Moving in and the Water Wars
During the summer of 1947 upon completing my junior matriculation at West Hill High School in Montreal , a schoolmate, Dick Fleming, and I took a train from Montreal to a location about a hundred miles north of Sudbury that was essentially a hamlet in the forest for a railway siding, sawmill, lumberyard, barns for horses, and a small cluster of log cabins that would be our living quarters (You can read about this experience in the five previous essays in this blog published in March). In the following summer when I worked in the mines in Sudbury there was no room in town with the troops coming home so I had to share an uncomfotable bed with someone who worked on another shift. In short, I was used to Spartan conditions when away from home.
I arrived at Dawson College a few days after returning home from Sudbury. My initial shock was seeing for the first time these desolate surroundings and ugly spartan buildings. It was like returning to the bleak flat and treeless landscape I had just come from.
I was encouraged, however, to find on entering these buildings on a tour of inspection that I was moving up in luxury with indoor toilets (instead of the camp's 10 hole outhouse) and showers and barracks where I at least had my own bed I even had my own chair and table by the bed. The picture opposite will give you some idea of this accomodation. Note that Dick Fleming is in the background; it's early morning and he is still in his pyjamas.
The barracks (dormitories) came fully equipped with water filled stirrup pumps in the event of a fire. Unfortunately in the hands of some they were quickly perceived as Weapons of Mess Destruction and no one was safe. In this picture opposite is an example of two pumpers (is it Maurice Max and Bill Magyar?) spraying innocent passers by in the hallway. Why do adolescent males behave this way? I do not know.
For the first several days following the discovery of these weapons the environment was lawless with random attacks on innocent unsuspecting victims simply because the the pumper felt like it or in response to the normal level of sarcastic observations floating about the room.
As an example of an innocent unsuspecting victim here is a picture below of Maurice Max attacking John Mikulec who is just waking up. I recall that he was thoroughly soaked. In fairness to Max it is entirely possible that John made an offensive remark like "Buzz Off"
Attacks and counter attacks as expected led to mutual Mess Destruction with no winners and the barracks and much of its contents like clothing and mattresses became thoroughly soaked. Fortunately the steam heating system (that made a constant banging noise) grossly overheated the chambers and a steam bath or sauna like atmosphere arose that was soon followed by a drying action similar to what you would expect from a typical clothes dryer. When we returned from our lectures the room was thus relatively dry, at least until the next attack.
An emergency meeting was held by my roommates and it was unanimously agreed that we should declare a truce and turn our attention to attacking students in other dorms in the building.
Who was our leader in all this? I don't clearly recall but you will note in the picture opposite our paparazzi and photo journalist, Don Beauprie, who always had his cameras at the ready. He certainly encouraged these events (and some others I will discuss in another blog). Note his sorting out his photos and making his plans.
When the attacks and counter attacks between other dormitories blossomed into a full scale Destructive Mess the College gendarmes arrived to hunt for the ringleaders. Don and others fled to lie in the rafters until the all clear was sounded several hours later. I have always assumed that this was clear evidence that he was a ringleader.
Ross Hammond was the one roommate who stood aside from all this, He was a serious weightlifter and bristled with bulging muscles; a gentle giant who always had a vase with a single rose on his tidy desk. He was not amused and we thought it wise to not interfere with his tranquility. His quarters remained dry throughout our struggles although he did share the sauna effect in the dormitory from the drying out.
In the meantime our pumpers continued to invade other dormitories and made the serious error of dousing several from the dorm above where the residents were war veterans who took their studies seriously and were fed up with the noise and trouble caused by the adolescent students in the dormitories below. They decided to assemble a posse and go down and do something about it. They entered our dorm unannounced and grabbed the student nearest the door.
It was their big mistake. The student nearest the door was the innocent Ross Hammond who on being grabbed, grabbed the grabbee and carried him in his arms like a baby out of the dormitory, up the stairs and onto the balcony. He then lifted him over the ledge and dropped him into the snow drift below. Stunned and alarmed by this treatment of their leader the veterans' posse returned and said that he could have been killed or seriously injured by this violent assault. We asked if he was ok and they said fortunately yes and left. But the veterans had won because a truce was declared and the Weapons of Mess Destruction were put to rest.
When Ross returned from this misadventure he was silent and remained outwardly calm. He did not wish to discuss anything, sat down and resumed staring at his rose,
*A special thanks to our resident paparazzi, Don Beauprie, for these photos. I confess to the cartoons.
During the summer of 1947 upon completing my junior matriculation at West Hill High School in Montreal , a schoolmate, Dick Fleming, and I took a train from Montreal to a location about a hundred miles north of Sudbury that was essentially a hamlet in the forest for a railway siding, sawmill, lumberyard, barns for horses, and a small cluster of log cabins that would be our living quarters (You can read about this experience in the five previous essays in this blog published in March). In the following summer when I worked in the mines in Sudbury there was no room in town with the troops coming home so I had to share an uncomfotable bed with someone who worked on another shift. In short, I was used to Spartan conditions when away from home.
I arrived at Dawson College a few days after returning home from Sudbury. My initial shock was seeing for the first time these desolate surroundings and ugly spartan buildings. It was like returning to the bleak flat and treeless landscape I had just come from.
I was encouraged, however, to find on entering these buildings on a tour of inspection that I was moving up in luxury with indoor toilets (instead of the camp's 10 hole outhouse) and showers and barracks where I at least had my own bed I even had my own chair and table by the bed. The picture opposite will give you some idea of this accomodation. Note that Dick Fleming is in the background; it's early morning and he is still in his pyjamas.
The barracks (dormitories) came fully equipped with water filled stirrup pumps in the event of a fire. Unfortunately in the hands of some they were quickly perceived as Weapons of Mess Destruction and no one was safe. In this picture opposite is an example of two pumpers (is it Maurice Max and Bill Magyar?) spraying innocent passers by in the hallway. Why do adolescent males behave this way? I do not know.
For the first several days following the discovery of these weapons the environment was lawless with random attacks on innocent unsuspecting victims simply because the the pumper felt like it or in response to the normal level of sarcastic observations floating about the room.
Attacks and counter attacks as expected led to mutual Mess Destruction with no winners and the barracks and much of its contents like clothing and mattresses became thoroughly soaked. Fortunately the steam heating system (that made a constant banging noise) grossly overheated the chambers and a steam bath or sauna like atmosphere arose that was soon followed by a drying action similar to what you would expect from a typical clothes dryer. When we returned from our lectures the room was thus relatively dry, at least until the next attack.
An emergency meeting was held by my roommates and it was unanimously agreed that we should declare a truce and turn our attention to attacking students in other dorms in the building.
When the attacks and counter attacks between other dormitories blossomed into a full scale Destructive Mess the College gendarmes arrived to hunt for the ringleaders. Don and others fled to lie in the rafters until the all clear was sounded several hours later. I have always assumed that this was clear evidence that he was a ringleader.
In the meantime our pumpers continued to invade other dormitories and made the serious error of dousing several from the dorm above where the residents were war veterans who took their studies seriously and were fed up with the noise and trouble caused by the adolescent students in the dormitories below. They decided to assemble a posse and go down and do something about it. They entered our dorm unannounced and grabbed the student nearest the door.
It was their big mistake. The student nearest the door was the innocent Ross Hammond who on being grabbed, grabbed the grabbee and carried him in his arms like a baby out of the dormitory, up the stairs and onto the balcony. He then lifted him over the ledge and dropped him into the snow drift below. Stunned and alarmed by this treatment of their leader the veterans' posse returned and said that he could have been killed or seriously injured by this violent assault. We asked if he was ok and they said fortunately yes and left. But the veterans had won because a truce was declared and the Weapons of Mess Destruction were put to rest.
When Ross returned from this misadventure he was silent and remained outwardly calm. He did not wish to discuss anything, sat down and resumed staring at his rose,
*A special thanks to our resident paparazzi, Don Beauprie, for these photos. I confess to the cartoons.
Best story yrt
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