On Saturday of this week the firm of Johnson and McCreary opens, its new men’s furnishings store on Mill Street. This is the most modernly appointed establishment of its kind in the town and people are invited to visit it on opening day or whenever convenient thereafter. Mr. A. C. Johnson started business here four years ago as a haberdasher in a store located in the Illingworth Block on Bridge Street.
He was successful, but his quarters were cramped and he decided to expand. After forming a partnership with his brother-inlaw, Mr. H. H. McCreary, the two partners purchased a larger frame building on Mill Street owned by the late P. J. Rooney. Previous to renovating this property it had housed two stores on the ground floor and an apartment on the second flat.
Messrs. Johnson and McCreary converted the ground floor space into one large store with modern furnishings and large plate glass^windows running along the entire front, bordered with vitrolite. The outside was covered with white asbestos siding. In a short time they changed what had been a rather ordinary looking structure on the town’s main street into a most cerditable place of business.
The firm of Johnson & . McCreary have a modern and extensive stock of men’s furnishings which the public is invited to look over, as well as the new store, in advertisements which appear on pages two and seven today. The apartment upstairs was also thoroughly renovated and will be occupied by the partners.
JOHNSON, Andrew Carson (Former owner Johnson Clothing Founding Member Almonte Fish & Game Club Past President Almonte Lions Club Member Mississippi Lodge AF/AM #147) In hospital at Ottawa with his beloved and devoted daughter Bonnie at his side on Monday, March 14, 2005. A. Carson Johnson of Almonte, age 81 years Beloved husband of the late Ottie M. McCreary and dearly loved father of Heather Morphy (Ken) of Brockville and Bonnie Johnson-Rourke (Peter) of Ottawa. Predeceased by his brothers Eldon, Willis and Howard. Very special and loved grandpa of Kimberly Ann Friends may call at the C. R. GAMBLE FUNERAL HOME & CHAPEL 127 Church Street, Almonte for visiting on Thursday from 7 to 9 p.m. and on Friday from 1 to 4 and 7 to 9 p.m. and where a complete Service including committal will be held in the Chapel on Saturday at 11 a.m., Rev. Jim Ferrier officiating. Spring interment Auld Kirk Cemetery, Almonte. Donations in memory of Carson may be made to the Kidney Foundation of Canada and would be appreciated by his family. Masonic members will assemble in the Chapel of the funeral home for Service Thursday evening at 6:45 p.m. Published on March 16, 2005
You are most welcome to publish it any way you want. Gloria has given her full permission. We both just want to share the story so that people know to never give up hope and to realize how easy it is to make such a positive impact on someone else’s life with something as simple as a laptop !! After 75 years on her own with her two daughters and two granddaughters, Gloria is now living a new family life keeping up with all her siblings and their children and grandchildren. And she could not be happier—Chris Muller
Please forgive my long delay in getting it to you, but I am hardly the wordsmith that you are. Besides, Sunday will be the one year anniversary of when this Great Adventure Started so it kinda worked out nicely. I hope in this age of COVID-19 it serves as a source of happiness and inspiration that each of us can still have so much impact on the lives of others even though we are all together but separate at the moment due to social distancing. I hope it also serves as a beacon of hope for those who have been searching for something for many years … and indeed perhaps decades … to never give up hope.
My cousin Iz, the Sage of my existence, considers any adventure in life to be a gift. You either experience something new or learn a valuable life’s lesson. Sometimes if you are lucky … very lucky … you get to do both on the same adventure at the same time. And so this adventure begins in a pool of deep pain exactly one year ago on 26 July. I was trying to recover from the loss of suicide that had happened at Easter that year and had decided to browse my DNA Matches on Ancestry.ca when a profile caught my eye. See, I have been gifted with more than my fair share of Great Adventures in life and so I tried to concentrate on that to strengthen me in my own battle with depression.
The one conclusion I came to in thinking of what all my Great Adventures had in common was that they had come about through the opening of my heart. Rather than look inward at this time of great pain I needed to find the strength to look outward. And not knowing where to go or where to look …. there is no Directory of Great Adventures !!! (🤣) … I just opened my laptop and opened my heart.
I wear a name tag at work every day that states that genealogy is my passion. And so I decided to start filling the hole in my life with something I love … studying the relationships of dead people. Come to think of it now that I typed it out loud ( 😁 ) perhaps not the best venue for spending time at when one is fighting a lethal depression … but my motto is ‘LIVE HARD’.
Ancestry has made many changes over the past couple of years that has made working in DNA much more exciting for us amateurs. I decided to spend more time in learning about how you can learn so much from shared DNA matches. I started going up and down my list looking at profiles that had a ‘proposed’ shared ancestor with me. Once I had seen most of those, I moved on to looking at profiles on my shared DNA list that had posted family trees. And that is how I first met Gloria.
The first time I saw Gloria’s profile and family tree I didn’t linger for long because there was not much there. But her small tree (much like Charlie Brown’s little Christmas Tree) burned its image into my memory in a momentary flash. I kept seeing it and passing by it … until one day in late July when I stopped and didn’t pass by. Something about that tree touched my heart: stirred my soul. There was something sad about having such a small tree that was not even completely formed. Perhaps my way out of profound sadness was to see if I could bring profound happiness to another … and so in a mix of excitement and complete arrogance and a good dose of naivety I decided to see if I could find anything using the clues from the couple of names on Gloria’s Family Tree … and I did !!
I sent her a message through Ancestry and she responded !! She confirmed for me that she did indeed know the names of her parents. Later I would learn it was from a birth certificate that was obtained when she applied for a passport for the first time. She also shared with me that that was about all she knew of her birth family. She was told nothing about her family from the people that raised her, and few if any had responded to the questions she had sent to people via Ancestry that might know something. No one was looking for her and seemingly no one from her birth family cared.
However, I refused to accept her statement the moment it appeared on my screen. Something deep inside me told me the truth and started to lead me on one of The Greatest Adventures of my life.
There is no reasonable or ‘logical’ explanation for what happened next. The bits and pieces of Gloria’s tree started coming to me fast and furious. Two weeks to the very day I first made contact with Gloria I was able to provide her with the telephone number to someone I thought might be her sister.
Now remember, Gloria lives in North Carolina and this person lives in Manitoba!! She bravely made the call and one month to the day I first made contact, those two women flew to Ottawa to meet face to face for the first time. Why Ottawa? Because that was the address that the family last lived at as a single unit. That was the family’s address until 27 December 1949 … the night of the tragic fire that would claim the lives of the parents of those five children in the house.
The Ottawa Journal Ottawa, Ontario, Canada 12 Jan 1950, Thu • Page 3
To all who saw those first pictures that were beamed around the world as they sat in the pub, there was no mistaking that these two women were somehow related. Gloria’s sister decided to take a DNA Test herself just to have science prove what everyone was saying … and there was an abundance of joy when the results came back stating that they were indeed half-sisters. Not being one myself …. I have been told that a sister is a sister is a sister no matter what the quantitative measurement is !! And so our work was not done.
Which parent was the 1/2 connected to Gloria ? Shared DNA matches proved it to be the mother and further analysis of Gloria’s DNA Matches and my owned shared DNA matches revealed that her birth father was somehow related to my own birth father !!! It took several stabs at it but we finally have the DNA proof of who her birth father was thanks to a half-sister on that side as well. Her father was Henry Paul Dolan.
In December, I flew to North Carolina to bring Gloria a stunning Family Christmas Tree with over 1600 decorations on it !!! That tree is mostly thanks to the ancestors that called me on another Great Adventure but it is also thanks to my adopted parents who led by example and taught me how to open my heart and it is also thanks to so many that helped us along the way.
But one thought remained in my consciousness and haunted me every day. Why me? There are so many more people that are so much better at this that life could have chosen. Why me? December 27th. December 27th 1949 there was a terrible house fire in Ottawa. There was a family of 7 in the house that night … the parents of which would perish as a result of the burns suffered in saving the lives of their 5 children. Those parents were the two people named on Gloria’s birth certificate as her parents. 75 years after her birth and 70 years after that devastating fire …. Gloria has found her way back to her birth family–and the truth.
Just as I had to answer the call of my ancestors and travel to the East Coast to learn the truth of who my birth father was … and in the process discover that I did not really lose the man that proved not to be my birth father but that he turned out to be a spiritual ‘step-father’ for over 50 years who loved me so much that he led me to the truth of who my birth father really was … so I had to go on another Great Adventure after being called on to it by Gloria’s spiritual ‘step-father’, Cpl Enos McEwan, who loves her so much that he wanted her to learn the information she had been searching for for all of her life … who her birth family was. Cpl Enos McEwan calling me to this task I have been able to heal some of the pain from my own journey of discovery.
None of us are alone. We are all connected. This life is not the end of our spirit. Our impact on the world does not end with our death. I would never have been able to help Gloria find her family if not for answering the call of my own ancestors to follow in their footsteps and find what they have left for me … as a wise First Nations Friend once told me long long ago. I would not have been able to help Gloria if not for Iz who encouraged me to take the DNA Test. I would not have been able to help Gloria if not for my friend who committed suicide and created a void that needed to be filled. I would not have been able to help Gloria if not for the incredible courage of Gloria herself who trusted something so sacred to her to a complete and utter stranger on the internet. And I would not have so many answers for Gloria if not for friends and family like Sharon and Melissa and Gloria’s wonderful nieces Jennifer and Lana. I certainly wouldn’t be as good as I am (whatever that is) without the love and trust of friends who allowed me to hone my skills over the years and work on their family trees for them. This is what I have learned … none of us are alone. We are all connected.
And what am I most proud of? I am most proud of the fact that so many people in the family tree are putting an end to what destroys families from the inside out. What I am most proud of is these people who are making the lives of their children better than their own. We are a family of warriors.
The families involved in this story have historically been Christian and so Gloria …. the Greatest Joy … the Greatest Gratitude … is the greatest name for a little girl born on D Day who would go on a journey through life that would take 75 years to come back to where she started and would happen 70 years after that devastating fire that would leave her siblings orphans.
Whatever one thinks of Gloria’s mother’s actions while her husband, John Max Enos McEwan, was at war … she freely gave of her life to save the lives of her children.
PS This picture of Gloria and myself was taken on the campus of Duke University in Durham, NC this past December when I flew there to meet Gloria and her husband Robert.– Chris Muller
The Ottawa Citizen Ottawa, Ontario, Canada 27 Dec 1949, Tue • Page 1
Thanks Christopher for writing this.. the most important thing I believe in is we are not alone we are connected. Just be true to yourself. Listen to your heart. The rest will follow. Everyone has problems. You aren’t alone. This is why I encourage everyone to share their stories. Some where, somewhere else someone can relate. History and family are important and it is up to us to keep the memories alive.
God bless you!
August 2019
Hello again Linda !!
Hope you had a great time at the Carleton Place 200th parade. So sorry to have missed it. I have a question for you concerning the McEwen Family of the Ottawa Valley. Shortly after the funeral of Clarke Gourlay I became part of another real-life adventure belonging to the McEwan Family of the Ottawa Valley The story that I have become immersed in is that of Cpl Enos McEwan and his wife Olive Matheson. On Dec 27th 1949 their Christmas Tree caught fire trapping them and their 5 children in their home near Billings Bridge. The parents would shortly die as a result of their severe burns received in saving the lives of all 5 children and the children would be divided among the relatives.
In addition to bringing life back to this remarkable story of parents’ ultimate sacrifice and love for their children’ I thought it might be interesting if you could spread the story in the hopes that maybe , just maybe, there might still be a young nurse or fireman or doctor that was present at that time that might be able to add so much to that side of the story and the fires impact on the community outside of the immediate family.
The Gazette Montreal, Quebec, Quebec, Canada 13 Jan 1950, Fri
Hello again Linda !!
Hope you had a great time at the Carleton Place 200th parade. So sorry to have missed it. I have a question for you concerning the McEwen Family of the Ottawa Valley. Shortly after the funeral of Clarke Gourlay I became part of another real-life adventure belonging to the McEwan Family of the Ottawa Valley The story that I have become immersed in is that of Cpl Enos McEwan and his wife Olive Matheson. On Dec 27th 1949 their Christmas Tree caught fire trapping them and their 5 children in their home near Billings Bridge. The parents would shortly die as a result of their severe burns received in saving the lives of all 5 children and the children would be divided among the relatives.
There is a remarkable tribute to Olive on Page 3 of the Ottawa Journal from the 12th of Jan 1950.
The Ottawa Journal Ottawa, Ontario, Canada 12 Jan 1950, Thu • Page 3
In addition to bringing life back to this remarkable story of parents’ ultimate sacrifice and love for their children’ I thought it might be interesting if you could spread the story in the hopes that maybe , just maybe, there might still be a young nurse or fireman or doctor that was present at that time that might be able to add so much to that side of the story and the fires impact on the community outside of the immediate family.
Christopher Muller
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The Ottawa Citizen
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada 12 Jan 1950, Thu • Page 13
an
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The Ottawa Citizen
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada 16 Jan 1950, Mon • Page 14
Comment on Perth Remembered—One of our things was finding ways to sneak into the fair without paying the entrance fee. Our best plan was, days before the fair we would dig out a space below the wire fencing on Cockburn side of the fair grounds. We would then cover it up with twigs and small branches. Then in the evening under cover of darkness…we would open up our dugout area and crawl under the wire fence. Oh those were the days!
This picture (c. late 1800’s early 1900’s) would have been taken at the fairground location in off Wilson Street behind where the Planing Mill was and the Metro Store location now around what is now Alvin Street and Clyde Street. This land was sold as it became to small for the fairgrounds and became a housing development known as Fairholm Park. Some homes from Herriot Street were moved here when they were building the Wampole Houses. The fairgrounds were then located at the present location.
The following article is from September 2nd, 1954 – The Perth Courier
PART ONE
1817, a year after the town of Perth was founded, was one of great hardships and privation. The crop of potatoes was destroyed by frost and rust ruined the wheat crop. Some families were forced to live on wild leeks and other herbs found in the woods until the Government came to their aid with additional half rations and averted famine.
In spite of all these hardships and rigors of carving a home from the vast Canadian wilderness, these early pioneers found time to give thought to the improving of their live stock and their community. According to a newspaper clipping of 1838, an organization known as the Perth Agricultural and Live Stock Improvement Society, was organized which offered the services of a recently purchased horse of outstanding quality. It is not know exactly when this society was formed but in the July 11th issue of 1843 of the Bathurst Courier had a report of a director’s meeting of the “Perth Agricultural Society”. In 1846 the society was reorganized and renamed the South Riding of Lanark Electoral District Agricultural Society. Fortunately this awkward and unwieldy title was soon shortened to the South Lanark Agricultural Society.
The location of the first Fall Fair has apparently been lost in the lapse of time as no definite record has so far been located. In 1852 records show that the fair was held at the Town Hall and the Market and lands around the building. All prizes were listed in pounds, shillings and pence. Among the classes to be exhibited were: Best span of working horses – 1st – £1, 2nd – 10s – Best yolk of oxen over 2 years of ages – 1st £1, 2nd-15s – Best 20lbs of clover seed 1st 15s, 2nd 10s and Best bushel apples – 1st 5s – 2nd 3s.
The first real home came in March of 1874 when the society purchased 7.5 acres of ground at a point just north of what is now the junction of Highways 7 and 15 know locally as Greenlee’s Corners. Here they erected a number of buildings.
By 1882 the society had progressed to the point where a premium list and regulations for the annual exhibition to be held at Perth, September 27, 28, and 29 was issued in booklet form with classes for live stock, fruits, flowers, vegetables and handicrafts.
As the grounds were a considerable distance from the town proper the directors of that time considered that it would be to the advantage of the society to dispose of the property in favour of a location nearer to the centre of town, As a result a new site, west of Wilson Street was purchased in July of 1891 the former ground being sold.
In a few years, however, it was decided that the new grounds were too small, so these in turn were sold and converted into a housing project, following the purchase of the present grounds at the southern boundary of the town in May of 1912. This site equipped with an excellent half-mile track had been the scene of many athletic events. The Agricultural Society immediately proceeded to erect buildings.
THE PERTH FAIR (story appeared – September 2nd, 1954 – The Perth Courier
PART 2
With information gathered from the diaries of the early settlers, one can almost picture those first Fair days. The early morning stillness broken by the squealing of the wooden wheeled potash carts of the new settlers as they bounced and jolted their protesting way along the Rockeby road. Travelling all night or stopping at the home of some friend along the way, they were always among the first to arrive, ready to exchange their loads of potash with G.S.B. Roberts or some other merchant for groceries or dry goods and a little change to take in the Fair.
All through the morning farm wagons kept rumbling into town, Father, Mother and the youngest perched upon the high pole seat, while the other children, along with two or three of the neighbors rode in the box upon a thick carpet of marsh hay, their noisy babble adding a certain air of festivity to the occasion. Every once in a while the son of one of the older established and more prosperous farmers would pass with his girl, on the way to the fair, the new side spring buggy or two wheeled gig, drawn by a fast horse, the pride of the owners heart.
Around 10 o’clock in the morning the oldest boy, ably assisted by one or two neighbor lads of around the same age (for persons necessary to deliver live stock shalt be admitted free), began to arrive leading, pushing, driving or hanging on to some reluctant member of the animal kingdom. In fact, it can be gathered from the accounts, that persons with a broader sense of humor, had more fun watching the arrival of some of these exhibits than at the fair itself.
What with McCallum’s Tavern “setting up the good stuff”, and William Lock’s Brewery offering malt whisky at 4 shillings a gallon, it is safe to assume that some at least partook freely. Many of older members of the community can still recall the horse races on to create a diversion, or a spirited way home from Perth Fair. Neck and neck, wagon or democrate bounding on the cobblestones; it was take to the ditch and let them pass, or be run over.
Yes, Perth Fair fifty to a hundred years ago was something to look forward to and many were the hard bargains that were driven to earn the necessary funds to attend. One district resident recalled an agreement whereby he arose at five o’clock every morning from June to September and travelled more than a mile to bring the cows in from pasture for the morning milking, in order to earn 50 cents to take in Perth fair. He also recalled planting and tending widow’s garden all Summer for a dollar, extra money being required to attend the Marks Brothers Show on the evening of the fair, for it was said locally that your were not considered a man until you had been permitted to stay and see Marks’ Show, while the rest of the family went home to do the evening chores. It did not matter that you had to walk eleven miles after midnight or that your hair rose when you heard those pursuing footsteps as you passed through the loneliness part of the road.
Speaking of the Marks Brothers Show. No history of Perth Fair could be written without recalling these brothers of Christie’s Lake a few miles from Perth. On fair nights fifty years or so ago, the Perth Town Hall was crowded, as hundreds came to this big entertainment feature of the year, to watch, with necks craned above uncomfortable starched collars, the flying ankles of the dancers, or to cheer the valiant “Gerry the Tramp”, as he arose ragged and uncouth, to rescue the heroine from the clutches of the dapper villain.
PHOTO: Two different eras with a track and field event on the race track in the early 1900’s to the popular harness racing at the Perth Fair. The picture on the top would be at the fairground location in off Wilson Street behind where the Planing Mill was and the Metro Store. This was known as Fairholm Park. The picture at the bottom at the current location.
THE PERTH FAIR – September 2nd, 1954 – The Perth Courier
PART THREE
In this day of speed, a bicycle race would arouse but little interest. This was not the case away back in the era of the “High Fronts”, when only the more daring young gentlemen of the community even dared to clamber up upon “those infernal contraptions”, as angered horsemen were wont to call the first bicycles, with their high front wheel and small rear one, that rattled along doing its best to support the rider perched high above the wide spread handle bars.
It was only natural then that the bicycle race held at Perth Fair, some time in the late eighties was considered an event of great importance. The race, a quarter mile affair, was held on the road before the grounds, with the finishing line somewhere between the two gates. Down the road they came, with the rider of the bicycle having the largest front wheel well in the lead. The pedals being fixed to the front axle, the riders swung their feet free as they crossed the finish line, and coasted on down the road, the winner swerving sharply through the gate, to strike a cow that was being led to the ring. The resulting excitement still bringing smiles to the faces of those recalling the incident.
One of the last events to take place at the old fair grounds at Greenslees’ Corners was the balloon ascent. Although the passage of time dimmed the event in the memory of many residents of the district, here are some of the details upon which most accounts agree:
The balloonist and crew, having spent the morning and most of the afternoon inflating the bag over a fire in a pit, made final preparations for the ascent by hauling the parachute into a tube-like affair suspended above the balloon. The balloonist clambered into the basket and upon a given signal the crew cut the anchor ropes. Up shot the balloon leaving a breathless, spellbound crowd below. When considerable height was reached, the balloonist proceeded to do acrobatics on a trapeze, finally dropping from the basket feet first, followed by the parachute, which opened after an agonizing second or two. A great cheer went up as the south wind begin to drift the parachute and its passenger off towards the marsh lands north of the town. With one accord the young and more energetic set out in hot pursuit, breaking part of the high board fence at the back of the grounds in their haste. The balloonist meantime had drifted ever so gently down to land, (so some reports say), in a small tree, from which he was assisted by many willing hands and a couple of fence rails.
The feature attraction of the 1913 fair was a Texan show, complete with wild horses and beautiful cow girls. The first evening in town, the star bucker of the show, “The hoss that hed neva bin rid’n”, decided to prove that he was all that they said he was, by kicking the end out of the horse barn. One farmer in recalling the incident, said he thought more people went to see the hole in the stable wall, than went to see the Show.
In 1945 the society was able to purchase a large shed from one of the local Churches, and was moved to the fair grounds where it was placed upon a permanent concrete foundation.
I am sure there are countless memories and stories of the Perth Fair. Do you have one? Come and bring the family and enjoy yourselves to this years edition of the Perth Fair and make more memories.
I have been writing about downtown Carleton Place Bridge Street for months and this is something I really want to do. Come join me in the Domino’s Parking lot- corner Lake Ave and Bridge, Carleton Place at 11 am Saturday September 16 (rain date September 17) for a free walkabout of Bridge Street. It’s history is way more than just stores. This walkabout is FREE BUT I will be carrying a pouch for donations to the Carleton Place Hospital as they have been so good to me. I don’t know if I will ever do another walking tour so come join me on something that has been on my bucket list since I began writing about Bridge Street. It’s always a good time–trust me.
an
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lindaseccaspina 