Coming to Canada
In the early 1900s, Canada was touted as a land of opportunity—and for the Chambers family, it was!
During the first decade of the 20th century, Canada’s population was exploding. Millions of immigrant settlers were seeking a new life, actively recruited through eyecatching posters and newspaper advertisements throughout Europe. Canada was still heavily influenced by England, so the British and Scottish made up the largest proportion of immigrants, and they tended to congregate in urban centres.
Such was the situation when my grandfather, James William Chambers, a Scot, and Grandma Elizabeth Field Chambers, a Brit, left England bound for Winnipeg via Montreal.
According to passenger lists, James arrived at Montreal June 8, 1906 on the SS Tunisian, temporarily leaving his wife and children behind in England. Travelling with him, also coping with the rigours of steerage class, was his brotherin-law, Thomas Field.
When their train reached Winnipeg, Grandpa’s hard work really began: starting a new job, and financially supporting the family “back home,” all while setting up a new home so his family could join him. Back in England, Grandma was left to care for five children, from five months to nine years in age. It couldn’t have been easy for either of them.
Finally, a year later, Grandma and the children set sail on the SS Victorian. The passenger list gives us another nugget of information: Although Grandpa’s list of the previous year showed “labourer” as his occupation, Grandma’s states, “Going to husband, mechanic.” In that intervening year, Grandpa had found work with Canadian Pacific Railway, and had established himself in a trade.
Thankfully, the family was able to sail in second class, a major step up from steerage. Grandma must have been so grateful for that comfort because it seems it was a rough crossing. Almost all the passengers were seasick. At mealtimes, the dining rooms were virtually empty. However, one little four-year-old girl, Agnes Laura Chambers, my mother, never missed a meal.
Each mealtime the stewardess would collect her from their cabin, where the rest of the family lay suffering, and take her to the dining room. She became the pet of all the waiters, who had little to do. No doubt she ate better than she’d ever eaten before. For the rest of her life—and she lived to 100— she loved to tell this story, proudly boasting to any willing listener about her “strong stomach.”
After they docked in Montreal, the next hurdle Grandma faced was getting herself and five little ones through the immigration process. All did not go smoothly. Mom had an “English Rose” complexion—very white skin, but high colour. The officials took one look at her and were convinced that she was ill and should be detained in quarantine. It took a lot of talking on Grandma’s part before the family (including one very healthy four-year-old) was allowed to proceed to the train.
Canadian locomotives dwarfed those Grandma was accustomed to back in England, so she must have been shocked at her first sight of those belching giants. Nevertheless, it would have been with huge relief that Grandma finally boarded their CPR railway car and settled in. The CPR offered colonist (immigrant), second-class and firstclass travel on its trains. Cprbuilt berths were actually larger than existing Pullman berths and a new, lower-cost tourist-class sleeper was introduced at less than half price and also available with second-class tickets.
Gateway to the West
It was a long haul from Montreal to Winnipeg. The stretch along northern Lake Superior must have seemed unending, leaving Grandma in awe at the size of her new country. In her berth at night, she probably mulled over what she’d learned about Winnipeg: it was the fastest-growing city in all of North America, home to 360,000 people; as a transportation hub it rivalled Chicago, thus its nickname “Chicago of the North”; and then there was that romantic description emblazoned on all those posters: “Gateway to the West.” Could Winnipeg possibly live up to her expectations?
After a joyous reunion at the impressive new railway station, they set off with excitement for their new house. Upon seeing it, Grandma uttered words that became legendary in our family: “You brought me all the way from England for this?”
Locally labelled a “shack,” it’s true it didn’t look like much, with its unpainted boards and a one-way roof that slanted from front to back. But it was midsummer; they were finally all together and the children could get reacquainted with their father. Before long, the shack had been replaced with a pretty, white clapboard two-storey home. Grandma and Grandpa took great pride in it and always maintained it meticulously. In June 1933, that little girl who caused such worry going through immigration celebrated her marriage reception on the manicured lawn.
I didn’t ever get to know my immigrant grandparents; they passed away when I was just a baby. However, they come alive through old photographs, wordof-mouth stories and those hand-written passenger lists. I admire their courage and imagination for leaving behind all that was familiar and dear to take on a whole new country. Most of their children stayed in the Winnipeg area, but the next generation, and the next, have spread out across the country, helping to shape the Canada of today.