The Whyte Family

 The Whyte Family

by Dorothy Reid

The information I am writing about was told to me by Katy and Hannah Whyte and confirmed

by Tommy Jr. Katy liked to tell us about her family.

They supplied us with quart cans of milk when we found it necessary to purchase it. Sometimes

eggs as well. They always treated my brother, aged 12, and me, 8 years, as if we were their

contemporaries and needless to say we were honoured. In later years when we knew them

they seemed very old; but for many more years, when we got older, they always seemed the

same.

We were told, and I truly believe every word, these were very truthful people, that they had

come on a ship from Scotland in the mid 1850s with their family of eight children, four boys and

four girls. They were granted 100 acres in Muskoka just north of the Kahshe River. For several

years the family walked to Orillia for the necessary groceries in the Spring. The road was really

only a pathway and they walked almost twenty miles.

I should mention here that this was a very short and bright family. All those I met were a

maximum of 5 feet tall. When they first came to Muskoka, Maggie, one of the daughters, went

to Hamilton as a “Mother’s Help.” She was just fourteen years old and she stayed with that

family until the age of ninety and was regarded as one of their family and buried in their family

plot in Hamilton. We never met Maggie. We were only told of six children and only knew

three.

Katy was usually the spokesperson for the family, and I had to convince my mother that she

really liked to tell us about the “old days.”

Tommy was at one time in charge of the Severn Bridge Post Office, this office was passed on to

Hannah in later years and Tommy Senior had also been Postmaster.

Tommy had a white beard and every spring he would walk to Gravenhurst for his “shave and a

haircut” stopping on the way to chat with my grandfather usually about the weather.

Sometimes my brother went out to the barn with Tommy to see his large horses, Pet and

Chum. Pet was the mother and Chum the son. If Chum became too frisky, Pet would make him

behave. Eventually the horses had to go. Tommy did not grow but the horses did! Tommy had

to use a box to reach up to harness them.

During the summer we visited the Whyte house every year. We were growing rapidly; they

were always the same.

Sometimes we would be there when he went to call the cows for milking. Every day around 5

o’clock we could see them with cowbells around their necks bringing Tommy home. Katy

would help Tommy milk the cows. Every cow had a name and if anything happened to a cow

the replacement was given the same name. I remember such names as Bossy, Molly, Daisy,

and Buttercup. This also applied to the cats, dozens of them, and they all had Scottish names.

Katy was often in the cluttered yard, feeding the chickens, followed by so many cats! I never

saw a dog there, but the dog was usually with Tommy bringing in the cows.

We were often invited into the house. One day I was sent to buy eggs and I was invited into the

parlour to wait while Hannah collected them. Have you ever sat on a horsehair sofa on a hot

day in summer clothes?? As well as the sofa, the parlour also had a dilapidated old organ and a

horsehair chair.

We had usually entered by the kitchen and asked if we would like tea. The chickens would be

chased away every few minutes. The huge iron kettle was on a big iron stove with a huge

porridge pot always simmering away. These utensils came from Scotland on the ship with

them. I often visualised the ship having quite a time on the ocean.

Tommy always sat by the kitchen window. The Family Herald and Weekly Star plus other

papers right beside the old rocking chair he sat on. They had no telephone and no mailbox.

Katie and Hannah would vie for his attention all the time. Each one trying to be first with his

meals and drawing attention to the latest reading matter, especially the newspapers.

I’m sure Katie must have been the prettiest girl. Now she spent a lot of her time with Tommy’s

high rubber boots. Her hair was always in a topknot, and she wore a potato sack apron and it

looked like one of Tommy’s shirts. Hannah was much the same but rather buxom and always

smiling. I had been told that one of the local lads, Bill Von Alma Sr. had been at the front gate

talking to Hannah on a Sunday afternoon. Hannah with her little giggles, apparently enjoying

his company when Tom Whyte Sr. appeared with a Shotgun. Billy took off and evidently did not

return. But he did marry two or three times later.

In her 70s Hannah developed ear cancer. Unfortunately, it was very visible, and Katie felt that

she should not be around other people as it might be catching. This was a popular belief in

those days and Hannah spent her remaining years at the Toronto Hospital for Incurables. She

passed away about two years after leaving Muskoka. We missed her giggle very much.

During the ‘30s we still visited our grandparents and the Whytes. The front yard, which had

been Hannahs to look after, was almost all weeds. The garden gate, the white picket fence, the

rose bushes all gone. The front doorsteps also gone.

At that time prior to Hillbilly Estates, the schoolhouse was the next dwelling north on Highway

11. It was painted white like all Malta Schools. My older brother Fred and I attended that

school for a while. (But that’s another story.) The Whyte’s had donated the land for the school

and it was periodically used for Sunday services. Also many times in earlier years for funerals.

One Sunday my Mother informed me that we were going to the church service. I was quite

surprised to see all three Whyte’s there, each clutching their prayer books in front of them.

Tommy in his leather boots, the first time I saw him in a suit. Katy and Hannah in their long

black dresses with white lace collars and pretty ivory cameo brooches. All three very, very

solemn and I might add wearing black hats perched on top of their heads. How nice they

looked smiling at Mother and me. We all went quickly to our seats. Mother and I stood up as

the old organ began to wheeze. Mother suddenly squeezed my hand very, very tightly. I did

not have to ask why; when the organ played the opening hymn and the Whytes began to sing in

the very familiar, high squeaky voices.

I did not see much of them during the ‘40s. I was now a married lady; the war was on and the

Whyte house was still there. I often wished that I could have visited just one more time. I will

never forget the old Whyte house and the unforgettable tenants.

Another version: The Old Whyte House

One day in late Autumn 2007 we were driving north to our cottage on Kahshe Lake. As we passed Camp

Hillbilly as I usually did, I glanced at the former white house on the left ; the old Whyte House we called

when we were kids. AOh no! It can=t be!@ It had been demolished! So many memories rushed into

my mind.

My older brother Freddie and I had spent so many happy times visiting with the last three members of

the Whyte Family. They had sailed from Scotland more than half a century ago. Father, Mother and

eight children planning a better life in Canada on the allotted 100 acres next to the Kahshe River on the

West side of Highway 11.

The house when we first saw it was painted white, always white. The front door was never used in our

time, but there were still signs of a path to the road well worn to a picket fence. Very old, with signs of

rose bushes now very pale coloured, climbing still. We always used the back entrance. A large shed had

leaned against the entrance to the house. The shed was full of rusty tools, spades, forks, etc. and a huge

scale. We always weighed ourselves. It never weighed the same no matter how many times we tried.

We had to shoo the chickens out to enter the hall. Sometimes they were on the old hand-made wooden

table and chairs until Katy or Hannah sent them clucking on their way. Tommy would be sitting quietly

by the window with his usual magazines and papers by his rocking chair. We saw the Gravenhurst paper

and Family Herald and Weekly Star among a foot high stack.

The huge big iron stove filled half the kitchen. The big iron kettle singing as usual next to its companion,

a very huge black iron saucepan. This saucepan usually filled with oatmeal or tatties, depending on he

time of day. The last time we saw these iron items they had been donated to the Museum on the

Seguin with many other relics of Scotland.