The Fort Macleod Stampede (PART TWO)

In the last blog I promised to tell you about the Macleod Stampede, quoting from what my mother wrote as a reporter for the "Slipstream" the local Air Force news paper.

When my mother left the Canadian Air Force in 1945 she wrote about her life in the service. I gathered up as many of her poems as I could find and including what she had written, put together a folder for my children and grand children, which they have. It covered a great deal of her time in Macleod, some of which we enjoyed together.

Here is her story about the Calgary Stampede as printed in the 'Slipstream"

Around the small town of Macleod Alberta, it is mostly vast prairie land composed of large farms where wheat fields stretch for miles. Many farms raise herds of sheep, cattle and milk cows. Nearby is a Canadian Indian reservation, many Indians leave the reservations during harvest time and help farmers bring in the crops. It is a common sight to see Indian Tepe's standing on farmland. The Indians live in their tepe's during harvest and bring the whole family to help. This is much easier than having to return to the reservation each night. It also makes Macleod a more interesting little town. There are many hitching posts just outside the local hotel, post office and tackle/supply stores where you see Indian pony's and the horses of cowboys who ride into town. Every summer year Macleod holds a "stampede" it's the last stampede prior to the giant, world renowned "Calgary Stampede" over 106 miles away. Cowboys and Indians who have been competing all over Canada use the Macleod stampede to hone their bucking horse, roping, calf tying and bull riding experience before competing in Calgary.

Bright kerchiefs, gaudy hats, skirts of buckskin, lavishly beaded Indian costumes, somber cowboy garb (for contrast) and scarlet tunics of the Mounties. Air force blue and Army khaki give me a stampede for color and thrill! And for high spirits and the gala mood! Neither the looming rain-cloud, nor the roll of thunder could affect these. Let it rain (and it did for a couple of hours) who cares anyhow? Rain here usually means another chance at the wheel of farming fortune – and it never rains long.

Here were the Macleod folk and all their neighbors. Here were the visitors from east and west and overseas and overseas means all the great seas, not just the Atlantic. New-timers and old-timers mingled with Aussies and Newzies. Those who came here in '74 shook hands with those that didn't need to come here, but were here, the Bloods and the Peigans. Every store, every doorway and most of the street constituted the rendezvous for brief pow-wows. Macleod was "At Home to the World".

Without the rain there would not have been half the excitement. The rain came and the rain departed without drowning anybody and the Stampede went on. What thrills and spills! What nerve and courage! All the fine promises of the handbills and posters were faithfully fulfilled. Every escape seemed and probable was miraculous. Every event brought a new thrill and a new demonstration of cowboy technique. It was a wonderful show and a new type of entertainment for many of the audience.

Soon it was time to wander back to the bustling streets of Macleod – and here a new phase of stampede was in progress. The hunt for supper was on. Again, old friends met to talk of crops and to speculate as to what the world was coming to. Indians and Hutterites and all, the old colorful cosmopolitan mob were back again to mill around, to talk, to gaze and slake their soul's thirst for companionship of their kind. Other and less soulful thirsts were also pursuing the chase for cool and sometimes spirituous liquids.

For me as well as the farmers, it was soon time to go back to everyday chores, their tedium to be lightened hereafter by memories of the Macleod Stampede.

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I think what Mother wrote pretty well describes the Macleod Stampede and how it affected the town at that time. Wartime brought many people together from around the world, which in normal times would not. It was an exciting time, Fort Macleod had become an "International Cross Roads" that the local people had not asked for, and occasionally infringed on their normally quiet life. As exciting as it could be at times, especially for the younger people, it could occasionally be a sad time when a phone call told them their husband, sons or other relative would not be coming home from the war.

After two years in Fort Macleod I decided that it was time to return to Vancouver. I wanted to get into the service. My mother was being transferred to Vancouver so this would work out well. I was now seventeen and I should be able to volunteer for army service. The years I had spent in Macleod had shown me another good side of life. It was a great experience and I never regretted one day of it. Even today I find my thoughts returning to those years and the people who influenced me in a positive way.

LIFE IN FORT MACLEOD (Part one of two)

Leaving the Buckwell farm was like leaving your family. Mrs. Buckwell, Leighton, and his sister Ruth had all been so warm and friendly to me. I had very little family life growing up. My mother's and father's separation, forced her to work long hour during the Depression, leaving little precious time to spend with my sister and I. Then the war started, my sister left for a job all the way in Washington, DC, Mother joined the war effort and it became time for my going to boarding school. It had not been easy to have a regular family life. I knew I was going to miss some of the great experiences I had enjoyed on the farm. Learning how to milk a cow, shear a sheep, round up cattle, and even tending the bee hives without being stung were sure eye opening and educating in so many ways. Also, being able to have my own horse as a teenager had been very exciting. Now I would have to decide what to do with my horse, as there was no place to keep it in town. I decided that the only thing I could do was sell it. I gave the saddle and bridle to Leighton and put the horse up for sale. Chief Big Swan had sold him to me for twenty five dollars. He was a great Indian pony, and I became quite attached to him.

 Pictured above is Chief Big Swan

Eventually I sold my horse to Paddy for the sum of twenty dollars. This sale led to an interesting little story. Paddy was a handy man of sorts; local town folk hired him for odd jobs around town. He didn't have the cash at that moment, but he promised to pay me after his next job. After a few weeks, as I had not heard from Paddy, I became a little concerned over my twenty dollars. After asking a few people if they had seen Paddy, someone said that he was over at the church. I found Paddy busy digging a grave; shovels full of dirt were flying out of the hole. Leaning over the hole, I inquired about my twenty dollars. Paddy said to go and see the minister in the church and he would give me twenty dollars out of what he was going to be paid for digging the grave. When I went in the church the minister was standing next to an open casket. I told him what paddy had told me. As he turned away, I could see the head of a dead man protruding from the casket. It was the first time in my life I had seen a dead person. I got my twenty dollars and exited the church as quick as I could.

After I left the farm, I rented a room in a private home in the town. The lady who owned the home was very nice. If I remember correctly the rent was ten dollars a month. I obtained a job in the local movie house, the Empress Theatre. My job was to usher during the movies, sweep the aisles and between the rows, and vacuum the carpet. I also changed the bill boards when the movies changed. The owners, Mr. and Mrs. Doyle, ran the theatre. Mrs. Doyle sold the tickets and Mr. Doyle took them at the door. They also employed a projectionist. I really enjoyed the job as I got to see all the movies. I even remember all the words and songs from the shows, after hearing them over and over.

(When I returned to Fort Macleod in 1995, after having attended the Rotary Convention in Calgary, I found the theatre just as I remembered it. If you enter www.fortmacleod.com into your computer, just click on" town history", and you can read about the Empress Theatre.)

The Empress was pretty much the only evening entertainment in town. Fort Macleod rolled up the sidewalks pretty early. Almost every evening show was sold out, as were the Saturday afternoons. Most of the evening shows were filled with Air Force personnel along with Indians from nearby Indian reservations. The Empress was a popular spot. I can remember the movie distributor telling Mr. Doyle that he should book a certain movie titled "When Johnny Comes Marching Home" because some new actor, Donald O'Connor, was in it and he was going to be a big star in the future. Another one I remember well, as we held it over, was "Yankee Doodle Dandee".

Life in Fort Macleod was generally pretty quiet, that is, until the rodeo came to town. Every year cowboys would compete in almost all the provinces across Canada. Fort Macleod held the last competition before Calgary, where the famous "Calgary Stampede" took place. The competition included calf roping, bronco and bull riding, along with horse races, etc. In the next blog, I'll tell you all about it; quoting from some copy my mother wrote as the official Air Force "observer" for the Air Force Station paper "The Slip Stream".

THE WINTER OF’42

The last big farm event of the season was the harvest. For this, Leighton hired some Indian help. The Blood tribe was always happy to have Indian families help out with the harvest. They could make some money for the tribe and that was always welcome. So Chief Big Swan was happy when Leighton asked for three families.

Indian workers didn't come alone; they brought their sons, daughter and squaws (wife). They would bring their tipi, put it up down by the river, and this would be their home for the week or so it took to bring in the crop. Anyone in the family old enough to work, did so. The squaw would do the cooking and look after any babies; the men folk and older children would work the combines.

In Canada, as I believe it is in the USA, it's against the law to sell or give any alcoholic beverage to an Indian. Unfortunately, there are many products that contain alcohol. One of the Indian families that came to work on the farm had an unfortunate experience. The husband somehow was able to obtain some hair tonic or cough syrup and proceeded to drink it all. Under the influence, and it doesn't take much, he decided to go on the war path. To him the war path was to beat up his wife, rough up his children etc. We had a frightened squaw and children show up at the farm house looking for help and shelter. Her husband had ridden back to the reservation and it took three days to go find him and bring him back. In the meantime, Mrs. Buckwell made up a bed for them on the porch. The situation finally settled down and the crop came in. But, it was an interesting experience.

Winter soon set in, and it was very cold. The weather set a record 49 degrees below zero that winter and I felt every degree of it. I think I wrote earlier that the only heat in the house was from a large pot bellied stove in the sitting room. At night, the stove was banked up and some coal added that would last until near morning. It was Leighton's job to keep the stove going. He would get up in the night and add wood or coal. In the ceiling, there were some grates that could be opened so the heat would rise upstairs. Before going to bed at night, we would warm some bricks in the oven. These would then be wrapped in a cloth and put into the bed in the attempt to keep us warm.

I would have two or three blankets on the bed. As soon as you got your clothes off you would dive into bed as quick as you possibly could. Many a morning when I woke up, there would be a ring of ice on the edge of the blanket formed by my breath while I slept. I would often try to bring my shirt and pants into bed to warm them up for the morning. If I live to be 100, I'll never forget that winter.

Winter was not the only weather phenomena that we had to deal with. We would get some terrible lighting storms in the heat of summer. All the buildings had lighting rods on the roof; these directed the lighting into the ground when the house or barn was hit. I can recall seeing sparks jumping off door knobs during nighttime storms.

Lighting would sometimes hit the cows out in the field. It was strange, how it would kill them. The cow would drop down on its front legs, but not fall over. Only when you went up to the cow and pushed it, it would finally fall over. It is strange, but true.

One day, one of the farm hands was out in the fields when he got caught in a storm. He was riding as fast as he could to find shelter. He came to a barbed wire fence that had a gate. As he reached down from his horse, and grabbed the fence to open it, lightening struck the fence about a couple of hundred yards away. The electricity travelled along the fence, stripped most of his clothes off, and killed his horse. He survived but would never more go near a fence in a storm. This didn't happen while I was there, but it was a well known fact in town and on the farm.

The other odd weather event was the dust storms. You could see them coming. The wind would be blowing very hard. Off in the distance, the dust storm looked like billowing black clouds from ground to sky. Everyone would close windows, put towels or rugs on window sills and under doors. If your car was outside, the dust and wind would strip all the paint off on the incoming side. After the storm passed, there had to be a major cleanup operation to try to get all the dirt out of the house and out buildings.

In spite of these unexpected weather challenges, my life on the farm left me with mostly great memories. I feel so fortunate in being able to experience a tiny bit of a farmer's life. I will always be so thankful to the Buckwell family who took me in, and shared their life with me for over a year. I learned a great deal, much of which I will never forget. It was with a great deal of respect for them, that I decided to take my leave and move into Fort Macleod. I had no idea of what to expect, but that never deterred me from my youthful desires for exploration. I guess it was something inherited; I was always ready to take on any adventure.