FOLKSY MEMOIR TELLS TALE OF A SAWMILLER EXTRAORDINAIRE
Born on a hardscrabble Manitoba chicken farm in 1928 (hence his lifelong nickname) Donald “Chick” Stewart has always been a hard worker, and this charming memoir tells stories from eight decades of working life — selling eggs, setting pins at a bowling alley, selling magazines door to door, working in sawmills, owning and operating sawmills on the Fraser River, opening and managing a wilderness resort on the Babine and creating an Arnold Palmer-designed golf course in Surrey.
Told in fluent, simple prose that has been deftly polished and organized by his co-author Michelle Carter, this book gives the impression that Chick Stewart is sitting across the table from you telling stories, a decent, amiable man, good company at work or on a fishing expedition or over a few beers.
But this book offers more than charming anecdotes of work, play and family life (although a big part of the tale Chick Stewart has to tell is a touching love story between him and Marilyn, his beloved wife and business partner for nearly 60 years.) It is also a valuable account of decades of experience in the sawmilling industry.
When Stewart bought his first mill in the early 1960s, it was common wisdom, as I was told repeatedly when I came to B.C. a few years later, that “every second dollar in the provincial economy comes out of the woods,” and while our current economy is more diversified, the forestry industry still generated over 140,000 direct and indirect jobs in B.C. in 2016. Understanding the forest industry is a vital requirement in understanding our history and economy still. This book will be a valuable resource for future historians.
By and large, Stewart comes across in his own account as a caring, protective, if paternalistic employer (as well as a generous philanthropist who founded an Alzheimers’ care clinic and a hospice.)
But some readers, including this reviewer, will find his account of helping to defeat a unionization drive at a neighbouring mill troubling and will see his undoubted personal decency and kindness as poor substitutes for the formal protections offered by a collective agreement. He is a man of his time and class. Don’t look here for pro-union polemics. But trust the man and the book for narrative pleasures and historical perspectives.
“By the end of this book,” Stewart writes, “I’m pretty sure you will know me well enough to call me Chick.” And he’s right. Thanks for the stories, Chick.