Showing posts with label Alec Simms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alec Simms. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

from "Among the Deep Sea Fishers" | April 1911


Toronto, April, 1911

Dr. Grenfell’s absence in England has meant the cessation of the “log” and there is but little information to hand of the winter doings at the hospitals. The Christmas festivities at St. Anthony seem to have been most successful. A member of the staff writes: “We are now well started on the new year and bright Christmas season when so far away from our own kith and kin. I must tell you about our employees’ dinner which we served in the waiting room on Monday following Christmas to forty-three people. I had the room cleared and picnic tables made in such form that Dr. Little and Mr. Halsey were able to sit at the two ends and carve. It gave more dignity to the occasion and was a great joy to the people. The tables we made as pretty as possible with our simple decoration of paper napkins, mottoes, pickles, cheese, berries, raisins, figs, etc. Then we served soup, venison, potatoes, cabbage, plum pudding, ice cream, etc. At the end of the meal each person received a box of candy and a gift as well. Mr. Forbes managed the phonograph throughout the meal, and before they all departed a flashlight was taken. All went quietly and smoothly and from what I have heard was evidently a great success. Dr. Little I know was pleased. The orphans’ tree followed at 4 p.m. and gave a tremendous deal of pleasure, not only to children, but to the grown people as well, for Santa Claus in the person of Mr. Halsey and his two sons, Mr. Write and Mr. Evans, came flying down the Fox Farm Hill on a komatik drawn by two reindeer. It was so very real and made it so much more impressive.”

Dr. Little writes under date of the 15th of January: “All goes well at St. Anthony. Dr. Wakefield started yesterday for the Straits with ten fine dogs and Aleck Simms as driver. . . We have all been struggling through a grippe epidemic but it is over and all are well. There is no special news. Things are pretty well started. Night school with two classes, men and boys; club for the men; Legion of Frontiersmen; Bible class for the girls; choir, etc. etc. All are awfully good about doing anything.”

While in England the Kin honoured him [Grenfell] by giving him a long and special audience, and though he was ostensibly taking a holiday he did not by any means neglect the opportunity of arousing interest in his work. The following report of one magnificent meeting in Queen’s Hall, London, shows that his simple earnest tale of the needs of his people and his aims for their betterment has lost none of its power:

“An expectant crowd that filled Queen’s Hall from area to top gallery welcomed ‘Grenfell of Labrador’ with British enthusiasm on Monday evening. Norman Duncan has made Dr. Grenfell’s work known far and wide in this country, and although one of the journalists who interviewed the Doctor last week confessed to an absolute ignorance of the geographical situation of Labrador, probably every one in the audience could have come through an examination with better results than that. From the first row Field Marshal Lord Grenfell followed his relative’s story with keen interest, and there were many well known people in the audience.

Sir Ernest Shackleton presided with that peculiar sea-dog air of his. He told us that there were five members of his Antarctic expedition present, and not a few of us who have read his book would have dearly liked to see those men paraded on the platform. Standing in the centre of the platform, his broad shoulders on the slant and his hands clasped for all the world as if he were hauling in the slack of the mainsheet, the hero of the South Polar expedition declared, in his bluff way, that the mass of the civilized world had come to appreciate the great work done by a man who was trying to do his best for the bodies and the souls of ‘nameless men who nameless rivers travel, and in strange valleys meet strange deaths alone.’ A happy, poetical description of Dr. Grenfell’s life work!

from "Among the Deep Sea Fishers" | July 1912


New York, May 5, 1912

Dear Mr. Editor:

Some of your readers may be interested in knowing a little something of the trip that I have just completed from St. Anthony.

Two weeks ago, Thursday morning, with Alec Simms, Dr. Little’s driver, and a team of eleven fine dogs, I left St. Anthony for Boston. For six days I averaged over fifty miles a day; the first day we made sixty-five. From St. Anthony we went across country to Flowers Cove on the Belle Isle Straits, where we spent the night. The next four days I was scudding along the bays that indent the coast of the Straits.

The going was fine, thawing somewhat in the afternoon and freezing hard at night with an early start we made good time.

Alec brought me to a place called Parson’s Pond, about half of the distance. The going as we had come father south had become soft and we thought it unwise for him to venture any farther from home, it being so late in the spring.

After leaving him, I came on by way of Bonne Bay to Deer Lake where the railway touches. The last half of the journey was made by walking or with the mail-men. None of the dogs that I found South were quite equal to our own, though our mail-men who go from Bonne Bay to Deer Lake had a splendid team of nearly twenty dogs hitched to a shed nearly twenty feet long. This was piled with mail as there had been no communication with the outside world for nearly two months, and I had to run behind a good part of the time.

The first part of the trip was nearly level, being along shore and only rough where the ice was heaped up as we crossed some wide bays. This last stage of the journey, however is up hill and down,, and with the slight crust on top and the rackets cutting through, it was very difficult walking.

Owing to the snow and other hindrances, it took nearly three days to accomplish the last one hundred and fifty miles by railway. This was about the same rate of travel that I had made with dogs and I must say that I prefer the travel with sled to that on the Reid-Newfoundland Railway in winter.

This journey of two hundred to two hundred and fifty miles (distances always seem longer than they are given by the people) was made in six days, which is only possible under the most favourable conditions of weather and snow.

Yours very truly,
Jesse Halsey