A few years back I wrote a biography of Mom on another platform to share with family members.
I was trying to capture the happenings from a treasure trove of family documents and photos. It was written in a detailed way for family members who know the context better than the casual reader now will.
I wish to share it here on Mother’s Day as I am thinking of Mom.
Mom, strong woman that she was, was never a complainer. She lived by the motto “Live and let live”. She carried herself proudly and while she might have an opinion on a family situation, she would refrain from interfering and do anything that she could to help. She was also a great cook!
So Mom, here is your life story. Happy Mother’s Day with all my love, I still miss you immensely.
SS Athenia in Montreal 1933 (photo courtesy Wikipedia)
The Steam Ship Athenia was a transatlantic passenger liner that worked between the UK and eastern Canada from 1923 to 1939. It was the first UK ship sunk by Germany in WW II. My Aunt Joan was a passenger on the ill fated crossing and survived. 117 passengers and crew did not including Joan’s brother Alan. My cousin Anne tells the story:
“82 years ago today, on September 3, 1939, the first day of World War II, the British passenger ship “SS Athenia” was torpedoed in the North Atlantic. My mother Joan, age 6, her brother Alan, age 7, and their mother Dorothy were aboard that ship.
They had boarded 2 days earlier on Sept 1 in Liverpool. They had been visiting family in England. My grandfather Edward sent word for them to return home to Montreal early as there was talk of war starting up in Europe. And 2 days into their journey – on Sept 3, war was officially declared between Germany and England.
The ship was overcrowded and behind schedule because they had taken on extra passengers. The captain was sailing in a zig zag pattern to make up time. The windows had all been painted black to avoid detection at night. But still this was an elegant passenger ship and at 7 pm that evening, most passengers were having supper in the dining room.
At the same time a German U-boat, U-30, captained by Fritz Lemp surfaced and spotted “ Athenia” in the distance and misidentified it as a merchant ship. He fired 3 torpedoes and missed the target on the first and third but hit the ship with the 2nd. Lemp submerged so he could get closer to fire again.
On board “Athenia” there was an explosion and the ship began to list. When U-30 surfaced again they were close enough to realize they had mistakenly fired on a passenger ship but Lemp fired again and missed and then submerged and fled the scene. He did not admit his error for years and it was not officially acknowledged by Germany until after the war.
Back on “Athenia” the overcrowded lifeboats were launched. Joan, Alan & Dorothy made it into a lifeboat together but in the ensuing chaos, young Alan was lost. Joan and Dorothy, like many of the other passengers suffering from hypothermia & frost bite after spending the night in the cold North Atlantic were eventually rescued by the Norwegian ship “MS Knute Nelson”. Alan’s body was never recovered and for years afterwards whenever an orphan boy was found (as often happened during the war) my grandfather would travel to see if it was Alan. The loss of Alan was a wound that never healed in their family.
My mom died this week (on Sept 1, 82 years after boarding “Athenia”) and although she was very ill, this event was very much on her mind. She wanted to talk about it and about Alan. I sincerely hope that their spirits have finally been reunited and that the Alan shaped hole in her heart has finally been filled.”
Here is a link that lists Allen Vincent as a casuality of this monstrous war crime. Thank you Anne for telling the story.
Here is a link that provides detailed historical information about this sad event.
My paternal grandfather White Burton Morgan was born in Hartland, NB on March 24, 1879. His parents were David Ezra Morgan 1852-1924 and Lois Parmelia Orser (Morgan) 1856-1939. Each was descended from Loyalists from New York State who came to New Brunswick from the U.S. following the American Revolutionary War. In 1879, Canada was but 12 years old. PM John A. McDonald was busy introducing protective tariffs on manufactured goods and promising a transcontinental railway as the Plains first nations people were starving in the west due to the disappearance of buffalo. I never really got to know my Grandpa Morgan as he died after a long illness when I was 6.
White was the middle of 5 children. Sadly older sister Martha died in 1878 at age 3 and younger brother David died in 1888 at age 4. Older brother Edmund and younger sister Lina lived a long life so little White’s life was tinged with both sorrow and subsequent joy from the very start. There must have been a lot of religion in the family to sustain them as both his mother Lois’ father Moses and Uncle Charles were Free Baptist Ministers. White’s father David listed his profession as farmer. His mom’s sister Minnie Bell was married to a Samuel White so I suppose this is how White may have got his unusual first name.
Edmond and White c 1882-3
Hartland (pop. 1000) had been founded by White’s mother’s great great grandfather William Orser in 1797. Known now for having the longest covered bridge in the world, it is in the heart of potato country and must have been a very peaceful place to grow up in.
I have little information about his early childhood life other than he grew up on a farm with his older brother and younger sister. He went to Hartland High School and later Provincial Normal School in Fredericton. White began his career as a teacher locally but then out west to teach in Saskatchewan and Alberta. He served a stint in the Royal Engineers in Halifax and came to Ottawa in 1905 to be boys’ secretary at the YMCA. He then went to Queens University, Kingston graduating with a BA in 1909. In 1913 he enrolled in Theology at Trinity College, Toronto and graduated with a BD in 1914.
He was ordained an Anglican Rector at Christ Church Cathedral in Ottawa in 1913 and briefly assigned to the mission at Madawaska and Killaloe in the Ottawa Valley. Interesting, living in Arnprior we travel up that way frequently – beautiful country.
He then became assistant rector at St. Mathew’s Anglican Church in Ottawa before being assigned as Rector, St. John’s Anglican Church, Vankleek Hill, Ontario in November 1915. But just before this move he married Bella Mae Vallillee of Ottawa on July 7 at St. Mathew’s. They had courted for a year. She was the only child of George William Vallillee and Rebecca Jane Skuce both of Ottawa and was born Jan 4, 1895. Her mom Rebeka Jane nee Skuce died in 1914 when Bella Mae was 19. Her dad, George Vallillee remarried Margaret Tait in 1917 and they had a son George Vallillee.
In Vankleek Hill, White and Bella Mae gave birth to six children. It was a busy time for sure. White was 42 and Bella was 26 when my dad was born:
Lois Geraldine Feb 5, 1916
Burton Roper Mar 23, 1917
Vera Marjorie Apr 19, 1918
Barbara Caroline Jul 11 1919
Alfred David Apr 14 1921 (my dad)
Reginald Aug 24 1922
St. John the Apostle Anglican Church, Vankleek Hill, Ontario Today
In 1922 he moved to Russell and Edwards, ON where he was Incumbent. It was on May 1, 1927 he was appointed Rector at St. Martin’s Anglican on Woodroffe Avenue in Ottawa’s west end. St. Martin’s then was located in what is the current Hulse and Playfair Chapel just across from Our Lady of Fatima RC Church. White was also responsible for St. Stephen’s Anglican on Britannia Road. The Morgan family established themselves on Fourth Avenue in McKellar Park not far to the east from both churches. McKellar Park Golf Course had just opened in May so it was the start of a long love relationship with golf in the Morgan family.
Morgan Family c 1935White, Bella Mae and daughter Vera on the golf course, c 1938
White was busy with his two churches and Bella with their 6 kids. He was also responsible for the Missions of Chelsea and Gatineau Mills across the Ottawa River in Quebec from 1933-40. The years flew by. The kids went to Broadview public school and Nepean High School just a few blocks away. Then it was off to university for some. When the war years came, oldest son Burton who also went to Trinity College, enrolled in the army and my dad Alfred, in the RCN Volunteer Reserve. White was a Mason of the Scottish Perfection, was very affable and popular, making many friends around town.
At my dad’s graduation from McGill 1942
Meanwhile the grandchildren had started coming and coming and coming. All told he and Bella had 20 grandchildren from 1941 to 1961. 4 of their 6 six children stayed in Ottawa, only the oldest Lois moving to Brantford, ON and the youngest Reginald ending up in Cornwall. So there was plenty of opportunity to be with their grandchildren. Many large family get togethers occurred at the Morgan household now on Windermere Ave, Fourth Ave having been renamed.
With grandson Robert Carson c 1941
At the sea 1940s
However, tragedy was about to strike. Rev. White retired from St. Martin’s in 1949 after 23 years as Rector, for illhealth reasons. Mind you he was 70 so he was likely ready to retire anyway. I do not know the details of his illness but I know it affected his retirement adversely. His friend Rev. Ken Cowan took over as Rector. Bella was not well either suffering from some disorders that I do not know the details of. As a young boy I remember visiting them in hospital and that is about all.
Me with Grandma and Grandpa Morgan 1951
Sadly White passed away on May 24, 1956 at the age of 77 in the Perley Hospital Ottawa and was interred at Beechwood Cemetery after the service at St. Martin’s. Bella Mae did not live much longer and passed away on Oct 19, 1956 at the age of 61. They had had a good very productive life together and the Morgan family name lives on in Ottawa and elsewhere thanks to them. I wish I had had the chance to get to know you both more Grandpa and Grandma Morgan, may God continue to bless your souls.
I wish to acknowledge and thank cousin John Morgan for supplying the bulk of the family material used to create this biography. Also posthumously, his sister Barbara who provided me with the Morgan family genealogy files some years back. This is one of a series of family biographies on Mattersofthemoment.com based on my family tree below. Cheers, Dave.
I was a member of the Woodroffe High School (Ottawa, Canada) Band for 3 years way back. I played the flute which happens to figure prominently in the recent concert above. The reason I played flute goes back further. In Grade 6 my mom decided to enroll me in music lessons. I was given an aptitude test and found out I had good aptitude. The results are shown below complete with Mom’s scribbles. It was recommended that I take up the violin. For some reason I abhorred the violin and instead chose the 2nd recommendation, the flute.
The flute is a relatively easy to play wind instrument (you need to develop your ombouchure) and relatively inexpensive. The one above is what I think I had – it currently retails for $129CDN. So I began music lessons on the flute after school. However in those days, that was a lot of money!
Armstrong Beginners Flute
This is the 52 bus route I took every Wednesday after school. I had to go to Elmdale School for the lessons as they were not offered at D. Roy Kennedy or Woodroffe public schools. It was fun taking the bus and walking a few blocks – rain or shine. It was my first experience at solo travel.
A Mr. Guibault was my flute teacher. He frowned a lot when I played meaning I had not likely done my lessons nor practiced sufficiently in his eyes. I was not a natural for sure. I remember practicing at home. Gradually I made progress, learned to read music and my embouchure, the way in which you apply your mouth to the mouthpiece, strengthened. I remember being in a concert once as a Scout. We all had no idea how to play our instruments but our parents clapped anyways. This reminds me that Miles Davis once told a bandmate “to play that instrument like you don’t know how to play it.” It all paid off though when I got to high school.
1965-66 Wyvern (Woodroffe High) yearbook photo
In Grade 9 I took Music and continued to practice and learn how to play the flute. The next year I made the Junior Band pictured above. We were a concert band that played in the auditorium occasionally but mostly practiced in preparation for individually moving up to the Senior Band. We did enter band competitions and placed well. In the spring of 1966, the Senior Band lost a large number of it’s senior members due to graduation. So I was moved up to the Senior Band, flute in hand by the end of Grade 10 in the spring of 1966.
Me 2nd Row 4th from left, Mr. Manley centre, (photo 1965-66 Wyvern)
Mr. Peter Manley was our very talented conductor. He had built this band up in only a few years to be among the best in Ottawa. It had tied in the A class competition with Ottawa Tech and got invited to play at the World’s Fair in NYC in 1965 before I joined. It was indeed an honour to become a member. It was an extra-curricular activity and we practiced at 8AM sharp every Thursday morning. I remember waking up at 7:40, throwing my clothes on and literally running the 4 blocks to school. You did not want to be late – Mr. Manley was a great ribber. In front of the whole band he would say something like – “Ah Mr. Morgan, late again. Perhaps we should all change our time to suit your schedule, eh?” as I slunk into my place.
We played a lot of marches, some orchestral overtures adapted for concert band and selections from musicals such as Gigi. Our set piece was Colonel Bogey on Parade which figured prominently in the Bridge Over the River Quai movie if you remember it.
I have 2 records they made in the mid 1960’s just before I joined, but no record player on which to play them lol. Here are the numbers recorded as listed on the 1964 recording:
On the Quarter Deck (Alford)
Mannin Veen (Haydn-Wood)
Chorale and Alleluia (Hanson)
Academic Festival Overture (Brahms)
And on the 1965 recording:
“Finale” New World Symphony (Dvorak)
2nd American Folk Rhapsody (Grundman)
Colonel Bogey on Parade (Alford)
Selection “Mr. Lucky” (Mancini)
Record Cover
Wow, pretty cool! An awesome band experience was in store.
We had the most exquisite breakfast at an auberge across the street from La Villa Danton – eggs on artisan bread toast, salad with raspberry confiture and hints of maple syrup. We then walked along the gorgeous Gaspesie shoreline enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of the ever widening St Lawrence.
We left St Luce Sur Mer and drove SE across the centre of the beautiful Gaspe peninsula to the site of the Restigouche Battlefield. It was here in the spring of 1760 that the French supply convoy sent at great expense to support the retaking of Québec City from the English, was totally lost. The 5 ships laden with supplies and arms were scuttled by French sailors after the British squadron hemmed them in here. It spelled the final end of La Nouvelle France.
We continued on to the outskirts of Bathurst, NB and found a delightful little motel with a heated outdoor swimming pool. We enjoyed a late afternoon swim in the sun. Chinese food for dinner and a great rest.
Next day we drove 3 hours to Nasonworth, NB near Fredericton. After chatting on the phone with distant cousin Brian Morgan, who unfortunately was away and not able to meet with us, Dave attempted to find the Old Morgan Cemetery. After slugging thru the heavy bush by the Rusagonis Stream for 30 minuntes, he gave up. Must have been going in the wrong direction which Brian confirmed the next day. The Old Morgan Cemetery is the resting place of Dave’s great great great and great great great great grandfathers who were named John Morgan Jr and John Morgan Sr., respectively. They came directly from Wales or possibly via the U.S. in 1781 to build a farm on a Loyalist land grant and a family dynasty in Canada.
Dave walked along the west (left) side of the stream here in the wrong direction
He should have been walking this direction on the east side
We drove to Saint John our final destination and were warmly welcomed by Kevin and Phyllis. After a great dinner of salmon and shrimp, Marie’s nephew Troy and his son Tyler came over and we had some laughs. Their other son Brad lives in Shanghai, China where he and his wife teach school. We spent a delightful evening together after a long day.
This is the first of a series of postings on our recent Quebec-New Brunswick road trip.
For sometime now we have wanted to go back to Montreal and visit some old haunts. Well this was the year. We drove to Montreal stopping first at 6815 Sherbrooke Street W (near Cavendish) to see Dave’s grandmother’s apartment building. Nana as we called her, lived here from about 1954 to 84. Dave has fond memories of visiting her here as a child. I can still smell the clean soapy smell of her apartment and that particular musty smell of the lobby as you entered. To us Montreal was a big city then and now. I remember marvelling at the buses, the traffic and the excitement of it all. “Hatwatter” (with the accent on the last syllable) the bus drivers used to announce at Atwater Ave on our way downtown.
The balcony of the left was hers, very cool at the time.
The pedestrian tunnel under Sherbrooke to the park across the street is long gone. I remember loving at it as a kid – imagine walking under the roadway above? The big swings in the park that I so much enjoyed, have been replaced with a play structure and little kiddy swings. Trains still whistle by at one end like I recall. It is a peaceful fun place that I will always remember.
Next we drove to mom’s house on Beaconsfield Ave in NDG where she grew up and then to her church, Knox Kensington Presbyterian, a few blocks away. We then headed for Mount Royal Cemetery. Luckily I had brought the plot number and we found Papa and Nana Ward’s gravesite quickly.
Before we went to our AirB&B apt on rue Hotel de Ville, we toured St. Joseph’s Oratory. Dave forgot his sunglasses there right after the picture below was taken lol.
We were lucky and found found free parking on the street as host David greeted us warmly in front of the AirB&B. He was very helpful and recommended some good restaurants and sites to see. There was no A/C nor did the TV work. We had fans and as we were not there to watch TV, all was fine. That night we strolled to Old Montreal, just a few blocks away and had a great dinner of wine and nachos at Jardin Nelson, right beside the jazz trio – great!
Montreal is truly an exciting city to visit or live in. There is a cosmopolitan vibe you don’t find in many other places. This time I used my rusty French and people responded in French! The lack of French is not an impediment as nearly everyone speaks English, and many other languages too.
After a pit stop at Ben and Gerry’s in Place Jacques Cartier, we headed home for the night after a great day one!
Have you ever wondered why Roman Catholics are forbidden to join the Freemasons? The reason it seems is that the very tenets of Freemasonry, that all religions are equal (including none), its focus on “deism” and its promotion of secularism, are simply incompatible with the Catholic faith. Hence one cannot claim to be a Catholic and a Freemason at the same time, as their world views are mutually exclusive.
I do not know any Freemasons, but my deceased great-uncle was a Freemason of the Scottish Rite 14th Degree . I have inherited his ring and am not sure what to do with it. As well, a deceased neighbour was once the Grand Master of the Madawaska Lodge that I pass everyday on my way to swimming.
Scottish Rite 14th Degree Ring. Virtus Junxit, Mors Non Separabit (Virtue has united and death shall not separate) is inscribed on the inside with the name of the Freemason
I do not think Masons are bad people nor do I think there has been a conspiracy to subvert civil society against the Catholic Church to establish nations free from divine monarchy and Church control. I think the notion of the nation-state with fixed boundaries and separation of church and state came about from forces that far exceeded some men secretly discussing their world view over coffee and brandy. Nevertheless, the Freemason philosophy and world view is indeed alive and well in Canadian society.
Curious to learn more about the antagoism between this “secret society” and the Catholic Church? This recent article in the UK Catholic Herald explains it well.
I have gradually become more interested in genealogy. It started a few years back when a cousin on my dad’s side sent me the family genealogy (gedcom) file with over 5000 individuals and data that she had sourced. Sadly she has passed now but I am very grateful for her research.
I signed up in Wikitree (it’s free) and started adding family member profiles and linking them manually to build my family tree. I had access to my mother’s files and photos which helped on her side. I split the (too) large Morgan file to include only the Morgans and their spouses data and uploaded this info to Wikitree.
Here is what I have so far:
And even farther back on the Morgan side:
I also uploaded the large file to myheritage.ca and use their tree builder app to explore the family tree data my cousin sent me. I am still at the free level which limits the research sources I have access to.
I find it fascinating to see the names of direct ancestors going back in time simply identified by date of birth, marriage, kids, death. Like, did anything else happen? What more is in a life anyway? Makes me feel connected. In 200 years will someone ponder over my data in a similar way?
I would like to go even farther back and fill in the gaps. There is conflicting data whether John Morgan (b 1750) was actually born in the U.S. or came over from Wales. Any advice or comments from you genealogists out there on how to proceed would be much appreciated. I guess my next move is to read the manual.
Went to my parents grave site the other day. The occasion was the celebration of life in the chapel of a childhood acquaintance who had just passed away. It was good to pay a visit.
I found the grave stone intact and added some flowers and took a photo. I noticed their site was in relatively good shape. Some others had the stone tipping over a bit or the lettering was faded. I contrasted this with the glorious condition of grave sites we saw all across Poland last year.
After this visit I found the grave site of my step father and his first wife nearby and spruced it up a bit too. It felt good to be doing this little duty.
I then went to the Celebration of Life for Craig. I first met him in grade school. He was a tall tough guy then who chased me out of the school yard on the last day of school in 1964 or so.
Craig went on the be a larger than life personality. He was a dreamer who achieved his dreams: founding a unisex hair studio (the first ever in Ottawa); living in the Bahamas on his yacht and then operating a large horse riding farm in the Gatineau. He loved life, his family and the hundreds of friends he collected along the way. We loved him back.
There was a lot of humour, memories, wild stories and love expressed. One of the speakers pulled a great prank. While he was speaking, he says excuse me my cell phone is buzzing. He answers the phone in front of us and says “Oh hi Craig, I’m kind of busy right now. OK yeah, I won’t tell that story…fine Craig…thanks see ya soon.”
For a moment we all wondered has Craig staged this whole thing including his death as a prank? Never let the kid in you die was his motto. It was a great celebration and seeing my childhood friends. Thanks for the memories Craig. Never let the kid in you die!
He had joined the Rivermead Golf Club in Aylmer, (now Gatineau) Quebec. A life long golf nut, I am not sure where he played in the intervening years after the McKellar Park course that he grew up beside, closed in 1952. I am now the proud owner of his membership share.
Yesterday I made the pilgrimage to play the Rivermead course with 3 friends for old time’s sake.
My Dad was a member for 10 years until his untimely death from cancer in 1965. He played Rivermead 3 times a week. I was his caddy several times and have fond memories of those days and the club at that time. There were no electric carts in those days. Everyone would walk, some carrying their golf bag and some using a pull cart. I remember arriving with Dad and someone would pull his clubs out of the storage shed and shine them up. There were dozens of employees serving others in this way. It was a privileged life style. We would then head out on the course walking. There was a lot of banter among the group. The one phrase I remember when someone sank a long put was “Lafayette, we are here!”
After the game I would be given a coke and a snackbar to enjoy outside while the men had a beer. I also remember big pitchers of shandy – beer and ginger beer that my Dad let me try on a hot day. It was the best of times. All winter long Dad would read books on golf and strengthen his grip with rubber dog bones. Periodically, he would exclaim, “I’ve found the secret!” (to improve his game for next year’s playing.) I think he shot in the low to mid 80s – not bad for a weekend golfer.
So yesterday in the blistering heat, here we are at the club, teeing off on this iconic golf course founded in 1910. Of course I flubbed my tee shot – I was just too flooded with memories. The course (unfortunately for me) was totally redesigned in the 1980s, so all the holes and layout have changed from what I remember.
The course is in immaculate green condition with baby skin fairways and extremely fast greens. In the heat and wind it played long. I found a bit of my game on the back 9 but failed to break 100. It was a great day with a great bunch of guys. Thanks Dad for the memories and thanks Steve, Larry and Tony for sharing this memorable day with me.
For sometime now we have wanted to go back to Montreal and visit some old haunts. Well this was the year. We drove to Montreal stopping first at 6815 Sherbrooke Street W (near Cavendish) to see Dave’s grandmother’s apartment building. Nana as we called her, lived here from about 1954 to 84. Dave has fond memories of visiting her here as a child. I can still smell the clean soapy smell of her apartment and that particular musty smell of the lobby as you entered. To us Montreal was a big city then and now. I remember marvelling at the buses, the traffic and the excitement of it all. “Hatwatter” (with the accent on the last syllable) the bus drivers used to announce at Atwater Ave on our way downtown.
