Former lumberjill, activist reflects on ‘radical’ life
City woman, 97, says her humble roots inspired her to champion the underdogs
Never was Catherine Cox afraid to get her hands dirty — whether it was felling trees as a lumberjill during the war years or as a feisty defender of the downtrodden.
Just two months shy of turning 98, Cox can take credit for decades of giving back to society.
As the province marks Seniors Month, the Regina woman was asked if the contributions of society’s older members are appreciated.
“I don’t think people think about it,” Cox said in a recent interview. “They just take it for granted because it’s there. They don’t realize all that went into it becoming there.”
In her Scottish brogue, she proudly proclaims she is a radical — the roots of which can be traced back to her humble beginnings across the pond.
As a child, Cox shared one room in a condemned tenement building in Glasgow with her parents and siblings.
“Halfway down the stairs there was a toilet, and three families shared that toilet,” she said. “We only had a cold-water tap, we had to heat all of the water.”
Life was “fantastic” when she was 11, and her family moved to a two-bedroom flat.
Three years later, the teen quit school and got a number of factory jobs until earning her bookkeeping certificate at night school. She then moved into a coveted office job.
But when 1941 rolled round, she didn’t hesitate to leave the comfort of an office and join the Women’s Timber Corps (WTC), working in the woods for four years as a “lumberjill.”
During the Second World War, the WTC was part of the Women’s Land Army, which replaced the men who left jobs to join the armed forces.
“I was among the first 20 girls (in the WTC), and we were taught how to fell trees and take the branches off and roll them to the side,” Cox said.
Before the war ended, the number of lumberjills had swelled to 5,000.
The wood they harvested was used for everything from telegraph poles to soldiers’ crosses and caskets. The work was tough and taxing in the wet wilderness. Cox was left drenched countless times as she worked on mountainous terrain that averaged more than 100 inches of rainfall a year.
“I think I only had one full pay the whole time I was in because we worked out until we were soaked, and then we had to go in and dry our clothes for the next day, so our pay stopped,” she said.
Undeterred by the dismal pay and conditions, Cox slept in a wooden hut shared by 20 women. But there was no rest for the weary.
At night, when the air-raid sirens sounded, Cox, a voluntary first-aid provider in the Air Raid Precautions (ARP), reported for duty at her first-aid station.
Her first-aid training came in handy when she emigrated to Canada from Scotland in 1948. Cox entered into an agreement with the Ontario government whereby she paid her fare, and they made employment arrangements — either domestic or hospital work.
“I ended up working in a psychiatric hospital in Ontario — I lasted for four months and decided that wasn’t for me because it was so understaffed,” she said.
But Cox capitalized on her health-care experience when she decided to move to Saskatchewan after attending her cousin’s wedding.
“She came to Sintaluta to marry a soldier that she met during the war, and while I was here, there was an opening in the hospital at Grenfell,” Cox said.
After settling in Grenfell, Cox married her husband, John, in 1949, and the couple raised their son. But Cox also continued to give back to her community.
Seeing a number of injustices through the years, she became involved with the Saskatchewan Association of Human Rights, the Canadian Rights and Liberties Federation and the Saskatchewan Health Coalition’s fight to keep medicare.
“I’ve always liked fairness — people to be treated fairly,” Cox said.
She had witnessed the importance of Medicare, prior to coming West, when she became friends with a young Ontario Scottish woman who required a hysterectomy.
“Before they would let her out of the hospital, her husband had to make arrangements for payments to be made,” Cox said.
“Saskatchewan already had that here, except you didn’t get your medical bills paid — you just had the hospitalization paid, but that was a big help. Before that, a lot of people didn’t go to the hospital because they couldn’t afford to pay.”
Other causes also demanded her energetic response. Cox went to bat for equal pay for equal work for women and championed the rights of people with disabilities in Regina in the 1970s and 80s.
“It was very difficult for people in wheelchairs to cross the street because there were no slanted sidewalks and access to businesses,” Cox explained.
At the heart of her advocacy was a deep desire to help those most in need.
“When you grow up poor you can understand the circumstances of other people.”
Recently, she moved to Regina to be near her son. Now Cox lives comfortably in a suite at Marian Chateau and has every comfort close at hand — including hot water in her own bathroom and an elegant dining room where she shares meals with other residents.
Her surroundings are a far cry from the crowded room in Scotland she shared with her family.
Despite the hardships of those early years, Cox treasures the memories. They’re carefully documented in photo albums and numerous newspaper clippings she’s tucked away in a magazine stand next to her easy chair — living proof she’s never been afraid to get her hands dirty doing her part during war and peace.
Age has slowed her down physically, but she’s smart as a tack and vividly recalls defending society’s underdogs.
She’s proud of her political activism and declares herself a radical who tried to make a difference.
Seniors have contributed so much and continue to do so, said Holly Schick, executive director of Saskatchewan Seniors Mechanism.
“Our society has lots of people living into their 90s and beyond,” Schick said.
“Older adults are some of the most significant volunteers that we have in our society. They have the time and the experience to keep volunteering, so if we don’t encourage and support and honour those older adults, we’re really missing out.”
Halfway down the stairs there was a toilet, and three families shared that toilet. We only had a cold-water tap, we had to heat all of the water.