‘ 4 5 Bert Whyte tells the story of... The day the town burned down N three occasions forest fires in Northern Ontario have wiped out entire com- munities with heavy losses in life and property — the Por- cupine fire in 1911, the Mathe- son fire in 1916, and the Hailey- bury fire in 1922. The Haileybury fire, October 4, 1922 — just 34 years ago this week — remains vivid in my memory, because I was one of its victims. My family lost house and belongings, and my mother and brother and I spent most of the night in the chilly waters of Lake Temiskaming. I remember everything that happened that day. I was just 13, and starting my first year in high school. A haze of smoke from bush fires that had been burning for two dry months covered the town, and early in the afternoon school was dismissed because worried parents had been phoning the principal asking if there was any danger. Haileybury, a pretty resi- dential town of 4,000, was built on a gentle slope, from the rail- road tracks and the bush on one side to the blue waters of Lake Temiskaming (head of the Ottawa River). The lake was six miles wide at this point. Five miles to the south was Cobalt, the Silver City, and many of the miners lived in Haileybury, while the mine owners had created a “Million- aires’ Row” of rich homes at the north end of the town, bordering the lake. Five miles to the north was New Liskeard, prosperous farming community in the heart of the famous Clay Belt. Naturally, we kids were de- lighted when school was dis- missed. “Go right to your homes, although there is ab- solutely no danger,” the prin- cipal told us. We felt no anxiety. For a Surrounded by ties the time that the first man set foot on these shores, the lowly clam has figured in his way of life. Two thousand years ago and more they were the mainstay of the prehistoric people who lived around the Fraser River Delta and left the pattern of their-culture buried feet deep in clamshell middens. Centuries later, the pion- eers learned the virtues of the elam and coined the saying, “When the tide is out the table is set?’ In the days when no fresh milk was to be had, ~ month not a drop of rain had fallen and bush fires, burning by fits.and starts during the past week, crept stealthily along the belt of the railroad, and cast a haze of smoke over the town. At noon a wisp of wind had sprung up. When school was dismissed it had changed into a gale, and by the time my brother and I reached home it was a tempest, blowing sixty miles an hour and whipping the slumbering flames into a long, roaring line of fire which threatened to jump the rail- road tracks at any moment. Families were starting up their Fords and leaving for Cobalt and Liskeard to escape the smoke. Few really believed Indian women saved many an infant by teaching the mothers the nutritional value of clam nectar. One of the most popular folk songs tells the sad story of a wanderer who dreamed of returning to his “acres of clams.” Ivar Haglund, the rotund American ballad singer, par- layed this into one of Seattie’s most popular waterfront res- taurants. And nobody will deny that a pile of steamed clams with melted butter, bowls of nectar and hunks of that the town was in great danger at this point. We had no car and mother remembered our dad’s con- stant warning: “If ever the town is threatened by fire, don’t try to escape by road, but run for the lake.” Lake Temiskaming was only a few blocks away. We began walking to the shoreline. Suddenly the smoke was thick and black, and we were choking. A blazing chunk of timber flew over our heads and landed on the roof of a frame dwelling, which caught fire. Above the smoke the sky assumed a foreboding red glow. We realized, with a shock of surprise, that the town was doomed. All around us people were beginning to run. Men began breaking into houses (few doors were ever locked acres and corn bread makes for mighty good eating. xt 5 Os os Clams, (like ancient Gaul) can be divided into three parts. This division is based on their accessibility which _ varies greatly as some have learned to their sorrow. First the butter clam is a conch. This is a favorite with the youngsters and those who want a mess of eating clams with a minimum of fuss and feathers. The aristocratic razor clam is another matter. A special in the small town) and carry- ing out armloads of blankets. My brother and I followed their example. Less than an hour after we had left our home we were squatting in two feet of water, dipping blankets and then holding them over our heads. Like- demons released the flames had vaulted the railroad and descended in a roaring, snapping tornado upon us. The air was hot and dry and suffocating. People coughed and swore. Great flaming embers whiz- zed past us and sizzled as they hit the water. Behind us our town was disappearing with terrifying rapidity. Frame dwellings burnt like tinder and well known landmarks fell one acres of clams “clam gun,” actually a narrow spade, is absolutely necessary unless you just want to waste your time getting your fect wet. It is around the famous geo- duck that the most contro- vetsy rages. Some folks simply won't believe (even when they see a picture) that there are clams the size of footballs and with a three-foot neck. The Oxford dictionary admits they exist. But it says they are pro- nounced “dzioduk.” Here- abouts they are gooeyducks and that is that. . Providence — all wet _ around one or two-0© by one; the schoo bishop’s palace, the \ and Matabanic hote armories, the Hospita smoke. Intense heat compel to keep our faces tur A from the town. We duckety blankets every few mo» they dried almost insta ; A few yards to my le the agonized cry of a. in childbirth. Men to the shoreline, stood her holding up wet 2 while a woman attend The baby was born. Oil tanks half a mil went up with a migh sending a sheet of fla into the air. a We lost all track but this nightmare © for hours. Finally, 5 the morning, the flam sided. We came out lake, stood on the hob beach—and I watched, ais ated, while the rubber bi ite my shoes sizzled dowP J leather. ‘ ah When dawn broke we dered over the desolate cot Haileybury had vanishe ro pletely, and only a ng ia 0 smouldering patch OF “7 {ty north, however, @ Ne wit ionaires’ Row,” a ice pal shift during the me of th | - saved the residences cS) os Sas railway line in masses, already emergency °F” ig, oy) laying temporary. tra uld i that a relief trait * j backed in from Cobey ot We saw bodies, hate is ered them with blat jeg least 44 people perc! Haileybury, and sm# 7 munities which eta . wiped out by the gpl | Charlton, Engleharh 4 ot? miles of ruin; six lars’ worth of proper oo In the afternoom + plete our discomforts i. to rain and then to i pay the first relief tt eds cautiously up to and BP town, my mother alone af F and I boarded it ® fui. J hundreds of ieee oh gratefully accepte om beef sandwiches 4 teer workers, 4? aestianyat | . aes conductor out re {a Pembroke, bef?; asleep. F ig stl } Gooeyduck hunting oil for hardy and rae souls, .They are t0 tide, on extremely minU ial these seem to 0c¢ most disconcert morning hours. or three you shoveled tons ° : are ready for t joke of But if you ar? ong Mey something to eat puttel’ | ercise, stick to the ou & (0 On: a good peach a pis if them out with pe) or tit : It might not be it gets results. tel? | : nave ei yet ne Denaal OCTOBER 5, 1956 — PACIFIC [TRIBUNE — é