Lakehead University - Yearbook (Thunder Bay, Ontario Canada)

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LAKEHEAD TECHNICAL INSTITUTE YEAR BOOK At The Lakehead HERE is still a glider in one of the hangars out at the airport. It is in perfect condition. I often go in to look it over, and sometimes I get the feeling that it, too, wishes the old days were back again. The old days were five years ago. Then there were six of of us from the Fort William Air Cadet Squadron who used that newly acquired Kirby Cadet glider. It was painted a camou- flage green except for the undersurfaces which were a bright yellow. The wings were long and graceful, with squared tips. An open cockpit contained the control stick, release knob, rudder pedal and a plywood seat. A single landing wheel was attached to the bottom of the fuselage with a sturdy nose skid located just ahead of the wheel. Our first step was instructional; Mr. W. P. Stevens explained the functions of each part, and one by one we sat in the cockpit to work on the necessary routine for recovery from wing-downs, tail-downs, etc. The next step was closer to the real thing; this time we were towed slowly behind a truck to which the glider was fastened by a long rope, and practice in actual recovery resulted. It was only a few days after training started when we were allowed to pull the stick back slightly and get off the ground. By the middle of August (six weeks later) after intensive instruction in turns, stalls, etc., we were allowed to go up as high as we could before cutting off the rope with the release knob. We were soon able to climb to about a thousand feet and to remain aloft from six to ten minutes. I found a considerable thrill in the whole business. There was a wonder- iul feeling from the moment you saw the ground falling away from you, and this increased when you freed yourself from the rope and took complete control of the machine. You could hear the faint hum of the wind in the control wires, and you could see the broad expanse of countryside, but you got a great sense of silence and of being completely alone. I think we all felt an intensely personal experience which words do not convey in a satis- factory way. As bad luck would have it, our instructor had to leave at the end of the summer. And it was about this time that the government decided to apply rigid regulations to glider flying. The combination put an end to our opera- tions. Just recently these regulations were changed and it is quite possible that this summer will once again see gliding at the Lakehead Airport. — W. N. I. Cjlidtita — 23 —

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LAKEHEAD TECHNICAL INSTITUTE YEAR BOOK THE MOST IMPORTANT JOB FOR THE GOVERNMENT TODAY IE building of the St. Lawrence Seaway and Power Project is one of the most important jobs for the Canadian Government . . . indeed, I think it should have top priority right now. This controversial matter has been see-sawing back and forth between Ottawa and Washington for about fifty years. Now is the time for action. Canada can do the job. And there are certainly good reasons why she should. There are three big reasons. The first one is that we need the power. The development can produce over two million horsepower, half of which will belong to Canada. And we face a serious power shortage nof only because of the continually increasing usage of electrical power by its present users, but also because of the expansion of present plant facilities, and the appearance of more and more new industries. Ontario Hydro officials say that new sources must be available by 1956 or the province will be compelled to build steam generating plants; that is going to cost us more than building the St. Lawrence Project, on top of which the actual cost of the developed power will be more expensive than the hydro-developed power. A second big reason is the cheapening of transport costs and the promotion of the maximum commerce into the Great Lakes System. The completion of the Seaway will make possible the use throughout the great waterway of boats drawing up to twenty-seven feet of water. This can mean the elimination of present transfer costs for all goods going from any part of the Great Lakes to a destination overseas or even to any point beyond Kingston for that matter. The same applies to goods coming- into the system from any point beyond Montreal. So long as shipping remains at its present level we may give little thought to this matter, but any vision of a great industrial area developing along the entire north shore from Montreal to Sarnia and Georgian Bay gives a different complexion to that bottleneck which the Seaway can overcome. The possibilities of enormous industrial expansion are certainly present. Not only is there an ideal climate, cheap transportation (if we get the Seaway), cheap power (if we build the power development), easy access to an ample food supply, the presence of a huge local market, the tradition of stable government, but there is apparently unlimited supplies of rich iron ore available at both ends of the great waterway. And it is to get more efficient transportation for the Labrador ore that much of the present talk about the Seaway has developed from. We Canadians have but to look across the line to the south shore to get some idea of what is probably going to happen on the north shore some day. It seems like a good idea to get in step with the future right now. A third big reason has to do with defence. Without the seaway we might well divert a considerable amount of shipping to the Eastern Seaboard, and harking back to our experience in the last war, that could be a mighty costly proposition if we have to fight again. An inland seaway is going to give us far more protection for shipping because subs cannot do any harm past Quebec City. True we could tranship everything, but in modern war, we cannot afford to lose time and manpower which could have been saved by a little foresight. This is only part of the defence story: we need St. Lawrence power for war industry. Well then, can we build it? It takes two things, money and know-how. And when you stop to think of what we have accomplished in the past, it seems to me that we could build a dozen waterways. Do we have money? Our Federal surpluses alone exceeded two billion dollars in the post war period. And any nation that can finance a war as we have done just recently, would find this project rather small potatoes. And know-how? You can find great railways, great dams, great buildings, great canals, and great industries in this country. And at the doors of our great universities stand representatives of the United States asking for our engineers. And incidentally, Russia imported Canadian engineers years ago when she was getting herself reorganized. So we have no problem. We just need to shake off our traditional sluggishness, and get busy. — D. F. — 22 —

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LAKEHEAD TECHNICAL INSTITUTE YEAR BOOK DEATH I n m mm i ONE . . . TWO . . . THREE . . . |||| The rifle shots broke the northern stillness. The sound | echoed across the frozen Sikanni River, was absorbed by the j dense forest. A marauding wolf heard and was startled. | The man who fired those shots hoped and prayed that his call for aid would be heard. He shut the cabin door, crawled ijj! ' Ill back to his bunk. John Pick was afraid, mortally afraid, be- W I cause John Pick was dying — slowly, painfully, horribly. I Two days before, Trapper Pick had eaten tainted food. Now his belly was bloated and burning. As he lay on his bed in agony, John Pick knew he would die unless the poison was taken from his stomach. Now he waited for help. But distracted by fever, and pain, and fear, he lost all sense of time. Primitive John Pick took up his eight-inch hunting knife, plunged it into his swollen belly. And he waited and wondered, wondered which would come first — help or death. In his warm cabin in the forest, George Farrel was skinning the day ' s take from his trapping lines. The only sound he heard was that of burning wood and whistling wind. He heard nothing else. Nor did Farrel ' s huskies hear anything, but they sensed something. The huskies, more wolf than dog, grew restless and began to howl. And Trapper Farrel understood huskies, and he too sensed something . . . that something was wrong. By a kind of blind instinct Farrel broke camp and set out on that long journey to the cabin of his closest neighbour — John Pick ' s cabin. And the storm broke upon the traveller and his sled and his dogs. Farrel struggled through the cold and raging blizzard and as the storm began to die he found the cabin. Death had won the race. George Farrel put the body high in the branches of a snowy fir tree, safe from the wolves. Near the cabin, barely visible in the snow, lay the bodies of three huskies. To save them from starving, John Pick had shot them. Before leaving, Farrel ' s rifle spoke the requiem. One . . . two . . . three . . . The rifle shots broke the northern stillness. The sound echoed across the frozen Sikanni River, was absorbed by the dense forest. A marauding wolf heard and was startled. —A. M. S. — 24 —