Alexander ARBOUR

1905 - 1981  (75 ans)

• Nom	Alexander ARBOUR
  Naissance	24 août 1905	Renfrew County,,,Ontario,Canada,Point Alexander
  Genre	Masculin
  Décès	10 août 1981	Ottawa,,,Ontario,Canada,Carleton County
  _CREA	17 sept 2023
  _FIL	LEGITIMATE_CHILD
  ID personne	I1520	Arbour-Harbour-05Juillet-2025
  Dernière modif.	16 sept 2023

  
  

  Mère	Lucie CUSSON,   n. 5 avr 1888, Renfrew County,,,Ontario,Canada,Point Alexander d. 20 mai 1929, Renfrew County,,,Ontario,Canada,Rolph Township (Âgé de 41 ans)
  ID Famille	F284	Feuille familiale  |  Tableau familial

  
  

• Carte d'événements

  Naissance - 24 août 1905 - Renfrew County,,,Ontario,Canada,Point Alexander Décès - 10 août 1981 - Ottawa,,,Ontario,Canada,Carleton County  = Lien Google Earth

  
  

• Notes

  According to granddaughter Catherine MOUSSEAU DUNNE in Jul 2009: My grandparents moved around a lot for work. He worked for the CPR. Catherine sent a picture on 14 Aug 2009, of Isabelle and Alexander. Shewrote: My aunt Lillian "surprised" my grandparents with a 50th weddinganniversary party. The surprise was . . .they were only married 49 years! Aunt Lillian had turned 50 in Oct, but she was overa year old when Grandma met and married Grandpa. As it turned out, Grandpa died the following August, months before they really would have been married 50 years. Catherine sent a picture on 14 Aug 2009, of Isabelle with Jean, Shirley, Donald, Irene, and Kay. She wrote: This picture was taken on my Grandma's 74th birthday (08 Dec 1985). Notice the way my Grandma is holding my Uncle's arm. He'd had cancer surgery; his tongue was removed and a device put in his trachea tohelp him talk. At this momentin time, I was newly engaged. Only my mother in this picture would attend my wedding 9months later. Five months after this picture, my gallbaldder ruptured and I was rushed into emergency surgery. Upon waking, various aunts anduncles would pop in to see me. When my Uncle Reggie popped in (he's from out of town), I got hysterical. The nurse came in and told my mom that she would have to "tell me." (I was 23 and thought I was dying.) Momtold me thatGrandma was one floor above me. She'd had a major heart attack and they didn't think she'd pull through. It had happened while I was in surgery.She survived. Wedding plans were in full bloom and Grandma told me she wouldn't be at my wedding.She would die soon. The week before my wedding, Grandma came to stay with us. On the Thursday morning(the day she was going back to my aunt's), she insisted I open my wedding present. I told her that she could watch me open it on Saturday atthewedding. She told me, no, she wouldn't be there. She died that night. All of Mom's siblings didn't come to the wedding because they were at her visitation. Three months later the cancer killed my Uncle Donald and6 months later Mom's sister Jean died in bed of a massive heart attack. Mom lost 3 family members in 9 months. I am extremely close to the remaining 2 aunties in the picture. From Catherine via email on 20 Aug 2009: My mother is one of 10 as you know - 5of hersiblings have one or more children with mental health issues....mom plus 4 of her sibligs had alcohol issues....and 4 of them have alcohol issues with their children. My grandfather (Joseph AlexanderArbour) was an alcoholic and his father was as well. I sometimes wonder if there is a gene that runs in the family. When I hit the age of majority I tried drinking, found that I liked the taste and after getting drunk two or three times decided I wasn't going to carry on the familytradition. I haven't had a drink since before I married - 23 years this Sunday.    From "A Whispered History: The Early Days of BuchananTownship" http://bright-ideas-software.com/WhisperedHistory/settlers.html FIGHTING FOR & AGAINST THE LAND IN BUCHANAN TOWNSHIP [Elizabeth Bond] During the 1830s, as the square timber business was being drawn further up the Ottawa River in search for large white pines to ship to Europe, timbermen began settling on plots of land along the river's shores.These men and their families would come from New England or New France, and were for the most part wholly unprepared for the rough conditionsthat they would face. The settlers would come with the spring thaw andbegin by building a basic shelter and barn to have shelter for the upcoming winter, and perhaps clearing a small area of forest for a garden. The men,and often young boys, would leave their farms in late fall and labor in the lumber camps until thespring when the logs were ready to be driven down the Ottawa River to Quebec City. Fortunate men would be asked to stay on for the spring drivewhich paid quite well because it was dangerous work. At the end of their work term, the men would be paidfor their season's workand would return to their small farms with supplies. The early settlers soon learned that the agricultural conditions inBuchanan were far from ideal. Much of their acreage was either swampy or sandy; the arable soil that they did possess was incredibly rocky and contained old growth forest that needed to be painstakingly cleared at a rate of about anacre a year. Large stone piles scattered densely across Buchanan today attest to the backbreaking work that went in toturning forest into fields. Still, it was a worthwhile exercise for the early settlers to attempt to farm their land in orderto support their families. Supplemental cash income could be made after 1854 by selling firewood to the passing steamboatscarrying freight and passengers up the Ottawa River between Pembroke and Des Joachims. In many cases, this smallextraincome made a great difference to the struggling families. Also, for those lucky enough to get ahead, the logging camps would purchase surplus stores of food and hay from nearby farmers and this would provide an extra income. The originalLawfarm, located on the rise above the lighthouse, was one such depot farm. The early settlers and the area First Nations seemed to have gottenalong quite well. The white settlers respected the Natives who had the knowledge and skills tosurvive in theirshared harsh surroundings. Both groups of people were anxious to learnfrom each other, and within a generation white settlers and Nativeinhabitants were living as neighbors. As Buchanan turned into a growing community during themid-nineteenth century, centralized government administration in Upper Canada had a hard time keeping up. Plots of land were not formally surveyed until many years after it was settled, and land disputes had to be settled in informalways.Gerald retells a story passedon to him about a boxing match that took place between Joseph Nadeau and Baptiste Leduke with a referee and in front of a crowd ofpeople, so that the results ofthe contest would be binding as witnessed bythecommunityin lieu of legal papers. Gerald recalls another account of unofficial justice in the early days of settlement. An unintentional manslaughtertook place in the mid-1800sat Foran's Stopping Place, one of 2 hotelslocated inBuchanan Township.Innkeeper Patty Foran's wife subdued a rowdy patron with a candlestick over the head. The troublemaker was put outside, where he was forgotten about and froze to death. It wasdecided that Pat would take responsibility forthedeath. The next time a traveling judge came up the river, Pat presentedhimself at a place referred to as Court Island. He was sentenced to two years of prison in Ottawa. Patpaddled the judge back to Ottawa on his way to serve his sentence. An account ofthishappening was recorded in The Ottawa Journal in April 1925 in an article entitled "Old Time Stuff." EARLY FARMING IN BUCHANAN TWP [Gerald Nadeau] "They cleared some of theroughest landthat you could possibly attempt to work with,for some reason. I guess it was because it was close to the river and they didn't want to go any further away because their workplace was the river. So you had to make your garden behind your house -if it meant moving stones that what you'ddo, a lot of stones. And most of these little farms onlyhad two cows or three, a pig - in fact, the early people didn't even keep a dog, because it was a waste of food. And I don't know if they kept acat or not; I imagine thatthey didn't even have one of those. You needed very little. The little rough patches of cleared land seemed to give them a bare amount of agriculturerequired to keep a family. And that meant if the man went in to make square timber or hew timber for a lumber company, his wife would have to stay home,feed the cow, or cows, and she would be responsible for looking after whatever gave them milk for their family. I never heard of people having chickens, real early. And theykepta pig, but the pig was onlykept in summer because in winter,it was the winter's food. But those little farms seemed to give enoughfood for a cow, and enough turnips and potatoes for a family to use because everybody seemed to have a rootcellar, sothatmeant that theywere growing enough to keep, to have a storage to put it in. But the men whoworked in the square timber business seemed to make enough money that thespending of a family might be a hundred dollars in a year,maybenot muchmore.But it was only the very necessary things that you had to buy,which was probably tea, sugar, cloth or possibly needles, thread, justthe most bare things that a household would need. You wouldn't be putting curtains on windows or thingsof that nature.And you might buy a potor pan or two, if you had extra money.Or a pane of glass for your windows. I guess in those days if you had to buy this you'd have to bring it allthe way up the river. When the men would return from the rafting,theyused tocome by canoe. They had an outfit called a stage that used to come overland between one watercourse and another, so that they'd come up through let's say Fitzroy Harbour,andthen they'd have a stage towhereverthe next point was.So it would take probably 6 to 10 days to come from Quebec City to the Ottawa Valley. So you'd have to carry and canoe the purchases you made, and bring those home. You couldn't spend alot ofmoney because you couldn't carry home a great deal. The little bit of landalong with the work they did was enough to raise a family inthose conditions." RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN NATIVES & WHITE SETTLERS IN BUCHANAN [Gerald] "The Natives and the people when they first came here, theyseemed to bedependent on each other. Because they depended on the Natives to learn the things the natives knew and sometimes, to get help from the Natives. And the Natives never seemed to feel that they were less important than the white people because theyneeded each other forthesame reasons. The Natives made .. for sickness. Somebody would go to one of those native women, the older women, and they would get cures made up for what they had. If you wanted snowshoes, you had to go to theNatives to getthem, because they couldtan the hides, and if you wanted deerskin mitts, you'd have to go to a Native again. And if you wanted help and the Nativewas your only neighbour, if you couldwork the way that the Native wanted to work, you could get himto helpyou. That meant hewould come when it suited him, not when it suited you. They were able to live together quite well. I'll showyou later the rocking chair this old girl used to sit on.She said that when she was just a small girl, her mother had two cows, and she used to make butter, and in the springtime when the grasswas good and the cows would milk better she'd have extra butter, and some days there'd be 20 canoes coming down the[Ottawa] River, at one time in one group. And all the womenwould be paddling,andall the small kids had a little paddle, and she said she'd see all the little faces along the gunnels of the canoe, wanting to see the whitepeople because someof them had never seen white people. They'd all get lined up andpeek over the top of thecanoe. And then they'd come in, and the men would getout in the water, about waist deep.They'd come in, and some of them had beenthere before, and they'd want to buy butter. She'd have the butter in wooden bowls,and they'd take thebutter downonthe rocks, and they'd eat the butter just like candy, with their hands. Yep, butter to themwas like candy. But themen were the only oneswho got the butter,because the women and the small children stayed in the canoe withthe dogs. And shesaidthey used to be going to Ft William and the smoke wouldbe so heavy from so many campfires, it was just like afog, up in the trees. And everybody came with whatever dogs they had left from the year before,and they turned them all loose.The dogs wouldfightand they'd breed, they'd bark and they'd run, it was a holy terror the first week when they'dall come in. Thewomen would fish andcook and the men would sleep most of the summer. And every day the priest would say a mass and he'd have tobe paid for it. So this was how they got the money from the Natives. If somebody had died in the bush theyear before, you could havea mass said for them even though they were buried out in the bush where you'd never see them again. Butthey were then taught that this new religion, you could just request and the guy was in heaven as soon as the mass wasfinished. So a lotof them were, how would you put it, taken? Because their beliefs were just about as soundas what they were being taught.Then in the fall they said that they were down there one time and thisguy had ayoung family and his wifehaddied in the bush and he had spent the summer in Fort William. And they were ready to go back up to I guessKippawa orTemagami or Temiskamang maybe, but hehad to have a mother for those children. Because a man alone couldn't lookafter small ones inthebush. So one of the guys had a daughter who wasn't married, and Ithink you could picture somebody being maybe a little on the slow side, or god knowswhy. But it didn't matter. When the bargain wasmade between the man who lost his wife andthe father who had this girl who was not yet married, she would be up going with this other family when the fall came. So they happened to be there the time that the father brought the girl down to get her married by the priest who was there. And ittooktwo ofthem to hold her while the marriage was going on. She couldn'tspeak no English but the father knew a little, and the old fellatoldmethewords hesaid: Whatever her name was, he used her name, andhe said you're going tomarry untoone Joe Mackenzie. Joe Mackenzie was the native who had lost his wife and had the small children. So when the ceremony wasover, it was legal. They put her in the canoeand pushed out, and that wasit. It was survival at a time when he could have lost his small kids if hewent into the bush with no one to care for them. It's a strange thing when you thinkback but when you see today's world,you know, howoftendoyousee separations and other things which don't work." EARLYSTEAMBOATS BROUGHT EXTRA INCOME [Gerald] "Most of those steamboatswere put on there for a money making business. And they charged peoplefor freight and passengersboth. The freightcamefrom Pembroke, because the railroad only came as far as Chalk River. The steamboat had a crew of sometimes up to six and eight people. Some had a cook. There was deck hands, generally four. There was a pilotwhoknew the[Ottawa] River, anda Captain.Andthere were always a couple of extras who were kept to fillin different jobs. They were steam and had boilers and used wood. Andthe wood was bought from the farm people andbushworkers wholived alongthe River. But you hadtohavea wharf to put your wood on, or else share your wharf with your neighbour. And this was where the trouble always started with selecting the land along the River. Some people liked to get their sons side byside, so that they could share the samewharf. Because the wharfwas then your job. If you could put wood on the wharf you gotcash money for it, so anybody that was fortunate enough to have a wharf location would be like today having agas station on a busy corner. The deck handswheeled thewood in and theywheeledit in on wheelbarrows, and came down the ramp and dumped itintothe hull, and they could take a quarter cord in today's measurement of wood on a wheelbarrow. And then dump it down the hole in the hull that was cut toputthe wood in, and thenthe boiler man had access to that wood from below deck. And one of themost disgraceful things that could ever happen to a deck hand was that he couldn't handle his loadwhen he got down to the hole inthe deck and the wheelbarrow would godown into thehull and he'd be cursed forever for that." FIGHTING FOR LAND IN BUCHANAN [Gerald] "And what happened was, poor oldJoe wanted to get the piece adjoining to theone hehad already got, sohis twosonscould live side byside. Of course,Baptiste [Leduke]wanted a piece of that, and he didn't want thedunes. The sand dunes were worthless, as far as growing anything. So, someone said 'OK, you two guys are pretty gooddefenders of your rafts. Let's seewhich oneof you willget the piece of land.' This was afair competition between people who did notdislikeeach other. It was a physical-what would we say-test in a sense, but not in an angry way. Just astwo wrestlers might compete, and whenit's over they shake hands and thewinnertakesthepurse,you know?So this is how that was done. It wasn't donein a sense of anger, no. Isidore Richard was the referee for fair play at this meeting. Isuppose they would just have apiece of groundthat wouldbe big enoughthatthey would nothave room to move, andof course the families of both would as today's ballgames go, cheer for the side you wanted to win. And the old fella that I got this storyfrom said hisfather had told him about the goings onat this meeting,and Mrs.Baptiste was running around incirclesaround the outside telling him in French to 'Hithard, hit hard!' because he wasn't hitting hard enough. Andshe knew the outcome was notgoing to be good. " WOMEN OFCHARACTER [Elizabeth] As womenfollowed their husband'sintothe Upper Ottawa Valley beginning in the 1830s, they met extreme hardships that their upbringings in settled New England or New France never couldhaveprepared them for. Survival alone provedto be quite a challenge, andraising a familywas even more difficult. ElizabethLeroy (nee Baines) was the first female settler in Buchanan Twp. She came with her husband Simon Leroy, a skilled square-timber hewer anda former United Empire Loyalist. Previously,Elizabeth wasa schoolteacher inNew England. She opened the upperfloor of her house as the first school in Buchanan, and herown daughters were among the first students. This employ kepther busyduring the cold months of the year when her husbandwas working inthe lumber camps further back in the bush. It is hardtoimagine what difficulties the wives of the lumbermen had to facewhile their husbands were away. They were left alone to care forthe children,tend to the animals, andkeep a fire stoked. Theirnearest neighbors were a difficultwinter'swalkaway,and perhaps lonelinesswas as harsh as the cold. When onehears theanecdote about Mrs. Richard, wife of one of the earliest French settlers in Buchanan, out inthe middle of the night chasing after a bear because ithad grabbed the family swine,one canbegin to imagine the courage and determination required by these early female settlers. While all ofthe wives of lumbermenwere virtually single parents from autumn to spring each year, they could takesome solace in thefact that their husbands wouldreturnwhen the river ice broke up, and that they would bring household supplies and money (if they hadn't spent it all at Stopping Places along the way). However, the lumber business was dangerousand the widows of the lumbermen killed on the job could count on no such support.The story ofwidow Emmy Chequen, who was left to raise her sevenchildren on a minisculemonthly allowance, highlights how tragedy could strike down afamily and only strength of character could pull the women through.Women often hadto seek ways to supplement their household income.During prohibition, Buchanan also was rich with headstrong women who made sought-after whiskey. Rosina Brunelle was one of the best-known brewers inthe township. She was a tiny French Canadianlady who used to ride a bicycle on a high wire at the Quebec Midway before coming tothe Valley. Another favorite whiskey maker was Mrs. BobChequen, Emmy's sister-in-law.Once, when caught by the authorities with a washtub full of peeledpotatoes outbehind the barns, she made the excuse that her ill sow's digestive system couldn't handle the peels and was let off the hook. Perhapsthe most impressive women to havegraced Buchanan Township was Viola McCarthy (nee Blimkie). Viola was bornon afarm in Buchanan, and as a young bride of 19 she took over the mail-delivery contract that her husbandcould no longer carry out. Viola delivered the mail to the 37 familiesinBuchanan throughout theyear and in all weather. She used horse andcutter inthewinter months, surmountingincredible drifts of snow that madereaching each homestead a challenge. She helped uneducated residents to read their letters and write responses. She often gave residents lifts to the main road, and duringWWII whengas and tireswere rationed she acted as ambulance.Along with the mail, she delivered household items such as 100-pound bags of flour, hen feed, and even small livestock.On one occasion she evendelivered ababy. Perhapsoneof the mostimportant thingsthat Viola brought the women of Buchanan Township was the Eaton's catalogue. They looked forward to its deliveryand, for a fewstolen minutesof thedays that followed, would wistfully daydreamabout the fine things that would have no use in the harsh and unforgiving Buchanan wilderness. MRS. RICHARD TRIES TO RECOVER FAMILY PIGFROM A BEAR [Gerald] "Mrs.Richard was left with the small children she had, and Mr. Richard went towork in the square timber business in the fall, and they had apenwith a pig in it not far from their cabin, and she heard the pig squeal. The biggest threat then was bears.She went out andheard the pig squealing. Shehad a littlelanternwhich was a candlein a frame. She got some pans orsomething that could makeanoise, thinking that she could maybe scare thebear, but the bear had liftedthe pig over the log fence with his frontpaws and he got into the bush with it. So she followed him as she thought, I guess he'll drop the pig anytime. He didn't. So it was afightto see who was going to get the pig. So finally she got far enough away fromthe cabin or house that she couldn't go any farther with the small kids so she had to come back and let the pig go.So that was their winter's supplyof meat. And you know, I've got a book called TheFoxfire and they have a bear proof pigpen in theAdirondacks. And those people livedmuch like the people where we lived. They usedthe same system of thinking. Itwas exactly.When Iread that, I hadto read some ofit twice because Icouldn't believe that people in another part of the country would be so much alikeand be so distant. But those people in the AppalachianMountains had thesame thinking pattern as we had at the river, using an uneducated way of dealingwith things." LOST COMMUNITY & WHAT WAS LEFT TO LOSE [Elizabeth] Life for the second generation of settlers in Buchanan was perhaps moredifficult thoughless isolated than it was for thefirst settlers. Inthe1850s and 1860s,asthe lumber trade begantorequire more unskilled labourers and winter supplyroutes, the construction of amajor transportation artery from Pembroke to Mattawa wasbegun. FAILING LAND THATSETTLERS LOST [Gerald] "You would notice a cow path onthe outside of the fences, not on the inside. It didn't seem strange then because none of us ever knew thatyou had to feed cows in summertime. In summer they were supposed to find the food themselves. And they weren't to get that in the field. The field was used to grow winterfood for them. So the fences were put around the field, and the cattle beinghungry, they would look at the field and want to go in,so they'd have apath around the fence. And every farmerseemed to have that same way of thinking. Because youdidn't have enough land to grow and to pasture as well. ALEC ARBOUR was one ofthepeople who lived at the .. near theAtomicPlant [where it is located today], and he was a very serious man. He was a very honest person and he looked at things in a serious fashion. And he had a son who went to work for the railroad andbecame a section man in Westmeath. And one dayhis son came up and got him to take him down for a visit and when theygot below Pembroke near Westmeath the cattlewere insidethe fences.Theywere in fields that looked like hayfields. But inWestmeath they were pasture fields! So heinsisted to his son to stop hiscar.He said 'I got to go in and tell that farmer that his cows are inhis hay.' And the son said 'Dad, that's not a hayfield. That's a pasture.' 'Well,' he said, 'where I come from, that's ahayfield!' And hisson said 'Well, don't go in there and tellhim that his cattlearein there 'cause he'll laugh. Becausethat's what it's like down here.We have fields ofsummer feed for cattle.' But there's an awful difference inthe waythat people who have can live, and people who have not can. It's thatsimple. You make due with what you have. And even the cattle had theirshortages. Because they were expectedto eat leavesand grasses along thepaths and places. We know today that you can'tkeep animals in that condition. And as I look atthat now, Isee that our animals were the worst ones off, because they had to dowith much less than they should have. That'sdogs, cats, horses,and cattle. Every one.I look backtoday and Ifeel sorry that conditions were that bad for anything. And the reasonwas that people didn't have the necessaryfeed for them or the money to buy it. So maybe in that sense, everybody might be betteroff.Animals included." A COMMUNITY LOST [Gerald] [Elizabeth: How did the residents knowthat they were losing their land?] "They werevisited by a person that represented thepurchasing people, and they were told bythem that the landwas being lookedatas apotential site for development of some sort. Few peopleknew what it wasfor, but they vaguely thought that it had something todo with the war, because at that point in time the warwas notgoing favorable. So they came and told the people that there was a chance that that land would be purchased and they would have to move. Then it created a division. The olderpeople did not want to move. The younger, who were not attached as much to the land, they looked on that area as one thatdidn't furnish any opportunity.An opportunity to make a living was very limited. Butthenthe older people could not, were too old to work, sothey had nogains by the Government buying their property. So that divided the people in their thinking. The old people did not want toleave the [Ottawa] River. It was the River they were gonna miss. Becausesome knew that they'd never get back to that river again. It's nota big thingbut it's an important thing when that's all a person has. It wassadness, really. Sadness. The water smell, it's hard to explain. But the smell of the River was one of the most nicest things I remember about it.Why, I can't tell you. Strange, eh, that something like that can stand out asbeing important? Whenyoudon't have too much,the littlethings mean more. And the smell of water eventoday, I likeit because I can almost recall that same thing again. The memories and history ofneighboursand thingsthat you had toleave behind,that was the saddestand the mostnoticeable loss. Not the value ofthe land that wasleft, so much asthe breakingup of the groups of people that lived by the River. It wasas if a glass was shattered into many pieces because noone could ever regroupagain.You had to go your separate ways because therewas not available places for you so that the numbers of people could ever live close together again. And that was one of the losses that wasthe most severe, I would say." RELOCATING A LIFE CAN BEA PAIN INTHE NECK [Gerald]"The year beforewewere going to leave, acookhouse was built outof logs, which was supposed to be a great improvement to the leaner thatwas there before. This thingwas goingto have a stove init and wecould whittle inthere in the winter, which was whatI wanted intheworst way. We'd just got the thing-the logs of it-up, and the roof part of it on, when the Government came and said 'You guys are going to haveto leave, and get out.'But anyway, Roger went in thespringtime, and his time was running out, andhe was livingin the old house at the river where the lighthouse is. And he had withhim alady who was a French woman; she was a little thinwoman. Andshe was down at theold house. He wentup tothe clearance and took someofthese logsoff the summer kitchen to takeit tomove it down to the old house and then take it up the river. He puton someof these logs and started down the hill and right where the road takes a bend, thewater was washing-there was a little streamthere-sotheice had sort ofwashedout underoneside, and unknown to him when he came to this place where the icewouldn't support the sled, it broke away. Andhe went down frontward and went overthe frontof the loadand got underthe logs. He was therefor two or three hours before she realized hewasn't coming back, something waswrong. When she came up, she saw the situation but she couldn't do anythingabout it because she couldn't liftthe logs. She had to walk up the icetoBalmer's Bay, towhere John Robert lived, and get him tocome withher. And the two of them managed to unload thelogs off him.They got him tothe hospital and I remember seeing him in thehospital, and they hadhimall tied upwith pulleys and ropes and whathaveyou because hislegs wereall broken andthey were incasts, you know? He lived through that, and the last time he gotinto problems was he was coming home fromthe BywaysHotel one night and walked in themiddleof the highway and another car cameand hit him again! With broken legs and arms and whateverI guess you can imagine andthey thought, 'What are wegonna do with him now?' [Laughter]. Oh, he had a good sense of humor, but he was ninetytwo or threewhen he died." COMING FULL CIRCLE [Gerald] "You weretorn from something that had grew on you, or inyou, without giving you a choice, or saying 'Do you want to give this up, or don't you?' Andthere's something about saying it in that fashion that makes youa bit bitter. Becauseyou don't have a choice. It's like someone imposingsomething on you,you know? And you think 'Ohlord, I'm human, Ilive in a free country, why do Inot have a choice?' Because you were led to believe that you owned the little block of landthat youlived on. And thensomeonecomes along and says 'Sorry,I'm taking it from you. You don't own it, you're only sittinghere. We allowed you tostay here, and we're taking it back.' Butno one ever told youbeforethat this would be taken from you. Well, I'vejust come to the conclusion not thatmany weeks ago, that the trade-off was worthit. So I thoughttomyself, I've often felt bad about leaving the[Ottawa] River, but forthe good they've done, I wouldsay it was worth it. Yep,because if we hadto depend onfar-away things we would be ina very difficultsituation. Irethoughtthat. I always didn't like having to leave the river that I left,but then asI got into a tight spot where I did have need for the service of that hospital, I thought to myself 'This is payback time. I'mgetting paid back withinterestfor what I lost.' Does that answer you?" THE STORYTELLER Gerald Nadeau spent his boyhood years in BuchananTownship on his Uncle Roger's farm, helping to tend to the lighthouse and observing the people around him. He can recall storiesabout the early dayswithacrystal clear memory.These stories cover the time from 1830 when the first homesteaders laid claim to unyielding plots of land along the Ottawa River, to 1944 when HisMajesty The King expropriated the Township ofBuchanan for thewar effort. Today, Gerald is one of the only remaining links that enable historians historians to catch a glimpse at whatdaily life in an Ottawa Valley pioneer community was like. A Whispered Historyaims to share Gerald's unforgettable stories, both hearteningand heartbreaking, about the settlers of Buchanan Township before they are forgotten forever.