Recollections of James Bay

By Will Schneider

As a relatively new resident, I gained a fascinating glimpse into a James Bay of a different era when I spoke with a former and long-time resident of the area. Wishing to be known only as "a man in his 98th year" he regaled me with tales of times gone by. A few of which I'll share with you now.

"The first thing I can remember in James Bay is when I was a four year old," he said. His mother's shout would bring him quickly into the yard because the '398' was coming. The car (owned by a local mechanic) would fly down Simcoe Street at the end of every working day and was something of an event. Not least was because most families owned chickens that were sent scattering from the road in a puff of feathers. However, he was quick to add, "I never saw one hurt".

Most families in James Bay kept animals of some kind and each morning would ring with the sound of cocks crowing at four-am. This was something he assured me that you could get used to remarkably quickly.

At a time when being left-handed was considered an aberration, he remembers the difficulties finding a school to take him on without first forcing him to change to his non-dominant hand.

Beacon Hill School wasn't willing to take the risk and the sister of renowned local artist Emily Carr feared that such eccentricities may become contagious at her private school. Luckily a school at Douglas and Avalon was short of students and took him on.

When he was ready for high school, he was accepted at South Park School but was the first left-handed student ever admitted there.

It was a place, he said, that ran with iron discipline. The children there marched to and from class in strict military formation. He recalled with a laugh that he had "served in regiments during the war that didn't have the discipline they had at South Park School."

The corner of Menzies and Michigan housed a private girls' college where, to his amusement, a friend of his who went in as 'Betty' refused to be addressed as anything other than 'Bett-ay' on her way out.

During his childhood, Fisherman's Wharf and the coastguard station where filled with longshoremen and their families and were a tough place for tough people. At the time children were told by their parents to keep away from this part of town, which by all accounts was a far cry from the tourist friendly version of Fisherman's Wharf we know today.

Victoria was a prominent seaport then and played host to the biggest naval parade he could remember in 1924 which included the HMS Hood, the largest battle cruiser in the world at the time.

In 1939 he fondly remembers being able to see King George VI and Queen Elizabeth at Beacon Hill Park when they visited Victoria during their royal tour of Canada

Despite knowing downtown Victoria like the back of his hand, our man also remembered the night he was hopelessly lost at the corner of Douglas and Yates in 1942. At the time the city was tense and under a total blackout during World War Two. A Japanese I-26 submarine was lurking off the west coast and had shelled the lighthouse at Estevan Point not long before. He made it home that night but only managed to get his bearings by reading a shop sign by feel alone.

The most striking fact for me was that, although much has changed over the years, it was very clear as we spoke that he still loves the area both as it is and as it was. This is testament both to the community and to a man who has seen much, our "man in his 98th year.''