen for
a couple of months after he left Upper Stewiacke. Neither of us had much
idea of what life had done for the other, either materially or
otherwise.
Visiting Tuxedo
He called for us in an expensive car, and took us to his home where we
met his wife. She was a lovely person and made us feel at home. As for
Darrell, I wouldn't have known him at first, but after talking with him,
I could see that basically he hadn't changed very much, except in the
ways that every person changes as they grown older.
They had a comfortable, really luxurious home in the Tuxedo district of
Winnipeg. We talked about our school days in Upper Stewiacke. He asked
for quite a number of school chums, and I was surprised that he
remembered so many of them. Later we went to dinner at a nice
restaurant. It had been settled that we would go for a drive during the
evening, and that around 10:30 he would drive us to the railway station,
as we were leaving Winnipeg.
Our tour included the place where he worked, the Monarch Life Assurance
Building. We were amazed to discover, later in the evening, that Darrell
was president of the Company. Had I known this, I might have hesitated
before telephoning him. I'm glad I didn't know. They were really lovely
people, and I hope we may get together again.
Annie MacLachlan
Our Grade 10 teacher was Annie MacLachlan from Great Village. This was
her first year as a teacher, and she was only 17 years of age. She was
well liked, and was determined we should pass, whether we wanted to or
not. As she was pressed for time during school hours, we had evening
get-togethers during the winter months, mostly to study geometry. This
resulted in it being my best paper when Provincial exams came around.
Grade 11 at last. This would be my final year in Upper Stewiacke school,
and as it turned out it was my last year in any school. Our teacher that
year was Elsie MacCabe. She was a teacher who did her very best with her
pupils. She was very nervous and high-strung.
One day a live mouse was secretly placed in one of her desk-drawers at
noon hour. When she opened the drawer, soon after school was resumed, of
course the mouse came out like a streak and lit out on his own affairs.
But the teacher nearly went into hysterics. A few of the older girls got
her out into the lobby, and gradually she quieted down and got a grip on
herself. So far as I know, the chap who donated the mouse remained
anonymous.
Final exam
Mrs. MacCabe was very weak in Latin, which made no difference to me. I
had always been told that Latin was a dead language, and I certainly did
little to resuscitate it. Parker Cox and I were the only Grade 11 pupils
that year.
We had become used to Provincial examinations in Grades 9 and 10, and
Grade 11 was pretty much a repetition of former years. I had always
looked forward, as so many do, to the day when I would be through
school, and this point was achieved.
When on Thursday, June 26, 1924, I wrote my final exam and walked out of
school, my feelings were a mixture of wistfulness and anticipation. My
school days were ended.
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