Mom, Dad & We Six Offspring - Stories and Recollections
Mom, Dad and Us...
Fred Sanderson Babcock was born at Sharbot Lake, Ontario, on 2 June 1888. He attended Sharbot Lake Public School and apparently did exceptionally well. So well in fact that he was placed in the position of teaching the students of the school the year after he graduated, since no teacher was available for a period of time.
At about the age of 16 or 17 years, Fred found labour in a pea factory in Lindsay. His job was to empty 100 pound bags of dried peas down a chute leading to a moving belt below, where my mother Eva May sorted the peas, discarding the bad ones. Dad apparently dumped a particularly bad bag of peas down the chute one time and my mother flew up the stairs in a rage to “give him a piece of her mind.” The fiery display of temper earned her the adoring nickname of “Irish” from Dad, whenever the temper flared on future occasions. I was told that Fred carefully chose choice peas in the future.
This “business” meeting in the pea factory led to social meetings as Fred was smitten by a very pretty Eva May Woodley. They were married in Lindsay, Ontario, on the 6th of December, 1908. Dad was 20 and Mother was 21. My sister Ida Maude was born on the 8th of June, 1909, at 594 Pape Avenue in Toronto, as Dad had found work there. Around this time, he became friends with Jack Knox, a barber by trade, and Dad owned a Harley Davidson motorbike. Apparently Dad and Jack went on their bikes on regular weekend fishing trips, sometimes to Sharbot Lake, and sometimes to Jack Lake. This friendship and the fishing trips continued for sometime and eventually included our family: Mother, Ida, Del, Ken, and Jack. I do not recall inclusion on a fishing trip with Jack Knox; but I do remember a family trip to Sharbot Lake when we rented a cottage. I was about five years old and spent the day in the water playing in the sun. By evening I had a severe sunburn, and remember falling asleep lying across my father’s abdomen. Mother applied baking soda and water compresses and by morning I experienced relief. I had to wear a shirt and a hat whenever I went out for the duration of the holiday.
My brother Franklin Delroy “Del” was born on the 7th of February, 1911; Kenneth Sanderson was born on the 15th of November, 1912. Both were born at the family home on Pape Avenue, Toronto. Brother Jack was born on the 25th of September, 1915, just after the family moved to a home on Hazelwood Ave. Grandma and Grandpa Babcock also came to live with Mom and Dad just before Jack’s birth. In 1919, they bought our family home at 144 Wellington Street East, Aurora, Ontario. In 1925 a baby boy “William” was stillborn, strangled by his umbilical cord. On August 30, 1926, I, William James, was born in Mother and Dad’s bedroom at home.
I remember Ida and Herb building their home next door and my joy at becoming an “Uncle” at the ripe age of five years when James Herbert Stocks was born. My “Uncle” status was doubly confirmed with the advent of John Kenneth Babcock, the son of Mary and Ken, the following January. Shortly after my tenth birthday, my brother Peter Nelson Babcock was born on October 18th, 1936, just five days after mother’s forty-ninth birthday.
Perhaps because of Mother’s advanced age, Peter arrived with a calcium deficiency, which contributed to a decreased mental capacity. In spite of medical advice and urging from Dad, (Herb and I visited the Ontario Mental Hospital in Orillia with them), Mother kept Peter at home, and cared for him. A private tutor was found in Newmarket. Later, Del, then Principal of Aurora Public School, opened an Opportunity Class which Peter attended for two years. He liked to listen to the radio, and read the weather forecast in the newspaper.
He helped water and feed my chickens and learned to walk downtown to shop at Spence’s Bakery, Morris’ Butcher shop, the I.G.A., Willis’ Drug Store and picked up the mail at the Post Office. The merchants knew Peter well and all were very kind to him. He took his shopping seriously and received gratification from performing the task. Peter also became skilled at painting by numbers in oils. We still have pot holders which he wove. He also loved to cut and paste to make scrapbooks. He eventually travelled by Gray Coach to A.R.C. sheltered workshop, in Richmond Hill, until he developed a bowel disorder which rendered him incontinent. Mother and Ida were by now living at 27 Royal Road, in Aurora, along with Jim, Mary, and Nancy. Much love, care, and tolerance was generously afforded to Peter.
I remember the day that Ida came to me in tears. She had arranged for Peter to be admitted to the excellent facility at Pine Ridge in Aurora, but others were reluctant to co-sign the agreement. Believing in the philosophy of the greatest good for the greatest number, I co-signed the admission papers. It was six months before Mother was able to accept the correctness of our action, and after refusing to speak to me during this time, relented and smiling told me how much Peter liked Pine Ridge and how he looked forward to returning after his home visits. Peter died on the 18th of January, 1975; cause of death, cancer of the colon. He had a good sense of humour and enjoyed a good joke. I think he was responsible for Jean and I deciding to establish a section for mentally handicapped children and young adults at Richildaca Camp.
Dad was a successful travelling salesman employed by the old 1900 Washer Co., which was taken over by Beatty Washer. He then sold for Easy Washer and then went to Coffield Washer where he became Vice President and Sales Manager, travelling through Canada and to England. For Beatty, he started door to door in Toronto. My brother Jack related the tale of one Christmas Eve when Dad, with no money for Christmas, was walking from door to door selling washing machines without success. Down at the end of a darkened street, he saw one porch light shining. When he knocked on the front door of that house he was welcomed into the house, sold a machine, had it delivered, collected his commission and was able to give his family a happy Christmas.
He later joined the staff of Moffats Limited in Weston, with whom he became Sales Manager for Eastern Canada, and eventually for all of Canada. The war came in 1939 and Dad was instrumental in getting huge contracts from C.D. Howe, then Minister of Defense for shell cases. Charlie Seath, Jim Willis, Doug Pratt, and I worked in the cutting room of the plant at Weston for two summers. I remember Dad giving us extra gas ration coupons so that we could drive to work in Charlie’s Model A Ford. During this stressful wartime, Dad had his first heart attack and never fully recovered, even though he struggled to go to work, and to attend the Moffat Booth at the Canadian National Exhibition. Jean accompanied me as I drove Dad to the Exhibition and she remembers how he issued instructions all the way to our destination. He was quiet on the way home, apparently too exhausted to bother with any further instructions. Dad always had a good car, favouring the Chrysler and the Desoto. He took care of those cars, having the oil changed every thousand miles at Merv Taylor’s Esso Station along with regular greasing and maintenance. I was allowed to wash the car starting when I was about 14, but only with Dad’s close supervision.
I am not sure if I ever did wash the car completely to his satisfaction. He liked to smoke good cigars – House of Lords Panatelas were his favourite. But he was generous in allowing me to use the car, especially when Jean and I were courting. She claims that the black Desoto in immaculate condition and my sharp gray suit tipped the scales in my favour. Dad loved to play cribbage with Jack and Herb and with Mary and me or with anyone who happened to be available.
He was an avid fisherman and various members of the family spent many summers fishing with Dad. He was content to run the motor, steer the boat to the best spot and let the rest of us handle the lines and catch the fish. I remember going for several summers to Manitoulin Island, where we rented a cottage on Honora Bay and fished for Lake Trout. The fish were stored on ice in the ice house and many boxes packed in chipped ice were shipped home to friends and relatives. Del still holds the record with a 26 pound Lake Trout, equaled by Dad’s 26 pound Lake Couchiching Pike, and only in 1992 by my Pacific Chinook Salmon at 26 pounds.
Dad was a devoted member of the Rising Sun Masonic Lodge in Aurora and all of us followed as members. He served in the various chairs as did Herb and Del. Special mention was made in Masonic circles when I was initiated and the various chairs and stations were occupied by Dad, Herb, Del, Ken, and Jack.
We all loved and respected our father and were saddened by his death, caused by coronary thrombosis, on the 19th of November, 1949. I was home from the University of Toronto for the weekend. We had just enjoyed a delicious dinner prepared by Mother, when Dad experienced difficulty breathing and Dr. Williams was called. Dad lay on the couch in the front room and was given an injection of morphine to ease the pain and was soon dead.
But even though we thought as we did about our Dad; we were raised disciplined, and cared for in sickness by Mother. With Dad travelling, Mother was at home and always provided the strength and the backbone needed to direct such a large family. She was a great cook, baker, manager; she loved her garden, especially the flowers; and kept a spotless premises from whitewashed basement throughout the house. Her love for each of us was reflected back to her as well. She was a superb mother and a wonderful person, much respected by her family and in the community.
When I was born Ida was my primary babysitter, although Del and Ken were pressed into service from time to time. Del claims to be responsible for “the bump of knowledge” on my head since he allowed me to roll off the dining room table while changing my diaper one day. I remember Ken rocking me to sleep in my carriage, asking him to “Sing a bum song, Kenny,” and he sang me to sleep. Jack always seemed to be able to avoid the responsibility of looking after me in the early years, but I remember him taking me by the hand and walking downtown with his dog “Pat”.
It is with the deepest regret that we record the passing of F.S. Babcock, long-time Moffat sales executive. Dean of appliance sales and merchandising men “Bab” was known from coast to coast through his long and pleasant associations with individuals representing all phases of the industry. He will be remembered for his warm, kindly personality and his keen, untiring, pioneering efforts on behalf of Moffats and the electrical appliance industry. His host of friends extend deepest sympathy to his family, in this, their great loss.