New province, old features
As the date for Newfoundland’s wedding to Canada approached in early 1949, The Financial Post interviewed a selection of Canadians on the question, “What should we do to mark confederation with Newfoundland and acquaint Canadians with problems and potentialities of the new Province?”
Among those interviewed was Edwin J. Pratt, then Professor of English at Victoria College, Toronto and “a distinguished Canadian poet and a native of Newfoundland.” Pratt responded:
“Since Confederation is now settled the obvious thing is to acquaint the bulk of Canadians who have hitherto seen only the fringe of the issue with an exhaustive account of Newfoundland resources. The next step, even more important, is to get into the schools the history of the country to show the courageous stock, which survived early English legislation, winter storms, and the fishing admirals. And another is to furnish either large groups or whatever two or three are gathered together, an organized welcome to the most hospitable people on this planet.”
Our climate and sealing
As if to inspire Pratt’s note on our ability to survive storms, a week earlier The Evening Telegram had verbalized a little everyday climate philosophy:
“A week without a mail from abroad is a reminder that the progress made in transport communication counts for little when storms rage and ice moving down from the Arctic blockades the coast. Even the air service is compelled to surrender to the elements under weather conditions such as have been experienced during the past week; fog reducing visibility to zero and that curious phenomenon known as silver thaw when everything becomes coated with ice even while the air temperature is above freezing. Radar and deicing equipment have done much to enable the airman to overcome these obstacles but they create risks, which commercial lines decline to take. A snowstorm of a few hours can hold up trains crossing the Gaff Topsails for days. A change of wind is all that is necessary to pack St. John’s Bay so tightly with ice that not even the most powerful ship is capable of penetrating it. Fortunately such blockades occur infrequently. For the whole of the war years, for example, St. John’s remained an open port.”
This particular “spring”, however, conditions were not hindering the sealing fleet from leaving St. John’s. During the first week in March “a dozen or more” sealing ships were preparing to leave for the seal hunt. Included in that number were the Arctic Prowler under Capt. William Windsor; the Terra Nova (not the large and renowned sailing vessel that went to the Antarctic) with Captain Wilfred Barbour and the M.V. Codroy under James Gillette. The Eagle was also going (Arthur Jackman in command) and even as the newspaper was lamenting an apparent break with long tradition in that no ship had reported stowaways, a report shot back from Eagle to say that a young man, Frank Byrne, of 14 Nunnery Hill, St. John’s, had been discovered aboard.
Watercourses and tunnels
We were a province of Canada a short 13 weeks when a downtown St. John’s upgrading project was putting a new look on the old city even as it was exposing long-forgotten urban features:
On July 9th., 1949, local papers reported that “a little bit of one of the small rivers which ran down the hillside on which St. John’s is built was revealed yesterday during operations for paving. An old stone drain was uncovered at the foot of Prescott Street.
“This stone drain measures four by five feet and crosses Water Street and discharges a considerable volume of water into Job’s Cove. An open river ran down Prescott street from Gower for a considerable time after the fire of 1846. It originated somewhere near the R.C. Palace grounds. It is a matter of record that some years before the fire of 1892 an old forge stood on the site of The Royal Stores furniture store, Duckworth Street, and a power wheel was operated in the forge from the water of the river. Some old citizens say they had recollection of being told of a bridge across the river near Duckworth Street.
“Further east on Water Street there is another water course which empties into the harbour at the King’s Wharf. This water course originated somewhere inside Rawlin’s Cross and ran down King’s Road, draining an area known as The Marsh and forming part of the site on which Feild College stands.
“A third water course opened during the operations was at Beck’s Cove. This water course which still carried considerable water ran down the east side of Carter’s Hill from some place near Cookstown Road. New concrete pipes are being put in these river courses where they cross the street.
“Excavations disclose that the Water Street tunnel or sewer system has stood the test of time and needed no repairs. It was built prior to the fire of 1892 in egg shape and is constructed entirely of brick. It begins at Queen Street at a depth of five to seven feet and reaches a depth of 28 feet just east of the junction of Cochrane Street. The total length of the tunnel to its outlet at The Battery is 5,400 feet (a mile is 5,280 feet). W.J. Ellis was the contractor for the construction of the tunnel.”