Hail, Hail

 Hail! Hail! The Gang’s All Here.

by Dorothy Reid

In the spring of 1921, my grandparents, Frederick and Harriet James, moved to a 98-acre farm on the corner of Hwy 11 and Kilworthy Road. Gramps had been a miner in England from the age of ten; he immigrated to Canada thirty years later when the mines began to close. Granny arrived a year later with my mother, Annie James. She was their only daughter and when she married my father, Tom Wright, she came to ‘The Farm’ to be near her mother when the first of her six children began arriving. 

Farming proved to be not too successful, and they had practically given up farming except for chickens and turkeys so, in the late twenties, Granny James operated a store or ‘stand’ as we called it. It was situated beside our farmhouse facing the #11 Highway right across from a herd of Art Soper’s cows. They tended to be quite noisy in the summertime. During the summer months I was delegated to sit in the stand each morning while the adults did other chores. We had only a few customers on weekdays; cars were few and far between. Mostly ‘flinners’, as the Model Ts were called. There were some coupes with rumble seats. My father had a Graydort with running boards and side curtains and not heated.

We also had two B.P. gasoline pumps. It was my grandfather’s job to look after these, but Granny and I helped a lot. My favourite customer always arrived late on Sunday afternoon. I would see the window open and the magic words, “Fill’er up.” Our gasoline prices never seemed to fluctuate; it was easy to see the amount of gas by the glass globe that registered the amount, then we refilled the globe by pumping by hand until it was full again. We both knew that the amount of gas would come to 10 cents less than the dollar due and we both knew who would get that dime. My hero--Mr. Tom Hitchen Sr.

When it was my responsibility to look after the stand, I was told by Granny to be sure and let me know if the Nagaya Beach Gang should happen to pay a visit. The gang had been before. “They must be rich,” I thought. They all had nickels and dimes to spend. I even spied a whole quarter! One day they came again. “Here they come,” I shouted very loud. Two seconds later Grandmother, Cousin Olive, and Mother rushed in and cleared the whole front counter to the back counter. Just in time! The Nagaya Beach Gang had arrived. This was not their first visit, and this time Granny was prepared. I was always amazed. A few of the gang consisted of Tueros-- Johnny, Manny, Anna and Anita and probably more—Tommy and Florence Hitcher, maybe some Counters and Kents.

My grandmother was always noted for the generous servings of ice cream cones from the famous Orillia Ice Cream Company. Only a nickel! Neilson chocolate bars all kinds (Not the padded wrapped bars of today.) Only a nickel! We also had Wrigley’s chewing gum, only a nickel, and anise seed balls—three for a penny. The bowls of tissue wrapped oranges, apples, pears, and peaches which had been displayed on the counter were now on the back shelf.. Only a nickel! A whole stalk of bananas hung from a hook. Only a nickel! The shop looked bare in only a few minutes. I must also mention Brown’s Beverages from Gravenhurst. Only a nickel. 

Once a week Granny and Gramps ordered crates of fresh produce from the vegetable man, Tony, in Barrie. would load up their old wagon with fresh fruit, vegetables, and the inevitable stalk of bananas. Our old horse ‘Queenie’ was hitched to the wagon and off they went to Nagaya Beach. The entire stock would be sold very quickly.

Many of the north Kahshe Lake cottagers knew my grandparents. Granny raised a lot of turkeys for their Thanksgiving dinner. She had a list of cottagers that ordered birds every year. In the Fall, Granny was always pleased to have Bruce and Hugh Moad visit for a week when they were hunting. They certainly enjoyed Granny James’s stew with dumplings and home-made rhubarb pie. Bruce kept in touch with my grandparents for many years.

My older brother, Fred, and I spent swimming from the government dock at South Kahshe Lake Road. We usually hitched a ride. Rarely did a car passed us by. We hopped on the running board and bowled along at 30 miles per hour. Wow! Sometimes we did have to walk; it was only two miles.

Those were the good old days!

I have a cottage on Kahshe Lake on Oak Road for over forty years but that is another story.

Dorothy Reid.