FAMILY REUNION
Relatives of Leslieville soldier revel in unearthed letters from First World War,
In the years after Pte. Leslie George Currell came home from the First World War aboard the Megantic in March 1919, his family built a cottage.
At Pine Beach on the southern shores of Lake Simcoe, it featured the only outhouse in the area with an electric light, courtesy of Leslie’s younger brother, an electrician named Lawrence.
The family often hosted dozens of neighbours and friends. One night, Leslie and Lawrence rigged a hidden speaker in the loo.
As women entered the snazziest lavvy in the land, a voice would boom out.
“Would you please move over?” it said. “We’re having a terrible time trying to see.” Women would come screaming out while the Currell brothers bowled over in stitches.
“They were both a lot of fun,” said Grace Ballantyne, who was a little girl in those days.
Ballantyne, 85, called the Star after it published a story in March about a stack of letters Leslieville resident Larry McLean found under his porch on Bertmount Ave. during renovations.
The weathered envelopes included Leslie’s letters home from the war front, a money order for his mother and a flirty letter addressed to the young private from a woman named Edna.
McLean hoped to return them. He’s still sorting out to whom — or to which museum — they should go.
Both McLean and the Star heard from several Currell relatives as well as historians and genealogy buffs, one of whom also reached Ballantyne’s cousin, who in turn called Ballantyne.
“I knew who it was right away,” said Ballantyne.
“I was so surprised, it was just marvellous.”
Ballantyne was raised by her aunt, Grace Malloy, who went on to marry Lawrence.
Leslie enlisted on Sept. 7, 1915, as a 22-year-old carver who lived on Bertmount Ave. with his family. He served in Britain and France.
A story in the Toronto Daily Star about a riot in an Allied camp after the Armistice in 1918 quoted Leslie, who detailed the miserable conditions that led to the violence. It described him as a sapper who had gone through some of the war’s most famous battles, including Hill 70, Valenciennes and the Somme.
Conditions were better on the ship coming home, he told the newspaper. He pulled out a can of chicken and “laughingly stated that when that stayed in his possession untouched during the voyage, nothing more need be said.”
At home, Leslie went back to work as a carver, whittling intricate parts for lamps and the ebony handles of silver cutlery. He had great talent and probably could have gone farther, had he not spent so much time caring for his family.
“He did it fabulously,” said Ballantyne. “He was very good at what he did.” He used to come pick her up from Grace and Lawrence’s place and drive her to the home on Bertmount Ave. in his car, with its rumble seat that she wasn’t allowed to sit in. He married Florence Ann Wood and later had two children. Marguerite was born in1936; William two years later. They later moved to Strathmore Blvd., just north of the Danforth at Coxwell Ave. Marguerite was born without a lower left arm, while “Little Billy” had intellectual disabilities, said Darrin Currell, another distant relative who contacted the Star. When Marguerite passed away in 2004, a eulogy delivered at her funeral by a friend told of how she remembered and appreciated the “many special gestures” given during her life. The example provided was how her father, Leslie, had invented a special way for her to tie her shoes one-handed. Florence died in1990. Bill, who lives in a long-term care home, is the last surviving member of Leslie’s immediate family. Leslie died in1954, at 60, from complications brought on by the diabetes that ran in the family. He prepared for it. He had Marguerite promise to care for Florence and Billy when he was gone. And he built and carved the coffin in which he was buried, alongside his family, at Resthaven Memorial Gardens in Scarborough.