At the docks, I met up with the Rochead family and we embarked on this baby.
This voyage was quite the experience. Seven days on a luxury floating hotel.
I can relate to people taking cruises. But for modest people such as us, to enjoy the level of service and food presented was well above expectations.
Every meal was a revelation, with varied selection of exquisite delicacies, prepared to perfection. Each day filled with an array of activities to cater to your interests. Add to that, the amiable travel companions and you have a memorable passage.
taken on one of the calm days
Myself, Jim, his Mum, a friend
his Dad with youngest brother
John and Janet. Brother Bill
must have took the shot.
Two pictures together. Bill between me and Jim
standing up on a step, Janet and John
hamming it up with the life belts.
You didn't need the movie for entertainment, it was quite hilarious watching people trying to become disentangled. Some tried harder than others.
I shared a cabin with Jim and his brothers, which was well appointed and kept spotless by the stewards.
On March 19 we landed in Saint John Newfoundland. After clearing immigration we climbed aboard a train, heading for Toronto. This was a 2 day trip, but the train was very comfortable. All the meals where part of the deal. The seats reclined almost to horizontal and sleeping was not a problem. The large vista windows offered panoramic views of all the varied landscape. It became apparent, this was a big country.
We stopped off in Montreal, and had a chance to walk around. Although sunny it felt bitterly cold, but this would be something we would become accustomed to.
The next stop was Toronto. There in the Great Hall of Union Station I said my goodbyes to the Rocheads who where going another 200 miles to Chatham, where Jim's Dad had secured a job on a farm.
I headed into the big city to seek my fortune.
I took a room at the Y.M.C.A. on Broadview. Ave. It was quite reasonable, but you had to share some of the time, as all rooms where set up for double occupancy, with two beds. Fortunately I had it to myself for awhile.
My first priority was to find a job. With qualifications, it proved to be relatively easy and I was taken on as a grower at Jenkins Tropical Greenhouses in Scarborough, located on Patterson Ave ( where 42 years later I would buy a house.)
I was given one of the greenhouse to look after. They would bring young plants up from Florida and grow them on, then distribute to Florists around the Greater Toronto area.
The money was pretty good, so I decided to buy a car. It was an English Hillman with left hand drive, for which I paid $150.00 cash. I had never driven before, so as I pulled out of the car lot, I gave it too much gas
spinning the wheels and gravel flying everywhere. At least now I knew to go easy on the gas as I negotiated the city traffic.
A few weeks later Sally came to Canada, so I drove down to Niagara Falls to meet her. She got a job at the C.I.B.C. bank at Yonge and Eglington in Toronto, a stones throw from where I was to buy another house 25 years later, on Broadway.
I received mail from the car dealership, where I had brought the car and figured it would be insurance papers or something. Turned out it was finance papers, claiming the $150 was down payment and a further $500 to be paid, on installments. Apparently the salesman slid finance papers under the insurance papers to obtain a signature. They have a saying in N.America "Straight off the boat" in U.K. "Wet behind the ears". Take your choice.
When I discussed the matter with a lawyer, it came to light I was under legal age anyway, so any legal document was invalid.
I began to find out where the good restaurants where and ate well for a reasonable price. I found it interesting looking after the tropical plants but the hot humid environment they need, was not conducive to my comfort. I like the heat, but not the humidity.
After 3 months I moved down to Leamington, which is the Fens of Ontario if you will, with lots of greenhouses and nurseries. It is also the home of Heinz (57 Varieties.) I took a room on Erie St. S. for $10.00 a week in a private house. The landlady Mrs.Want provided a hot plate and essentials to be able to hustle up a meal.
Just down the road was the H.J.Heinz plant They where looking for someone temporary, to work in the promotional dept. I took the job as a stop gap although it only paid $36. a week but it was not many hours a week, so I could hussle other work.
It was a fun place to work. The department was run by Bob Patterson a Koren War vet. His motto was "We'll take it easy today and give it hell tomorrow"
They used to bring the public through on guided tours. One of the tour guides Joanne was a very good looking girl who happened to be the daughter of one of the directors. We where always horsing around and it came up, Bob bet me I couldn't get Joanne out on a date. Always up for a challenge, I took him on, and wouldn't you know. she agreed. OOPS !
I had just brought a 47 Plymouth so I drove over to their mansion to pick up Joanne. Her father greeted me and was most courteous. We went to a drive in movie and had a good time. I didn't try for a repeat.
Oh what might have been !
Back in Leamington I started hussling other work. Another director of the company had me over doing some gardening then later some painting in the house. Then the owner of the gas station started calling on me for projects. I would get to drive his new ranchero around (a car with a low pick up box) Real cool.
On occasion I would knock around with another guy from the dept John Dreison. He had a new 57 Ford Fairlane. He took it up to 118 m.p.h. on the highway one day. On New Years Eve 58/59 we went to a dance and coming home we got freezing rain. We where on gravel roads, but I had to walk alongside the car, pushing it to the centre crest as it kept slipping towards the side as he crept along.
The lake freezes over, so we would drive out and speed up, slam on the brakes and pull donuts. Pelee Island is out in the lake and people drive out to it. Some Springs a car goes through. Then it is time to get off the lake.
William Gilliat.
Here are a couple of shots of the happy couple and
the fine gentleman that gave her away.
They set up home in Guelph, with baby daughter Sandra.
My 47 Plymouth started to give me problems, so I moved up to a 49 Pontiac. This was a beautiful car with chrome strips down the centre of the hood, wrapping around to the grill.
The 50s and early 60s was the era of large, flashy cars. Each year the new models where unveiled and competed for size and ancillary gadgets. Electric windows, seats, mirrors, trunk and roof opening on convertables.
A brand new Chevy could be brought for a little over $3,000. and you could fill it up with gas at $0.30 a gallon.
I got a job with the Canadian Dept of Agriculture as a licensed inspector, working nights.
The trailers pull alongside the dock and I pick out which baskets I want to inspect. The driver brings the basket to my bench and I tip them out and cut a few tomatoes in half and place them on an "Agtron Machine" This tells me if they are the correct ripeness etc. If not I will take more samples or could reject the load. You really don't like to do this and rarely have to, but they have to be checked, and it keeps the farmers on their toes.
After a year working at Heinz, Bob told me they had plans for me and I was to go on permanent staff with benefits right away. But this was not my chosen career path, so politely said thanks but no thanks.
Also it had always been my intention to see the States and other than a quick drive over to Detroit with the boys, this had not yet materialized. I had decided I would go back home to visit with Mum and Dad for awhile. So figured before visiting U.K. I would see as much as I could of U.S.A.
The cheapest way to do this and meet real people, is to get out on the highway and put your thumb out
Not sure you could do it today, but you certainly could back then and even in the early 70s.
But before heading out on this double wammy travelfest , I needed to bolster up my finances.
At that time farmers paid pickers 15 cents per bushel. I became a tomatoe pimp. I would drive downtown and pack my car with pickers, drive them out to the fields and supervise them picking. At the end of each day I would drive the tractor up and down the rows, while workers loaded the baskets onto the trailers. I was paid 20 cents per bushel and paid the pickers 15 cents. If I picked myself that was a bonus, but some days I would grab a nap under a shade tree as I was working nights inspecting at Heinz.
When the tomatoe season ended I grabbed my backpack.
On my first hitch hiking tour of the States, I crossed over at Buffalo, heading for New York City.
It was important to select your rides. Before getting into a vehicle I would ask where they are exiting the highway, as to get dropped off at a quite exit/entry ramp could strand you there for the rest of the day.
This also gives you a chance to assess the driver and feel comfortable with taking the ride.
But I was very fortunate and met some very interesting people. On a long drive a person is often pleased to have someone along to chat with and occasionally share the driving
I stayed at a motel halfway to New York (cost $5.00). I got into Yonkers, New York city late at night and didn't want to spring more cash on a hotel, so in the early hours of the morning crept into the back of a car in a car lot, for a nap.
Someone must have seen me as the cops arrived and hauled my butt off to jail. But they where really decent cops as they didn't charge or arrest me, but put me in a cell, with a bunk bed and left the door open.
I then worked my way West, to Memphis Tennessee and Oklahoma, Kansas, Little Rock Arkansas, Kentucky, Missouri, back through Illinois, Michigenn and back across the border into Windsor Ont. I felt uncomfortable with the segregation in Little rock, which was very active at that time. Separate restaurants for colored and whites, the colored's would just be a lunch counter. Also separate drinking fountains. Hard to imagine the current president's family could not drink at the same fountain we could. Quite a change in one's lifetime.
Meantime back in Canada, the Rocheads had moved to Guelph, so I stopped in to to see Jim for a couple of days before heading back to U.K. When I had to leave to get to Montreal for departure, Jim and brother Bill drove me to the 401 Highway to start hitch hiking.
That was the last time I was to see them. Bill was killed in an auto accident, some years later and Jim was in an industrial accident.
In Montreal I boarded the Empress of Britain, which was to sail up the St Lawrence river and out to England.
The return voyage did not really match up to the trip out to Canada. Often the quality of an experience is relative to the quality of the people you share it with. I didn't know anyone on this ship and while you do make friends, the anticipation and excitement of heading out to a new future was a hard act to follow.
One person I met was a young lady from Glasgow. We seemed to hit it off, so I arranged to go up and visit with her and she had planned to travel back with me for a visit to Oundle.
I made it up to Glasgow and we had some time together, but she decided not to come back with me, I guess the chemistry didn't work out. It didn't need a psycho analyst to figure that one out.