Frances Thew (nee Frances Cassan) whose family lived in Wabamun from 1906 to 1914, recalls the following memories of her childhood days. Her father came into the area on the freighting trail in 1906.
He had a team of stallions - one a Clyde and the other a Suffolk-Punch and made many trips from Wabamun to the northwest with Ed Woollard along a trail through the wilderness. Ed also had a fine team of horses. She remembers the families stories of these journeys and especially the big box he carried on his rig. In this box he kept his food hot for the noon meal. The box contained two big pail-shaped kettles placed on a large, round, three inch thick brick with another large brick placed on top of each kettle. The bricks were heated on the stove in the night. The box was well insulated so the meal was kept hot even in cold weather. Father enjoyed teasing others on the trail by inviting them to a hot meal and then watching their surprised looks when they found the meal was hot.
His horses were never abused as so many of the freight horses were. He was rightfully proud of the team and their welfare always came first with him.
One bad night he stopped at a cabin near Lobstick Lake. A colored family lived there. The family put father and the horse up for the night. Father remarked often of what fine people they were, how clean everything was kept and how well the animals were treated. Some years later, Father had gone moose hunting. A blizzard was raging. Mother and Uncle were just going out to tend the stock. A colored man came to the door to warm his hands. He said it was too cold for a woman to go out so he helped Uncle with chores. Later in the evening he saw a picture of Father and asked if he was called "Irish". They found that their visitor was the same man who had given Father shelter. They felt as if an old and very dear friend had come and he and the family talked late into the evening. The visitor left for Rocky Mountain House the next morning for work in a lumber camp. He said he would call on the way back. He never did. They often wondered what happened to this kindly man.
Mother remembered also the rabbit robe some Indian woman made for Father. He used it on the freight trail and joked how he could sleep snug and warm in a snow drift.
Sometimes, however, it was so cold that the teamsters drove all night because it was too cold to stop their teams lest they got chilled. Then they would stop and feed their teams and rest the animals in the warmest part of the day, and the drivers themselves got some sleep too.
The following anecdote relates Mother's coming to the homestead:
My father built our log cabin himself before my mother arrived. Dad had written that he had built a smudge in the house to drive out the mosquitoes. As she had lived in an eight-roomed brick house in the east, she was horrified at this. She sent him a telegram. The telegram had to be delivered the last few miles by pony. She had never seen a dwelling that was not plastered. When she arrived and lived in the log cabin she found it much too quiet. She had lived in a village in Ontario where she had lots of friends and was engaged in many activities. She placed a big fly in a bottle to make a noise because the stillness was getting to her.
Most roads were just trails so going places was done mostly on horseback. When the children were young they had to be carried along too. Mother once put Jim in a bag, but the child got a very sore neck. An Indian woman showed her how to carry a child by putting it into a moss bag.
People often stopped at the homestead looking for food as they were let off at the end of steel and had to hike back to Edmonton. Once Mother had just taken Jim and Ag to meet their Dad. She had left hot water for a bath and Dad's clean things all laid out. They came back to find that someone had come in, eaten, taken a bath, put on father's clothing , and left. The visitor had left his own clothes behind. Though the clothes were much in need of washing they were better clothes than the ones that had been taken.
Memories of my childhood in Wabamun are happy ones. My father, fond of children, often sang for us and played with us. He loved animals and from him I learned to like them too - even the garter snake that came to drink milk from the cup my brother had set out for him. I rolled hoops with the little boys and rode in Lawlor Anderson's toy car. Highlighted in my memories is my visit to the Wabamun Hotel dining room. There were tiger lilies on the tables and the sideboards. I had three big strawberries for lunch - berries that had come from Bennett's garden, my mother said.
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