When our family arrived in Geraldton in the summer of ’53, some sidewalks were wooden. There was stretch on Main Street between Wardrope and McKenzie, and the walkway on both sides was suspended over the creek (locally called S**t Creek, now called Hardrock Creek). From that point, south to Jonesville, on the east side was a cinder path (cinder from the CNR locomotives).
“We walked out our path to where the new streets were going to be.
‘We’ll go up this street to the main street and then along Main to the station. We’ll see how the new stores are coming along,’ Mom said.
When we got to Main Street we had a big surprise. The men were making a boardwalk and we could walk along on it. It was easier to walk on.
Mom pointed to a new building across the street. ‘That’s going to be a new store. It’ll be nice to have stores. We won’t have to order from Port Arthur anymore and we’ll be able to have fresh vegetables and meat.’
Men were putting crushed rock from the mine for the trucks and cars to go on. The boardwalk went down to the tracks. The big building at the tracks was the store where my father got tarpaper, shingles, and beaver board for our house.
We had to cross three sets of tracks to get to the station. There weren’t any trains in. We went into the station and got the express package. The big clock on the wall was ticking away and the telegraph was chattering. The agent wasn’t busy so he could help us right away. I wondered how they could figure the words from the chattering. Mom had told me there were different sounds for each letter. To me, they all sounded the same.
‘W hat’s in the parcel?’ I asked.
‘I got Aunt Mabel to get clothes for you. You are getting too big for your shirts and pants.’
. . .
‘Let’s go home on the back street,’ Mom said.
We walked down the track and then crossed to where the street started. It wasn’t good walking. Piles of brush and logs in the middle of the road were ready to burn. Workers left the roots and brush scattered around so we had to climb over it. I tried to walk on the tops of the logs lying down. Dust and dirt covered us.
‘You don’t want to walk here when it rains,’ Mom said. ‘You would get stuck in the mud and we would have to pull you out.’
‘There’s our claim post,’ I shouted and ran to it. It was a tree stump taller than me. The top chopped square, had writing on it. It told which post it was and who it belonged to. This was post number one and it marked a corner of our claim. Mom liked this post. She could tell when spring was coming. W hen the snow melted enough for us to see the top of the post, she knew spring was coming.”
DO YOU REMEMBER . . .
a) wooden sidewalks where you lived?
b) telegraphs?
E.J. Lavoie's Blog 3 