THE HERALO, Tuesday, August 2, 1977, PAGE 3

wee Lae -
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- A small-tribute ==

to Terrace’s 50th

By DOROTHY SMITH (Frank) :
Born: Kitsumkalum
July 4, 1913 .

As people of Terrace gather together for. the
celebration of their 50th anniversary,-many stories
will be told about incidents which. happened in the -

ast. Each story will have a chain reaction, bringing
forth memories that have lain dormant for years..

It was not a story but a whistle that woke me the’
ohter morning and stirred a memory of a time when a
whistle like that would have started the cogs turning in
the old mill. I could almost hear the groans and
rattling: and screeching as machinery started: in’
motion, and the while of the big saw as it cut through ;
the heavy logs. . Oo

I knew that mill and often, when I should have
turned west and gone home from the Kalum School, 1
would follow the kids to town. I didn’t go around the
corner and by the Catholic Church, but cut through the.
mill yard, around logs and bark and deep’ muddy. .
holes, to make my way to that big, sprawling, noisy
hulk of a building, . -

There it sat, right in the middle of things, groaning
and squeaking all through the week, until once more
ils joints were oiled, bel tightened 80 it could again
handle the operation of producing lumber. .

Now I know I was a privileged girl but I knew
everyone who worked there and I'd get a nod and a
smile as I hopped over lumber, ran beside fast-moving
belts, through narrow passageways, and up the stairs.
They knew where I was going, for big brother Jack
was up there.

I'd stand and watch him working the big levers,
rolling the log over while he quickly calculated which,
cut would give the most board feet. He'd give me a big
smile and I’d stand quietly and watch, listening ta the
sound of the mill which was‘an integral part of
everyone's life in town. .

Later, as I passed the office, Duncan Kerr would be
sitting there serious, stern, but you could bet
everything would balance and when he gave you a:
rare smile, you would feel blessed for the day.

Then, there was the blacksmith shop and Murdoch
Smith, sleeves rolled up, sinewy arms pounding this
side and that, until the metal responded to his touch, -
Sometimes a horse stood patiently waiting to be.shod -.
by the expert he was and I'd sneak in, give the horse a °
pat, and watch the glow of the fire and the metal,
white hot. ee

George Little's house stood not far away big, solid,
made to last. : ae

Mrs, Little, mother of five, would come down to the
gate, her beautiful red hair shining in the sun, a.

gracious woman. It shocked the town when one.
evening she dropped with a heart attack. .

George could have swaggered but he didn’t, For
here was a man with a dream who saw his dream
fulfilled. A town with relatives gathered round, busy,
growing, and all the men who worked for him
conscientious, hard working like himéelf, ,

He like it that way and he cared. Next door, in the |
cottage, Grandma Little had many good years with
faithful Annie Cousins who tatted “faster than |
anybody” and played ‘The Robin's Return” with '

_ feeling, .

If he were here today, George Little would have an:
idea to get Terrace rolling and prosperous, ..Just close
your eyes, old timers, and listen... There, de eo heat
the whistle, the logs going up the long ramp, the whine
of the big saw and the rumble, squeaking, squeeling;
of the old mill? OO .