“At the head of the gulch, on one of the largest pine trees, they found the Deuce of Clubs pinned to the bark with a bowie knife. It bore the following, written in pencil, in a firm hand: ‘Beneath this tree lies the body of John Oakhurst, who struck a streak of bad luck on the 23rd of November, 1850, and handed in his checks on the 7th of December, 1850.’”
An excerpt from Outcasts of Poker Flat published in 1858 and written by Bret Harte [Francis Brett Harte] who lived between 1836 and 1902.
I spent this past Friday at our town library listening to our local historian give a most entertaining talk. I had been asked by a friend who has just earned her Master’s Degree in history if I would be interested in attending. History to me has always been a dry subject. I do remember one history teacher in high school, though, who just happens now to live next door to my sister. He had a knack for bringing history to life. I enjoyed his class and did well in the subject under his guidance. I’ve always had a curiosity about the origins of the place where my family has put down roots, but I didn’t realize how much history was really at the heart of this place.
I grew up in the next city over and in my youth spent some time visiting friends in the town I now call home. Then it had a much smaller population and was sleepier by nature than what it is today. As Toronto has grown the suburbs around it have become what has been called “bedroom communities.” Some people choose to live outside the big city and make the commute daily into work. When I arrived here, I had spent many years in Montreal and was surprised to discover how much the smaller communities I remember had grown.
I arrived late for the talk and tiptoed in to find a seat next to my friend. From that point on I was caught up in the lives of all the colourful characters who have called this place “home.”
We have a small castle that was built by one of the early sheriffs. He always had a dream to entertain royalty.
Another early resident had his name mistakenly carved into the side of a bridge that was under construction. The residents of the road that crossed over it were outraged since they felt that the bridge should have the road’s name, which wasn’t the name on the bridge. He never argued the fact that his name was bestowed on the bridge, but he had a fit when the powers-that-be decided to take it off. He did a little investigative work and with a few strokes of an official pen, the road and the point overlooking the lake were changed to his name.
A young man was murdered on the platform of an old train station in my town. It was a murder that was never solved. Rumors flew about who could have committed such a horrible crime. Some even speculated that the father had killed his own son for the insurance money. Some time later a convicted murder was on the gallows in the United States. As the trapdoor was released he cried out he had another murder to confess..in my town! … It was too late, though. He never got a chance to finish his confession.
It was even purported that there was a house of ill repute. When the authorities first tried to close her down, the woman who ran the house answered the door carrying a gun. The next time they tried to close her business down, she was at the door brandishing an axe! She was eventually arrested but little or no documentation has survived to say what became of her or if the house still stands today.
Now, I don’t want you think that where I live has only a sordid past. These were just the more notorious events in its history. Look far enough back in history and you will find colourful characters in just about every city and town. You will also find hard-working, law-abiding ordinary people, too. Some of those people did some incredible things for my town. All have helped contribute to a town’s rich heritage.
I had a great afternoon listening to the historian’s talk, looking through old photographs from the town’s archives. These are the people who helped to lay the foundations for what is now a vibrant city. A place I now call “home.”
It is something I’ve tried to say in my nighttime radio program:
“You always should look back over your shoulder from time to time to see where you’ve been, in order to gain a better perspective about where you’re headed.”
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Don Jackson
