Family brought Hope to worst of Depression
Life at mission a ‘wonderful experience’
Dagmar Cunningham remembered the smells, particularly the soup. Soup was standard fare around Hope Mission, and the moniker “soup kitchen” was well deserved. Every day she could smell the stock simmering.
She was in her 80s when she said, “Believe me, I can still smell it — to this day I refuse to eat anything resembling soup.”
Born in 1920, Cunningham was the daughter and eldest child of Hillie and Harold Edwardson, the founders of Edmonton’s Hope Mission. She passed away Sept. 15, aged 92.
In the summer of 1929, Cunningham’s parents — burdened by the despair people were facing from the crush of the Great Depression — began the search for a place where they could start a mission.
It wasn’t an easy task: landlords wanted to sell, not rent. By the fall however, an empty store was located on 10321 102nd St. and, with the help of friends, they arranged for a month’s rent.
Just a few years ago, Cunningham recalled that while she helped to scrub and paint the old store front, two businessmen arrived to see what was happening. They spoke with her dad. She didn’t hear the conversation, but the following day a cheque for $200 arrived.
In Cunningham’s words, “That was the seal!” The two men, Alfred Skenfield and J. F. Lymburn, were trustees of the Tegler Trust, later the Tegler Foundation.
Any misgivings about the need for starting Hope Mission were gone. Hundreds lined up for a bowl of porridge or soup. By the spring of 1930, the Edwardsons were looking for larger facilities. This came through the benevolence of the Tegler Trust in the form of a large CNR staff rooming house at 10521 101st St.
Renovations completed, 10-year-old Cunningham and her family moved into the new Hope Mission on July 1, 1930. They threw themselves into ministry. Every evening Hope Mission held two gospel services and shared whatever food was collected. Cunningham remembered that even the theft of their autoharp didn’t dampen the enthusiasm of those early days.
Cunningham said her mother “was often completely exhausted by the end of the day; she suffered stomach pains too, maybe because of all her work. But she always came through. She was outgoing and a real go-getter. She made friends with the owner of Queen City Meats and occasionally stew was on the menu.”
Quite naturally, Cunningham was fitted into the life and ministry of the mission. Besides managing her schoolwork, she began playing piano for the gospel services. She played six nights a week, and on Sunday she played for the Sunday School.
“I got to know the Old Redemption Hymnal backwards and forwards,” Cunningham recalled. “I can tell you today that No. 200 is Jesus Saves and No. 78 is Power in the Blood.”
Another thing she remembered was the rank smell of coal oil that seeped into her room on the top floor of the mission. In the dorms, the bed posts were set into empty sardine cans, and the cans were filled with coal oil. No doubt questionable for air quality, the method proved to be a successful way of keeping bed bugs at bay.
Over the years Cunningham encountered a rich pageantry of humanity. She fondly recalled Mr. Selmar the shoemaker, who also lived in the mission. He worked tirelessly repairing thousands of old shoes from parts of older shoes. But occasionally he would slip and start drinking again. Cunningham remembered him being brought back by the police and, through slurred speech, claiming innocence of all things. He would soon enough mend his ways and once again begin mending shoes.
Cunningham lived in the mission until her marriage to a young preacher named John Cunningham.
Cunningham knew that growing up in that environment had its costs. One of the sacrifices was family privacy. To counter this, the Edwardsons would try to always have breakfast together as a family. It didn’t always work out, but the intent and effort was always there.
Reflecting about this, she said, “I sometimes wonder why I never rebelled.” But she also thought that there were true benefits to her upbringing. “I didn’t know we were poor,” she explained. “It was the way life was. You learned to accept things the way they were.”
Of course, not everything worked out well and not all mission experiences were happy. “Trials were never far off.” But Cunningham recounted those early years with genuine joy. “It’s not for everybody,” she observed, “but for me it was a wonderful experience.”
And when she spoke of her parents there was admiration. She said her appreciation for her parents rose over the years as she thought about the service and sacrifice they took on for the ministry of Hope Mission. She added, “I guess I had a heart for ministry too.”
Cunningham was predeceased by her husband John in 2002 and is survived by her son Paul, two grandsons and two brothers.
A memorial service was held Friday at Beulah Alliance Church in Edmonton.