History Detective

Peering into my past, part one

By Doreen Marion Gee

My total knee replacement surgery on July 24 was very successful and went off without a hitch. I am ecstatic to have this new lease on life – with a brand new artificial knee to replace the old one that was ravaged by osteoarthritis. When the other knee is replaced as well in a few months, I will be able to walk again, dance again, ride a bike again – essentially, I will have a life again! Needless to say, I am deeply grateful to my surgeon and our medical system for this second chance at a decent future.

The recovery from this major operation is not for the faint-hearted. It is an extremely painful arduous ordeal. It helps to keep my eye on the prize. I am motivated to do all of the hard work to ensure a full recovery. From hard experience I know that, in order to get to heaven, a walk through hell is mandatory. The best things in life never come easy. As I work through the healing and recovery period, I have to slow down, rest and cut back on any activities that are not essential. I am spending a lot of time looking through old books and exploring the on-line universe. A couch 'gumshoe', I am on a quest to find interesting gold nuggets about James Bay's past, my past and that of my family, about growing up in James Bay, and to locate any historical factoids from the retro fifties and sixties – the formative years of my life. Here is a list of some of the specimens I discovered: the good, the bad and yes, the ugly.

First of all, as I thumbed through the book about my school years, "South Park School, Memories Through the Decades" (2007) by Debbie Marchand and Linda Picciotto, I came across my class picture from 1962, in Miss Lorimer's Division 4 Class. Many strong emotions hit me with no warning. My childhood nemesis leered at the camera with an evil 'tough-guy' grimace. "Jimmy," the fiendish kid from the Beckley Street slums was your run-of-the-mill bully. He never touched me, but the threat was enough. I am now 64, but his face still makes me wince; that kind of primal fear never completely goes away.

It was not a happy time to be in school – reflected in the grim faces of teachers and kids. Many personal stories in the book are witness to life under an authoritarian system where "The Strap" introduced fear and violence into a place of learning. Imagine the terror of waiting in line to be smacked by a wide thick piece of leather. Corporal punishment was abolished in BC schools in 1973 but we will never know the long-term effects of that kind of emotional and physical brutality on children. It is important to remember that the Residential Schools were not the only place where abuse of innocent children occurred in BC.

Thankfully, there were stellar teachers who bucked the status quo and did their utmost to provide a compassionate and vibrant learning environment for young minds. In another photo in the book, Mr. Justus Havelaar stands tall at the top of the South Park staircase, a wonderfully kind man, a natural teacher who loved kids. His classes were an unpredictable and exciting adventure. Every morning began under the watchful eye of "Gulliver", the one-legged seagull who stood on the window sill munching goodies from our teacher.

In my Internet surfing, I stumbled upon the "British Columbia City Directories" from 1860 – 1955. I looked up our family home at 27 Government Sreet circa 1955 (I was four years old) and made a delightful discovery: "JUBB, Herbert Ward and Doreen (my mother and father), proprietors of 'Newport Meats', 27 Government Street." Then the memories started flooding in: My father, a butcher by trade, is humming and whistling as he makes his beloved "Pork Pies" in our basement. The air is full of the savoury magnificent aroma of cooked ground pork in pies oozing with warm juices. Even today, my all time favourite meal is cold pork pie.

A historical tidbit in the "Victoria Heritage Foundation" (2015) website reports on a momentous event in 1956: "Marilyn Bell first woman and first Canadian to swim Juan De Fuca Strait, Port Angeles to Victoria." My recollection is a lot less awe-inspiring: At age four, I was dragged out of bed at about 2 AM kicking and screaming by my mother to see the infamous Bell. Cold clammy sand stuck to my feet as I gazed out over a cold black ocean under an equally black sky. Years later I was thrilled that I was there to see such an exciting piece of history. But at the time I was wet, mad and tired and it wouldn't have mattered if Superman had landed on the Dallas Road ocean front.

I was very surprised to learn that the "oldest" house in James Bay is at 438 Heather. The original structure was a pioneer home when the area was Hudson's Bay farmland, circa 1850. When it was completely renovated in 2006-2007, an archivist was allowed in to recover some of the wall paper. It was later reported they collected 22 layers. That is a lot of homeowners over the years! ()

As I regain my strength (hopefully not my appetite) over the next few months, reflecting on the beautiful place of my youth will make the journey easier. Let's face it, James Bay is a very fascinating, cryptic, mysterious place with a history to rival any blockbuster movie. When both my knees are in place, I am hoping to walk through its natural beauty again and recapture the magic and wonder of those halcyon days of childhood.