William Francis Conabree
reprinted with permission of his Great Grandson
Gerry Lauzon
|
Private William Francis Conabree CEF WW1
William was born in Liverpool to a Catholic family in 1890. He was sent over in 1904 through the auspices of the Catholic Emigration Society. He was a horn player and stretcher bearer for the 49th Loyal Edmonton Regiment. He lived through gas attacks and was made a prisoner of war near the end. One of the people with whom he was a POW, was Con Smythe, the famed owner of the Toronto Maple Leafs. William lived on his life in the region of Shawinigan after the war.
After the death of his wife, also a BHC, this hand written letter was found by his family. It is a fascinating look at the horrifying treatment he received from his Canadian host family. He ran away from this situation, and later enlisted in the Canadian Expeditionary Force and fought in WWI. The letter is transcribed as written, without corrections. |
|
"Believe me my friends, it's the truth"
I came out to this country from England in July 1904. I was 14 years old at the time, being of the poor class, I came with the Catholic Emigration Society; their headquarters at the time on St. Thomas street in Montreal. I was sent to work on a farm as a hired man at a rate of $1.00 per month, this being sent to the society. I was tagged for a place in Ontario, Bulger by name. If I ever struck it bad in my life, it was there. One could not imagine how people could ill treat another person to such extent.
Well, the boy who I replaced was sent back immediately after my arrival, a walking skeleton. Knowing as I do now, I wonder if he made the trip alive, poor fellow. I knew him very well; he was in the same school as myself in England. If he did make it alive, he must have died a short while afterward, as he was too far gone to last very long.
How is it that they did not immediately call me back once they saw this boy's condition? I remained there about a year unwillingly of course and if decent people only knew what I went through they would be shocked, but there I was without a soul to turn to for help, no writing paper, no money even to buy a stamp. I was forbidden to go outside the front gate by this farmer, for if I did he said he would horse whip me to death, and meant it. For I often had the home strap lashings, my body was marked and my arms and wrists had blisters marked by this home strap. And that was done by the woman herself, he himself used the whip. This home strap the woman had it hung up in the summer kitchen, as it was handy for her to use it on me, for no reason at all. I can swear to this. Her only invented reason at all: I was a dirty Englishman.
I worked from sunset and most of the time in the fields and at night after a hard days work outdoor she would make me wash the dishes having piled them up so there would be plenty. They would go to bed and she would often tell me to wash the floors, bake the bread in the oven, and she would say "pity help you if you let it burn". I had no bed; I slept on an old sofa in the kitchen with the dog. I had no clothes except the old working clothes that the poor sick boy left. The good clothes I came out with were taken away from me, in fact everything I owned was not much but it was taken away. All letters I was keeping were destroyed, my clothes were distributed amongst their own boys, they had three, two about my age.
After I was there three of four months, a visitor called to see me. He called me outside and asked me how I was getting on. I explained to him that I would like to be taken away from there. He could see for himself the condition I was in. I could hardly talk as the people were in hearsay of what I said. Well after he went I had hope of being taken away, but no. It happened that this visitor's father was a neighbour of this farmer's brother about five miles away. That I did not know at the time, in fact I was not allowed to know anybody. The neighbours were very far away.
The only time I saw the neighbours was when they had a "bee". I was the one sent to work at the bee, and I got instructions before going to work at the bee that I was not to say a word to anyone, for they would hear of it and pity help me if I spoke. They seldom cut my hair. It use to lay on my shoulders like a girl, and I was swarmed in lice. I did not know what clean clothes was, always the same old clothes. I got my both feet froze right in their yard, there was no weather cold enough but that they would make me work outside. The socks I was wearing were full of holes; they were discarded by the farmer too far gone for repairs. They were given to me to wear is reason my both feet froze. They froze "white" all over. Here's the treatment they made me take for them.
They made me put my feet in ice cold "well" water until my feet got all coated with ice and after that they swole up so big I had to go to work with rags wrapped around my feet. No question of trying to put the buckskin moccasins on, my feet split open in several places and did not heal for months afterward, all of my toenails came off. When my feet got a little better I began to wear the moccasins again. I was sent to a wood sawing "bee" for some neighbour away down the road. As usual the warning that I should not say a word. It happened as we were finishing up that night, it was a way back in the woods, a sleigh drove up and asked for me. It was another visitor to see me, not the same as previous. He bide me to jump in the sleigh with him, and immediately on the way back he told me who he was, and starting questioning me about the treatment I was getting. I told him how I was treated, my feet were still very sore. He had me take off the old buckskin moccasins after my arrival at the farmer, and what he didn't tell them. He even said he was ashamed of his own nationality after they told him of their own nationality.
I expected to be taken away immediately, but no, he said. He had to make his report first. The next day the farmer and his wife had me write a letter to contradict anything this fellow would say. So there I was again still no hopes. The next Spring, a boy working for his brother came over to give us a hand with the stoning and it was through him that I got an address to go to if I decided to run away. I bide my time to do so, seeing it was my ownly salvation and only cha nce of getting free from this ill treatment. So one day in the spring or early summer, the sewing of crop was through. He was going to Egansville to the races. Before going he had a couple of sandwich of bread and butter only made up for me, and took me back in the woods to cut wood alone. I carried the axe, saw, etc., and small lunch with me. He showed me what he wanted me to do, and then left me alone. I started cutting up the wood and I was getting thirsty, nothing to drink. I was told to come home only when the sun was going down and to bring home the cows for milking. The flies were eating me alive and nothing to quench my thirst. I decided now's your chance, so I walked through the bush to the road and started away. Every time I saw a horse and rig coming, I hid laying down flat inside the fence. That is the way I got away.
I walked five miles to Mr. B.'s place and I stayed there for a week until the association ordered my return. I went to another farmer after that, of the same nationality. It was a little better, the farmer's wife hated the English. So you see it was pretty hard going when your nationality is hated where you have to stay. The treatment was much better than the previous place. The farmer had a bad temper. After being there about a year, he was in bad humour one day and knocked me down. I got up and told him it was too bad that I was not a bit older. I would try hard to defend myself. He then gave me an awful punch in the face and knocked me down. And the the brave fellow put the boots to me. I was black and blue from the armpits to the knee on the right side. I had a hard time to walk about, so I kept away from the house, slept in the stable that night and walked 15 miles to Ottawa the next day. What a sight I was in my old farm clothes on the streetcar. A lady gave me 5 cents to pay my car fair in Ottawa.
I then went to work for a French Canadian farmer and stayed there three years. He was an elderly man. I got on fairly well there, a little close on the table, but seeing what I went through, I easily overlooked that.
I then got a job in Montreal with the firm of Frothingham and Workman wholesale hardware. I stayed with them for seven years working my way up from labourer in the yard to express and letter order department, of which I was in charge. I left there to enlist in the Canadian Army for overseas C.E.F. [Canadian Expeditionnary Force] March 1916. When I was in the trenches in 1917, my wife in Montreal had the misfortune of having my home taken away from her by a landlord for a months rent of $18.00 which my wife said was promised her for the cleaning of the flat. It was her first month in that flat and it was the understanding, but she did not have it in writing. So she was put out on the street with her two children, one 4 years old and the other 18 months. When I came back, we started up again, got things together, got myself a job.
I started travelling for a firm and moved to Shawinigan Falls. I was doing fairly well by now, but I got roped in on an accident deal in 1920. This was certainly a rotten deal. The party who did this was not right, his wife was against this deal. I was mislead all along and didn't think it possible such a rotten deal could be let through. I found out so and believe me it has shaken my faith in certain people, for which I can never forget until the day I die. I had so much faith in righteousness that I did not think such a thing possible. Why even the clergy remarked about it as being not just. It is really too bad such things are allowed. It does not do them any good. They all lose out in the end. But it hurts the poor harding working law abiding citizen who works honestly to earn a living and keep his family going. I feel so peeved when I think about that nasty deal, and the ones who were responsible for it. It is understandable that the atomic bomb is now here.
Yours Truthfully,
W.F. Conabree Ex. Pte 841681 C.E.F.
P.S. When I went back to England with the C.E.F., I met some of my relatives. I did not tell them of my ill treatment on the farm, as I did not want them to feel bad about it. I just kept it to myself. My wife was a slave too, came to this country with the same organization at 8 years of age [1893]. She was put on a farm as a working hand. They never sent her to school. She did not know to read and write. She tells me she always worked in the field.
The End
Well, the boy who I replaced was sent back immediately after my arrival, a walking skeleton. Knowing as I do now, I wonder if he made the trip alive, poor fellow. I knew him very well; he was in the same school as myself in England. If he did make it alive, he must have died a short while afterward, as he was too far gone to last very long.
How is it that they did not immediately call me back once they saw this boy's condition? I remained there about a year unwillingly of course and if decent people only knew what I went through they would be shocked, but there I was without a soul to turn to for help, no writing paper, no money even to buy a stamp. I was forbidden to go outside the front gate by this farmer, for if I did he said he would horse whip me to death, and meant it. For I often had the home strap lashings, my body was marked and my arms and wrists had blisters marked by this home strap. And that was done by the woman herself, he himself used the whip. This home strap the woman had it hung up in the summer kitchen, as it was handy for her to use it on me, for no reason at all. I can swear to this. Her only invented reason at all: I was a dirty Englishman.
I worked from sunset and most of the time in the fields and at night after a hard days work outdoor she would make me wash the dishes having piled them up so there would be plenty. They would go to bed and she would often tell me to wash the floors, bake the bread in the oven, and she would say "pity help you if you let it burn". I had no bed; I slept on an old sofa in the kitchen with the dog. I had no clothes except the old working clothes that the poor sick boy left. The good clothes I came out with were taken away from me, in fact everything I owned was not much but it was taken away. All letters I was keeping were destroyed, my clothes were distributed amongst their own boys, they had three, two about my age.
After I was there three of four months, a visitor called to see me. He called me outside and asked me how I was getting on. I explained to him that I would like to be taken away from there. He could see for himself the condition I was in. I could hardly talk as the people were in hearsay of what I said. Well after he went I had hope of being taken away, but no. It happened that this visitor's father was a neighbour of this farmer's brother about five miles away. That I did not know at the time, in fact I was not allowed to know anybody. The neighbours were very far away.
The only time I saw the neighbours was when they had a "bee". I was the one sent to work at the bee, and I got instructions before going to work at the bee that I was not to say a word to anyone, for they would hear of it and pity help me if I spoke. They seldom cut my hair. It use to lay on my shoulders like a girl, and I was swarmed in lice. I did not know what clean clothes was, always the same old clothes. I got my both feet froze right in their yard, there was no weather cold enough but that they would make me work outside. The socks I was wearing were full of holes; they were discarded by the farmer too far gone for repairs. They were given to me to wear is reason my both feet froze. They froze "white" all over. Here's the treatment they made me take for them.
They made me put my feet in ice cold "well" water until my feet got all coated with ice and after that they swole up so big I had to go to work with rags wrapped around my feet. No question of trying to put the buckskin moccasins on, my feet split open in several places and did not heal for months afterward, all of my toenails came off. When my feet got a little better I began to wear the moccasins again. I was sent to a wood sawing "bee" for some neighbour away down the road. As usual the warning that I should not say a word. It happened as we were finishing up that night, it was a way back in the woods, a sleigh drove up and asked for me. It was another visitor to see me, not the same as previous. He bide me to jump in the sleigh with him, and immediately on the way back he told me who he was, and starting questioning me about the treatment I was getting. I told him how I was treated, my feet were still very sore. He had me take off the old buckskin moccasins after my arrival at the farmer, and what he didn't tell them. He even said he was ashamed of his own nationality after they told him of their own nationality.
I expected to be taken away immediately, but no, he said. He had to make his report first. The next day the farmer and his wife had me write a letter to contradict anything this fellow would say. So there I was again still no hopes. The next Spring, a boy working for his brother came over to give us a hand with the stoning and it was through him that I got an address to go to if I decided to run away. I bide my time to do so, seeing it was my ownly salvation and only cha nce of getting free from this ill treatment. So one day in the spring or early summer, the sewing of crop was through. He was going to Egansville to the races. Before going he had a couple of sandwich of bread and butter only made up for me, and took me back in the woods to cut wood alone. I carried the axe, saw, etc., and small lunch with me. He showed me what he wanted me to do, and then left me alone. I started cutting up the wood and I was getting thirsty, nothing to drink. I was told to come home only when the sun was going down and to bring home the cows for milking. The flies were eating me alive and nothing to quench my thirst. I decided now's your chance, so I walked through the bush to the road and started away. Every time I saw a horse and rig coming, I hid laying down flat inside the fence. That is the way I got away.
I walked five miles to Mr. B.'s place and I stayed there for a week until the association ordered my return. I went to another farmer after that, of the same nationality. It was a little better, the farmer's wife hated the English. So you see it was pretty hard going when your nationality is hated where you have to stay. The treatment was much better than the previous place. The farmer had a bad temper. After being there about a year, he was in bad humour one day and knocked me down. I got up and told him it was too bad that I was not a bit older. I would try hard to defend myself. He then gave me an awful punch in the face and knocked me down. And the the brave fellow put the boots to me. I was black and blue from the armpits to the knee on the right side. I had a hard time to walk about, so I kept away from the house, slept in the stable that night and walked 15 miles to Ottawa the next day. What a sight I was in my old farm clothes on the streetcar. A lady gave me 5 cents to pay my car fair in Ottawa.
I then went to work for a French Canadian farmer and stayed there three years. He was an elderly man. I got on fairly well there, a little close on the table, but seeing what I went through, I easily overlooked that.
I then got a job in Montreal with the firm of Frothingham and Workman wholesale hardware. I stayed with them for seven years working my way up from labourer in the yard to express and letter order department, of which I was in charge. I left there to enlist in the Canadian Army for overseas C.E.F. [Canadian Expeditionnary Force] March 1916. When I was in the trenches in 1917, my wife in Montreal had the misfortune of having my home taken away from her by a landlord for a months rent of $18.00 which my wife said was promised her for the cleaning of the flat. It was her first month in that flat and it was the understanding, but she did not have it in writing. So she was put out on the street with her two children, one 4 years old and the other 18 months. When I came back, we started up again, got things together, got myself a job.
I started travelling for a firm and moved to Shawinigan Falls. I was doing fairly well by now, but I got roped in on an accident deal in 1920. This was certainly a rotten deal. The party who did this was not right, his wife was against this deal. I was mislead all along and didn't think it possible such a rotten deal could be let through. I found out so and believe me it has shaken my faith in certain people, for which I can never forget until the day I die. I had so much faith in righteousness that I did not think such a thing possible. Why even the clergy remarked about it as being not just. It is really too bad such things are allowed. It does not do them any good. They all lose out in the end. But it hurts the poor harding working law abiding citizen who works honestly to earn a living and keep his family going. I feel so peeved when I think about that nasty deal, and the ones who were responsible for it. It is understandable that the atomic bomb is now here.
Yours Truthfully,
W.F. Conabree Ex. Pte 841681 C.E.F.
P.S. When I went back to England with the C.E.F., I met some of my relatives. I did not tell them of my ill treatment on the farm, as I did not want them to feel bad about it. I just kept it to myself. My wife was a slave too, came to this country with the same organization at 8 years of age [1893]. She was put on a farm as a working hand. They never sent her to school. She did not know to read and write. She tells me she always worked in the field.
The End
