“On Tuesday, October 29, 1929, the biggest stock market crash in history occurred. We all remember that day as “Black Tuesday”. That’s when “The Great Depression” got started. It affected every country round the world. It is said that Canada was the hardest hit, and it took us the longest to recuperate. I was in my early thirties back then, and I recall feeling quite fearful when we got word of it all. Of course, with Logan being a business man, he had a good idea what it all meant. Perhaps that made it worse.
Most people looking back now think that Canada’s demise came more out of the failed crops in the Prairie Provinces. They suffered years of drought. Their fields just turned to dust. Here in Ontario and Quebec, we faired out somewhat better. Our economies were more diversified. Not all our eggs were in the same basket, so to speak. We had more going on than growing wheat.
When the great depression first hit in 1929, our neck of these northern woods wasn’t really affected right off. This area was mostly made up of farmers and loggers. Most folks were very self-sufficient. We had already made it through the tough times when people like my folks had immigrated here three or four decades earlier. We were survivors.
The farms were well established by that time. Second generations were taking over from their pioneering parents. Most of them shipped cream. Their extra butter, milk, beef, pork, hay, and oats were sold to the mill towns that were still operating. They had a steady income. Everyone always grew a big garden and wild game was plentiful. Most folks had plenty to eat.
By the time the early thirties rolled around, the lumbering business started to stall, and the price of commodities dropped significantly. Farm products were worth less than they had been before World War I. Everyone’s household income dropped, and cash was in short supply. Nobody lost their property, as I recall, but they sure had to tighten up their purse strings.
The Government set up relief programs to help provide work. Mostly these were road maintenance positions. Married men with families were the first to get hired. The young single men were only considered if there wasn’t anyone else. That was rare. Lots of the young folks who had ventured to the cities to work returned to their family farms. At least there they had food to eat. Very few young people got married during the depression years. They had no money to set up house nor a steady job to provide for a family.
Logan and I faired out rather well. Ashton’s General Store had been in business for fourteen years, and Logan had been very thrifty. We had managed to tuck away some savings. Logan had hoped that the electricity company was going to extend its lines to our village, but when the depression hit no one wanted to spend the money. The money he had set aside for the electricity installation was used elsewhere. Everything works out in the wash, Ma used to say.
People had to refrain from luxury purchases as they didn’t have the cash to spare. We had to adjust our inventory to compensate. I think it made better storekeepers out of us. We couldn’t take risks on merchandise that wouldn’t sell. Folks couldn’t afford to buy new machinery, household items, or clothes. Everything was repaired or mended when possible. That’s the business we picked up on. We sold all the parts and pieces for fixing and mending. People often improvised and became creative.
Logan was always good at coming up with ideas to help people out when they needed to find a way to fix something. He would find a part in the back storage room that could be altered to do the job. They say poverty is the father of great invention. Well in this neck of the northern woods, Logan Ashton was said to be, and folks knew he would never gouge them.
Most folks in the area that had been loyal customers, and those who Logan knew he could trust were offered credit when they needed it. A few folks took a lengthy period to repay their debts, but nobody failed to settle up. Logan was a fair businessman and was compassionate to his customers’ circumstances. After all, those were the same people who had supported his business during all the good years.
Before the depression, our store had been a gathering place for people. They would stop by and pick up their mail, and often have a little chinwag with neighbours and other people they knew. On Saturday afternoons, folks often brought their children by to purchase an ice cream cone or soda. It was a real social outing, and I became known for all my homemade ice cream flavours. The children just loved them.
In the winter, the men all stood around the old potbellied stove and chewed the fat a little. Many stories got told. Some were stretched somewhat, but it was a chance to unwind and share some laughter. It gave Logan and me a chance to catch up on the local goings-on as well.
I remember, during those lean years, I always had a big pot of soup simmering on that old wood stove. Logan was always trading store goods for vegetables. At times there were just too many to sell before they spoiled, so one cold day I decided to make soup with them. That’s how it got started. Bums riding the railway got off and would come into the store. They were hoping to find food or work. I always had a bowl of soup to offer them. During the winter, after traveling by horse-drawn sleigh as a few folks still did, they looked forward to my soup to help them warm up. The big local joke used to be to come into our store and ask what the soup of the day was. They knew the answer was always the same: vegetable.”
Beth chuckles, “So you opened the first local soup kitchen, did you, Gran?”
“Not exactly, dear. I was just lending a helping hand to those in need. I didn’t want to be wasteful and throw all those vegetables out. That would have been a real shame. The bums had no way of cooking them. I was just being charitable.
The saving grace for some folks was the Old Age Pension. Quite a few roofs housed three generations, and that made for extra mouths to feed. Some years earlier, in 1927, the government had made a concession to implement the pension, and all Canadian seniors who were seventy and had resided in Canada for twenty years qualified. I think it was about $20.00 a month in those times, but it went a long ways. Ma and Pa started to get it in the early thirties, and it made a difference in their household. I know it helped out a lot of others as well.
In 1934 the Dionne Quintuplets were born. That sure made a mark on this part of the land. They were born into a poor farming family in Corbeil and had very little. They weren’t expected to even live, but through the sheer perseverance of Dr. Dafoe, they not only lived, but thrived. After the government made them wards of the court, hundreds of thousands of dollars were poured into providing for them. They had nothing but the best.
A huge mansion sized house-hospital was built for them. Housing was provided on site for all the nurses and other employees needed to provide their care. When news got out about the quintuplets, curious tourists and news reporters came north to get a view of those miracle babies. Highway 11 was upgraded to supply a direct northern route for all the traffic that soon started to come north from Toronto and the U.S.A. They say that the Dionne Quints actually helped to bring us out of that depression. Long-awaited jobs were finally available. Tourist dollars and all the spin offs, along with the highway construction, got things moving again. It was nothing short of a miracle indeed!
The best thing that came out of those bleak depression years for us was our new family addition. We had been married for almost two years when I realized I was pregnant. At first, Logan was a little troubled by the idea. He was so concerned for my welfare, but I was in excellent health and felt really good.
I was more concerned about our age. We weren’t exactly spring chickens. I was thirty-four and Logan was thirty-six. I reminded myself that Ma had been thirty-seven when she had had my twin brothers, Milton and Malcolm.
It had been eight years since Chase had been born. I felt out of practice. Part of me was really excited about having another baby to cuddle and love. The other part knew that it would be a big adjustment. It was too late to think about all that, though. I was a big girl and knew what caused it. Come summer I would have a baby.
Murray and Mary Beth were fifteen. They were attending continuation school in town. Friends of ours had offered them room and board. They had both become quite the scholars. Mary Beth hoped to be a nurse. Murray was thinking on being a dentist. I wasn’t sure whether finances would allow them to pursue their dreams, but for the time being, I didn’t discourage them. I was thankful we had the financial resources to allow the twins to attend higher education. There were no jobs about for them at that time anyway. Logan didn’t have full time work to offer them around the store either. They had to do something to fill their time that would be a benefit to them.
Logan’s eldest son, James, was twelve by this time. John and Charity were ten. They were given the extra chores when Logan and I needed their help in the store. Murray and Mary Beth helped on the weekends when they came home.
Well, my pregnancy progressed normally. I was due in July, and I felt great. I didn’t get too big till the last couple of months. When I went into labour the second week of July, Logan drove me into town to the mid-wife’s place. We had made arrangements to go there beforehand. Within a couple of hours, I gave birth to a little daughter. Twenty minutes later I gave birth to a little boy. Twins again! That was a surprise. I had had no indication that I would have twins again. Good thing Logan and I had settled on both a girl’s name and a boy’s name. They were named Jacqueline Rose and Jacob Reese.
Logan was so relieved when he was told all had gone well. I know he was shocked to hear we had twins, though. Two babies. We had our hands full for sure.
I stayed at the mid-wife’s home for a week. She helped me to get a good start. Logan and the gang came and picked us up in our automobile. The other children were so excited to meet their little sister and brother. I remember all eleven of us, getting packed into that car to head back home. Logan leaned across the front seat and kissed me. With a big smile he said, “Here we go, Mother, homeward bound.”
Well, as it turned out the twins were my last babies. They sure disrupted our household and kept us busy, but they were a bright spot during a gloomy period of time. There’s nothing like little ones to bring life back into a home. I know that a parent should never favour any child over another, but I know little Jackie and Jacob were the apples of Logan’s eye. He was so proud of those two babes. I think they made him feel young again. They brought him a newfound purpose. Perhaps they gave him final closure to the ones he’d lost. At any rate, they were healthy, and we were a happy family and managed to get through the Great Depression together, all eleven of us.”
I hear a knock on the door and say, “Come in.”
Jenny opens the door and enters pushing a small cart. “Lunch ladies,” she announces. “Enjoy! If there’s anything else you need, Anna, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Jenny. I surely do appreciate this,” I reply as she leaves. “That was good timing, wasn’t it, Beth? We’ll have a nice lunch and then continue on with my story. It sure smells good. Oh, Kentucky Fried Chicken, my favourite. What did I do to deserve all this?”
Beth looks at me, smiles, and said, “I love you, Gran. It’s just for being you.”