Plaques at the Vancouver Convention Centre
Browse a series of educational plaques highlighting the contributions of the workers who built BC.
More than 60 plaques are installed inside and outside the Vancouver Convention Centre in a partnership with the Pavilion Corporation of BC.
THE LONG DISGRACE
BC’s first Chinese settlers date back to the discovery of gold in the Fraser River in 1858; many more came to build the Canadian Pacific Railway between 1881 and 1885 – at half the wage of their white counterparts. About six hundred died during construction. Laid off after completion, they found themselves stranded, surrounded by hostile Europeans. Legislation prohibited Chinese from voting, training as doctors or lawyers, and working on government projects. A head tax was levied on Chinese immigrants, and from 1923 Chinese were prohibited from coming to Canada. In 1907, a racist organization called the Asiatic Exclusion League formed, and a mob nearly destroyed Chinatown. Farmers campaigned to prohibit Chinese from owning or leasing farmland. The Children’s Protective Association called for the removal of Chinese students from classrooms. With the conspicuous valour of Chinese Canadian soldiers during World War II, attitudes began to change at last. In 1949 Canadian Chinese were given the vote provincially, ending 75 years of humiliation and disgrace.
WE ARE ALL WORKERS
The city that surrounds this place may seem as if it has always been here; as thought eh pillars of glass, the swooping sails, the walks and green spaces are as permanent and inevitable as the mountains and the sea. But a century ago, none of it existed. The city was created by workers. It is their legacy. British Columbia is made up of people who formed a vision and drew a plan; who wielded hammers, brought welding arcs to beams; forged the future in trainloads of glass and truckloads of concrete and lumber. Vancouver is their monument. We paid a high prive for our roads, bridges and workplaces - not in dollars, but in workers who lost limbs, or contracted terrible diseases, or lost their very lives. Fathers, sons and daughters who never returned home - not from some war or natural disaster, but from simply earning a living, doing their job as best they could. Times have changed, along with the landscape. In the 21st century, death, injury and disease are no longer an acceptable cost of doing business. These tragedies are preventable and unacceptable; together we will make them a thing of the past. There is only one vision: Workers and workplaces safe a secure from injury, illness and disease
UNSUSTAINABLE POLITICS
By 1865, fortunes were made in BC, thanks to world demand for the plush pelt of the northern seal. Sealing dominated the city of Victoria’s economy for nearly 50 years. At its height, 122 schooners employed over 3,000 hunters, the majority from First Nations’ villages on Vancouver Island’s west coast. Then over-hunting and lack of regulation brought catastrophe, and almost led to war. As seals became scarce, the US declared the herds to be under US custody and control. Gunboats impounded Russian and Japanese boats. Russia and Japan reciprocated. Caught in the middle, many a BC sealer wound up in a Vladivostok prison or marooned on the Bering Sea. The Kwakiutl nation nearly went to war over the abduction of their people. Yet it wasn’t a total loss. In 1911, an international agreement banned seal hunting in their breeding grounds – the first wildlife conservation treaty in the world.
TROUBLE ON DEADMAN’S ISLAND
Look straight ahead and you will see a 3.2 hectare island called Deadman’s Island. There in 1862, a settler named John Morton discovered hundreds of red cedar boxes lashed to the upper boughs of trees – the burial grounds of the Squamish Nation. He later attempted to acquire the land, but changed his mind when the future Chief Joe Capilano told him it was a scene of a bloody battle, in which 200 warriors were killed. As though in sympathy, future settlers continued to use Deadman’s Island as a cemetery. Then in 1899, an American named Theodore Ludgate bought the island and announced plans to clear-cut. This sparked a now-familiar argument about the value of the land – as resource, as public space, as sacred territory. The debate split the entire City. At one point the Mayor invoked the Riot Act to halt logging. The battle continued through every level of court. In 1911, Ludgate won. But by then the trees were gone.
SAINT JOE
Canada’s first general strike was led by Joe Naylor. It is a deadly paradox that the most valuable coal mines contain the most gas. When Naylor arrived in 1908, the mines on Vancouver Island were among the most hazardous in the world, killing hundreds of miners, mostly in explosions. Naylor led the Cumberland strike of 1912–14, a bitter battle for union recognition. Benefits paid for by miners were denied. Families were evicted from company housing, forcing miners to live in tents. Naylor spent months in prison for charges that were later dismissed. He was blacklisted for 10 years. His name was on a list of “chief agitators in Canada,” compiled by the Federal Department of Justice. The general strike marked the suspicious death of the radical union organizer Ginger Goodwin. But if, to the workers, Ginger Goodwin was a martyr, then Joe Naylor was a saint. His sacrifice helped achieve the first workers compensation legislation, the eight-hour day, and by the time he died every mine on Vancouver Island was unionized.
THE DROP
Thrust into the waters of Burrard Inlet, The Drop playfully invites the viewer to reflect on our relationship with this precious commodity of water, and by extension, on the history, complexity and future of our waterfront. The Drop pays homage to the element of water and the untameable forces of nature which are omnipresent in Vancouver. The slender, elongated sculpture balances as if a huge raindrop were on the verge of landing on the sea walk. Although the sculpture takes a natural phenomenon as its starting point, it displays a technical perfection, artificially coloured to correspond to the sky, and contrasting with the pale yellow of the mass of sulfur visible on the horizon. The sculpture’s angle and orientation create a visual dialogue with the architecture of the Convention Centre West, as well as with the bows of the gigantic cruise ships. Like an abstract, radiant-blue ship’s figurehead, it marks the interface between land and water, between nature and technology. Inges Idee 2009
THE BIG BANG
Every year, cruise ships glide safely to Alaska through the inside passage of the Strait of Georgia, through what was once one of the most feared waterways in the world — thanks to Ripple Rock, a twin-peaked undersea mountain located near Campbell River on Vancouver Island which claimed over 120 vessels and 114 lives. Then in 1955, work began on an unprecedented feat of engineering: to shatter Ripple Rock with the biggest non-nuclear, man-made explosion in history. This required a 174 metre vertical shaft on nearby land, a 762 metre horizontal shaft to the base of Ripple Rock, and two 91 metre vertical shafts into the twin peaks, packed with 1,400 tonnes of explosive. To accomplish this, BC’s tunnel and rock workers turned their mining skills to a brand new purpose. Ripple Rock blew on April 5, 1958, at 9:31 am — a time chosen to avoid a major fish run. Some 700,000 tons erupted in a blast 300 metres high. It was over in 10 seconds. Porpoises and orcas, spotted before the explosion, reappeared, unharmed. And Ripple Rock was gone.
VANCOUVER CONVENTION CENTRE
THE TEAM THAT MADE IT Think of construction as a sport Whose players work in teams Only, they’re not competing Everyone is shooting for the same goal And if one team falls behind The goal posts move further away Into the uncertain future. The rules of the game are natural laws Of gravity, stress and weather That never change That apply to everyone And if you break a rule there are penalties Something falls or fails Or someone goes to the hospital. This building is a monument to teamwork. It was built by champions. Trades under contract: 144 Structural steel, in tonnes: 18,000 Lumber placed end-to-end, in kilometres: 52 Workers at peak of construction: 850 Days lost in injuries: none Fatalities: none
TAKING IT TO OTTAWA
On the tracks east of the Convention Centre began the On To Ottawa Trek, one of the greatest labour protests in Canadian history. During the Great Depression in the 1930s, 30% of the labour force was out of work. One in five Canadians depended upon government relief for survival. Ottawa established military-style work camps for unemployed, homeless men. Poor food and backbreaking work for as little as 20 cents a day led one worker to describe these camps as “civilized slavery.” In 1935, 1,500 striking camp residents gathered in Vancouver, demanding better conditions. When officials failed to respond, 1,000 strikers vowed to confront the Prime Minister, demanding “work and wages.” They boarded freight cars on the national railway, completed in 1885 and stretching across Canada. But the On To Ottawa Trek never made it. In Regina, police, on orders from Ottawa, blocked the strikers from re-boarding the trains. Instead, 8 men were sent to Ottawa to meet with the Prime Minister. Nothing happened. Meanwhile in Regina, RCMP squads moved in to arrest strike leaders, resulting in a bloody confrontation that left one policeman dead and many Trekkers injured. Prime Minister Bennett was defeated in the next election, and the hated camps were closed.
SPIRIT DIVER
He opened Western Canada’s first dive shop in Vancouver at age 15, and went on to become a world-famous inventor. Phil Nuytten’s hard-suits (the Newtsuit and the Exosuit) revolutionized deep-sea diving, enabling divers to work without fear of “the bends.” His inventions are used by NASA, and by nearly a dozen navies. An underwater explorer, he co-led the team that discovered the wreck of the Breadalbane, which sank 106 metres beneath the Arctic sea in 1853, and is now a national monument. Of Métis heritage, he was adopted by the Kwakiutl Nation as a child, and studied under a master carver. He has carved totem poles, masks, jewelry and full size canoes. The Kwakwaka’wakw have given him several names, including Tlaxan, which means Red Snapper. Among current projects for NASA, Nuytten’s company has explored the bottom of Pavilion Lake, about 200 kilometres to the northeast of Vancouver, where life is thought to replicate early developments on Earth, as well as on planets such as Mars.
ROSIE THE RIVETER
At the foot of North Vancouver’s Lonsdale Avenue (across the harbour) was the largest shipyard in Western Canada, and the site of an historic breakthrough for women. Formed in 1906 as Wallace Shipyard and renamed in 1921 Burrard Dry Dock, the yard produced tugs and barges for the lumber industry, ships for the war effort, ferries for coastal travel, and icebreakers for the North. Production peaked during World War II, when Burrard Dry Dock and its neighbour, North Van Ship Repairs, built about a third of Canada’s Victory Ships. Each warship required 383,000 rivets. Riveters worked in round-the-clock shifts. With more and more men in uniform, women were hired for what was traditionally men’s work. “Rosie the Riveter” became an icon for women in the workforce. The workforce grew until oversight became a problem. Employees were issued badges whose numbers linked to their pay packets and employment records, in an early version of the employee identity card. In its lifetime, Burrard built over 450 ships. Shipbuilding and repair have been a strong component of the BC economy.
HIGH RIGGERS
For years, cut logs were removed from the forest by means of a cable rigging system attached to a tall “spar tree” – a Douglas fir if possible. Preparing the tree to hold a rig was the job of a high rigger. Using a set of spurs and a rope, the rigger would climb to a height of 50 – 70 metres, chopping branches off as he went, then use his axe and a small saw to take off the top. Then he would hold on for dear life while the tree swung violently from side to side. One danger was that the tree might split and crush the rigger in his climbing rope. Or he could fall. Fifty years ago, Colin Brooks fell 30 metres from a tree on Quadra Island. When he returned to work a few weeks later, held together by steel pins, the crew had carved the stump of the spar into a likeness of his head.
THE RAIN PEOPLE
Throughout the 20th century, thousands of workers and their families migrated up the coast from Vancouver to make a life for themselves in remote resource company towns such as Ocean Falls – where its wet climate earned its residents the title of the Rain People. Located on the central coast near Bella Bella, accessible only by boat or seaplane, Ocean Falls grew to over 3,500 citizens, with schools, a hospital, churches, one of the largest hotels in BC, and a swimming pool known for its champion swimmers. In 1973, Crown Zellerbach announced that their Ocean Falls pulp mill would close, stating it had become inefficient and obsolete. Not prepared to let jobs and the townsite disappear so readily, the provincial government of the day purchased the pulp mill and town for a modest $1 million, staving off a permanent shutdown until 1980. Today, Ocean Falls is a crumbling ruin in a spectacular setting, where a few dozen devoted residents keep it alive as a seasonal tourist destination. But for their efforts, Ocean Falls would have become one of the many ghost towns throughout BC.
THE GREAT RAILWAY WAR
IN THE EARLY 1890’s, the search for copper, gold, silver and coal caused a frenzy of railway building in Kettle Valley, in the southern Okanagan. A historic battle ensued, between two railway powerhouses, Canadian Pacific and Great Northern Railway. Ironically, Great Northern was headed by a Canadian, James Jerome Hill, who had been a director of the CPR until he resigned in a fury. Profit is the best revenge. Under Hill’s direction, Great Northern set out to beat CPR to it – build a railroad through to the coast, and funnel BC’s wealth to the US. For the CPR the issue was not just profit but sovereignty. The two corporations declared war – in court and on the rail-beds. At the “Battle of Midway”, near the entrance to Kettle Valley, competing workers did battle with hockey sticks. Someone even fired a pistol.
QUEEN OF THE RIVER
Just five years after high school in 1945, Lucille Johnstone took a job as receptionist for River Towing, a shoestring tugboat company in the Fraser Valley. Within months she became the entire office staff – secretary, bookkeeper, personnel manager and dispatcher. So began a remarkable career that resulted in one of the largest corporations in BC history. Captains named her “Tugboat Annie,” after the fictional heroine, and because she resembled a tugboat – short, wide, and able to pull way beyond her weight. By working days and studying nights for six years, she became a Certified General Accountant in 1956, one of two women to complete the program. She studied Advanced Management at the age of 39, the only woman in the class. By the time she retired, she had engineered mergers and acquisitions as President of the Rivtow Group, with sales of $250 million and 1,500 employees. “I just went ahead and did the job,” she said. “I didn’t stop to think a woman shouldn’t be doing it.”
PUSHING THE LIMITS
Towering behind the Convention Centre stands the most famous building in Vancouver, once the tallest building in the British Empire and one of the great art deco buildings in the world – comparable to the Chrysler Building in New York. Perched on a bluff on the water’s edge (before the railway tracks were built), the Marine Building was designed to resemble a huge, ornate crag, encrusted with starfish, crabs and other marine life, topped by a flock of deco Canada Geese. In 1929, Mayor W.H. Malkin blew a golden whistle, and BC’s building trades competed and excelled in the competition for ever-higher towers. By completion it cost $2,300,000. Then Wall Street crashed. The Depression hit, and offices stayed empty. The building’s opulence frightened people, though rents were reasonable. Briefly under consideration for the new City Hall, the deal collapsed, and the Marine Building sold for a third of its cost. The daring, innovative developers lost their shirts.The city gained a landmark.
PAUL DOUGLAS, BOILERMAKER
WHEN did it happen? I started as a boilermaker in 1978, as an apprentice. Over the years I was exposed to asbestos — well, almost every job I went on. As boilermakers, we do mostly repair work. What we work on had been around for a while. Behind the casing is the insulation, and most often this was made of asbestos. WHAT did you contract? Most people have heard of asbestosis. Well, that’s a creepy disease too — it can grow and stop, grow and stop. But no, I have mesothelioma. It’s a cancer, and it just takes off, it’s immediate and deadly. HOW did you find this out? I went to my doctor because I was a little short of breath at work. He had X-rays done and they took 3 and a half litres of fluid out of my chest. Then they did tests, and came back positive for pleural mesothelioma. That day, the doctor came up to me, Dr. Martins, and he said to me, straight: “Sorry. I can’t help you. There’s no cure.” Well, that wasn’t good. Then Dr. Stuart, my doctor, came in, and he basically said: “You have 3 to 6 months to live. Go home, do your paperwork and ride it out.” When a doctor tells you something like that, you have a choice: You can just go home and wait, or you can take the bull by the horns and say, “Let’s get at it.” WHERE did you turn for support? When I came out of the hospital, a lot of friends came to visit me. One frind was a fireman, who knew someone who made a tea that was supposed to help your lungs. That was the start. Then I did some research, and found there was a new drug that another friend was taking for prostate cancer. So I did that, along with other supplements. Then — here’s the funny thing. My ex-wife found a clinical trial — on Apil 23, my daughter’s birthday. They were about to shut the clinical trial down that same afternoon. I did it all, and whatever happened, the result was that, months later, the CAT scan showed no progression. My moons were all lined up, it seems. That was the start of a journey that has worked out pretty good. But it’s an ongoing process. WHAT did you do next? Well, I set some goals. First, I wanted to see my daughter finish high school. I saw that. Then my 50th birthday — I saw that. Then it was my daughter getting into nursing school — and this May I’m going to see her graduate as an RN. I do set goals, but I never set them too far away, because you never know when this thing is going to bite you in the rear. WHERE did you find the strength to deal with this? I used to be pretty competitive in sports — soccer, baseball, fast-pitch softball — and dabbled in boxing. I’ve always been a fighter. It’s just one of those things. If you come to a door, and it’s locked, kick it down if you have to. Saturday, February 21, 2009 is my 10st anniversary — 10 years since the day they told me I had 3 to 6 months to live. We’re going to have a little celebration. {On October 20, 2010, Paul’s 11-year battle ended, and he succumbed to his illness at the age of 55.}
NOT WELCOME
In 1914 the Komagata Maru, a Japanese steamship, arrived in Vancouver harbour carrying 376 passengers from India, via Hong Kong and Shanghai. All were British subjects, legally titled to settle throughout the empire. Yet Canadian officials refused permission to land, using a law requiring Canadian immigrants to arrive directly from their country of origin. A law designed to keep out people of Asian descent. The ship remained in harbour for two months under squalid conditions, while prominent politicians led anti-Asian rallies onshore. Finally, police and armed deputies, with the help of the army and navy, forced the unwelcome newcomers to leave. For British Columbians the Komagata Maru Incident has become a symbol of intolerance and bigotry, a dark chapter in the Province’s history. In 2008, the BC legislature unanimously passed a motion apologizing for the Komagata Maru Incident, resolving that such a disgrace will never happen again.
MEL CAMILLI – CHASER, HOOKER
WHEN did it happen? March 2, 1987. About 10:30 A.M. I was 21 years old. WHERE were you? Logging on a little island off Prince Rupert. One of the areas where the little Kermode bear lives. I was working for my uncle, subcontracting to a bigger company. WHAT happened? I was part of a 3-man grapple-guarder unit – a huge crane that grabs the logs and moves them out. Coming off the back of the machine are two cables that hold it down. My uncle yells over the speaker to get ready to undo one of these cables. I drop what I’m doing, turn my back on the machine, and start down the hill. At that instant, the third person in our crew, out there where the trees had fallen, radios my uncle: “There’s a big log here, we’ve got to grab it before we move the machine.” We had one-way radios. I didn’t hear the communication. I didn’t know the machine was going to be moving. As I’m walking away, my uncle swings the machine to grab the log. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of movement. In front of me are two logs, about 3 feet off the ground. As I dive over them, the back of the machine – the “counterweight” – pins me against the logs. A failure of communication. Just one of those things. HOW badly were you injured? When the machine pinned me, the right leg was severed instantly. The left leg was amputated later on. They called helicopters in from Prince Rupert. It took three hours to arrive, another three to Prince George. I spent seven weeks in a morphine coma, surgery every other day. Between hospital and rehabilitation, recovery took 2½ years. WHAT was it like? It took me a good two months to come to terms with what had happened. I blamed everybody. I blamed myself. My uncle. I blamed my dog. I didn’t want anybody in my room. Turn the lights off, leave me alone. I spent two months, all day, all night, thinking, “Why me? Do I want to be here? Do I want to live?” I had to accept this if I wanted to go forward. That was the choice I had to make. Once I made the decision, it was all about: “How do I get to as normal a life as possible?” And that’s been the road ever since. WHERE did you find your strength? Family. From the time I came out of the coma, Mom-and-Dad told me they loved me. That my life would get better. Even when I didn’t believe that, they believed that. WHAT happened next? I got out of rehab. I took a computer programming couse for people with disabilities. It offered a 2-month internship. The company liked my work. I’m still here, 19 years later. HOW are you doing? I’ve been married 13 years now. I have a boy and a girl. Other than my work, my job is just to be a daddy. I’d love to go logging again. On a nice sunny day, especially when I’m passing a mill and I smell that fresh cut wood. Logging – it gets inside you.
MATTIE’S MAGIC MACHINE
In 1898, Mattie Gunterman journeyed 800 kilometres from Seattle to the West Kootenay region (near the Alberta border) by railway, stern-wheeler and foot. With her came her husband Bill, son Henry, two dogs, and one Kodak camera. With neighbours’ help, they cleared land in Thompson’s Landing (now Beaton), near Revelstoke, and built a cabin. Both worked the mines, Mattie as a cook. Unlike the northern boomtowns, whole families had settled in Thompson’s Landing, not just single men. Picnics, dances and family events took place, in addition to the usual rowdiness. When the mining boom ended, the family roamed BC looking for work. Mattie supplemented Bill’s income by fishing, hunting and running a trapline. And she photographed it all. In 1936 Bill died of a heart attack, hauling logs. Mattie died in 1945, at 73. In 1961, by accident, Ron d’Altroy from the Vancouver Public Library discovered her 200 glass plate negatives depicting life in the West Kootenays. Now they are acknowledged for what they are – a Provincial treasure.
MASTER BOATBUILDER
Fishing is physically dangerous and financially risky, and fishermen all over the world tend to resist change – but not in BC. BC fishermen, being from diverse origins, were open to new methods and technical innovations, as they are today. So it was with boat-building. Tsunematsu Atagi arrived from Japan in 1900, and opened a boat-building yard in Steveston, south of Vancouver. His method was to lay the keel, set molds or ribs, then tack planks to the molds. Cuts were made with a Japanese push saw; it provided a perfect fit, with only a string between the planks for caulking. The Atagi yard progressed from gillnetters, to seiners, to larger packers with elegant, upswept sterns, much in demand. For over 35 years, the Atagis were responsible for a large part of the BC fishing fleet. Then war broke out with Japan in 1941. The government, encouraged by competitors in the industry, seized the property of all Japanese fishermen – immigrants and native-born alike, taking their entire fleet. The Atagi family lost everything. When the war ended, Japanese Canadians were allowed back on the coast. Atagi’s sons returned to Steveston, took up the trade, and began re-building their lives.
MARINE LIFE – RESTORED
Before the new convention centre, the marine environment endured a century of industrial and commercial use. As part of the project, we removed historically contaminated sediments, improved water circulation, then bio-engineered several productive marine habitats, such as an intertidal shoreline around the Convention Centre, an intertidal and subtidal reef, and a subtidal rock shoal. These habitats are growing fast. Colonization has progressed into a diverse ecosystem of healthy marine life – just the thing for juvenile salmon. Look out and you will see: Bull Kelp (especially at the NE point), plus rockweed, sugar kelp, and numerous other seaweeds. Mussels, barnacles, starfish, sea urchins, shrimp and crab. Harbour seals, river otters, mink and occasional sea lions. Birds such as Blue Heron, Kingfisher, Canada Goose, loons, grebes, cormorants and ducks. Not nature in the raw. Nature welcomed back.
MANY STORIES, ONE STORY
The panels on the seawalk around the Convention Centre West tell many stories, and one story. True stories – each one a piece of working history. Some stories connect in a series. Others stand in pairs, or alone. But they all add up to one story. About people who dared to venture to what was, for them, the most remote corner of the earth. Who carried with them their skills, their families, their languages – and their pre-judgments. Who, having left behind everything that was familiar, were open to something new. Remember, for all but First Nations, everything was new: the forests, the animals, the sheer size of the place. Pushed by nature, they became more inventive. Despite conflicting interests, they learned from other cultures and, in the process, learned respect. In a remarkably short time, these not-so-common people laid the foundation for the culture of innovation, education, tolerance, and common human decency we strive for today. It wasn’t easy.
MANDEEP KAUR BASSI – ONE ORDINARY DAY
WHEN did it happen? October 18, 2007. On a Thursday afternoon that seemed so simple and ordinary. WHAT were you doing? My kids and I were at the mall, in the toy section of a department store. My brother came hurrying up the aisle and told me that my husband had been hurt at work. We drove to the hospital in his Pathfinder. A police officer met me at the entrance — I guess they were waiting for me to arrive. They took me into a small meeting-room, and gave me the worst news of my life. I said to them: Buta is dead? You’re lying! How can he die? But it was true. I remember thinking that Buta never needed to see a doctor in 10 years — and now he was dead? HOW did it happen? He was working on the attic of a house, employed by the owner. Buta fell less than 3 metres. I was told that he stood on a ladder and it fell. I still don’t understand it. It doesn’t make sense to me. His head injuries were so bad, it was four days before they let me see him. Blunt force trauma, they called it. WHAT happened next? He was 35 years old. I was 32. Our daughters were seven and two. We had been married for nine years. Life seemed settled. Now, suddenly, I had no idea what I was going to do. His last prayer took place at the Ross Street Temple in Vancouver. I was in a daze. Our 7 year-old helped bring Buta’s ashes to Bir Bansian, his home village in Punjab. His ashes were put in a sacred river. That helped her to absorb the reality of it. Our younger child still thinks Daddy’s gone just for now, with “an owie” on his head. As for me, people say time heals, but it hasn’t happened yet. I feel so much anger, but I don’t know who I’m angry with. I still ask, How can this be, his death? I know there are many other people in this position, but that doesn’t make it any less a big deal. They’re in their houses, and I’m in mine, and we each go to bed alone. I don’t have a partner in life anymore. When you’re young, and he’s there, you don’t think about what that means. I remember the normal stuff: Weekends together; putting the kids to bed; helping each other around the house. I never told him that he made me feel special. In a department store, it kills me to see the men’s wear. I can’t believe I’m not buying him a shirt. WHERE do you find your strength? I thank God for my daughters. They are my purpose, now that Buta is gone. I see him in my kids’ faces, their behaviour. I wish he were here to see for himself. It will always be painful, at graduations, weddings, birthdays. Nothing will take his place. Buta’s death left a hole in our hearts that will never be filled. We pray to God every day to shower his soul with peace, and to give us the strength to fight. I hope workplaces become safer. No one should have to go through this.
LINE OF WORK
Line of Work transforms everyday building materials into a powerful, yet protecting wave-form that reaches out towards the sea. Individual occupations carved into the wood reflect the growing diversity of worker’s specific skills. Each piece tells its own story, yet together, they become the story of British Columbia, marking shifts in the evolution of the province and the aspirations of its workforce from industries of the past, to trades of today, to the unfathomable future. “Individual actions create ripples. Working together creates a wave.” – Jill Anholt 2009 Jill Anholt is a visual artist and designer who has been creating art installations in the public realm since 1997. Her works strive to resonate with their site and context, creating an opportunity for direct engagement and interaction with the viewer.
JOSH DUECK, SKI COACH, PARALYMPIC ATHLETE
WHEN did it happen? March 8, 2004, about 2:00 PM. WHERE were you? We were in the freestyle area at Silver Star Mountain, which was hosting the 2004 Canadian Championship. It was the first day of official training. It was a warm, sunny day, a great day to be on the mountain. One of the athletes asked me to demonstrate a front flip. I got on my helmet and went up the ski jump. About ¾ down, I realized there wasn’t enough speed, so I stopped and went back up. That took just a few moments, but some clouds had blocked the sun – and that changed the surface of the run. As I went down, gathering speed, I had this gut feeling I was going way too fast, that this was not a good idea. But my ego overwhelmed my intuition, and I went for it anyhow. I overshot the landing hill and landed on my chest, which bent me backwards like a scorpion. HOW badly were you injured? The impact knocked me out and at the same time dislocated my back, severing my spinal cord. WHAT happened next? Ski patrol came and told me not to move. “That shouldn’t be hard,” I said. They said, “It’s going to be OK.” I said, “It’s going to be OK, but I broke my back.” WHERE did you find your strength? The way my parents brought me up, I knew nothing had happened that I wasn’t strong enough to deal with. But there was one doctor in particular – a parent of one of the kids that I coached. I got to know him a bit. When I got to the hospital for preliminary inspection, he snapped off a couple of X-rays, then came in after seeing them – and he was smiling?! A surreal situation – half a dozen of my friends in the Emergency room – and he says, “How’s it going?” “Going OK, I guess,” I said. “All things considered.” Then he said, “You know, you are going to rock the world in a wheelchair and before you know it you will be back in the mountains – this time riding a sit-ski.” Then we both started crying … And then I smiled. Because of a memory: as a competitive skier you often get stuck in airports, and we used to hop on the wheelchairs and mess around. One of my first thoughts was: wheelchairs are fun and I’m actually going to be really good at this. It was overwhelming; I’m not taking away from that. But it focused me on things to look forward to. My dream was always to be a skier, and he gave me a positive reflection – that I could still do what I love to do. I had a lot of positive influences. My girlfriend, my friends and ski community. I didn’t get depressed and it was a reflection of the company that I held. WHAT have you learned from this? The importance of being able to follow my intuition. But more than that, it’s not what happens, it’s how you respond to it. My accident has given me overwhelmingly positive opportunities. It’s given a purpose to my life. HOW are you doing now? Great! I was recently in Europe, skiing in World Cup Para-Alpine Races. I achieved a few personal bests including a 5th place finish. The World Cup is the peak. I can see the podium, I can smell the podium, and I’m looking forward to being on it. When I am not racing or enjoying the powder snow I find great pleasure in sharing my story and inspiring others to challenge themselves in a conscious, focused way.
THE IRONWORKERS MEMORIAL BRIDGEEX
Look straight ahead into the harbour: in the distance, a steel truss cantilever bridge spans Burrard Inlet as part of the Trans-Canada Highway. The Second Narrows Bridge opened in 1960, the longest of its kind in western Canada. It cost 26 million dollars, and 23 lives. June 17, 1958. A derrick hovers over the north side. Perched on trusses and beams, men are inserting and anchoring thousands of enormous steel bolts. The bridge has already taken four lives. A sound cracks like a giant rifle; and the front end of the bridge crumples instantly. Lacking safety harnesses, 79 workers plunge as far as 67 metres (220ft), then to be dragged underwater by the weight of their tool belts. A slight miscalculation by two bridge engineers. A temporary supporting structure was too light to bear the weight. Nineteen dead (the two engineers among them), 20 hospitalized and up to 50 injured – many rescued by First Nations boats – in the most deadly construction accident in B.C. history. Re-named the Ironworkers Memorial Bridge, the structure stands as a monument to worker safety, for they must not have died for nothing.
HELL FOR THE SALMON
In 1913, railway workers dynamiting rock in the Fraser Canyon accidentally triggered a catastrophic slide, which blocked the Fraser River at Hell’s Gate – one of its narrowest points – just as the biggest salmon run in years approached upstream. The Fraser River, 1375 kilometres long, runs south from Mount Robson (near Jasper, Alberta) to the City of Vancouver. It is the longest river in BC; historically, it has supported the greatest salmon runs in the world. Now there were thirty million fish with nowhere to go, jammed together along 16 kilometres of river. Using baskets, First Nations fishers carried salmon across the obstruction around the clock, while engineers and railway men worked feverishly to break through. Despite all best efforts, public and corporate, most of the salmon runs were destroyed in one of the worst environmental disasters in BC history. Even with the best scientific planning and the construction of fishways, it took 40 years to recover. If British Columbians worry about their rivers, now you know why.
ANOTHER KIND OF MURDER
Ginger Goodwin was a coal miner who came to Canada from England before World War I. As a union organizer, his inspired oratory got him blacklisted in the mines of both coasts of Canada – Cape Breton and Vancouver Island. Broke and unemployable, he found work in the smelters in Trail, in the West Kootenays, and led a strike in support of the 8-hour day. World War I was in progress. The draft was in force. A frail man with bad teeth and tuberculosis, Goodwin had been declared unfit for military duty. He was reclassified – Fit for Duty. He fled to the mountains west of Cumberland on Vancouver Island. Fellow miners such as Joe Naylor brought him supplies. The Provincial Police hired Dan Campbell, a local barkeep, to track him down. Campbell killed Ginger Goodwin with a bullet to the throat. He claimed self-defence. There were no witnesses. BC workers marked Goodwin’s funeral with Canada’s first general strike.
FRANK SWANNELL
In the 1890s, few who came to BC ended up doing what they intended to. Frank Swannell arrived from Ontario to prospect for gold in the Yukon Klondike. Instead he became BC’s greatest surveyor, covering huge areas of the province – a land mass about twice the size of Spain – in a career that lasted 30 years. His equipment was simple but amazingly accurate – just a transit (a specialized kind of telescope) and 66 feet of chain – 80 chain lengths to the mile – to divide areas the size of whole countries into 640 acre sections. Part of his job was to record surface features, soil conditions and possible land uses, vital information for the pioneers to follow. With no roads, Swannell followed trails made by First Nations traders and prospectors or blazed them himself, cutting lines through dense forest, over swamps, lakes, rivers and mountains. Today, Swannell is better known for the more than 5,000 priceless photos he took over more than 40 years, which survive in the BC Provincial Archives.
A FLOATING BOMB
Right in front of you is Canada Place – site of CPR Pier B, and the worst disaster in Vancouver port history. March 6, 1945, 11:15 am: The Greenhill Park, a 10,000 ton merchant freighter, was taking on cargo which included 7 1/2 tons of signal flares, 94 tons of sodium chlorate (for bleaching wood pulp), and barrels of over proof whiskey – all in the same hold. 3 volatile ingredients, waiting for a spark… In an instant, 4 explosions tore apart the vessel, killing 2 seamen, 6 longshoremen and injuring 26 more, including 7 firemen. Witnesses saw men blown 75 feet in the air. Downtown, the shock wave shattered thousands of windows. Glass and cargo rained on the streets for 15 minutes. Meanwhile, tugboats towed the blazing vessel from the pier, but only as far as Brockton Point, fearing that another explosion could destroy the Lion’s Gate Bridge. The investigation, with no evidence, blamed longshoremen for smoking on deck. Nobody told them they were working on a floating bomb.
FIRST NATION, FIRST UNION
Workers from the Squamish Nation have worked as longshoremen in Burrard Inlet since the 1860s. Despite what the name might imply today, “Indian gangs” were universally admired for the speed with which they could load and turn around a lumber ship. Employers traded tales of the skill and stamina of native crews, hired from their home reserves as specialists – “side runners,” “hatch tenders” and “donkeymen.” A connection developed between the Squamish leadership in North Vancouver and the work on Burrard Inlet. Chief Joe Capilano worked as a foreman on the docks, which helped pay for a trip to England and an audience with Edward VII of England, to discuss land claims. In 1906, Squamish longshoremen established the first union on the Burrard Docks – Local 526 of the Industrial Workers of the World. They met in a hall on the reserve. Despite its First Nations leadership and its informal title – “the Bows and Arrows” – members included Englishmen, Chileans and Hawaiians.
FALLERS
Early loggers felled enormous trees, using primitive tools, an axe and a two-man crosscut saw, while standing on springboards notched into the trunk. First they chopped a deep cut facing where they wanted the tree to fall. From here it would take 3 to 4 hours to bring down a big fir. And when the tree began to fall, the real danger began. A branch might tear loose high up, and drop onto a man. When the tree hit the ground, the butt end might take a bad bounce and crush someone. Or the tree might smash into another one, whose branches would fly back. Experienced fallers learned to clear escape routes, and pick a safe place to hide when the tree came down. As soon as the trunk started moving, they dropped their saws, jumped from their springboards and ran for cover, yelling a warning to anyone nearby. The BC Loggers Union was formed in 1919 and conditions improved. Yet even with the highest safety standards, fallers still have the most dangerous job in the forest industry.
THE CHAMPAGNE SAFARI
Many have attempted to explore and survey the Peace River country in northeastern BC, a wilderness larger than Germany. None proved as spectacularly unsuccessful as the Bedaux Expedition of 1934. The Franco-American industrialist Charles Bedaux was a celebrity explorer who undertook filmed expeditions in remote regions. He vowed to travel 2,400 km (1500 miles) from Fort St. John to the Pacific, using experimental Citroën half-track vehicles. Along with the vehicles he brought pack- and saddle-horses, cowboys, packers, trail cutters, surveyors, cooks, cameramen, Hollywood director Floyd Crosby, plus his wife, his mistress, his maid, and his wine cellar. Peace River cowboys felt fortunate to earn $4.00 a day at the height of the Depression. By July, hopelessly mired in mud, Bedaux ordered vehicles to be pushed off cliffs and into rivers, and a forest fire started, for the cameras. By October, with the horses dying and winter approaching, he finally gave up. Miners and First Nations made good use of the discarded equipment – including the half-tracks.
CATALINE’S MULES
In the mid-19th century, 700 kilometres across the mountains from Vancouver, waves of would-be prospectors walked the Cariboo trail for the gold fields beyond Quesnel. Word of a strike on some remote stream would travel, and men by the hundreds would flock to the area with just a backpack, having engaged packers to follow with food and equipment. Entrusting their lives to a stranger. Jean “Cataline” Caux (1832–1922) was the greatest of the packers. He delivered tons of merchandise from Yale, at the beginning of the Fraser Canyon, to the gold fields around Barkerville, about 600 kilometres north. His 60 mules were so perfectly trained that when he rang a bell, each mule would wait by his own pack for loading. Running freight from 1858 to 1912, over thousands of miles and in all conditions, he never failed to fulfil a contract. Only once did a parcel disappear – 2 pounds of Limburger cheese. One of his men threw it away, thinking it was rotten. Cataline replaced the cheese, and delivered it.
CAMELS IN THE CARIBOO
Sometimes an innovative idea doesn’t quite work out. In 1862, a syndicate out of Lillooet imported 23 Bactrian camels, at $300 a head, to freight goods up the Cariboo Trail to the gold fields. The idea seemed plausible. In Arizona, Camels assisted in rail construction, and with the US Army Camel Corps. At first they performed well, carrying twice the load of a mule – though their soft feet suffered on rocks and had to be fitted with canvas boots. Then the complaints poured in. Horses stampeded at the sight of them; Judge Matthew Begbie’s mount took off into the wilderness, with the judge clinging for dear life. The camels were vicious biters, smelled terrible, and would eat pants, shirts, even bars of soap. In 1863, the project was abandoned. Reports of camel sightings continued all over central BC, for decades.
BOOM TOWN
About 700 kilometres northeast of Vancouver, Barkerville was the main town of the Cariboo Gold Rush. As soon as Billy Barker struck gold in 1862 (his claim yielded over a ton of ore), almost overnight, a collection of shanties and tents transformed itself into the largest city north of San Francisco and west of Chicago, with general stores, boarding houses, restaurants and saloons, plus the Theatre Royal and a church for the “sober set.” By 1880 there were even enough children for a school. Like any boom town, Barkerville declined, and despite a small revival in the 1930s when the price of gold skyrocketed, it eventually became a ghost town. Then in 1958, the government of British Columbia declared Barkerville a historic site, and the town was restored as a tourist attraction, which it remains. Billy Barker, who started it all, died in poverty, and lies in an unmarked grave in Victoria.
BEACONS FROM SHORE
‘Lighthouse Night’ by Julia Moe All night the wind comes and goes; the storm can’t quite decide to come this way, all night we watch the light turn around and around: a bad night for boats skirting the cape. Here inside the wind hardly rattles the windows, the cats wheeze and twitch in lost dreams; night duty grows endless, and oh how my body longs to fall into the darkness of sleep. Once, B.C.’s intricate, treacherous coastline required over 60 staffed lighthouses for marine safety. Today, about 27 remain. Once, lighthouses meant the difference between a safe passage and a watery demise. Today, with ship-to-shore communication, satellite technology and solar-powered beacon buoys, the lighthouse is increasingly a relic of the past. But what a relic. Drenched in the lore of loneliness, devotion and heroic rescue, lighthouses have become symbols of safety, trust and hope. No lighthouse is torn down without a public outcry. Built to withstand the ravages of isolated exposure, with precise spiral staircases, ornate trimmings and conical towers containing giant lenses capable of projecting a small flame for miles, lighthouses stand as monuments to engineering and design. Unlike GPS and cellular technology, lighthouses delight and amaze. In other words, they are works of art.
THE BATTLE OF BALLANTYNE PIER
By 1935, political and business figures in Vancouver had become convinced of a conspiracy to start a Russian Revolution on the Pacific Coast. Attention focused on the longshoreman’s strike on Ballantyne Pier, on the east of what is now Canada Harbour Place. All levels of police were mobilized, plus members of the Citizens’ League of BC, a vigilante organization funded by the shipping companies, to save Vancouver from Communism. Then on June 18, 1,000 striking longshoremen, led by WWI veterans waving the Union Jack, marched to Ballantyne Pier, where strikebreakers had been unloading ships. Police attacked with clubs. More squads joined the 3-hour fight, including the RCMP and the BC Provincial Police, who had been hiding behind boxcars. They continued to club people as they fled. One fleeing striker was shot by a police shotgun. Reports held that the police had machine guns ready as well, but others deny this. The labour battles of the 1930s stand in contrast to today, when longshoremen help make BC ports some of the most efficient gateways to North American markets.
THE ACCIDENTAL AIRLINE
Early in the last century, a fashionable romanticism inspired many an Englishman to settle in remote, scenic parts of the province. Born in 1905, Jim Spilsbury’s parents brought the infant son to Savary Island, 8 kilometres off BC’s mainland coast and 200 kilometres north of Vancouver, where they lived in a tent. There he learned about isolation in a sparsely-populated province. As a young man he apprenticed on a merchant ship. It was a miserable, lonely time. His only friend was the ship’s radio operator, who taught him the basics. He saw an opportunity: traveling up and down the BC coast in a boat, selling and servicing radios to isolated camps and settlements. Spilsbury did well, but traveling was maddeningly slow. So he bought a small float plane. As a sideline, he offered to transport passengers as well as radio parts. What started as a sideline became Queen Charlotte Airlines. By the time it was sold to Pacific Western in 1955, it was the third largest airline in Canada.
A CIVILIZED RESULT
The fraser river strike of 1900 marked the beginning of true union organization in the BC fishing industry, and a big step toward racial harmony. The canners wanted a price cut to 15 cents a fish. The newly-formed BC Fisherman’s Union resolved to overcome lingering racist sentiments of the day and fight. A rally behind the canneries along the Fraser River featured a parade of over a thousand, led by the Port Simpson Indian Brass Band and addressed by a charismatic native agitator named Nedddiahl. Alarmed by this unprecedented display of solidarity, cannery operators convinced the BC government to muster troops – who became known as the “Sockeye Fusiliers”. When the militia arrived, striking fishers surrounded their camp, singing a parody of Soldiers of the Queen. A tense situation, but reason prevailed, with a compromise at 19 cents.
A Human Paradox
Born into a poor Quaker family in Ontario, H.R. MacMillan studied forestry and became fascinated by the BC rainforest. As BC's first chief forester, he argued passionately against unlimited industrial expansion. Then he went into business for himself. During World War II, he shipped Sitka spruce from the Queen Charlotte Islands for fighter planes. After the war, he became a timber baron. At six-foot-four, with piercing blue eyes, he even looked the part. By 1958, his company controlled nearly a million acres of forest. When Macmillan merged with Prentice Bloedel, MacMillan Bloedel became one of the largest forest companies in the world. In later life, he argued passionately for an end to corporate domination of logging rights, and more participation by small, independent companies.
A Most Singular Man
In 1858, William Smith migrated to Vancouver Island from the California gold rush and changed his name to Amor de Cosmos (“Lover of the Universe,”) over a century before the era of draft-dodgers and flower-power. In Victoria, he founded the Daily Columnist and became a fearless critic of an undemocratic colonial administration. He ran for the Legislative Assembly, promoting the union of Vancouver Island and British Columbia, and BC's entry into the Canadian confederation. He took the issues personally, breaking into tears whilst speaking and engaging in fistfights on Victoria's streets. In 1872, he became the province's second premier. At the age of 70, he was declared “of unsound mind.” He died in this sad state, leaving behind one of the finest libraries in BC.
A Much-Loved Gentleman
Born in Barbados in 1865, Seraphim “Joe” Fortes wound up in Vancouver after surviving a shipwreck, and worked as a bartender in Gastown. Once a competitive swimmer, he loved English Bay and became its unofficial lifeguard, living in a tent on the beach. Eventually, he was made a special constable on what became known as “Joe's Beach.” For over 35 years, he taught countless children to swim, saved over 100 lives, and became a legend. His funeral was the most attended in Vancouver's history. A branch of the public library bears his name; so does a popular restaurant. In 1986, he was named Vancouver's “Citizen of the Century.” A fountain dedicated to him is the perfect height for a child, and inscribed: Little Children Loved Him.
A Radical Woman
Born in England, Helena Rose Gutteridge broke off all contact with her family at the age of 13 because they disapproved of higher education for girls. A union organiser and a militant suffragette, in 1911 she arrived in Vancouver to work as a tailoress and formed the Women's Vancouver League, dedicated to “obtaining the vote for women on the same terms as it is granted to men.” The only woman in the Vancouver Trades and Labour Council, she helped bring about BC's first minimum wage act. As the first woman elected to Vancouver City Council, she pursued two issues: “white slavery” — the abduction of young women for prostitution — and a lack of affordable housing in Vancouver's East End — “hovels utterly unfit for human habitation.” Issues that haunt us still.
And He Loved The Sea
Tom McGrath was 15 when he joined the Canadian Merchant Marine and the Canadian Seamen's Union in the middle of the Second World War. Canadian merchant seamen had a casualty rate greater than the armed forces, yet the government withheld their recognition as war veterans, because they were unionised. McGrath fought this injustice all his life, and many others. He became one of the most beloved leaders in the BC Labour movement. After the Second Narrows Bridge disaster, he defied government, the courts and his own union for the safety of the workers. He took up causes other labour leaders wouldn't touch: poverty; underpaid female clerks and bank employees; maltreated foreign seamen in Canadian ports. One freighter, whose Filipino crew hadn't been paid for weeks, displayed a hand-painted sign over the deck: “We need you, Tom McGrath.” A giant of a man, at five-foot-four.
As Far As The Eye Can See
When Jerome and Thaddeus Harper failed to find gold, they decided to strike it rich by supplying beef to the miners. The brothers rode south to Oregon, assembled a herd, drove it north, and sold it for ten times the price. Then, about 400km northeast of Vancouver, they discovered grass as far as the eye could see: ideal cattle country. Gang Ranch became one of the largest, most famous ranches in the world, with over a million acres of land. Hard times led to its sale in 1891, to one of a long series of owners, including a sheik from Saudi Arabia. As of 2010, Gang Ranch functions as a working ranch and a tourist destination.
Damned If You Do, Damned If You Don’t
Fresh off an election victory in 1983, the BC government tabled a breathtaking series of 26 bills slashing social services, public schools, and the rights of trade unions. There had been no hint of a “restraint” programme during the election. A furious backlash developed against BC's “Reagan Revolution” that became known as “Solidarity” after the movement in Poland. For the first time, unions and social activists found a common cause. Yet the conflict threatened to destabilise a democratically elected government, cripple the economy, and poison the working environment for years to come. The thankless job of peacemaker fell to Jack Munro, president of the IWA. At a private meeting, Munro and the Premier reached a handshake deal that averted disaster and infuriated activists of all stripes.
England’s Loss, BC’s Gain
Born into a working-class family in Blackpool, England, Michael Smith attended superior schools and received his PhD in chemistry — on scholarships, all the way. He obtained a fellowship to the University of British Columbia in 1956, and stayed until his death in 2000. Britain's loss was our gain. He discovered how to form mutated genes by rearranging the molecules from which they are made. This gave scientists the precise tools they needed to develop organisms with special qualities, and to correct bad mutations that cause diseases such as cancer. In 1993, he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for Chemistry. He donated his Nobel winnings to schizophrenia research, and to the advancement of Canadian women in science.
Gentle and Invisible
A leader among Japanese-Canadian fishers, in 1938, Tatsuro “Buck” Suzuki initiated an unprecedented alliance with white fishers, at the age of 22. Then came Pearl Harbour and the expulsion of Japanese-Canadians from the coast. Deported to Ontario and ineligible to serve Canada, he was asked by the British Army to volunteer for intelligence work in Asia. He served in Singapore, in a British uniform, investigating Japanese war crimes. After the war, he somehow forged a partnership with the United Fishermen and Allied Workers Union; Japanese fishermen could return home to the BC coast as equals with union support. He became an early environmentalist, campaigning against the pollution of fish habitat — the fisher's livelihood. The T. Buck Suzuki Environmental Foundation continues his work and memory.
His Remarkable Run
Terry Fox, from Port Coquitlam, was studying to become a physical education teacher when he was diagnosed with bone cancer and told that his right leg must be amputated. At the age of 18. He resolved to run from coast to coast — a marathon a day with a prosthetic leg — to raise $1 from each Canadian for cancer research. In the summer of 1980, he ran from Atlantic Canada to Ontario. Thousands cheered him along the way, but he was forced to stop near Thunder Bay, Ontario after 143 days and 5,373 kilometres (3,339 miles.) His cancer had spread, and would take his life. Even so, his Marathon of Hope raised $24.17 million — $1 from every Canadian. Today his achievement is celebrated in the annual Terry Fox Run, the largest fundraising event for cancer research in the world.
Lest they forget
In 1997, citizens of Cumberland, Vancouver Island, brought back the Bean Supper: commemorating a walkout, 85 years earlier, over the firing of a safety committee reporting explosive gas. It's a tragic paradox: mines that deliver the best coal produce the deadliest gas. Cumberland's mines produced superb coal; they killed, on long-term average, a man a month. In the 1907 strike, as a negotiating tactic, the owners evicted strikers from company housing, just as winter was on its way, forcing families to live in tents on the beach. As a compassionate gesture, and to prevent disease and starvation on “Strikers' beach,” the provincial government sent a trainload of dried navy beans. Big Strike Beans kept them alive over the long winter. These and similar events remind Cumberland of its roots, and how tough it can get.
Lloyd’s Ambulance
In a province four times the size of Great Britain, providing emergency medical services used to depend on people like Lloyd O'Brien. After losing a leg in a railway accident while in his twenties, Lloyd became a part-time ambulance driver in Burnaby. In 1958 he moved to Sicamous, on the route of the new Trans-Canada Highway, where he owned the only station wagon in town. With some first aid experience and his station wagon, O'Brien qualified as the town's only ambulance service. The police loaned him a siren and a light, and he was in business, at $5 a rescue. In 1963, a used Pontiac Hearse became the first dedicated ambulance of the Kinsman Community Volunteer Ambulance Service, and Lloyd's station wagon retired to private life.
Patron Saint of the Okanagan
A missionary who served during the “Indian Wars” in the Oregon Territory, Father Charles Pandosy, arrived near what is now Kelowna, BC in 1859, after US troops accused him of conspiring with the Yakima Nation. A powerful man with a booming voice, he served as doctor, teacher, lawyer, orator, botanist, musician (he played the French horn), and sports coach. Known to settle arguments with his fists, he spoke several native languages and maintained that the indifference of First Nations to Christianity resulted from the un-Christian behaviour of the whites. A fan of the “cup that cheers,” he grew the first grapes in the region, and is regarded as the father of a major BC industry that produces a huge variety of award-winning wines.
Plowshares into Swords
Like all smelters, consolidated mining and smelting produced sulfur in its Trail BC operation, which it made into fertilizer as one of the largest suppliers in North America. Until it joined the Manhattan Project. By 1941, the US military believed it could make a war-ending blast by atomic fission, using “heavy water,” whose atoms, when split, could produce a nuclear chain reaction. As a by-product, the Trail plant generated elemental hydrogen — essential to heavy water. The only comparable source was in Norway, under German control. CS&S agreed, for millions of dollars, to build a heavy water plant: the top secret “Project 9.” The result: Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
The Power of Water
Water is a crucial resource in any era. Gold miners forced it through water cannons, washing away entire watersheds searching for ore. Early dams exterminated salmon runs. Log drives destroyed riverbeds for miles. In the 20th century, hydroelectric power surpassed coal as an energy source. Rock workers built ever-larger dams to power industries and cities, submerging whole communities, creating new ones. In 1968, the WAC Bennett Dam flooded two massive valleys, drowning First Nations land and creating the ninth-largest reservoir in the world. By the turn of the 21st century, BC could count on clean, renewable energy for 90% of its power needs. A blessing, but at a cost. To mitigate further damage, salmon rivers and heritage river systems are now officially protected.
A Revolution In A Wire
Until the 1860s, information travelled about 100 miles a day; with the telegraph, it became instant. The telegraph was the internet of its day. In 1865, Western Union had a vision: to string a wire from San Francisco to Alaska, across the Bering Strait to Siberia, then to Europe — linking the Western world. Crews pushed north from New Westminster. “Siberia is paradise compared to this,” complained an engineer. Then, near Alaska, word arrived of the completed transatlantic cable. Work stopped cold. But the need for connection remained, and so did demand. Unionised telecommunications workers became the highest paid in North America. Today, BC employs the most advanced communications systems on the continent. Once a revolution, now a must.
Riches, For Some
The 1890s saw a mining boom in the Kootenay Mountains. By 1895, over 4,000 claims had been staked. Miners earned under 25 cents for a 10-hour day, for some of the most deadly work in the world — by falling rock explosions, noxious gas, and lung disease. The owners, mostly foreign, didn't care. In 1895, this was read in the BC Legislature: “If a miner is so much machinery or an animal, then there is no quarrel over how many hours he shall work. Conceding him to be a human being, able to read, think, and appreciate the good things of life, then we contend that 8 hours are sufficient for men to work underground.” The 8-hour day became law in 1899.
Sometimes You Win
The 1967 strike by BC Interior Woodworkers was a nerve-wracking process lasting seven months. The aim was for wages equal to coastal contracts, to create a unified front province-wide. Employers were aghast. One company fired union supporters and turned off the heat in the bunkhouse. The union voted to strike. In Nelson, an employer advertised for “replacement workers,” but a massive rally convinced him otherwise. Still, the strike dragged through the winter. In April, a partial offer was rejected by a higher number than the original strike vote. The employers backed down and the strike was settled, but at a cost in ruined lives on both sides. Yet compared to earlier times, it was remarkably peaceful. No riots, no thugs, no violence, just determination and nerve.
Spirits in Motion
If you sustained a spinal cord injury prior to World War II, your chances of surviving longer than three years stood at 20%. Ten years later, you stood an 80% likelihood of a full life expectancy, thanks to wheelchair sports as well as medical advances. Originally designed in England as therapy for wounded veterans in 1944, BC followed in 1950 with a wheelchair basketball team, the Powerglides. As the first of their kind, the chief problem was a complete lack of opponents. So they played a series of 75 games against able-bodied players in Canada and the US. They set a record of 74 wins and one loss, and were invited to play with the Harlem Globetrotters. Renamed the Cable Cars in 1970, two of its members were Rick Hansen and Terry Fox.
Telling It Like It Was
In 1919, Ethel Johns arrived from Winnipeg to become the first nursing director of the University of BC. Viewing the nurse's status in medical institutions as a mode of discrimination like race and class, she developed a five-year degree programme in nursing, the first in the British Empire. In 1925, she was hired by the Rockefeller Foundation to study the status of black nurses in the USA. Her report caused a furor: “Until American society opens its doors to black nurses, the best that can be done is to give these women such opportunity as their own institutions can reasonably be expected to provide.” Her study proved so alarming it was shelved in the basement of the Rockefeller headquarters for almost 60 years.
The Bishop’s Miraculous Machine
The hand-cranked French printing press was already 100 years old when Bishop Demers imported it from California in 1858. Edited by Count Paul de Garro, a French political refugee, it produced the first French newspaper, Le Courrier de la Nouvelle Calédonie, and the first book printed in B.C. It printed the Daily Colonist (still in circulation), then a competing newspaper, the Evening Express. When that failed, men carried it in pieces to Bakerville, at the height of the gold rush, to print the Caribou Sentinel. Bakerville burned to the ground, but the press miraculously survived, migrating to Kamloops to print the Inland Sentinel. The less fortunate Count de Gareau was on a steamer headed for Bakerville when the boiler blew up, killing him instantly.
The Eye and the Compass
In 1979, Jeffrey Ballard founded Ballard Power Systems, based in Burnaby, B.C., which designs fuel cells combining hydrogen and oxygen to produce electricity, powering engines whose only effluent is water. As the father of the industry, Time Magazine named him “Hero for the Planet” in 1999. Firoz Rasul oversaw the sale of Ballard fuel cells to Ford and Daimler while expanding to other applications: material handling equipment and buses; heat and power units for homes; generators for Asian markets where electricity is limited and unreliable. Mr. Ballard died in 2008. Rasul left Ballard in 2003 and became president of Aga Khan University, establishing teaching sites in Asia and Africa. Having championed a misunderstood technology, he now combats misunderstanding of Islam.
The Long Ride Home
Rick Hansen, from the Cariboo, was a star athlete in Williams Lake, when he was thrown from the back of a truck at the age of 15. Paralyzed from the waist down, he proceeded to win national championships in wheelchair volleyball and basketball, 19 international marathons, a Gold, Silver, and Bronze in the 1980 Paralympics, and Gold and Silver medals in 1984. In 1985, he embarked on The Man in Motion World Tour to raise awareness of the abilities of people with spinal cord injuries. The world took notice as he logged over 40,000 km (25,000 miles) through 34 countries on four continents, then across Canada, raising $26 million for spinal cord injury-related programs. A married father of three, he continues to generate millions for SCI research and quality of life programs. Like Terry Fox, he is a national hero, coast to coast.
The Politics of Fairness
Mary Ellen Smith was the first female member and Cabinet Minister of the B.C. Legislature, the first female Speaker in the British Empire. Married to a minor who became B.C.'s Minister of Finance in 1916, while campaigning for him she raised money for war veterans and blind children. When he died in 1917, she ran to succeed him on the slogan, “Women and Children First,” and was elected by a wide margin. She introduced a minimum wage law for women, established juvenile courts allowing women to sit as judges, created social welfare for deserted wives, passed laws protecting women in the workplace, and established a pension for mothers. “Not only did the women stand behind me — but the men were there too.”
The Will of a Fearless Man
Diagnosed at a time when AIDS was both a death sentence and a stigma, Dr. Peter Jepson-Young devoted his remaining days to putting a human, rational, public face to the disease. In 1990, he began The Dr. Peter Diaries on CBC TV News, in which he shared his experiences and insights, both as a doctor and patient, as his condition deteriorated. For 111 episodes, he looked straight into the camera and spoke, fearlessly and often humorously, about sexual orientation, misconceptions about AIDS, and the terrible reality of his blindness, his disfiguring symptoms, his inevitable demise. His video diary became The Broadcast Tapes of Dr. Peter, nominated for an Academy Award in 1994 for Best Documentary. His work inspired the Dr. Peter Center, providing healthcare and support to people living with HIV and AIDS. As he said near the end: “The energy that is me will not be lost.”
To See What’s Before Us
Philip Keatley created a TV series that starred British Columbians and formed the talent and technical base for BC's billion-dollar film industry. Caribou Country (1959–67) was the first Canadian series shot where the stories actually occurred — the Chilcotin Plateau in central BC — and the first to provide roles for local actors. One of his discoveries, Chief Dan George, received an Academy Award nomination at 71. Keatley also helmed The Beachcombers (1971–1990), the longest-running drama series on Canadian TV. Shot in Gibson’s, a short ferry ride north of Vancouver, at its peak, 1.9 million viewers saw the show each week — 25% of the Canadian TV audience. Like its producer, it was very Canadian. No violence. The local RCMP officer never fired a shot.
Unfair
When BC agreed to join Confederation in 1871, one condition was that the federal government build a railway linking B.C. with eastern Canada. Ottawa insisted on employing Chinese workers to minimise labour costs. Thousands were brought in from California and from China by ship. Chinese labourers worked the most dangerous sections of the railway. Legend has it that one Chinese died for every foot of construction in the Fraser Canyon. They lived in tents with no protection against falling rocks, mudslides, and weather. Explosions and other construction accidents claimed many lives, and hundreds died of scurvy. For this, they were paid $1 a day, when workers of other races received three times that amount. From this, each man deducted 2.5% of his wages for the labour contractor, and repaid the cost of his transportation. They hoped to escape poverty back home. With expenses, they were lucky to save $40 a year.