By Jazmine Aldrich

The spring-like February weather that the Townships region has been experiencing this year raises alarm bells regarding our changing climate – but how do we know that the climate has really changed? In order to observe a change, climate scientists must benchmark change indicators over time and demonstrate patterns. Fortunately, many diarists had thoughts of posterity when they recorded near-daily weather observations. While these observations may not always be precise measurements, they provide us with enough information to plot changing weather patterns over time.

The ETRC Archives contains many such weather observations. One of our oldest sources on the local climate is a set of three diaries dating from 1836 to 1839. The diaries originate from Lacolle and were kept by an unidentified farmer. Nearly every day, the farmer records details such as the wind direction and strength, precipitation, clouds, and relative temperature.

Susanna Pearson’s 1874 diary focuses on her day-to-day activities, but also includes recipes, poetry, and details about the weather. She was born in the state of New York and her family moved to Shefford County early in her life. Susanna was 22 years old when she kept her diary, much of which was written during her time living and working in Boston. While Susanna’s diary is not a direct source on the weather in the Eastern Townships, it does provide near-daily observations of the weather in Boston, which can serve to compare and contrast other contemporary weather sources. For example, she notes on May 14, 1874: “The sun has come out fearful hot this morning,” and, the following day, “Very warm to day but not as oppressive as yesterday.”

Archie N. Jenks of Coaticook kept a diary from 1907 to 1911, from the ages of about 18 to 22. The diary spans Jenks’ time as a student at Coaticook Academy and later, at McMaster University in Toronto. Much of his diary recounts his time spent studying and reading, but Archie still peppers in references to the weather and its impact on his life; for example, he writes on New Years’ Eve of 1907: “If it does not snow I am going skating on the rink to-night.” On February 2, 1908, he notes the “[…] terrific snow and wind storm, trains delayed, business tied up” and, on the 5th of the same month, “Water pipe frozen.” Archie even makes weather comparisons within his diary, observing that on May 29, 1907, it was “snowing a little” whereas on May 22, 1911, it was 95 degrees Fahrenheit in the shade. We can use these diaries to compare February weather over a 71-year period. The farmer observes that February of 1837 was generally quite mild, with some snow (peaking on February 24), then returning to mild weather and even some rain towards the end of the month. On the other hand, Archie Jenks’ recollections of February 1908 are that it was generally cold, with moderate temperatures and a thaw towards the middle of the month, and moderate to cold temperatures towards the end of the month. While Susanna Pearson’s observations were not local, nor were they taken in February, hers capture a summer’s worth of the east coast climate in 1874. Each of these diarists were impacted to varying degrees by the changing weather, and each diary tells its own story of our climate’s past.

By Jazmine Aldrich

What information can we glean from a family photograph album of unknown origins? Surprisingly, quite a lot!

Last summer, the ETRC received a photo album that the donor, Lisette Gagné, had purchased from an antique dealer in Ayer’s Cliff in the early 2000s. Ms. Gagné had no personal connection to the family – she simply felt that the album was an important piece of history that should be preserved.

The album consists of 216 black and white photographs, as well as one postcard. The photographs mainly depict individuals and groups of people in domestic scenes, as well as landscapes and buildings. The dates of the photographs range from about 1916 to 1958. The greatest challenge for our Archives Department team, however, is that only 24 of the 216 photographs are identified.

A few of the individuals in the photographs are identified by first and last name, including Bessie Anderson, Edna Anderson, and Helen Anderson. The photographs of the Andersons were taken in West Norfolk, Virginia. It is possible that the Andersons were southern relatives or friends of someone in the Townships and that the photographs were received and added to the family album; or, perhaps the Andersons visited Virginia in 1917, when the photos were taken. Given that we have very little information about this album, we must consider a variety of explanations.

Others identified by first and last name include Leigh Smith, Robert Peacock, and Sam Marshall.

Leigh Smith’s photograph includes an inscription, which indicates that it was taken at “Newport High” in 1937. This could refer to Newport High School in Newport, Vermont, although there are cities called Newport scattered across North America and beyond.

The photograph of Robert Peacock is dated June 14, 1937. Peacock is wearing a graduation cap and gown, standing in front of a rural scene. Could this be the same Robert J. Peacock living in Brome-Missisquoi – 66 years old at the time of the 1931 census? Unlikely, as the subject of the photograph looks considerably younger than 72 years old. Maybe, he is the Robert Peacock who lived in Fulford/Bondville at the time of the 1921 census – though he was 46 then, which would make him 62 at the time of the photograph. One is never too old to graduate but context clues lead us to believe that we do not have a match, so the search continues.

Ms. Gagné researched Samuel Marshall (1844-1937) and found that he was born in Inverness, Megantic County, and lived in Sawyerville. He married Catherine Annie Jones Edwards (1859-1949) in Lower Ireland in 1886.

Several Lennoxville scenes, including the cenotaph in the former Lennoxville Square, a covered bridge in flood, and the C.P. trestle bridge, are featured in the album. Some Sherbrooke scenes include the Soldiers’ Memorial on King Street, the Lake Park Hotel, and the Granada Theatre. Other photographs appear to have been taken around Capelton and North Hatley. Overall, we get the sense of a strong Townships connection without strong ties to any one location.

Despite all of the above information that we have gathered, we still do not know the origins of this album. All of the photographs have been scanned and uploaded to our online database, the Eastern Townships Archives Portal, and are freely available at the following address: We encourage anyone with information about any of these photographs to contact us. Together, we hope to solve this mystery! If you have any information or would like to learn more about the history of the Eastern Townships, please contact the ETRC Archives by email or by telephone at 819-822-9600, extension 2261.

By Jazmine Aldrich

We at the ETRC can hardly believe that October is almost over and 2024 is just around the corner. As we embrace the last quarter of 2023, let’s reflect on a slice of life in the 1923 Eastern Townships, 100 years ago.

In East Angus, an exciting feat of engineering was making its first appearance. The Taschereau Bridge, which replaced the Brompton Pulp and Paper Company’s bridge over the St. Francis River, was inaugurated on August 1, 1923. It was named for the Quebec Liberal and 14th Premier, Louis-Alexandre Taschereau, who served in that role from 1920 to 1936. The bridge cost nearly $200,000 (almost 3.5 million, today) and was funded by the Government of Quebec as well as the Brompton Pulp and Paper Company. Decades before the Quiet Revolution, the inauguration ceremony began with a blessing of the bridge by the Monseigneur Alphonse-Osias Gagnon – at that time, Auxiliary Bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Sherbrooke. A banquet was held, following the inauguration ceremony, and Premier Taschereau addressed the gathering about his reservations regarding the Government of Canada’s proposition to prohibit the sale of Canadian pulp to the United States. Mr. Taschereau certainly knew his audience!

Meanwhile, from August 17th to 27th, 1923, the Boy Scouts’ 2nd Sherbrooke Troop were headed to camp in Ayer’s Cliff. The direction of the camp was under former District Scoutmaster, Peter M. Dennis, with Troop Leader Lynn Trussler serving as assistant director. The tents were supplied by the army courtesy of Colonel John J. Penhale. Aside from their regular scout training, the camp included swimming, campfire singalongs, hikes, fishing, baseball, and plenty of other activities. The camp was open to all scouts of the Eastern Townships, ranging from other Sherbrooke troops to Coaticook scouts, and even some boys who were not yet scouts but were potential recruits. A modest price of $5 per child for 2nd Sherbrooke Troop scouts and $6 for all others was charged. Parents and friends were encouraged to visit the camp and witness the fun being had. Saturday, August 25th was reserved as a special sports day where three silver cups were up for grabs, along with first- and second-prize ribbons. In an announcement published in the Sherbrooke Daily Record on July 31, 1923, it was asserted that “the camp is undoubtedly going to be a success” and a success, it was.

Over 2,500 people attended the unveiling of the war memorial in Lennoxville on December 16, 1923. The granite cenotaph with its bronze tablet bore the names of forty-seven soldiers who gave their lives during the First World War. At the unveiling ceremony, the 53rd Regimental Band played “Onward Christian Soldiers.” The Mayor Henry Washburn S. Downs delivered the opening address and Lieutenant-Colonel Reverend Arthur Huffman McGreer, Principal of Bishop’s College, delivered a dedication address. Reverend Father Leblanc gave an address in French. Reverend Canon Robert William Ellegood Wright said the prayer of dedication and Brigadier-General Dennis Colburn Draper unveiled the monument. The war memorial was originally located in what was known as the Square, though not the Square Queen that we know in 2023; the Square in 1923 was located at the intersection of Main Street (now Queen) and Belvidere (now College). The cenotaph was moved to its present location next to the Borough Office (at that time, the Town Hall) in 2000 and further inscriptions have since been added to honour those who fought in the Second World War, as well as in Korea, Vietnam, and Afghanistan.

By: Hannah Osborne-O’Donnell

In early September, the ETRC wrote about the military career of Stanstead-born Kenneth Clayton-Kennedy – but the story of his compelling life is far from over!

When we last left off, Major Clayton-Kennedy had founded two aircraft-related businesses, both of which failed to get off the ground. It may have been these failures that led Kenneth to embark on a career in the oil business.

By 1922, Clayton-Kennedy was one-fifth owner of the Ottoman-American Development Company. The company was a private U.S. corporation that, with the approval of the U.S. Congress, sought to develop ties with the newly-formed Turkey. The company would develop railroads and public works for Turkey in exchange for the mineral rights to the land they were building on. 

This agreement would fall apart for the Ottoman-American Development Company due to the geopolitical environment of the time, a lack of funding for the project, and infighting between the company’s owners. Government officials and company leaders alike would blame Major Kenneth Clayton-Kennedy for the collapse of the concession.  He created confusion about who owned the company, failed to raise money for the project, and apparently lied to both the Americans and the Turkish government – telling them that the company had begun work when it had not.

In 1922, Kenneth was suspected of being a British spy after he failed to produce a passport and lied about being an American when trying to enter Angola. Maj. Kenneth Clayton-Kennedy was released when Angolan authorities could find no evidence that Kenneth was involved in espionage. Throughout his life, Kenneth would claim both that he was and that he was not a British spy but had been set up by the Ottoman-American Development Company. The truth of the matter may never be known, but the documents relating to this scandal provide a glimpse into the fascinating life of a Stanstead man.

By Hannah Osborne-O’Donnell

Kenneth Edgar Kennedy was born in 1891 to parents Helen O’Leory and George R.E. Kennedy in Stanstead, Quebec. Kenneth said that he fell in love with flying when he had the chance to ride in a dirigible at the Sherbrooke Fair. After receiving degrees in engineering and geology, Kennedy decided to join the Royal Canadian Horse Artillery. 

In August of 1914, members of the militia were mobilized to Valcartier to form the first Canadian Expeditionary Force. By the end of September, Kennedy was among the first Canadian troops destined for England. While serving as a Captain of the 3rd Battalion of the Canadian Field Artillery, he was seriously injured in May of 1915. After recovering from his injuries, Kennedy was transferred to the British Royal Flying Corps. He made for an excellent pilot, and was promoted from an Observer to Flying Officer within a period of six months.

Kennedy later claimed that it was during that time that he began advocating that the Minister of the Militia, General Hughes, create a Canadian Flying Corps. General Hughes had little interest in developing Canadian aviation capabilities, quoted by Kennedy as saying, “Airplanes are ridiculous, only good for frightening horses.”

Lt. Colonel Walter Morden and John Alexander Douglas McCurdy were the major force behind getting General Hughes to change his mind, though Kennedy did play a part of their efforts. In August, 1916, he was selected by Morden to perform an aerial demonstration for Hughes. This demonstration, along with overwhelming support from Canada’s business elite, convinced General Hughes of the need of a Canadian Flying Corps. 

In 1916, Kennedy married Nance Annie Clayton and took her maiden name. Clayton was an English woman who would move to Canada at the end of the war; in the meantime, Mr. Clayton-Kennedy continued to receive promotions. He was transferred to the 3rd Canadian Artillery Brigade, promoted to temporary Major, and given command of an aerial gunnery unit. Once General Hughes announced the formation of a Flying Corps, Clayton-Kennedy served as one of the first flight instructors at CFB Borden.

While at CFB Borden, Clayton-Kennedy claims to have trained many well-known individuals; future Prime-Minister and Nobel Peace Prize winner, Lester B. Pearson, was one of these famous people. Clayton-Kennedy claims to have attempted to expel Pearson from the air force due to a “lack of moral fiber”. In 1918, Clayton-Kennedy was relieved of command due to his poor health. Despite his flying corps career coming to an end, Clayton-Kennedy continued to believe in the potential of airplanes. In 1919, Clayton-Kennedy became the president of the Aircraft Manufacturing Company of Canada Limited and the Aircraft Transport and Travel of Canada Limited. These two companies were tasked with building and supplying aircrafts to the government of the Colony of Newfoundland and the transportation of goods and passengers, and with the creation of aviation schools. Unfortunately, both companies failed to become successful.

By Jazmine Aldrich

Many of the Eastern Townships Resource Centre’s archival holdings document the lives of families who have impacted our local history. One example is the Davidson family of Georgeville – especially the father and son duo whose craftsmanship shaped much of the landscape along Lake Memphremagog’s shores.

James Everett Davidson was born in Brigham, Quebec on March 7, 1860. He was the son of William Davidson and Caroline America Everett Beach. On January 1, 1883, he married Annie Myrtella Brevoort, the daughter of James Gunn Brevoort and Janet Hurst. He built boats, furniture, and many summer homes in the Lake Memphremagog region. His noteworthy accomplishments include working on the Narrows Bridge, a covered bridge over Fitch Bay which was constructed in 1881. The bridge remains standing today and was recognized by the Government of Quebec as a protected heritage site under the Cultural Heritage Act in 2019.

James Everett Davidson’s son, James Arlington Davidson was born in Georgeville on October 17, 1891. “Arlie,” as he was known colloquially, married Margaret Hazel Merrill and had two daughters, Jean and Janet. He lived almost all his life in Georgeville, working there with his father as contractors and builders.

J.E. Davidson & Son built houses, cottages, log cabins, and boathouses – especially around Lake Memphremagog. In 1931, they were contracted to work on the Anglican Church and Church Hall in Fitch Bay and, in 1934, they worked on St. George’s Anglican Church in Georgeville.

Much of the Davidson family’s archives consist of account books in which they recorded detailed notes about the jobs they were completing (how many days worked, what they worked on each day, and so on). Thanks to these books, we know precise details such as the rate charged for one day’s work ($2.25 per day, per person in 1914, which would amount to about $58.95 in 2023).

The Davidson family made its impression on the Georgeville community outside of their business, as well. Both father and son’s names appear on a 1930 petition to the Southern Canada Power Company, amongst a list of ten Georgeville residents pledging four hundred dollars “towards the installation of an electric power line and distribution system for the lighting of the village and to enable electric service to be made available to the residents thereof.”

Following his father’s death on August 25, 1933, Arlie continued the family business. As of 1950, he was a member of the Building Trades’ Joint Committee of the Eastern Townships’ District, qualified as a journeyman in the positions of carpenter-joiner and painter-paperhanger.

Arlie retired in 1955 but spent the next twenty years repairing and making reproductions of antique furniture. In 1977, he wrote a booklet entitled Copp’s Ferry, Georgeville, 1797-1977. The booklet includes information about the settlement of Georgeville, transportation, accommodations, schools, churches, cemeteries, industries, infrastructure, and inhabitants. James Arlington Davidson died on February 24, 1979, aged 87.

By Joanie Tétreault

Freemasonry, with its rich history and enigmatic symbolism, has long captivated the imagination of many. In the Eastern Townships, the Freemasons have left an indelible mark on the community, fostering brotherhood, charitable endeavors, and personal growth; however, an air of secrecy has surrounded the organization, fueling curiosity and speculation. In this article, we delve into the secretive aspect of Freemasonry in the Eastern Townships and shed light on its traditions, rituals, and esoteric symbolism.

Freemasonry has been traditionally known for its confidential nature, which has perpetuated the perception of secrecy surrounding the organization. The Freemasons in the Eastern Townships, like their counterparts worldwide, adhere to certain practices that are not publicly disclosed. This veil of secrecy has both historical and symbolic significance, providing members with a sense of exclusivity and fostering a bond of trust among brethren.

Central to the secretive aspect of Freemasonry are its rituals and ceremonies. These rituals, steeped in symbolism and tradition, are performed within the confines of the lodge and remain private to Freemasons. Initiations, degrees, and the passing of knowledge through allegorical teachings form integral parts of these rituals. The secrecy surrounding these practices adds to the allure and mystique of Freemasonry.

Another facet of Freemasonry that contributes to its secretive reputation is its extensive use of symbolism. Masonic lodges in the Eastern Townships, adorned with intricate symbols and emblems, serve as repositories of hidden knowledge and profound meaning. From the square and compass to the all-seeing eye, these symbols convey moral and spiritual lessons to members, inviting personal interpretation and reflection.

The secrecy surrounding the symbolism and esoteric teachings of Freemasonry adds to its mystique, cultivating an environment of intellectual exploration and personal enlightenment within the brotherhood.

While Freemasonry embraces a certain level of secrecy, it is essential to recognize that it is not shrouded in clandestine activities or hidden agendas; instead, the secretive aspects of Freemasonry serve to preserve the traditions, values, and rituals that have been handed down through generations.

The exclusivity of the Masonic lodge provides members with a safe space for personal growth, self-reflection, and the exchange of ideas. By maintaining a level of confidentiality, Freemasonry seeks to create an environment of trust and mutual respect among its members, fostering a sense of brotherhood and camaraderie.

While Freemasonry may hold secretive elements, it is vital to acknowledge the organization’s significant impact on the Eastern Townships community. Freemasons actively engage in charitable initiatives, support local projects, and contribute to the well-being of society. Their philanthropic efforts extend beyond the walls of the lodge, making a tangible and positive difference in the lives of individuals and the community at large.

Freemasonry’s commitment to brotherhood, personal growth, and philanthropy is evident in their contributions to the Eastern Townships community. While the allure of secrecy adds to the intrigue surrounding Freemasonry, it is the principles of charity, integrity, and fellowship that truly define the Freemasons of the Eastern Townships. As the legacy of Freemasonry continues to evolve and adapt to modern times, it is essential to appreciate both the secretive and charitable aspects.

Delve into the world of this esteemed fraternity, focusing on their distinctive attire and the symbolism found within their sacred lodge at the exhibit “Unveiling the Mystique: Exploring the Secretive Aspect of Freemasonry.” You can visit this exhibit on weekdays in the historic Old Library of McGreer Hall, nestled on the picturesque Bishops’ University campus.

By Jazmine Aldrich

One of the great pleasures of archives is diving into the past and discovering new perspectives. I recently stumbled upon James ‘Jim’ Wark’s journal which was written to his family in Sherbrooke as he travelled from Quebec to England on his way to the European front during the First World War.

James Howard Wark was born in Sherbrooke on August 1st, 1897 to John G. Wark (1855-1925) and Catherine Fraser (1857-1938). As a young man, Jim, as he was known colloquially, served for a brief period with the Canadian Expeditionary Force during WWI. He enlisted with 1st Depot Battalion, 1st Quebec Regiment in May 1918 at an enlistment office in Montreal and was quickly on his way to England, arriving in mid-July.

His journal begins on Wednesday, June 26, 1918: Jim describes waking up at 4:00 AM, forming up at the parade grounds, traveling by train to the ship they would travel on, and setting sail. What becomes clear through Jim’s journal entries is that he was optimistic and earnest in the face of the unknown awaiting him at the end of his Atlantic crossing. Of their first evening aboard the sea vessel, Jim writes that “After supper we went on deck and watched the sun-set. It was beautiful. We could see a great many porpoises coming to the surface.”

Despite his grim destination, Jim’s journal entries reflect the thoughts of a 20-year-old man experiencing his first overseas trip. He describes the journey as being “most interesting. It wakes you up to the fact of how little you do know and how much there is to be learned.”

The fun didn’t stop when the military vessel anchored in Halifax harbour to await others destined for their convoy. On July 2nd, 1918, Jim reports that “About 20 nurses came on here this A.M. too. Some real nice ones among them. We had lots of fun with a bunch who were at the wharf to see the others off. One of them gave my side-kick a doll and he is carrying it all around with him now. You should see the men look at him.”

Interspersed with his comments about the fine weather, delicious food, and diverting entertainment are references to the stark reality that drew closer with each passing day. The contrast in his two realities is most evident in this entry from July 10th, 1918:

“This has been the finest and best day we have had on the water yet. The sea was just as smooth and calm as the St. Francis on a fine day, not a ripple on it only an easy swell which gave the old boat a nice see-saw motion. We saw hundreds of porpoises today swimming right in among the boats. I guess we are getting into the danger zone now because the cruiser is going back and forth across our front on the lookout for danger signs. I heard this morning that we are only about [censored] miles from England. Tomorrow they expect to meet the convoy which is to escort us in. This afternoon they sighted a whale but I missed it.”

Another reminder of Jim’s wartime reality are the passages struck out with a black marker, indicating censorship of sensitive military information. References to the ship’s relative location and speed are censored. Postal censorship was common practice during the First World War to avoid enemy interception.

As their vessel inched closer to England, they took greater precautions to avoid detection by enemy ships: “They put us off the deck now at 7:30 sea-time, that would be about 5 at home. After that there are no lights showing anywhere on deck. The penalty for showing any light after dark on the war zone is death.”

Though the threat of death lay over his head, the tone of Jim’s entries remained cheery until the end of his journey; on July 12th, 1918, he vowed that “If I ever get the chance I will take this trip again in peace time on a big boat, it is certainly great, something one will never forget.” Jim’s journal entries end when he arrives in England on Monday, July 14th, 1918; fortunately, his story did not end there.

Upon arrival in England, Jim was placed in a segregated camp for CEF recruits as part of a quarantine set up in response to the Spanish flu. This quarantine lasted 28 days and, along with other precautions taken in response to influenza, drastically lengthened the training period for Canadian recruits. As a result, he would complete his training as the war was drawing to an end and would not reach continental Europe during his time overseas. Jim was discharged from his duties in Montreal, demobilization being given as the reason for his discharge. He lived to be 72 years old; he married Florence Bryant (1901-1993), of the J.H. Bryant bottling company family and together, they had two daughters: Catherine (1929-2009) and Barbara (b. 1930).

Jim’s journal is digitized and available online. If you are interested in reading this fascinating tale, please visit the Eastern Townships Archives Portal:

By Jazmine Aldrich

The Eastern Townships Resource Centre (ETRC) Archives include several autograph books; these are typically small, bound books containing signatures, poems, proverbs, doodles, and other unique entries. Other names for these books include autograph albums, memory albums, and friendship albums. On the surface, this type of record may seem to hold very little historical value, but they can tell us a great deal about the individuals who kept them and their social connections.

Autograph books can be traced back to the sixteenth-century European tradition of the album amicorum (“album of friendship”). These albums were commonly kept by university students to recall their classmates, professors and other social contacts. The albums preserved lighthearted or heartfelt messages from social connections. In a world long before the Internet and social media, autograph books provided a means of documenting one’s network. For some, these books may also have served as a symbol of social status – a vast network, neatly kept in their pocket.

Typical entries in these books include the signatures of contacts whom individuals felt were worth remembering. Entries often include a sentiment along the lines of “remember me,” “think of me,” or “forget me not.” These notes are often accompanied by a date and a geographic location which can situate a social relationship in its historical context. They can help us to learn not only who lived in or frequented a particular area in a given time, but also, who they interacted with. These books give us glimpses into the social lives of their bearers.

Autograph books also often contain poems, proverbs, verses, quotes, and brief snippets of writing that attest to the culture of the time in which they were written. Autograph books can answer questions such as, what was teenage humor like in the 1920s? Florence Mead’s autograph book offers the following entries as potential answers.

“Forget you? No! I never could. As long as I can whistle. I might as well forget to yell when I sit on a thistle.” (unsigned)

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Peroxide makes the blond grow blonder. Onion makes the breath grow stronger. Friendship makes life grow longer.” -Annie Parkhill, Boynton, Que.

The book dates from Florence’s studies at Macdonald College School for Teachers, with entries from her classmates, roommates, and friends.

Autograph book entries sometimes include pop culture references, song lyrics, references to jokes and shared memories. They may also include artwork, ranging from simple doodles to intricate drawings which attest to the abilities of the artist. Some authors even include pressed flowers or locks of hair with their entries.

The popularity of the autograph book varied over the centuries, but a notable resurgence took place in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The practice became so popular, in fact, that publications such as J.S. Ogilvie’s The Album Writer’s Friend (New York, 1881) recommended “choice selections of poetry and prose, suitable for writing in autograph albums.” Though these albums were especially popular amongst girls and young women, the practice was not gendered and some of the ETRC’s examples belonged to men – including that of renowned Eastern Townships artist, Frederick Simpson Coburn.

The tradition of the autograph album lives on in the signing of yearbooks – a practice which remains popular with students today. Do you have an autograph book or yearbook that you would like to donate to the ETRC? Get in touch with us!

By Jazmine Aldrich

History is made up of the stories of individuals: their choices, their experiences, and their relationships. These stories can be abstracted with time – that is – until we reconnect with the traces they left behind. They become more than a name: they are someone who lived – in a different time than us and under different circumstances – but who nevertheless experienced the ups and downs that make up a life.

This brings me to the story of Mead Haskell Baldwin. While I could never tell you every detail of his life, I will introduce you to some of his experiences as a young man, which I learned about through the records left by he and his family.

Mead Haskell Baldwin was born on September 28, 1891 in Baldwin’s Mills. He was the second son of Willis Keith (W.K.) Baldwin of Baldwin’s Mills and Lill Mead Ferrin Baldwin of Holland, Vermont. Mead was also the younger brother of then-five-year-old Harold Ferrin Baldwin. The only two children of W.K. and Lill, one gets the impression that Harold and Mead were brothers by blood but friends by choice.

Harold and Mead travelled the western Canadian provinces and United States together as young adults. The brothers worked as surveyors in western Canada towards the end of 1910, and spent Christmas of that year in Los Angeles, California, returning to Baldwin’s Mills in May of 1911. When at home, the young men occupied themselves with running the various family businesses, including the sawmill, general store, and post office while their father was away.

By 1913, Mead had left home and completed a business course at the Eastman National Business College in Poughkeepsie, New York; he then pursued work as a bookkeeper in Minneapolis, Minnesota – where he remained until July 1917 when he voluntarily enlisted with the American Expeditionary Forces.

During the First World War, Mead served with Bakery Company No. 343 – a supply unit of the United States Army’s Quartermaster Corps. Mead’s baker training was given at the Dunwoody Institute in Minneapolis, beginning August 1, 1917. He served from October 1917 until March 1918 at Fort Riley, Kansas. Following a brief period at Camp Merritt, New Jersey, Mead’s unit landed on French shores on April 15, 1918 and remained overseas for the next fourteen months. Mead was discharged at Des Moines, Iowa on June 19, 1919; he then returned to Minneapolis to reintegrate into civilian society.

In a heart wrenching letter to the United States Veterans’ Bureau in 1926, W.K. recalls that Mead “reached home [Baldwin’s Mills] in August 1919, broken in spirit. […]. The buoyancy of youth had changed to moroseness or melancholy.” Little more is known of his postwar life in Baldwin’s Mills until tragedy struck the family two years later. On February 17, 1921, less than a month after Harold had married Ruth Stevens May, Mead’s life came to a sudden end following several weeks of suffering from what would likely be diagnosed as post-traumatic stress disorder in today’s terms.

The Baldwin family shocked: W.K. Baldwin – by then serving as the Member of Parliament for Stanstead – returned to Baldwin’s Mills from Ottawa. In the month following Mead’s death, he offered to fund one third of the costs associated with building permanent highways from Baldwin’s Mills to Coaticook and Stanstead, as well as funding their maintenance for a decade – all in memory of his late son.

The community mourned the loss of Mead, recalling in the Sherbrooke Daily Record his “sterling manhood and worthy qualities.” Letters of sympathy poured in from near and far. Mead’s former fiancée, Helen Wilma Kielgas of Duluth, Minnesota, recalled him to Lill as “the kindest and most generous of men, one who intentionally hurt no one, one who was a true friend, idolized and loved his mother.”

Mead’s death marked his loved ones and his community; while his is a difficult story to tell, it is a testament to the love that endures long after someone is gone.