My thanks to Gordon Ferguson for spotting a couple of errors in my “Front of Glengarry” item a couple of weeks ago. Mr. Ferguson, who now resides in the Williamstown area, was the driving force behind Glen Gordon Farms in South Glengarry. But that’s not where he grew up. He was raised on Lot ‘A’, Concession 4 in Cornwall Township. It’s a centuries-old farm that has been in the capable hands of the Ferguson family ever since a War of 1812 veteran by the name of Duncan Ferguson, purchased it from Alsint Chelsey in May of 1815 for £105. Gordon Ferguson’s brother continues to farm it over two hundred years later.
Where the Ferguson lineage intersects with that of the Craig’s from the Front of Glengarry is that a member of Gordon’s family tree — Annie Alberta Ferguson – married Robert J. Craig in 1891. Apparently, my description of Mr. Craig is the first place where I went off the rails, so to speak. He did not build railways. He built “right-of-ways” for the railroads. These were the stone and gravel roadbeds on which the railroads floated their wooden ties and steel rails. As a contractor, his speciality was recruiting and overseeing the army of manual labourers or “navvies” who — with pick, shovel and wheelbarrow — built the stone and gravel roadbed on which the railroads floated their wooden ties and steel rails. What’s more the majority of these massive 19th century civil engineering projects still survive today. Some continue to support rail traffic. Others have been repurposed as recreation trails for nature enthusiasts, bikers, joggers and the like.
My second error lay in the identity of Annie and Robert’s son who was injured in a farming accident. It was actually their youngest son, Charlie Craig, who lost his arm when his shirtsleeve became entangled in his tractor’s power take-off. His brother Leslie died tragically at the age of 15 in the summer of 1924 when the rowboat he was in with two of his friends capsized. It was Charlie who, after he was injured, reinvented himself by acquiring a Texaco franchise to provide petroleum products to farmers in the area. Charlie eventually sold the business and it was re-branded as J&G Warden Petroleum.
Zoom-free concert
As I mentioned last week, a “Classical Music Under the Stars” concert is being planned for Thursday, August 5th in Dunvegan at the Glengarry Pioneer Museum. No Zoom or Google Meets. It will be a live, in-person performance that, hopefully, will be held under the evening sky. Or, if Mother Nature is agin us, will be moved beneath the Williams Pavilion. With socially distanced seating, of course.
The soloist will be concert pianist Nicholas Deek from Ottawa. And Mr. Deek is putting together a special program designed to appeal to both ardent fans of the genre and those with no previous interest in classical music. It will pay homage to Glengarry’s rural roots. Whimsically named “Moosic Under the Stars,” it will feature works with an agrarian or pastoral theme including Mozart’s Sonata K332 in F Major, Beethoven’s Pathetique Sonata, and Erik Satie’s Gymnopedie.
Current provincial regulations require that the museum limit attendance at outdoor events, so you will have to buy a ticket to attend. It’s the only way they can keep track of the numbers. I strongly recommend you purchase them in advance through the museum web site’s convenient new Online Box Office: GlengarryPioneerMuseum.ca. There may be a few tickets for sale at the door, but there’s no guarantee. The cost is $20 per person, or $15 for museum members.
Crossing rules
Our fully-vaxxed daughter, and granddaughter, were finally able to visit from Toronto last week and one day we set off to visit her double-jabbed brother in Montreal. Along the way, we encountered a “Moose Crossing” sign and, shortly thereafter, a “Deer Crossing” sign. Ursula asked me what the criteria was for a stretch of road to earn a Bouncing Bambi or Bullwinkle the Moose sign, and I was flummoxed. I told her I would just be guessing, but that I did know a roadway expert who would likely have the answer: our old friend Benjamin De Hann, Director of Transportation and Planning for the United Counties. So I whipped off an email and within a couple of hours… on a Sunday no less… Mr. De Haan was back to me with a link to the definitive source on Ontario’s road warning signs: Book Six of the Ontario Traffic Manual. The Ontario Traffic Manual, or OTM, is made up of a number of volumes, some of which are new and others are re-treads of the Ontario Manual of Uniform Traffic Control Devices and the King’s Highway Guide Signing Policy Manual. (The Royal in the title is a clue to the age of the latter one.) The OTM reflects current best practices in the Province of Ontario. So I turned to page 127 to see what the guidelines were for deer and moose warning signs.
The first thing I learned was that they come in two sizes: small for locations where the posted speed is 60 km/h or less, and large for when the posted speed is 70 km/h or greater. No doubt a visibility thing. Then a bit further down the page was the answer to Ursula’s question. OTM Book 6 clearly states that ‘Deer Crossing’ and ‘Moose Crossing’ signs should only to be used when field observations identify a spot where deer or moose are accustomed to crossing the road and present a potential hazard for drivers. Furthermore, sections of road 8 km or less in length must have at least one deer or moose collision annually, for a minimum of five years; or; sections of road less than 1.5 km in length must have at least four deer or moose accidents over a one-year period.
What I take away from these signage criteria is that the warning notices aren’t being erected just to keep unionized graphic artists and road maintenance crews busy. In effect, they are an accident ‘scorecard.’ When you come across one, it’s probably a good idea to slow down and scan the roadside. Otherwise, there could be a tow truck, or worse, in your future.
Nor gloom of night
“Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these courageous couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.” While you may be more familiar with, “Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail shall keep the postmen from their appointed rounds,” the former is the original. The Greek historian Herodotus coined the saying about 2,500 years ago. At the time, Greece was at war with Persia and Herodotus was very impressed the enemy’s mounted couriers. The old saying came to mind when I bumped into Mac Williamson this past weekend.
When last we visited Mac (who lives just south of Dunvegan and north of Baltic’s Corners), he was still going to Cornwall for regular chemo treatments and battling a nasty infection of unknown origin. Since then, the anecdotal reports I’ve had on his health have painted a less than sunny picture.
So you can imagine my surprise when I ran into Mac and Brenda, not once, but three times on Saturday’s shopping excursion to Alexandria and he was looking great. He has gained back a bit of weight; there was a slight spring to his step; and he sported a smile on his lips. He admits that the chemo really sapped his strength, but he didn’t sound like he was cashing in his chips quite yet. In fact, when I asked about climbing aboard the Royal Mailmobile again, he admitted that going back full-time might not be in the cards, at this point. “But you never know,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “doing a part-time contractor gig might be a possibility.”
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