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On October 21, 2014 Madelaine Morrison delivered a talk entitled The Sweetest Sounds: Musical Life in Ontario, 1880-1920 as part of the Ottawa Historical Association lecture series. In her address, Morrison discussed the evolution of the piano and its place in Ontario’s social life during these years.
Activehistory.ca is pleased to present a recording of the talk.
By Conrad McCallum
There has been a renewed interest in the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth century story of the female match workers at the former E.B. Eddy Match Factory in Hull, Quebec. For me, this is another good example of recent efforts to regionally situate the big themes of social history in Canada. It also illustrates the challenges of trying to recognize voices of labour history which for the most part do not appear in public commemoration.
The allumettières, as they were known, are chiefly remembered for their role at the centre of two labour disputes, in 1919 and 1924, which were the first in Quebec involving a women’s union. Continue reading
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By Sean Graham
“It’s not just a rock. It’s forty-two pounds of polished granite, with a beveled underbelly and a handle a human being can hold. And it may have no practical purpose in and of itself but it is a repository of human possibility and if it’s handled just right it will exact a kind of poetry. For ten years I’ve drilled for oil in ninety-three countries, five different continents and not once have I done anything to equal the grace of a well thrown rock sliding down a sheet. Not once.” – Chris Cutter (Paul Gross) in Men With Brooms
While that may be a slightly-over-the-top romantic description of curling, it does speak to the place the sport has in this country (Full disclosure: I had the opportunity to be an extra in Men With Brooms, an experience which also gave me the chance to meet Leslie Nielsen and have him sign my copy of Airplane. Because of this, I will forever claim that is an amazing movie). Since the sport entered the Olympics, however, some of the romance seems to have been removed from the game. We’ve gone from overweight guys smoking darts on the ice to a time where curlers are being suspended for PEDs.
Over the past year, I’ve had an opportunity to travel to some of the Canadian Curling Association’s national championships to talk to curlers about the state of the game. From veterans to rookies, there is a clear sense that the sport represents something uniquely Canadian but at the same time there are serious issues that must be addressed in order to ensure its long-term survival.
In this episode of the History Slam I revisit some of my conversations with curlers over the past year. I’ve talked to Olympic Gold Medalists like Kaitlyn Lawes and John Morris, world champions like Mary-Anne Arsenault, national champions like Lisa Weagle, and mainstays on the tour like Chelsea Carey and Stefanie Lawton. We address the state of curling in Canada, the introduction of relegation to the Brier and Scotties, the concept of professional curlers, and the sport’s general diversity problem.
Continue reading
By Teresa Iacobelli
In 1964, fifty years following the start of the First World War, the Canadian Broadcasting Company (CBC) aired the seventeen-part radio series In Flanders’ Fields. Now, at the centenary of the Great War, the CBC has again leaned upon this series as one of its programming highlights to commemorate the anniversary. In Flanders’ Fields recently re-aired as The Bugle and the Passing Bell. The series was re-edited into ten, half-hour radio programs. While each episode had a brief introduction by host Beza Seife, essentially the programs relied upon the same information and oral histories presented in 1964.
The original In Flanders’ Fields purported to tell the story of the war through the voices of those who were there. The series was drawn from over 800 hours of interviews with 600 veterans from across Canada. While In Flanders’ Fields should be recognized for the breadth of topics that it covered, the program also suffered from significant flaws that included the manipulation of oral history and the practice of “thesis-based research.”
A comparison of the raw interview transcripts with the on-air programs makes these flaws strikingly clear. Raw transcripts reveal interviewers frequently committing blatant transgressions that compromised the integrity of the interviews. Continue reading
By Thomas Peace
Adelaide Hoodless with three of her children, circa 1887
Over the past week, ActiveHistory.ca has run a couple of posts about the politics of naming and local commemoration. These essays reminded me of a debate that Paul Bennett and I had a couple of years ago over the merits of renaming schools as the Halifax school board decided that the name Cornwallis was no longer an appropriate moniker for an educational institute (it isn’t BTW). These posts also coincided with a lecture I give every year in the Canadian history survey course on the social gospel, moral reform and suffrage. In this lecture, I spend a few minutes discussing the life and impact of Adelaide Hunter Hoodless, a conservative maternal feminist who played an important role in organizing a number of prominent women’s organizations and more generally in Canadian education at the end of the nineteenth century.
For me, lecturing on Adelaide Hoodless is deeply meaningful. Not only because Hoodless is a fascinating woman but – to be frank – mostly because this is the name of the elementary school I attended in Hamilton, Ontario. So when Kaleigh Bradley posted last Monday about the power of naming and renaming (and the importance of identifying, acknowledging and returning to Indigenous place names), I was reminded of my debate with Paul, where I made a similar argument: names can and should change, and that’s a good thing. In this context, though, and thinking about Adelaide Hoodless, it struck me just how important some settler place names are in determining how we situate ourselves in the world. And sometimes, as I hope to demonstrate at the end of this post, debates over renaming can lead to misguided government policies where naming practices are watered down for fear of controversy.
The impact of the public school’s name on my thinking was a long time coming. Although I spent eight years at Adelaide Hoodless Public School – even visiting her birthplace on a sick day with my Dad – it was not until I started teaching the Canadian history survey course that I came to learn about who Hoodless was and the important ways that she both shaped, and was shaped by, Canadian society. It is quite likely that I would have skipped over her biography in my teaching if it weren’t for the fact that I attended a school named in her honour. But – after digging a little deeper – I’ve increasingly come to believe that Hoodless’s life is worth remembering and teaching. Continue reading
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For the first time the winners of the two highest distinctions given annually by the Canadian Historical Association met for an exchange with the public and between each other. Jim Daschuk, author of the account of the “forced starvation” of aboriginal peoples in the Canadian plains in the 19th century, and Mark Phillips, whose book explores the many ways by which historians and their object are “distant” and close, met for a public conversation on a Saturday afternoon, November 1, 2014 at Ottawa’s City Hall.
Daschuk spoke about the long process of putting this account together, and of the many reactions it has encountered after publications, amongst First Nations and European Canadians, including the uneasy queries of those responsible for the commemoration of the 200th anniversary of the birth of John A. Macdonald. Phillips spoke about the genesis of the idea of exploring the relative nature of distance in time and space, between researchers and the people they research. He read the early pages of his writings, and the concluding ones on his personal understanding of the My Lai massacre perpetrated by US soldiers during the Vietnam War, and the attempt to demonize the military officer who denounced it at the time.
Activehistory.ca is pleased to present a recording of the discussion.
By Merle Massie
Last week, the Saskatchewan government (led by Brad Wall and the Saskatchewan Party) reset a course direction that had veered off target. That course redirection affects who – along with what – is allowed to purchase Saskatchewan farmland. A Canadian citizen? Come on down. A Canadian-owned corporation engaged in the business of farming? Saskatchewan agriculture is open for business.
A pension fund? A complicated company structure with significant offshore investors? Hmm, maybe not.
The new direction, which moves to once again restrict investment firms and pension funds from buying Saskatchewan farmland, has enormous effects on the agriculture industry. Saskatchewan land prices, by world standards, are extraordinarily cheap, yet production value remains high. When combined with future world population forecasts, large-scale investment firms and private investors are betting that farmland will remain a safe place to hold and grow their money. A cash crop, so to speak. And they want in.
Saskatchewan farmland prices roses astronomically between 2001 and 2014. In 2013 alone, Saskatchewan farmland value grew 28.5%. But under Saskatchewan’s farm land laws, foreign nationals can only own a maximum of 10 acres – unless they seek and obtain approval from the three-member Farm Land Security Board.
That same board approved the sale of 115,000 acres to Canada Pension Plan Investment Board (CPPIB) in 2013. Immediately, their decision raised hackles. When Skyline Agriculture Financial Corp, a foreign-backed player allegedly looking to finance as much as $1 billion in farmland purchases over the next decade came knocking, the Farm Land Security Board obviously had second thoughts. Skyland’s bid was denied at the end of January 2015.
Not everyone lauds this move. National Post writer Jesse Kline asks: Whither fiscal conservatism? Is Premier Brad Wall a meek liberal sheep, hiding in conservative wolf clothing? This protectionist stance, Kline argues, is ridiculous. Unchecked investment in a truly open market is a fiscal conservative hallmark. Farmers need to “deal with the same market forces as any other business.”
But as a historian, I’m deeply concerned with Kline’s assessment. Continue reading
By Jessica Dunkin
In the last Home Archivist post, I tried my hand at processing letters from the MacKendrick family collection. At the end of that post, I expressed misgivings about some of the techniques and materials I had used. Since then, I have met with Doris St-Jacques, a paper conservator in the Maps and Manuscripts laboratory at Library and Archives Canada (LAC), and Greg Hill, Senior Conservator of Archival Materials and Photographs at the Canadian Conservation Institute (CCI).
Preservation Centre, Library and Archives Canada, Gatineau, QC (Photo Credit: Jessica Dunkin)
My visits with Greg and Doris were more than opportunities to learn about paper conservation from two experienced professionals. They were also opportunities to see inside two of the National Capital Region’s hidden archival gems. Doris works at LAC’s Preservation Centre in Gatineau, Quebec, a stunning amalgam of glass, steel, and concrete that houses preservation laboratories and 48 climate-controlled storage vaults containing some of the country’s most precious documentary heritage. This “modern temple of memory” employs approximately 70 preservation experts at work on books, manuscript collections, maps, films, photographs, and artwork that are part of LAC’s collections. When I visited the Preservation Centre, a team was busy processing the service files of the Canadian Expeditionary Force in anticipation of digitization. You can take a virtual tour of the building here. Public tours are offered occasionally. Contact 613.996.5115 for more information. Continue reading
By Danielle Terbenche
Five grave markers
In 2012, I began attending Holy Trinity Anglican Church in Thornhill, Ontario. After learning I was a historian, some church members invited me to join the cemetery board. During my first visit to the church’s historic cemetery, I was intrigued by five concrete crosses marking the graves of eight men, dating from 1928 to 1931. In a poor state of repair, and inscribed only with the names and death dates of the men, they looked nothing like the more elaborate marker that surrounded them, both historic and modern. At the time, I had no idea that over the next year, these crosses would lead me to an investigative journey of the history of early twentieth-century welfare institutions, social policy, homelessness, and unemployment. It was a project that demonstrated the hidden stories and social histories that may be represented through small, seemingly inconsequential artefacts. This article documents my search for answers about these mysterious gravestones. Continue reading
By Kaleigh Bradley
But remember that words are signals, counters. They are not immortal. And it can happen – to use an image you’ll understand – it can happen that a civilization can be imprisoned in a linguistic contour which no longer matches the landscape…of fact. Brian Friel, Translations
Mikana Anishinaabe replaces the Indian Rd street sign in Toronto. Source: Ogimaa Mikana Project.
Brian Friel’s play Translations takes place in 1833, in the Irish-speaking village of Baile Beag. Translations is set during the early nineteenth century, a time when the Great Famine loomed over Baile Beag. The British were starting to survey and map Ireland, a process that followed the amalgamation of Ireland and the United Kingdom in 1801. Part of Britain’s renaming and remapping of Ireland was the anglicization of Gaelic place names. The main characters in Translations struggle with the erasure of traditional place names. In the play, the arrival of British cartographers signals the disappearance of Gaelic place names from the landscape – but not from the memories of confused villagers, who dont’t speak a word of English. Suddenly, Baile Beag “small town” becomes Ballybeg, Druim Dubh “black shoulder” turns into Dromduff, and Poll na gCaorach “hole of the sheep” is changed to Pollkerry. The British close all the hedge schools in Baile Beag and replace them with “national schools” where students are taught English. Translations explores the historical relationship between place, language, and power. I couldn’t help but notice a connection between the themes of cultural identity, language, and colonialism in nineteenth-century Ireland, and my own research on place names and colonialism here in Canada.
For Indigenous peoples, place names act as mnemonic devices, embodying histories, spiritual and environmental knowledge, and traditional teachings. Place names also serve as boundary markers between home and the world of outsiders. As Dominique Tungilik recounts, for the Inuit, “the names of places, of camps, and lakes, are all important to us; for that is the way we travel – with names.” Knowing one’s way around the land and bodies of water could mean the difference between life and death. Place names convey an array of information to the Inuit, from local knowledge about topographical features, to the presence of seasonal resources; sometimes they record information about the history of the landscape itself. Continue reading
