Tributes
Fred Vetsch: 900,000 Loaves Later
Low Down to Hull and Back News, April 3, 1986
For the past fifteen years, Au Rouet, the famous bake shop on Highway 105 at Farm Point, has provided a vast array of breads, cakes, cookies and pastries, to customers who came from far and near to buy the very best there is in tantalizing delights. Oh, don’t worry, it will continue to operate and it’s business as usual under the new owners, but Fred, the master Swiss baker, who with his wife Johanna founded the landmark, has retired. Matter of fact, probably few people ever saw Fred; or maybe just the odd time as he moved around in back. But his wife, Johanna, the smiling lady with the delightful accent, was sure to serve you. If not, then her sister-in-law Heide was at hand to take your order. She’s the tall one.
Anyway, one day last week this writer sat with Fred and Johanna and chatted about their life at Au Rouet, even taking time to calculate the number of loaves of Fred’s bread that passed over the counter since Easter of 1971, when the shop first opened. Hence the title of this story.
But first, a little background on Fred, the man of many talents. Following in the footsteps of a grandfather who was a baker, Fred was apprenticed to the trade at the tender age of 14, in a Switzerland that was surrounded by the warring nations of Europe. It must have been pretty exciting in those days, especially with the frontier of Germany very close to hand. But starting work at one each morning and going through until two and three in the afternoon, didn’t give young Fred much time to wonder about the war. He said that they were always short-handed, with all the ablebodied men in the Swiss Army, which meant there was much hard work to be done. He does remember that the sacks of flour weighed 100 kilos, and that it was one of the apprentices’ jobs to lug the stuff around to where it was needed by the baker! Two hundred and twenty pounds on your back is not easily forgotten.
After graduation Fred spent two years as a baker before going back to technical school in Bern to become a machinist by war’s end. So, at least Fred was pretty well equipped to face the challenge of life in Canada where he immigrated in 1950. Both Fred and Johanna can’t really pinpoint the reason for coming to Canada, although he did suggest there was “no elbowroom in Switzerland.”
In 1950 they arrived in Montreal where Fred easily got work as a pastry cook, although he only spoke German. Naturally, he learned French at that time. Two years later they came to Ottawa where he worked briefly for Morrison and Lamothe bakery. But he got rather perturbed at having, as he puts it, “to make pies with a machine,” so he put on his other hat and started work at Instruments Ltd., in the machine shop.
It should be added that the Vetschs originally lived at Pink’s Lake in an NCC house. This was pre-Gatineau Parkway, and with its construction in 1958, they had to move. As Fred said, he went to see old Col. Macintyre, who drove them up and down the Gatineau until he showed them a house on Carman Road. Fred said, “It only took us two minutes to decide, in spite of the fact we only had $500 in the bank.” Fred was always a strong union man and during his seven years at Instruments Ltd. he was actively engaged in unionizing the plant workers; but it was hard to get wages much over 95 cents per hour. Matter of fact, it was the realization that he wasn't getting anywhere that prompted his move to Ashton Press. Fred put it like this, “The starter-motor on my old car burned out and it cost $18 to fix it, when all I had was $20. It was either sell the house or get a better-paying job. So since Johanna wouldn’t hear of me selling the house, I went out to Ashton Press, where I was told I could start work in ten minutes.” Johanna confirmed that times were pretty tough in those days, especially with three kids and not enough money. Ashton Press was kind to Fred and he was able to pick up a lot of overtime, since the plant ran 24 hours on only two shifts.
A little over three years later Fred joined the Commercial Products Division of Atomic Energy of Canada Limited, which manufactured medical equipment, especially for the treatment of cancer. Of course, Fred was still very active in workers’ organizations, and served with distinction as the president of the Atomic Energy Workers’ Union for four years. He was also a founding member of the local chapter of the New Democratic Party.
In 1971 it was decided that they would open a shop in the area near their home, principally to give Johanna an outlet for her talents as a jewellery maker, but also to serve as a souvenir shop. She named the store Au Rouet, or spinning wheel, to reflect her interest in weaving, and also show off her large collection of spinning wheels. Oddly enough, it was never intended that the place should become a bakery! As it happened, Fred baked pastry and rolls on weekends, just for the love of the dough. As the customers grew, he found himself coming off his 2 a.m. shift and going to Au Rouet to bake up a storm. He said, himself, that he never intended to bake bread, but the demand was there, so he did!
It was in their second year of operation that Fred had to make a decision. Should he quit his job as a machinist and go back to baking full-time? He gambled on the latter course, and the rest is history. The business kept growing as demand for his bakery goods was ever on the rise, until he was forced to add another kitchen stove, and then yet another until he had three stoves going full blast! In those days, he mixed his dough by hand. His innate caution and anti-credit ethic prevented him from buying a commercial mixer on terms.
Eventually, he went out and bought, as he describes it, a clunker, which gave up the ghost after a year or so of fitful operation. He tells the tale something like this: “The Hobart foodmixer salesman used to come in every couple of weeks to try and sell me a new mixer. He was very persistent, but so was I, and I didn’t buy; until one day my clunker broke down. I took the main gearbox apart and found it contained only Vaseline and saw-dust as lubricant! I was so mad that I said to Johanna that all I needed now was to have the damn Hobart salesman walk in. And sure enough, he did!” Anyway, he ended up getting a favourable deal on a new mixer which proved its worth; especially as business increased to the point in 1973 that he had to build an addition onto the building, and add a commercial oven that would handle 300 loaves at a time. Not bad for a bakery that never was supposed to be!
Got to hand it to Fred, he has a pretty neat approach to business. He says that he never tried to compete with the big bakeries, or more correctly, “Never make anything that you don’t eat yourself.” His motto might well be: “Do your own thing.” Fred insisted that his bakery goods were made with pure flour, no additives or preservatives; and, of course, all of the pie and pastry fillings were homemade.
Before the bears got all his beehives and smashed them up, they had their own honey for sale in Au Rouet. And, aside from being one hell of a fine baker, Fred is a craftsman extraordinaire. His woodwork is top-notch, especially the toys that he builds for his grandchildren. And one day, maybe for the public. He’s thinking about going commercial with his wood products, too. Fred is also a model train buff and has a whole room in his house reserved for his setup. Perhaps he might even figure out a way to hook his trains up to his computer! He is looking forward to Spring when he can get up to his property in Bishop’s Manor, where he has erected a cottage and is in the process of building a new house, which he hopes to complete at his leisure.
While the tradition of excellent baking will live on at Au Rouet under the ownership of Brian Davies and Brian Collins, and their wives, it’s kind of nice to see that Fred and Johanna will enjoy their retirement. Providing, of course, somebody can figure out a way to come up with a 64-hour day to allow them to do all the things they want to do in their leisure time.