North Bay Collegiate Institute and Vocational School - Northland Echo Yearbook (North Bay, Ontario Canada)

Page 29 text:

THE NORTHLAND ECHO 21 this class lie such songs as, This Is No Dream, Stairway to the Stars. Do I Love You? The titles of these songs suggest exactly what they are, merely a jumble of words that happen to rhyme, set to music. Whether there is any sense in them, judge from this example: You may spell love with a capital L , But I spell love with a capital You , Through the day you're away and I mope and mope and mope, And you do to, I hope, I hope, I hope. -and so on. It is merely the music in this type of song that makes them popu- lar. The tunes, whether last or slow, are catchy. You may hear a song ot this type o-n the radio and tnink to yourself Isn't that stupid! but I wouldnt be the least bit surprised if you found your- self humming the tune to that same song fifteen minutes later. The next class, the slow ballads, con- tains some of the most popular songs of the day as Blue Orchids , I Thought About You , Many Dreams Ag0 ', Care- less . School teachers can tell you just how popular these songs are, I imagine. Not many days pass without at least one industrious pupil czoonmg in a deep, bass voice-- South of the Border, Down Mexico Way. This type of song usually tells a sad love story, with the lover mourning his lost love. The music is slow and pulsing, the dancer's delight. The third class contains the type of songs people mean when they rave about that awful popular swing stuff. Although there is nothing nice about them, these ditties become quite popu- lar, and are played over and over again by dance orchestras. This class is even more meaningless than the first, for the words are only jargon, invented by some jitterbug in a. wild moment. Here's a good example: ' The jim jam jump is the jumpin' jive Makes you get your kicks on the mellow side Hep-hep, hep-hep. The music is usually just a repetition of a few notes or phrases over and over again with every instrument in the orchestra playing an individual tune as a side line. The last class, novelties, is the most popular of all. These songs come from nowhere to fame in an interval, and fade out just as quickly. But while they are popular everyone sings them, housewives, tradesmen, clerks. You wake up in the morning hearing the milkman whistle Ho-dle-ay, start the day right. On the way to work or school. you pass the news- paper boy warbling Oh Johnny without a care in the world. And you'll be lucky if you go through the day without hear- ing at least two renditions of Little Red -Fox, Confucius Say, Jiminy Cricket, Give a Little Whistle, or When You Wish Upon a Star. The tunes to these ditties are lilting, cheerful, almost con- tagious, and the lyrics are lively and original. This type of popular song is a great help in keeping up your spirits during the day. This is a summary of the popular songs today, but whether it will hold, even a year from now, remains to be seen. For songs come and go with sea- sons, with only a. few outstanding enough to be remembered. HISTORY OF CALLANDER, ONTARIO Jean McBeth, IVA Coll, The year was 1881 and prospects were bright for George Mo1'rison's young wife. She had her neat log cabin on the Point and the Indians were beginning to come regularly to exchange their fu1's for her husband's flour and blankets. At that moment he was miles distant, paddling toward Nipissing, with a bag of flour stowed safely away in the bottom of the canoe. Her baby dozed in its rough cradle near the open smudge which she had just kindled. WVhen she had thrown a yard or two of fine cheese-Cloth over the cradle to protect her little son from black-flies, Mrs. Morrison trudged slowly but cheerfully down the path to the lake- shore, swinging her empty waterpail. Far across the bay, several wisps of white smoke from chimneys at the Wasi we1'e visible as they rose and were wafted on the clear air far out over the still blue water. The woman stood, drink- ing in the cool, clean air for several min- utes. At last she bent to fill her pail. At that moment she glanced back to her home. From the spot where she was kneeling, she could see red flames licking greedily at the gummy pine floor and even as she sprang to her feet and strug- gled towards the house, she knew that she could not hope to save her child. That, unfortunately, was true. Evidently the baby had awakened and had, some- how, set the cradle rocking. The drag-

Page 28 text:

20 THE NORTHLAND ECHO in and emptied. By the time the boat- load is filled, the men are standing in fish up to their knees. The whole pro- cess takes little more than half an hour and as soon as the loading is over, the net is lowered again. Mixed very spar- ingly with mackerel are a few haddock and sole. The men then return to thc shore where their real work begins, that of cleaning and packing their catch. In this art. for it is an art with them, young boys of seven and eight take part and these boys are as quick as the more experienced men. Noticeable around the dock were numerous loibster pots of wicker-work. Because the lobster fishing takes place during the winter, it is the hardest and cruellest job imaginable. The freezing wind blows the water over the boat and boatmen, covering them with ice. The fishermen never know whether they will be able to sell their fish or not, ibut keep netting them at all times, taking a chance on the marketls. The fisher- man's profit is almost negligible and we who are inland born cannot quite realize the enormous amount of work necessary for such a small income. These long-shore men are real workers and fine people. I shall never forget them. A VISIT TO THE ROOF GARDENS The first time I visited Toronto was two years ago, when I went to thc Union Station with my cousins to see a friend off for the West. While my older cousin waited to see her friend on the train, my younger cousins, Evelyn and Audrey, decided to take me across to the Royal York Hotel and try to get permission to see the Roof Gardens. They took me through five or six rooms in the station before we reached the tunnel. The tunnel was car- peted, lighted by electric lights on both sides and very stuffy and smoky. We ran part of the way to get out of it in a hurry. The rumbling of the cars over- head made the glass fronts of the adver- tisements along the sides of the tunnel tremble. As soon as we reached the hotel we stopped and thankfully took a deep breath of fresh air. We stood there for a few minutes just inside, deciding who should ask for per- mission. Audrey was the only one who had enough courage to do so. She crossed her fingers, walked boldly up to the elevator-boy, told him we were from North Bay rAudrey, had lived in Toronto all her life and never had been to North Bay and knew no onc there but meh and asked him if he would be allowed to take us up to the roof gardens. He asked the head man at the desk. The man answered, No, not now. The orchestra is just beginning its broadcast. But sir, they've come from away up north, the elevator-boy protested. How far north? asked the head man, amusedly. North Bay, sir. Oh, of course then, the head man said, looking astonished, If they've come so FAR, by all means take them up. Thank you, sir. With that, the elevator-boy led the way to one of the elevators. When all of us were in and the elevator was going up, the boy began to ask us about North Bay. He had played on the Trappers' hockey team the previous winter and he asked about some of the others on the team. Of course, I answered all his questions. He must have considered the others quite dumb or else just shy, because -they didn't answer anything about North Bay. Mean- while, I was watching the light that indicated what floor we were. We went up about eighteen floors, then to the roof gardens. The moment we stepped out of the clevator we stopped, dazzled. There were huge glass windows which separated us from the ballroom. Just inside, on a raiscd platform, was Mark Kenny's orchestra, every member of which wore a whitc suit coat and black trousers. The grand piano was also white. The singing star, Georgia Day, was standing near the microphone. She was very pretty, with blonde hair, blue eyes and dressed in a black evening gown which made a strik- ing contrast with the white of the men's suit coats and piano. From the micro- phone, hung a sign, On the Air. There were a few people dancing. When Georgia Day sang, we couldn't hear her above the orchestra. A trio sang too, but I didn't hear their names when the elevator boy told us who they were. He left us stand- ing there alone after about five minutes. We stayed a while longer, then went down, still in a daze. POPULAR SONGS Jean Waddingto-n Nowadays, songs are so numerous and of so many different styles that it is difficult to classify them, In general, the songs popular today may be put into four classes: Q13 common love songs: C29 slow ballads, 133 swing musicg C43 novelty songs. In the first class, that of the common, everyday love songs, lies most of the average popular songs of the day, In

Page 30 text:

22 THE NORTHLAND ECHO gling cheesecloth had dipped into the glowing smudge. From this tragedy sprang the begin- ning of the present Village of Callander. Mr. Morrison built a better cabin on the site of the present Callander Hotel and several years later he had the town site surveyed. In his new log home he con- tinued to live and to use it as a small inn, to which came surveyors, prospec- tors and future settlers. In 1884 George Morrison moved across the street and founded the general store which is run today by his son, Kenneth. It has been changed and enlarged considerably since that time, for it was, like the other two Morrison dwellings, constructed of rough pine logs. At this period in Callander's history the bulk of the settlement was not, as might be expected, at the town itself but at the Wisa Wasa Falls, about three miles south and west. Here was located Booth's loading station from which logs were sent on their way to Lake Nos- bonsing, the Ottawa River and finally the mill at Ottawa. Nevertheless, Callander Proper had a larger population than had the settlement of North Bay some nine miles to the north. The railway, as always, was accom- panied by many new settlers so that the tiny community grew steadily and in 1885 Mr. White established his hotel, the White House, on the lakeshore near the present barber shop. Also the next year in 1886, the first municipal elections were held, with the result that George Morrison was selected as reeve while on the coun- cil were Messrs. Darling, Wessel and Swale. Mr. Morrison selected the name Cal- lander for the community because of his father's birthplace in Callander, Scotland. Some years later the name was changed to Eastport and though the post office continued to be Callander, the station was known by the new name. This arrangement proved unsatisfactory and after considerable discourse, the town again became known by its present name. Callander was on the verge of its greatest prosperity. In 1893 the John B. Smith and Sons lumber company moved its mills from Frank's Bay, at the entrance to the French River, to its pres- ent location at Callander. The McBurncy mills followed soon after it and for the first time in its history Callander knew real prosperity. As the demand for men could not be met by the scanty popula- tion. lunrbermen from all over the district came in droves to obtain work and homes. Wages were high, poverty was unknown and the population of the busy little centre reached an all-time high. Even at this brightest moment, tragedy again cast its shadow over Callander. The steamer Fraser, loaded with men bound for the Davidson and Hayes' win- ter lumber camps at Frank's Bay, was burned completely just off Goose Island. About 30 men perished that autumn day and only about a dozen survived. These managed to climb aboard a scow which was trailing behind the boat. Others lowered the lifeboat but it became caught in the paddle-wheel and was dashed to pieces. For weeks bodies were found along the lakeshore, especially in the marsh near Smiths' lumber mill. This was the grimmest event in the entire history of the town. Callander continued uneventfully as a quiet lumbering village until the depres- sion following the Great W'ar, when the nearby timber limits became exhausted. Good luck had not, however, entirely for- saken her. With the birth of the Dionne quintuplets on May 28, 1934, a new and utterly different era began. Callander, the drowsy little settlement, became world-famous overnight! Tourists flocked to the Dafoe Nursery, souvenir stands and refreshment booths sprang up on every street corner, and at last Callan- der's dirt roads were paved and improved. Every available building was converted into a hotel or restaurant and cabins were as numerous as flies. Most of the actual profit, however, has been made by outsiders who come in with their sou- venirs and post cards and disappear southward with the last American license plate. Three years ago gold engraved brooches were presented to the five sis- ters by the burgh or town council of Callander, Scotland. It may be easily understood how the present and future of Callander is bound up with those chil- dren, who, six years of age this May, dwell in their quiet nursery, unconscious of the fame that they have brought to their home and family. They have intro- duced the American public to the grow- ing tourist centre of Northern Ontario and will continue to do so if the quin- tuplets are not moved, as has been suggested. It is an interesting fact that, at the present time, in 19-10, Kenneth Morrison, son of George Morrison, has stepped into his father's place as reeve of North Himsworth township. May he carry on just as successfully as his father and serve the village his father founded through who knows what new phases of history yet to come.