Audio Recordings

Part 1

Interviewer:  “What is your name and date of birth?”

Mr. Cowley:  “John Augustus Ellis Cowley.  Born July 23, 1882 and living still!”

Interviewer:  “Yes, very much alive.  And what was your place of birth?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Portage.”

Interviewer:  “And what was your father’s name?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Malles Cowley, Captain Malles Cowley.  Captain of river boats.”

Interviewer:  “And do you remember when he was born or the age he was when he died?”

Mr. Cowley:  ” Born in 1847 and died in 1933.”

Interviewer:  “And your mother?”

Mr. Cowley:  “I think she was born in 1848.  She was born in Buckingham, Quebec, and she died about 1930.”

Interviewer:  “And what was her maiden name?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Her maiden name was Eaton.”

Interviewer:  “And where did the Cowleys come from originally?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Well, my grandfather was born in New Westminster, England.”

Interviewer:  “And what was his name?”

Mr. Cowley:  “His name was Daniel.  Daniel K. Cowley.  My grandmother was ninety-seven when she died.  They had six boys and four girls who were born on Clarendon Front on the old farm.”

Interviewer:  “Who were your brothers and sisters?”

Mr. Cowley:  “My oldest sister was born in Portage.  My brother Dan–he was a doctor eventually–he was born in Portage.  Mimi, she was born in Portage.  Flossie was born in Portage, and I was born in Portage.”  

Interviewer:  “You were the youngest?”

Mr. Cowley:  “No, then Hattie came along, and where the hell was Hattie born?  She was born in Clarendon.  And she’s living.  She’s the only one living.”  

Interviewer:  “Other than yourself.”

Mr. Cowley:  “Other than myself.  Oh, I’m very much alive.”  

Interviewer:  “What were your earliest memories in Clarendon?”

Mr. Cowley:  “The first thing I can recall–I don’t know how old I was…  I was damn, damn small–I can remember moving from Bristol Village up on the farm in Clarendon Front.”

Part 2

Mr. Cowley:  “And the one thing I would never forget:  My sister and I were up there alone when they were moving up, and we were sitting down on the front of the farm near the road.  And an old man come along with a red toque on and carrying something on his shoulder, and his name was Dummy Rooney.  I remember that well as if it was yesterday.  And I was scared as hell that I didn’t know who he was.”  

Interviewer:  “And he carried a slate, did he?”

Mr. Cowley:  “He carried a slate, but he didn’t stop; he went ahead.  And the next thing I always remember I went to school with my sisters.  They took me to the Clarendon school.  I was playing out in the yard with them at recess, and I threw a stone or some damn thing, and it broke a window.  I’ll never forget that.  Jim McFarlane was the teacher.  And he came to the door and he said, “Johnny, come.  Come here.”  Johnny didn’t come; Johnny went.  Just turned and run and never stopped runnin’ until I got home a mile away.  I’ll always remember.”  

lnterviewer:  “It sounds like you were a terror.”

Mr. Cowley:  “Just a general kid. Only we weren’t allowed long hair in them days.  So that’s it.”

Interviewer:  “So those were your earliest memories of the school.  What were your earliest memories of church?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Of church?  Well, my father was brought up a very strict, very strict, very strict Presbyterian.  Because that’s where you couldn’t polish your shoes on Sundays, but some of ’em drink and raise hell and tell stories about the neighbors.  My father he was naturally brought up as a Presbyterian, but when he married my mother, she had naturally more influence with him and she made him Anglican.  And I recall my early Sunday school days in Bristol in old St. Thomas Church.  I took an active part in the church work, when I got married I was church warden and so forth and took an interest.  I always have.  In Ottawa I was very active in church work.  Very active.”

Interviewer:  “Would you remember Archdeacon Naylor?”

Mr. Cowley:  ” I do.  Very, very well, yes.”

Interviewer:  “And what sort of things do you remember about his work in the parish in Clarendon?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Oh, I remember goin’ back.”

Interviewer:  “Did you hear he was well respected?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Oh, he was a wonderful man.   He used to be in charge of our church down there with the different ministers.  We used to have at that time a regular minister.  I particularly remember Reverend Dillsworth.  He was in charge of the Bristol St. Thomas, St. Luke’s and Bristol Mines.  He actually built the Bristol Mines Church, but the Mines Church, there’s no more of that there.  I was confirmed down there.”  

Interviewer:  “At St. Thomas?”

Mr. Cowley:  “No, at Bristol Mines.  By Bishop Bond.”  

Interviewer:  “Of Montreal?”

Mr. Cowley:  “That’s right.”

Part 3

Interviewer:  “Now, do you remember any teachers at school particularly?”

Mr. Cowley: ” I don’t remember actually who was my first teacher.” 

Interviewer:  “Are there any that stand out in your memory though?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Oh, Ernest Hodgins.  I’ll never forget him since he chewed tobacco.  So did we chew tobacco.”

Interviewer:  “How old were you then?”  

Mr. Cowley:  “Oh, maybe up in my teens.  Early teens  Dave McFarlane and I sat in the back seat and we’d ask to go out and he’d let us out and we’d go to his overcoat in the hall and he had chewing tobacco there and we’d chew back there.  I remember that!”

Interviewer:  “That’s what kept your teeth so clean chewing all that tobacco.”

Mr. Cowley:  “Well, we’d stay around, keep it in our mouths.  We had a bottle, and we’d spit in it.  One day I remember it upset the bottle.  Went all on the floor.  I think Ernie Hodgins was my first teacher.  And we became very, very close friends.  Many years after he went to Aylmer; he was the principal at Aylmer school.  Ernie and I spent a great deal of our lives fishing down on the Ottawa River.  And then I recall vividly Amanda Campbell.  And Amanda, she married Bob Dobson.  And I think Amanda was my last teacher.”  

Interviewer:  “How far did you go in school?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Oh, I went to school until Matric.”

Interviewer:  “That must have been quite an accomplishment in those days.”

Mr. Cowley:  “Then I went to Ottawa Business College and took a business course there.”

Interviewer:  “When would that have been?”

Mr. Cowley:  “That was in the early nineties.  No, 1900.”  

Interviewer:  “You would have been eighteen.”

Mr. Cowley:  “In 1900 I worked in Braeside.  A dollar and a quarter a day, six days a week, from seven in the morning ’til six at night.  And I saved a hundred dollars that year, and I put that into going to business college.” 

“And Amanda Campbell, she was the only teacher that ever punished me.  And I can recall it today.  There were a couple of girls sitting ahead of me.  Dave McFarlane was there; I was here.  I touched Lily Thompson ahead of me on the shoulder, she turned around, and I kissed her!  (Chuckles.)  And Amanda saw us.   ‘Johnny!  You shouldn’t do that.  Out to the hall.’  Took me out with the strap.  ‘Put out your hand.’”

Part 4

Mr. Cowley:  “I laid out my hand, and she laid the strap quietly across it, and said, ‘Now don’t do that anymore.’   The only reason I thought she was mad was because I didn’t kiss her!  So that’s pretty well it about school.”

Interviewer:  “What school was that?”

Mr. Cowley:  “The one up in Clarendon, after I got through the elementary in Bristol.  I walked three miles–morning, noon and night–for a year; that was the last grade in the school.”

Interviewer:  “And you’re still walking that far.”

Mr. Cowley:  “Oh yes, but I drive sometimes.”

Interviewer:  “But you like to walk.”

Mr. Cowley:  “Didn’t want to take the old horse out.  Quite an experience.  I remember it.”

Interviewer:  “Which businesses do you remember best in the area, in Shawville and Bristol?  As a child, which ones do you recall?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Well. G.F. Hodgins.  When I was in business in Bristol–the opposition in fact–Bob Woolsey at Ben Hodgins’ would help me in any possible way he could.”  

Interviewer:  “He was a good-natured man?”

Mr. Cowley:  “He wasn’t opposition; he was a help.  Some things he’d give me good bargains; he’d give me a price–Ben Hodgins would–practically what he paid for it.  He was very nice.  He had a big store.  Then he got into politics.”  

Interviewer:  “He ran as Liberal?”

Mr. Cowley:  “He was Liberal; oh yes.  And his brother, Bill, he was Liberal, too.  He was elected.  Provincial.  Tommy Shore was the monument guy.”

Interviewer:  “He built the churchyard monuments.  Where did he have his business?”

Mr. Cowley: ” Tommy Shore?  In Shawville on the main street.  I couldn’t just say where it was.  It’s gone now anyway.  I used to hunt with Tommy.”

Interviewer:  “You said before you remembered George Caters.”

Mr. Cowley:  “Yes.  I just remember him with his horse cart.  I really can’t say I ever had any association with him at all.”  

Interviewer:  “You said that you remember the Russell House well.”

Mr. Cowley:  “Big old McGuire.  I remember McGuire at the Russell House sittin’ out on the front veranda.  Any time I ever stayed in Shawville it was at Chris Caldwell’s place there.  And then Moody got hold of McGuire; he bought McGuire out.  But old Mac McGuire, oh yes.”  

Interviewer:  “Long beard.”

Mr. Cowley:  “Yes, long beard.  And what was the boys’ names?  I used to know them.  I was quite young then, and so were they.”  

Part 5

Mr. Cowley:  “Hodgins was the sash and door factory.  Who’s the guy in the hardware business now?”

Interviewer:  “Morley?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Morley!  I know Morley very well, and I knew his father very, very well.”

Interviewer:  “R.G.”

Mr. Cowley:  “Yes.  And then the four of them had a factory.”

Interviewer:  “Do you know where that was?”

Mr. Cowley:  “I guess where Morley is now.  I don’t know for sure.”

Interviewer:  “You said you remembered Ralph Hodgins’s brickyard.” 

Mr. Cowley:  “Oh, yes, I remember that, out on the Heath Road, quite well.”

Interviewer:  “Do you remember any story particularly about the village of Shawville?  Do you recall the Mike Murphy murders?”

Mr. Cowley:  “I remember that well.”

Interviewer:  “What do you recall most?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Well. I remember we went fishing that night.  They used to tease the poor ol’ fella.  And he got off pretty well.  Only he made a mistake.  At the trial I think he lied,  They knew that he killed the boys, Dale, and who was the other one?”

Interviewer:  “Harry Howes.”

Mr. Cowley:  “Yes, two of them were killed.  And Peter Smiley, he just missed it by a whisker.  He was there.”

Interviewer:  “Did you attend the trial, Mr. Cowley?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Oh, no, no.  We were in Bryson and had no way of getting up there.  Horse and buggy.  It was too far to go.  But we were interested in it.  And I in particular.  But really I wasn’t old enough to realize what it was all about.  But I was sympathetic to this old man Murphy.  They shouldn’t have been there, but we did the same thing ourselves, teased old people and so on like that.”

Interviewer:  “You mentioned that you and your family had a lot to do with the Clarendon Front and that your father was a steamboat captain.  What do you remember about the river through the years?”

Mr. Cowley:  “The river?  I know the river from Fitzroy Harbor to Fort Coulonge.”  

Interviewer:  “Like the back of your hand.”

Mr. Cowley:  “I was on the survey for the CNR coming through Bristol.  I was on the survey for the Georgian Bay Canal from Arnprior to Pembroke practically.”  

Interviewer:  “Did you ever help your father when he was working?”

Mr. Cowley:  “No, no.  He got out.  The steamboat business was all over even before I got into my teenage years.”  

Interviewer:  “Do you remember when the Pontiac Pacific Junction Railway came through, the PPJ?”

Mr. Cowley:  “No.”

Interviewer:  “It would have been when you were very small.”

Mr. Cowley:  “Yes, yes.  It was a long time ago.  But what I do remember vividly about the PPJ was the comment about the Bonus.  Every person knew all about the Bonus.”

Interviewer:  “And what did they use to say at that time about the Bonus?”

Mr. Cowley:  “There was a lawsuit.”

Interviewer:  “A very large lawsuit.”

Mr. Cowley: ” Oh, it was.  And they lost it to Pontiac, lost it.  They had to pay.”

Part 6

Mr. Cowley:  “I read something about that not too long ago.  But I do recall some of the election campaigns.  When the Brysons were in politics up here, Bryson got up at a meeting and some person in the back would get up and say, ‘There goes the Bonus again.’”

Interviewer:  “The Brysons were very prominent in politics in the area.” 

Mr. Cowley:  “”Very prominent people in politics.  I think they got to be fairly well off financially, too.  Oh, very rich people.”

Interviewer:  Which individuals in the towns around do you recall?  You mentioned you recalled George Caters, but who did you know well at the time and the time of your childhood?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Well, as far as the individuals I would principally know those who lived in Bristol because Bristol Corners was my hometown practically.  That was our post office, church, and everything.  I can recall the McKillops.  Daniel McKillop was a fine old man.  He made me my first hockey stick.  And then there was Niimi McKillop and his brother.  He made his own monument; it was up in the summer, up here.  And I knew John Ramsey.  He was the secretary of Bristol; he was drowned in Phillips Lake.  And the Kriegs.  Prominent people up in Bristol.   I knew them well.  Tom Krieg, he moved out of Bristol and went to Kingston and started a store.  And the McKillops, all the McKillops.  The McLouds.  The Morrisons.  Davy Morrison, the tailor, Sammy Morrison, the shoemaker, George Krieg, the tinsmith, Dougal McKillop, another tinsmith, Harry Roberson, a tinsmith.”

Interviewer:  “Why is it there were so many tinsmiths in Bristol Corners?  How many were there?”

Mr. Cowley:  “There was Dougal, McKillop, Harry Roberson, two tinsmiths, and then there was George Krieg, the shoemaker, and Sammy Roberson, another shoemaker.”

Interviewer:  “It sounds like it was a very prosperous settlement at the time.”

Mr. Cowley:  “Bristol.  The big town on the Front here.  When the CPR came to Sand Point, it stopped there.  And then Janet Craig would bring it up…”

Interviewer:  “What was the name?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Janet Craig.  That was the last steamer on the lake.  And Bristol was the center where they’d all come there.  The Gillis brothers would bring their supplies from headquarters up to Sand Point by train, and all the farmers through this section would portage that stuff up to their limits in the winter months on sleighs.”  

Interviewer:  “The mail as well as the lumber?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Oh, everything!  Then the PPJ come in.  It built Bristol.  It built Shawville.  And then the CNR come in, and it didn’t do Bristol any good either.  They just go right through as fast as they could go.  But Bristol was a thriving town.  Everything in it.  A whole town.  They had whiskey, sell whiskey there.  They had a tannery, tanning skins, you know?  They had a factory for making furniture.  It wasn’t going when I remember it.  But I know the site where it was.”  

Interviewer:  “And where was that?”

Mr. Cowley:  “It was right opposite St. Thomas’ Church ‘cross the road on that creek there.”  

Interviewer:  “And what was the name of the hotel?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Oh, it was owned by Danny McKillop, but on the tip of my tongue the man who really run it, the last man; I just forget who he was.”

Part 7

Mr. Cowley:  “And they had one, two, three, four, four general stores in Bristol at one time.”  

Interviewer:  “What do you remember about the life of the town?  Was it very rowdy?  Were the people who came in on the steamers lively?”

Mr. Cowley: “No, no.  Bristol had one of the best football teams in the whole Pontiac, farmer boys.  They had a crackerjack lacrosse team.  And Clarendon Front–that’s in my father’s day; he played cricket–they had a good cricket team.  All farm boys.  Now these farm boys around here, they were very, very active, but nothing dirty; it was just clean fun.  Full of hell.  The Youngs, and the Reeds, and the Russells, and all these.  We called them the ‘North Flood.’   They started out–every person came into Bristol–and you could hear they gathered together up around old Number One School, and then we could hear them coming, shouting, and we’d say, ‘Here comes the North Flood.’   And they raised hell around Bristol.  Nothing mean, you know, just fun.  And they’d all gather around Kreigs’ store, and away they’d go.  You could hear them shout.  It was funny,”

Interviewer:  “Did you have many dances?”

Mr. Cowley:  “When I worked in Braeside one year, 1900, you’d take a boat and come up here to Bristol Wharf–after six, you’re through work–you’d come up here to Bristol Wharf, walk back in the country to a dance and then back home.  Just get there in time to change your clothes and go to work.  That was the kind of fun.  Dances, oh, God.  Dances.  It used to be one whale of a place down here in Bristol.  That was the fun we had, but there was one thing about it I can recall.  If you took a drink, no girls wouldn’t dance with you.  They didn’t want to dance with you.  Drinking, no, no liquor.”  

Interviewer:  “There was no liquor at all?”

Mr. Cowley:  “No, no.  But it gradually got in.  But in my early days you never thought of drinking liquor.”  

Interviewer:  “What events in your life, in the history of the area, are most vivid in your memory?   Fires?  Do you remember any particular disasters in the area?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Only when I got married.  (Laughs.)  No, no, I don’t remember anything.  I remember the Ottawa fire, the big fire in Ottawa.  Sittin’ out on the hotel veranda with my father and old Danny McKillop and saw the reflection of the fire away down fifty miles away you know.  But the Portage fire, it was a bad fire.  I recall that.”  

Interviewer:  “Do you recall the Shawville fire of 1906?”

Mr. Cowley:  “No, I don’t remember the fire in Shawville.”

Interviewer:  “Or the fires that burned down the hotels?  Do you recall either of those?”

Mr. Cowley:  “No, not particularly.  I might have been out in the city at that time, I don’t know.”

Interviewer:  “What were your usual activities as a child in the summer?  Other than working and helping out…”

Mr. Cowley:  “Well, I played baseball.  We won a championship of Pontiac, beat Shawville out.  That was an accomplishment.  It was a Hodgins pitcher, a left-handed pitcher.  We won that.  I played football.  Soccer.  I played soccer.”  

Interviewer:  “Hockey?”

Mr. Cowley:  “And I played hockey.  And I played lacrosse.” 

Interviewer:  “What type of hockey did you play?  Did you play with the team that had an extra player, the rover?”  

Mr. Cowley:  “We had a fairly good team.  We couldn’t have beat Shawville you know, but we could beat Braeside and Portage and some of these teams.  And I played everything.  And fished.”

Interviewer:  “You always loved to fish, didn’t you?”

Mr. Cowley:  “I loved to fish.  I loved to hunt.  I loved anything out of doors in sports.  That’s what saved me because I know so many, many people that worked in Ottawa particularly, civil  servants that work in Ottawa–they retire at sixty-five, got to retire at sixty-five.”

Part 8

Mr. Cowley:  “They never did anything; they never played.  And when they retired they don’t know what to do, and they die.  But I’m a lawn bowler, a pretty good lawn bowler.” 

Interviewer:  “What was the biggest fish you ever caught, Mr. Cowley?”

Mr. Cowley:  “The biggest fish I ever caught?  Oh, they were all big ones.  The biggest fish was the one I missed!  I recall in my early days, late days of my father, my father was a man that had a wonderful memory.  And he was raised and brought up in this section.  He was a captain on a lake, too, as his father was a captain.  And he knew, very well-known all over the country.  And there was a time that there was a fella, George Wilson, used to write old-time stuff for the citizenry.  And my father in many, many cases didn’t agree with him because he said he didn’t know what he was talkin’ about.  Now that’s why I’m careful about what I say since some person might disagree with me, what I say.”  

Interviewer:  “But that’s your opinion.”  

Mr. Cowley:  “But my father was very, very well-versed in Pontiac, particularly the Ottawa River.  And the mistake that I made, that I didn’t take notes of what he told me.  I could have given some very good information.  About the Frosts, the Thomsons.  Mountain Jack Thomson.  And the McFarlanes and people like that.  There were some powerful men in this section of the country.”

Interviewer:  “Do you remember any of the stories your father used to tell about these men?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Well, no, I wouldn’t.  A slight memory, but I wouldn’t like to commit myself.”

Interviewer:  “But I was thinking on the lines of legendary stories or stories that were told for fun.  In the old days people just used to sit around and spin yarns.”  

Mr. Cowley:  “Oh, no, I was too young to sit in.   But I have been told or my father telling me of some of the fights that took place on the Pontiac here, particularly in the lumber camps.  And on the river.  And things of that kind.  Joe Mufferaw, they talk about him in the song, and they talk about the Frosts, Jack Frost.  He was tellin’ me about the time Jack Frost got into a hotel with cleat boots on and kicked the ceiling, and he left the marks of his boots up on the ceiling.  They tell about Johnny Thomson, Mountain Jack Thomson.  He was a lumberman, and he’d use anything, hit them over the head with an axe or a stick or something like that.  And the McFarlanes.  Jim McFarlane, the champion fighter; that was the old man.  Then young Jim, second Jim, he would knock the head off of people.  And then the third Jim, but he was a child.  He wouldn’t fight anything.  And my father’d tell me about Jim McFarlane, the old man, he met the champion at Quebec.  And he told him–I forget the name of the champion–I know the fight was arranged between them two, and McFarlane just beat the head off ‘im.  And then the Frosts.  Larry Frost  and John Frost, and all these Frosts.  They were powerful men.  And they told me once that the Shiners were, used to come down the Shiners; I don’t know, the Shiners were prominent in Ottawa–fightin’ characters.  And they would come down through the rafts.  And they told me of one time that the Shiners come into Portage; that’s where the rapids were and the rafts come over the rapids.  And the Shiners got drinkin’ in Portage, and they beat up a crowd from Pontiac.  Orangemen.  The Shiners didn’t get along well, apparently, and they beat them up, the Orangemen up.  And they organized a crew in Shawville, and the Orangemen were all there.  They armed themselves with pitchforks and shovels and axes and guns and marched into Portage.  And they beat the tar out of these Shiners.  And they went into the hotel–the owner there was a Shiner, too–and they tore it down with a rope on the chimney and pulled it down.  Oh, beat hell out of ’em.  That was one fight he told me about.” 

Interviewer:  “Were there ever fights on the riverboats?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Fights on the river?  No.  There were these fellas who were fighters who were rough and tough and liked to fight.  He told me of the big boat, the chief, the best boat that was ever on the Ottawa River was the Prince Albert.  In the spring of the year they couldn’t go up what they called the Snow Rapids; that’s in Portage.  The boats.  They could go to Arnprior or Fitzroy up to the foot of the Snow Rapids, and then they had to portage with a horse and cart the freight up over the rapids.  Then the boats would go take it in at Portage.  They built the Prince Albert–my grandfather was one of the owners of the company at that time–and they said that the Prince Albert would go up any water, but she couldn’t make it.  You had to wait until the water got low.  Well, on this particular day the Prince Albert was loaded up with passengers or freight or stuff at Portage and would come down to Sand Point–Captain Murphy was the captain–and the rafts coming through at the same time, but the boat, they always had the right of way.  And this raft didn’t give it to ’em.  And Captain Murphy wouldn’t accept it, and he stood up and some person said, “Captain, you’re not gonna make it.”  He never spoke.  He just went straight ahead, hit the raft, knocked it up on the shore–no person killed, no person hurt–and the boat hit a rock; they call it the Princess Rock.  And it went down through the channel, and it beached in there.”    

Interviewer:  “Did they ever pull it off?”

Mr. Cowley:  “No, I don’t know.  Oh, they got it repaired I think.”  

[The tape breaks off.]

Mr. Cowley  “I’ve been to the West Coast and as far down as Mexico.”

Interviewer:  “What travelling did you do in your early days?”

Mr. Cowley:  “None.  I couldn’t afford to.  No person travelled in my early days.”  

Interviewer:  “They wouldn’t send people out west to work?  You wouldn’t go out to work on crops?”

Mr. Cowley:  “No.  I go to Florida every winter around November to May.  Been goin’ for thirty-two years now.”  

Interviewer:  “What do you think is the biggest difference between life today and life when you were a boy?  What’s the biggest thing that strikes you?”

Mr. Cowley:  “Well, there’s one thing that I do know, definitely know.  That in the early days of my life a man’s word was as good as his bond.  And I’m sorry to say that that doesn’t apply at the present time.”

     

Transcription by Sue Lisk