Tributes
Lorne Brown: A Wakefield Legend
The Low Down to Hull and Back News, August 22, 1985
If you could capture laughter on paper, you'd have the essence of Lorne Brown! He's the old fellow with the staff or cane frequently seen shuffling his way around Wakefield, or sitting on a bench in the park contemplating a brown paper bag.
Lorne is "The Watchman" in one of Wayne Rostad's sadder songs. You may have heard the words: "He wanders around this crazy old town dressed in his hand-me-down clothes."
He laughed, and he chuckled mightily, all through the time this writer sat with him in his "office" in the tavern at the Chateau Pearson Hotel. His table is right close to the door, and he sits in a chair he more or less calls his own - especially because there is a picture on the wall behind it, of himself hard at work with a snow shovel!
The song continues, "So tonight when they close the Chateaμ Pearson Hotel, he'll be the last one to close the tavern door." Lorne is pretty proud of the song, but he really can't remember hearing all of it, or any of it!
Anyway, Lorne does like to laugh, and he laughs at everything. He probably laughs at the world too, if the truth would out. His best joke could well qualify for The News' "Worst Joke of the Week." Dare we print it? It goes: "A lot of people are dying who never died before; they get short of breath!"
Nonetheless, Lorne had his 62nd birthday last week. A long 62 years since being born on a farm back in the hills at Brown's Lake. It was one of the typical 100-acre parcels of land that supported a few generations of folk like Roger and Annie Brown who raised four of their own, and when Roger passed on Annie remarried and then had four step-children to raise as well.
Aside from the farm chores he was brought up with, Lorne's first recollection of a job was, at age 13, working in Wakefield at Sully's sawmill on the cant hook. He also fed slabwood to the steam boilers at 25 cents an hour. Of course, that was before a strike when the workers held out for 35 cents - and got it too! The working day was ten hours, and at $3.50 a day, Lorne said, "We were making a small fortune!"
Another of the jobs that Lorne seemed to remember best was loading railway ties onto the Sully's three-ton truck and delivering them - 125 at a time - to the old CPR yards on Broad street in Ottawa, now long gone with the expropriation of the LeBreton Flats. Of course, the roads were all gravel in those days, but he claimed, they could make at least two trips a day. Three hours the round trip it was, not including the loading at the Wakefield end.
Another one of Lorne's early jobs was "working out," or away from the farm, plowing with a team of horses and spreading manure on the garden plots around the bigger and wealthier homes in Wakefield. He recalls that the plow was pretty heavy and with the small gardens "you lifted it a lot." He went on to say that the haying had to be done in the evenings when he returned from working in the village all day. Speaking of haying, Lorne said the best farm job he ever had was with George Trowsse who always bought beer for the lads. "You could have beer before, or anytime. It was just great! Trowsse bet me I wouldn't last haying more than a couple of days - but I worked there a long time."
Back in 1942 he was 19 years old and was turned down for the army for his flat feet. So he went out west on one of the harvest trains. He recalls working sixteen- to eighteen-hour days, "but the pay was good," he said. Lorne also spent a couple of years working as a labourer at the old Akan plant at Farm Point. "I was a handyman, doing all kinds of jobs," he said. He worked there until it closed down.
Apparently during his early years, Lorne found no shortage of work. "Even if it was in the bush, drawing out cordwood," he said. At an enquiry as to what he did for fun as a young man, he said, with his great laugh echoing off the walls of the empty tavern at 9:30 a.m., "Running around with girls, drinking beer and fishing." He claims there were some pretty good trout to be caught in the creeks back of Masham. He won't tell where his secret spots for the best trout are. "Bring a few people in there and it'll be all fished out in no time," he said. I didn't have the heart to tell him that the fish have long gone from any of these old streams, but it probably doesn't matter to him much any more.
Lorne remembers the picture shows that were held at Earle's theatre, and he spoke fondly about the park that was back of where Hamilton Motors stands today. Perhaps the most vivid in his dimming memory is the Club House. "You know, up on the hill behind the school ... seven or eight hundred would turn out for dances. It burned down years ago," he recalled sadly. I was to learn from Ken Young later, that the hall was established in 1938 as the Wakefield Community Club, and it did indeed attract crowds of five hundred or more from all over the region to dance to the music of the Egan Brothers Band. Ken also confirmed that the Club House burned in the 1970s, and that most of the social functions for the village were held at the Club House on the hill - especially the July 1st community picnics. Hardball was also played on the ball diamond.
Still in the fun department, Lorne mentioned that a favourite watering hole was the old Wellington Hotel, next to Kelly-Leduc's hardware store in Hull. "Everyone from Wakefield would stop there for a beer," Lorne said, "all the truckers, after they dropped their loads off at Eddy's." He remarked that all the good places that he used to go to in Hull had been torn down "for the big buildings." He noted that the Ottawa House, the Standish Hotel and quite a number of other taverns that he remembers, are all gone - and he roared with laughter!
The passage of time has not been kind to Lorne: he has not been left in the best of shape. Wayne's song goes even further: "Its a wonder he's alive, yet somehow he survives, the cold, the booze and the pain." The fact is that he has very bad arthritis in his hands, and after having his feet frozen from exposure one cold winter night, he has a bit of trouble moving around, hence the long staff he uses to help him walk around the village.
Lorne says that if it hadn't been for Dr. Hans Geggie he would be a cripple. "I was in the hospital for a long time and Dr. Hans fixed me up," he said. There's a story that Lorne had his feet run over by a car when they were frozen, but he can't recall details of the incident.
Actually there are many stories about Lorne and his bad luck. Wayne's story has a good sum-up line: "He was a loser all his life." He used to sleep outside with his back up against the warm brick ovens at Orme's Bakery. These were the days before he acquired, as the song goes: "his trailer home shack, that's parked down at Dalton's garage."
But for all of it he is indeed a great fellow; there is not a person with whom I have spoken who has an unkind word for Lorne - except, maybe to stay "upwind of the fellow." He is beloved in the village. Josie Pearson, of Pearson's Hotel, has taken him under her wing, in that she looks after his finances. He gives her his monthly welfare cheque, and she sees that his needs are met, making sure he has food, cigarettes, and the rest. "No more blowing the pay in one day," she said. Lorne didn't say much about this arrangement, but from the warm banter that went on between Lorne and Josie, it was apparent that he was quite content and glad to have the help of this warm and kind-hearted lady.
Under the ragged and somewhat soiled appearance of Lorne Brown beats a true heart of gold. If there was only some way to bottle laughter and give it out to the sour and humourless folk of the world, old Lorne would surely have made his mark!