Ernie Coombs and Judith Lawrence visiting children at the Vernon Jubilee Hospital in 1970.
A beloved Canadian Icon
He was Canada’s own “Mister Rogers” (in fact, he actually served as understudy to Fred Rogers for several years); Ernie Coombs, known more often under his stage name Mr. Dressup, was an iconic Canadian children’s entertainer whose TV show ran on the CBC for nearly 30 years. He also visited Vernon on several occasions, to the delight of many of the city’s children.
Coombs was born in Lewiston, Maine, in 1927. After attending North Yarmouth Academy, he pursued a career in children’s entertainment. In the early ‘60s, he worked as an assistant puppeteer for Mr. Rogers on The Children’s Corner. Rogers was offered a show in 1962 at the CBC, and he invited Coombs to join him in Canada, where they worked on an earlier version of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.
MR. DRESSUP AIRS
Upon his departure from Canada three years later, Rogers recommended Coombs to the CBC, and the latter began working on a new production called Butternut Square. After this show ended, Coombs developed Mr. Dressup, which aired for the first time in 1967. The show consisted of arts, crafts, songs, stories and games for children, presented by Coombs and his friends Casey and Finnegan, a child and a dog who lived in a treehouse in Mr. Dressup’s back yard.
In 1970, Coombs, along with his principal puppeteer Judith Lawrence, traveled to Vernon. They visited the children’s ward of the Vernon Jubilee Hospital, where the patients were delighted to meet Casey and Finnegan. Coombs visited the City several other times, including in the 1980s when he hosted a performance at the Vernon Recreation Centre, which drew in crowds of not just young children, but older siblings and adults as well.
The final episode of Mr. Dressup was taped on February 14, 1996. That same year, Coombs received the Order of Canada, after becoming a Canadian Citizen two years earlier. Ernie Coombs died on September 18, 2001, at the age of 73.
To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!
The Okanagan Historical Society (OHS) recently announced the release of its 87th annual report. This year’s report, like those before it, is full of fascinating stories of the Valley’s people and places. Moreover, considering that the first was published all the way back in 1926, the reports also provide an invaluable source of anecdotal evidence.
The history of the Society itself is just as fascinating as the stories its members have so dutifully collected for nearly a century. Although the OHS is now composed of seven branches ranging as far north as Salmon Arm and as far south as Osoyoos, the society actually started in Vernon. On September 4, 1925, a group of citizens held a meeting at the Vernon City Hall to discuss the formation of a society focused on “historical, topographical and natural history research in connection with the whole of the Okanagan Valley.”
Leonard Norris circa 1925.
Leonard Norris becomes first president
Leonard Norris, the City’s Government Agent since 1893, was selected as the Society’s first president. Norris and his fellow elected officers set to the task of preparing a constitution for the society, based roughly on that in use by the B.C. Historical Society. Overtime, community members from the surrounding districts were also elected to the Society’s Executive Council.
In a public statement following the formation of the OHS, Norris suggested that the history of the B.C. Interior had yet to be properly investigated, and that the Society hoped to rectify this. Its members set to writing a series of articles covering the post-contact history of the Okanagan Valley and by 1935, the first five reports had been published.
The notion of the region’s untapped historical potential must have resonated with many of the Valley’s citizens, as within ten years, the Society’s membership had grown to 205. In later years, this number would reach into the thousands.
Diversification
The OHS took a hiatus from publishing between 1931 and 1935, while it faced the impact of the Great Depression. The sixth report, when it was finally released in 1935, brought with a new tone and pace for future ones; it was printed on glossy paper, and contained a wealth of information spanning 309 pages. The society weathered the storm of World War Two, and in 1948 begin publishing a report each year.
As the years went on, the Society pursued a number of notable projects aside from the publication of the report, including the mapping of the Fur Brigade Trails in the Okanagan and Similkameen-Hope areas, and the preservation of the original Fairview town-site. Additionally, the Vernon branch has published a number of other historical best-sellers, including Water from the Hills: The Story of Irrigation in the Vernon District, by local author Peter Tassie. The report itself has also seen a natural diversification of its content to include Indigenous history and other multicultural stories.
The 87th Report of the Okanagan Historical Society can be purchased from the Museum & Archives of Vernon for $30.00. The museum and archives encourages those interested in local history to support te Society by becoming a member of the Vernon Branch. To learn more, click here.
To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!
Dr. Williams circa 1920; the Vernon Archives does not have a photograph of Miss Gallaher in their collection.
“Resignation of the Hospital Staff”
“Matron and Nurses Relinquish Their Positions on April 2,” read a shocking headline in the Vernon News of March 28, 1912. This dramatic act of protest was initiated by the Vernon Jubilee Hospital’s Lady Superintendent, Minnie Katherine Gallaher, in response to what she deemed a “long series of indignities suffered by her and her staff at the hands of Dr. Williams.”
Miss Gallaher was born in Kingston, Ontario, in 1880, and came to VJH in 1909, after seven years as Assistant Superintendent at the Carlton County Hospital in Ottawa. On March 22, 1912, she sent a long letter to the hospital’s directors (which was also published in the Vernon News) describing Dr. Williams behavior.
“Charges against a doctor”
One particular situation saw a confusion over who should be administering a sedative to a patient, resulting in Dr. Williams screaming that “too long had nurses been dictating and he wouldn’t allow it.” He proceeded to “dance with rage and more profanity was used,” after which he subjected Miss Gallaher to a five or ten minute diatribe, “continually interspersing his remarks with profanity.”
Dr. Williams was given a chance to defend himself against the accusations, and although the hospital board concluded by sustaining the nurses’ charges and warning the doctor to not behave in such a manner again, he was allowed to continue working at the hospital. This decision is what caused all of the nurses to resign in a considerable show of solidarity.
“Respectfully Yours, M. Katherine Gallaher”
Dr. Gerald Williams arrived in Vernon in 1894, after training at the St. Thomas’s Hospital in London, England. He was known as the bitter enemy of not only Miss Gallaher, but another local doctor as well, Osborne Morris. It is perhaps telling, therefore, that Dr. Morris was described as a “genial and cordial gentleman” and had a particular kindliness when working with children.
By April of 1912, the nurses had been replaced by 8 others, which was just as well, as there were 40 patients in the hospital that month. Miss Gallaher continued to have a successful healthcare career, serving as Assistant Superintendent at the Vancouver General Hospital and later Superintendent at the Moose Jaw General Hospital. Dr. Williams carried on practicing in Vernon for many years and is believed to have died around 1935.
To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!
2023 has been reported as Canada’s worst fire season. Although this fact cannot be denied, it may or may not provide some comfort to know that folks in and around Vernon have been battling blazes for hundreds of years.
Traditionally, the Indigenous inhabitants of the Okanagan-Similkameen areas practiced controlled burning as a means to maintain forest and grassland ecosystems. Once settlers arrived in the area, the Vernon News, then a farm and livestock journal, often featured advice on how to protect one’s property from fire damage. For example, an 1894 article states, in no uncertain terms, that “the cutting and clearing away of the forest for a radius around the settlement sufficient to ensure safety would be neither an expensive nor a laborious undertaking.”
1900s-1910s
A heatwave in May of 1901 wreaked havoc on the Valley, and the South Okanagan was particularly hard-hit. A forest fire near what is now the Nickel Plate Nordic Centre outside of Penticton saw bridges and culverts burn down, and fallen timber litter the road. At the same time, the whole town of Fairview (now a ghost town) came out to fight a fire that was creeping towards their properties down a nearby gully.
In 1912, the newspaper printed “Six Good Rules for Care with Fire in the Mountains,” one of which was a reminder to knock out one’s pipe ashes or throw cigar and cigarette stumps only where there is nothing to catch fire. In 1922, the “cigarette menace” was once again discussed, with the paper reporting that hundreds of the fires recorded that year in Canada were “due to the evil habit of tossing away lighted tobacco.”
1920s-1950s and beyond
Sometime in the late 1920s, Silver Star Mountain experienced a devastating fire, which was unfortunately not unusual for the region as evidenced by the installation of a forest fire lookout at the mountain’s summit more than two decades earlier. In the spring of 1930, Bill Osborn, David Ricardo, and Michael Freeman became among the first to ski down the mountain – and later described seeing a number of snags (still-standing dead trees) that have been destroyed by this fire a few years earlier.
In July of 1940, a series of forest fires ravaged the Sugar Lake area. Men were pulled away from their homes and work to fight the blazes, which finally abated thanks to heavy rain. In 1950, a mid-summer fire at Kingfisher was finally brought under control after several long weeks. Fires continued to ravage the Okanagan Valley in the years following, including the unforgettable White Rock Lake fire of 2021.
Thankfully, the area’s inhabitants have demonstrated their resiliency in the face of nature’s wrath time-and-time again, helped along at times by some much-needed rain.
To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!
Stewart Bain’s cross, photographed by Nancy Josland Dalsin and courtesy of FindAGrave.
A sad Story
A lonely cross tucked in a quiet corner of Vernon’s Pleasant Valley Cemetery reveals a sad story. On November 23, 1913, 24-year-old Stewart Bain was electrocuted while working on a power pole at the corner of 32nd Street and Coldstream Avenue, and was killed instantly.
Stewart was born on May 1, 1888, in Nova Scotia; in the 1901 Canadian Census, he is recorded as the adopted son of 78-year-old Ronald McDonald. In 1911, he was boarding in Hants, Nova Scotia, and working as a Blacksmith.
A silver lining
By 1913, he was working as part of a Vancouver Electric Company crew that traveled to Vernon to work for the City.
An inquest after his death determined that he had accidentally come in contact with a live wire while performing his work. His funeral was held 10 days later, and it is said that all electric linemen and groundmen in the city’s employ were in attendance. Although he had only been in Vernon for a few months, Stewart Bain was well-respected, made evident by an outpouring of floral tributes.
This tragedy did have a silver lining, though, as the investigations into the incident led to a tightening of safety protocols for electric workers across the province.
To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!
For the summer months, we are thrilled to present a series of blog posts by Collections Intern Rebeka Beganova. Rebeka (she/her) is a post-secondary student with a passion for research, literature, and history. Having completed an Associate of Arts Degree at Okanagan College, she is glad to be joining the MAV team during her last summer in Vernon before heading off to UBC Vancouver. There is no better way to say goodbye to her hometown than to explore its local history!
E. Pauline Johnson, photographed ca. 1895. Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons (Public Domain).
“Unforeseen audacities”
In April of 1899, a shining star passed through Vernon that turned many curious heads. Emily Pauline Johnson, Indigenous poet and reciter, came to town for a week of performance and thrilling sensation. Her appearances quickly became the center of local attention. Johnson was indeed already a figure of well-known talent. Her stay in Vernon earned her a spotlight in the papers and praise from an audience self-reportedly “not the easiest persons in the world to please.” Her likeableness stemmed – for this city’s folk – from her eloquence, captivation, humour, and humility. In one sitting, she could put her audience in stitches, then minutes later mesmerize them with heart-stopping lyrics.
Her popularity may be surprising to us now, knowing what we do about the social dynamics in 1899. We may wonder what it was like for Johnson, as an Indigenous woman, to stand alone before an overwhelmingly white audience holding, at best, thinly-veiled racist attitudes. Reports about Johnson bear the mark of white bias; her style is described as “full of unforeseen audacities” and at the same time, “a lofty strain of the purest patriotism.” Especially compared to Johnson’s own self-image, these interpretations call into question whether the audience, who so adored E. Pauline Johnson, really understood her messages at all.
Tekahionwake
Johnson was half Indigenous and half English. Her father, G.H.M. Johnson, was Chief of the Mohawk Tribe, part of the Iroquois Six Nations. Her mother, Emily S. Howell, hailed from Bristol. Much of Pauline Johnson’s writing centered around her Indigenous background and emphasized the relationship – the violence and disrespect – spearheaded by white settlers toward her people. She went by her Mohawk name, Tekahionwake, just as her father had his: Onwanonsyshon.
Her pride in her Indigenous identity further muddles Vernon’s reaction to her performances. It is hard to imagine the population of 1899 welcoming with open arms a public figure that challenged so many of their social, political, and religious convictions. Much of her poetry was not subtle, either. “A Cry from an Indian Wife,” for example, concludes with the lines: “By right, by birth we Indians own these lands, / Though starved, crushed, plundered, lies our nation low. / Perhaps the white man’s God has willed it so.” Her meaning is unmistakable.
Message not received
The prolific poet passed away in Vancouver in 1913 after battling cancer. News of her death reached Vernon to much despair and grief. An article was published in the Vernon News detailing her passing, an article that spanned two entire page-long columns. The account included a short description of her early life as well as her accomplishments as an artist. It was undeniably a heart-felt tribute.
It is left for us to ponder, then, the paradox of E. Pauline Johnson’s impact and the simultaneous persistence of unchecked anti-Indigenous racism in Vernon. Her words pierced so deeply, yet her message was somehow lost in translation – ignored, as is very likely the case. Johnson’s denunciation of colonialism must be remembered now, even if it was not then. The introduction to her book, The Shagganappi, quotes of her: “Never let anyone call me a white woman. There are those who think they pay me a compliment in saying that I am just like a white woman. My aim, my joy, my pride is to sing the glories of my own people.”
To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!
For the summer months, we are thrilled to present a series of blog posts by Collections Intern Rebeka Beganova. Rebeka (she/her) is a post-secondary student with a passion for research, literature, and history. Having completed an Associate of Arts Degree at Okanagan College, she is glad to be joining the MAV team during her last summer in Vernon before heading off to UBC Vancouver. There is no better way to say goodbye to her hometown than to explore its local history!
Butter declaration form used in WWII, exact year unknown. Like the canning sugar forms, they resemble our current-day tax returns.
Every so often, Vernonites may get the feeling that their city is somewhat sheltered from the goings-on of the wider world. Living in the shadow of Canada’s largest metropolises – especially Vancouver – seems to soften the blow of international events. However, some events are so large-scale that they inevitably seep into even the most secluded kitchens of our city. World War II was one such event.
The Mechanics of Rationing
On November 4, 1942, the President of the Vernon Board of Trade announced the formation of a local ration board. It was high time for this development: 32 of the 33 BC municipalities had already formed theirs. Ration laws themselves were not established immediately, and meat rationing actually began half a year later, in May of 1943. News articles throughout April mused about what the future policies would look like; each person (and baby) was estimated to receive two pounds of meat per week, and rationed meat was to include beef, pork, and “the lowly but popular sausage, in all its forms.” The BC Loggers Association was already up in arms, advocating for a greater allowance for labourers. Café proprietors rightly predicted ‘meatless days’ for their businesses.
The eventual rationing regulations were perhaps stricter than some were imagining. Ration books and coupons basically became the new currency: as such, they were treated like true treasure. It was illegal to possess a ration book belonging to someone outside your household, and retail food operators were required to open Ration Bank Accounts. Those tempted to dodge around these laws were threatened with up to two years’ imprisonment, as well as up to $5000 in fines.
A spoonful of sugar, an ounce of beef
Sugar and meat quickly became two of the most precious resources in Vernon. The prior remained on the rationing list for two years after WWII ended and for five years in total. It was possibly the hardest ingredient to limit, as evidenced by the fact that canning sugar and sugar for cooking rhubarb were subject to separate policies. Applications for canning sugar resembled our current tax return forms and surely provoked just as much stress. Icing recipes were released across Canada that minimized the use of cane and beet sugar.
Meat rationing was pushed equally as hard. The newspaper predictions from 1943 proved largely accurate in terms of the severity of meat cut-downs. 40% of Canada’s meat production was shipping overseas – but civilians were encouraged to send their food waste as well. Ads appeared in papers urging readers to “save all waste, fats & bones” because they were used in the production of explosives. Taglines like “Out of the frying pan and into the firing line” accompanied unsettling cartoons. These ads were generally produced by the Department of National War Service.
The bureaucracies and restrictions that formed in Vernon during this time demonstrate the invasive nature of large-scale war. Those hoping to lead a private life found regulatory fingers reaching into their cupboards and pantries. If our troops are fighting overseas, they said, then you have your own part to play.
To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!
For the summer months, we are thrilled to present a series of blog posts by Collections Intern Rebeka Beganova. Rebeka (she/her) is a post-secondary student with a passion for research, literature, and history. Having completed an Associate of Arts Degree at Okanagan College, she is glad to be joining the MAV team during her last summer in Vernon before heading off to UBC Vancouver. There is no better way to say goodbye to her hometown than to explore its local history!
The Vernon College building, at this point already redubbed as the Cochrane House. Photographed in 1906.
Amid Vernon’s social and technological advancements of the 1890s, many minds turned to the future generations already planting roots in the city. Would they have what they needed to live full, prosperous lives? What would entice them to move in and stay in? It became apparent that for the city to fulfill its potential as an Okanagan hub, local education begged improvement – specifically, it required the development of a solid post-secondary institution. In 1892, Frederick A. Meyer stepped up to the challenge and founded Vernon Private College.
Right idea, rIGHT tIME (MAYBE)
Multiple factors led Meyer to believe Vernon College would thrive. He saw the area’s mild climate and growing community as components of an inevitable “education centre,” or scholarly hotspot. Advertisements for the school were ambitiously welcoming (and in hindsight, unflinchingly sexist) and stated that “the college is intended for young men desirous to study for any of the professions or public examinations.” Subjects such as book-keeping, painting, and science were points of pride, and those of mathematics, foreign languages, and drawing were also promoted.
As both founder and principal, Meyer ran the establishment with seemingly little help, at least by today’s standards. Additionally, the staff’s teaching credentials were suspiciously undermentioned, as in the following quote from a newspaper article: “Should anyone wish to take up any special class of work not mentioned, Mr. Meyer or one of his assistants will be only too pleased to instruct them.” The sky, apparently, was the limit. Nonetheless, Vernon College seemed set up for success. The first term began on Jan. 8, 1893, with options to board (and take advantage of Mrs. Meyer’s cooking), attend night classes, or book private lessons. Over the next few years, the school even set up its own student awards, including a Warden’s prize for classics: Latin and Greek.
a qUALIFIED lEADER
Meyer’s background was never much discussed in the school’s advertisements. Publicly, his teaching credentials were as elusive as the rest of the staff’s; however, his life experiences actually made him one of the most qualified people for the job. Meyer was originally from England, and while young he began working for the shipping trade between his home country and China. Later, he settled in Japan, where he spent twenty years as the headmaster of the Japanese Royal Naval College. His work earned him the Order of the Rising Sun from the Emperor, an award that required the Queen’s permission to be bestowed upon a British subject.
Like a pair of dedicated soulmates, Meyer and Vernon College met their end within years of each other. The college building was soon transformed into the Cochrane House, and by 1906, it was up for sale. Meyer died from apoplexy on Sept. 1, 1908, after falling into a coma – right at the beginning of the school year. It is unclear why Vernon College lasted so few years. Perhaps it simply changed form and moved elsewhere. From the records of its existence, though, it seemed a brilliant flame that simply burned a little too bright.
To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!
For the months of June and July, we are thrilled to present a series of blog posts by Collections Intern Rebeka Beganova. Rebeka (she/her) is a post-secondary student with a passion for research, literature, and history. Having completed an Associate of Arts Degree at Okanagan College, she is glad to be joining the MAV team during her last summer in Vernon before heading off to UBC Vancouver. There is no better way to say goodbye to her hometown than to explore its local history!
A display of Vernon fruit at the Spokane Fruit Fair, 1909.
International Renown
With the summer in full swing, Vernon residents are once again reminded of the delicacy that is Okanagan-grown fruit. Fresh produce is a staple in seasonal menus, and it has been for over a century. Even in 1891, fruit production and export was projected as a leading industry in the Okanagan. Lists predicting the most profitable harvests were published in the Vernon News each year, along with detailed diagrams for fruit packing that included satisfying photographs of the desired results (such as the one included here). All the effort for quality and aesthetics was not wasted, as the fame of Okanagan fruit soon reached around the world. In 1905, the Royal Horticultural Society Exhibition in London awarded eight silver medals to produce submissions from the BC area – and five of those went to Okanagan growers.
An unknown man pictured with stacks of fruit boxes, 1920. Behind the fame of Okanagan fruit was (and is) the labour of countless workers.
Swallow the apples, not the pride
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the glory of the fruit industry became a point of fierce pride for many. Innumerable newspaper articles either explicitly or implicitly compared Vernon produce to that of other places. In the late 1800s, a scheme by American companies was uncovered where they were apparently re-branding Canadian apples as the “best American apples” before shipping out to England. Their own products, along with lower-quality Canadian, were passed off as belonging solely to the latter. The indignation and disgust was clear in local reports of these events.
A humourous example of how quickly pride could take hold is the time a prosperous peach tree sprung up at Trout Creek. An excited letter from the president of a mining company cropped up in the papers, in which he stated, “I am more convinced than ever that we are quite likely to become a good deal more than small potatoes in peach production.” Keep in mind, this comment came about after witnessing one promising tree. A reply was printed shortly after, where a Mr. Robinson (who, to his credit, at least tasted the peaches) “found them, if anything, larger and of better flavor than [those of] the Lambly ranch.” Simply put, Vernon and surrounding areas felt unbeatable in their industry.
Defending one’s Honour
Nothing raised the fruit growers’ hackles quite like public attacks from the competition. In 1892, the president of the Ontario Fruit-Growers’ Association, Mr. Boulter, reported to the Winnipeg Free Press that there was no Okanagan equal to Ontario produce. In response, a two-column long, front-page article appeared in the Vernon News, praising BC fruit and rebuffing the outspoken commentator. The colourful language included one memorable metaphor, where the passionate statements of a local grower were compared to “some of the Okanagan fruit, hurling at the devoted head of the indiscreet Mr. Boulter.” Similar gripes were displayed against Calgary spokesmen and innocent people remarking about fruit pests.
In the end, perhaps these moments of heated argumentation are to be excused; a reputation, if well-earned, deserves a strong defence. However, as we enjoy the beaches and fruit stands, recall that tempers can boil just as easily as delicious produce under the summer sun.
To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!
For the months of June and July, we are thrilled to present a series of blog posts by Collections Intern Rebeka Beganova. Rebeka (she/her) is a post-secondary student with a passion for research, literature, and history. Having completed an Associate of Arts Degree at Okanagan College, she is glad to be joining the MAV team during her last summer in Vernon before heading off to UBC Vancouver. There is no better way to say goodbye to her hometown than to explore its local history!
Shuswap & Okanagan Railway construction crew photographed at Mara Lake ca. 1891.
From 1890 to 1892, the construction of the Shuswap & Okanagan (S&O) railway stirred excitement throughout Vernon. It was a time of bright possibilities, of newfound connections – and of gathering stories. Incoming technology manifested in people’s minds as both a benevolent friend and an unpredictable beast, and it occasionally inspired the creation of mystical local tales. Around dinner tables and across schoolyards, the train and its tracks became the domain of eerie ghosts and spectral monsters.
Guiding Spirit
In June of 1891, the Vernon Newsfeatured a report of railroad worker JR Beesling’s encounter with an unknown, life-saving entity while on the job. During one stormy night, he described, he was riding the train and happened to spot “a strange, weird-looking blue light” floating ahead on the tracks. Suddenly possessed by an inexplicable urge to stop the train, he rang the bell and the vehicle came to a screeching halt.
The engineer and the brakeman accompanied him on an investigation of the area, but they found nothing, not even a trace, indicating anything (or anyone) had come and gone. Upon continuing down the tracks, however, they came upon a bridge that was almost completely washed away by the rising water levels below. It seemed the train and its occupants had barely avoided a catastrophic accident. No matter how much Beesling swore they had just encountered a “Divine Providence,” he lamented that no one would believe him.
Swan Lake Demon
A few pages later in that same newspaper, an unnamed author detailed the “Legend of Swan Lake.” Although already established as a local tale, this new rendition included details clearly echoing themes of the locomotive. The story went that, long ago, a stockman and his horse were lumbering homeward along the shore of Swan Lake. Much like in Beesing’s report, a sinister storm was brewing against the dark sky. Just as lightning flashed, a blood-curdling cry split the night. The horse immediately reared up and scampered away to safety, but the man – not too tired to bravely investigate the noise – cautiously approached the rushes. A terrifying creature swam into view.
It was seemingly too horrifying to warrant a detailed description, but the author of the article wrote that “Nature seemed evidently to have created it in an idle moment, in order to show how she could diverge from her ordinary course.” There was just one clear detail: the eyes (however numerous) were a frightening, fiery red, and the nostrils (equally abundant) spewed a noxious smoke. The stockman stood paralyzed with fear until he fainted, overwhelmed by the fumes. When he woke, the sky was innocently shining and his horse calmly grazing nearby. The author reported a popular theory that the monster, with its burning stare and billowing breath, was symbolic of a railway engine.
The S&O railway evoked all manner of activity, from labour to leisurely travel. The storytelling it inspired is similarly meaningful – the fear and awe that new technology can inspire remains, after all, familiar to us today.
Do you enjoy local ghost stories? Check out this other blog post.
To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!
