HALCYON SUMMERS: OH CANADA by James A. Chisman
My grandfather, Vinton Wood (1887 – 1948), married my grandmother, Mabel Pitz (1888 – 1968) in 1908 in Ravenna, Ohio. Vinton was the son of an Iowa Civil War veteran, Leander Wood (1848-1915). Mabel was the daughter of Joseph Pitz (1865 – 1918) who had a meat market at 117 N. Meridian Street in Ravenna. His delivery wagon was horse-drawn. When Vinton married his daughter, Joe took him on as an apprentice.
Joe Pitz and His Meat Market 1911
Vinton and Mabel could not afford a new-fangled car when they married in 1908, so they bought a used motorcycle with a sidecar. This vehicle they had when my mother, Marthalee Wood, was born in 1909 and used until she was eight years old. Joe Pitz drove a big Maxwell touring car – his showy wife Mary’s choice.
1913 Motorcycles with Sidecars – Wood’s Far Right
1911 Maxwell with Joe and Mary Pitz and Children
When Joe Pitz died in 1918, Vinton took over the business and hired his younger brother, Lynn, as his associate—Lynn had earlier returned from WW-I where he had been lightly gassed in the trenches. Around 1919 they moved the business to 212 Main Street.
Vinton Wood’s Meat Market. Vinton on Right, Lynn on Left
Around 1919 Vinton bought a Model T Ford and a two-wheel “pop-up” camping trailer. He was an avid fisherman. He had heard that there was a lake, Bobs Lake, just across the upper New York border in Canada that was frequented by Ohioans and had an abundance of walleyed pike. So off he went for a month in his Model T with his wife, daughter and trailer in tow. He left the meat market in his brother’s hands.
Vinton Wood’s 1919 Model-T Ford
Bobs Lake was 50 miles north of Watertown, NY near Westport, Ontario. At that time a car-ferry was required to cross the St. Lawrence River. Near Westport you picked up a one-lane dirt road that ran for about ten miles to Bobs Lake. There were pull-overs about every mile needed for passing both ways. They camped in the woods along the shore on property rented from a local farmer, Billy Badour. There were other campers nearby so my mother occasionally had someone to play with—even then it was lonely for her. She missed her Ravenna friends.
In 1923, my mother’s brother, Norman, came on the scene. He joined the summer hiatus. When my mother graduated from high school in 1928, she forewent the annual pilgrimage. She attended Hammel-Actual Business School in Akron. Upon graduation, she went to work as president Martin Davey’s personal secretary at the Davey Tree Company’s headquarters in Kent, Ohio. The street car stopped right in front of her house on 1072 W. Main St in Ravenna, kitty-cornered across from Ravenna Township School.
Around 1927, Vinton bought a new car and camper. He had worn the Model-T out going back and forth to Canada.
Vinton Wood’s 1927 Car with Camper Trailer
In 1935, Vinton bought a quarter-acre of land on the lake from Billy Badour and built a small cottage. By that time he had either sold or closed his meat market and was working as a part-time butcher for Longcoy’s Market in Kent, Ohio—taking all summers off to go fishing at Bobs Lake.
Wood’s Bobs Lake Cottage 1938
Their cottage was near the farm of Mr. Badour, who sold milk, bacon, eggs, fire-wood and ice to the tourists. He and his son, Murton, cut ice from the lake in the winter and stored it in their ice-house, which was insulated with sawdust.
In 1929, my mother married Wallace F. Chisman who was living with his family in Ravenna, having moved from Cleveland and before that Indianapolis. My parents conceived me in 1935 in the middle of the Great Depression. My sister, Judith, was born in 1946.
In 1941 my dad bought a 1937 Chrysler Imperial with a roll-out windshield, which intrigued me. That summer we drove to Bobs Lake to visit my grandparents—the ferry ride was not required since the Thousand Island Bridge had been recently built across the St. Lawrence Seaway. We stayed two weeks. I immediately made friends with Ross and Madge Badour, Billy’s youngest kids, who were a couple of years older than me, and their dog Rover.
Jim Chisman, Rover, Madge and Ross Badour 1941
It was my greatest summer, which I constantly dreamed of repeating. But WW-II with its gas and other rationing precluded my going back until 1947. That six year dream was the longest and most frustrating one I ever have had!
At the start of the War, Vinton and Norman went to work at the Ravenna Arsenal assembling bombs for the war effort. In 1942 Norman was drafted—he chose the Navy specializing in aviation ordnance. Before he left, he married his childhood sweetheart, Flora Wiley. He came home on two short furloughs before shipping to the South Pacific. We met him at the train station. I can still feel the terror I felt standing on the station platform as the humongous, roaring steam locomotive passed a few feet from me with whistle blowing, brakes squealing and engine snorting steam.
Norman was a tail gunner on a Martin Marauder (B-24) bomber. In 1944 they took some ack-ack over Bougainville in the Solomon Islands and had to ditch their plane in the ocean. Uncle Norman was the only one to die—the ack-ack had destroyed the superstructure between him and the rest of the plane and his compatriots couldn’t get to him—he drowned as the plane sank. My grandfather never recovered from the loss of his only son. They had great times together, especially at Bobs Lake.
Norman Wood 1939
Norman’s beloved dog, Rex, remained with the Woods until he died at Bobs Lake the summer of 1946—their first time back since the War started. His grave and little tombstone were placed on the front corner of their property. Rex’s death was another blow to my grandfather.
Rex 1939
In 1947, my dream of returning to Bobs Lake was finally realized. My grandparents were happy to see us.
Vinton and Mabel Wood 1947
My parents brought along my one and a half year old sister, Judy—her first and only trip to the lake. She was most impressed with the Badour cows that roamed freely.
Judy Chisman 1947
My reunion with Madge and Ross was everything I dreamed it would be, except Rover was gone. The farm life was unhurried and productive. The area had no electricity. The Badour’s only had two pieces of mechanized equipment: a hand-cranked milk separator and a horse-drawn mowing machine. Billy had an old Model-T roadster that he would drive once a week into Westport to buy supplies for themselves and to sell to the tourists.
In the evening Billy, his wife, Grace, and Grace’s sister Erma, would sit on their big front porch with some of their seven children (some were old enough to have flown the nest) spinning yarns and talking about the good-old-days. I felt privileged to be included.
Three things endeared me to my grandfather: Vinton was a rather stern fellow and somewhat humorless, except around his fishing buddies. He had the “old-fashioned” idea that children should be seen and not heard. One day he woke up and announced to all that “my side hurts.” He didn’t indicate which side, so I asked “Which side?” He jovially responded “My outside.” I found this particularly funny.
The second thing of endearment was that he asked me to accompany him to Ottawa, the capital of Canada, to buy a new Peterborough boat and a 5HP Martin outboard motor. The boat was built like a canoe, but with a small transom to mount a motor. The motor had a sleek black cowling, not like most predecessor cowling-less motors which exposed the cylinders and carburetor.
The third and most important thing of endearment was his desire for me to catch a big walleyed pike. He had caught and had mounted a 12 pound walleye. We trolled everyday in his new boat. One day I snagged what he thought was a 15 pound walleye, but it jumped the line as I tried to get it into the boat. He was sad for me. I finally caught a 10 pounder, which pleased me.
Jim Chisman 1947
On a shopping trip to Perth, three unusual things happened that registered on my 12-year-old mind: First we passed an airfield that had a British Spitfire parked outside of a hanger. Second, we happened to be there when Perth was having a parade honoring Barbara Ann Scott, Canada’s reigning figure skating champion and soon to be Gold Medalist in the 1948 Olympics—she was beautiful. And third, my mother and grandmother stopped at a roadside palm reader and had their fortunes told—this scared me a little. Fortunately, they each had a “good” reading.
Later in 1948, my grandfather died supposedly of a heart attack, but I suspect it was more from a broken heart—he had grieved four long years over the premature death of his only son.
In 1950, my grandmother wanted me to accompany her to Bobs Lake to settle her estate. She wanted to bring home some personal items and to sell off the cottage and its contents. She gave me Uncle Norman’s Meriden (Sears) pump .22 caliber rifle, which I used for target practice way up in the woods. I also shot two poisonous milk-adders. I sat down to rest against a hollow tree. Shortly I felt a thump on my back. I jumped up to see two milk-adders hanging upside down menacing me in the hollow. It scared me half-to-death. As a knee-jerk reaction, I emptied the gun on them. I felt bad about that for a long time.
We stayed a month there. I spent a lot of time tagging after Ross—helping with his chores where I could. It was the first time in my life that I enjoyed doing work.
At 15 years old, I was really noticing girls. I had had a minor crush on Madge three years before, but the love bug hit me this summer. Diane Dodd, who was staying in the Hogue’s cottage on the other side of the Badour’s, and I got along well until an older guy turned her head. Then I noticed Helen Broughton, who often piloted her boat from Broughton’s Camp across the lake to Chicks Camp down the road from us. She was beautiful. I said Hi to her a couple of times, but I was too bashful and insecure to talk with her.
Diane Dodd
There was a small one-room Anglican church between us and the Badour’s farm. It was serviced by a circuit preacher. The church was always open. It had a portable pump organ and a windup Victrola with a few 78rpm records. Every day on the way to see Ross, I would stop in the church for a few minutes and “play” the organ and listen to a record. I played my favorite record “In Apple Blossom Time” so many times that to this day, over 60 years later, I can still sing the song.
On Sundays after church, the Badour boys and some of the tourists played softball on a pasture hillside—it was a challenge running on a hillside and dodging rocks and cow-pies. Except for the snake episode and the unrequited love, it was another halcyon summer.
The last time I went back was in August 1953—I had graduated from Stow High School and was ready to start at Akron University. Grandma Wood wanted to go back up to Bobs Lake for one last nostalgia trip. I took along two buddies: Dick Glass, my best friend, and Paul Kunkel, the son of a guy who worked for my dad at Ohio Edison. Paul and I had worked together on construction for Ohio Edison that summer. He was scheduled to enter a Catholic Seminary that fall—he changed his mind at Bobs Lake, which his father accused me of precipitating. “Father forgive me for I knew not what I did.”
We rented a cottage at Chick’s camp for two weeks—it was just down the road from her old cottage. The neighborhood had electricity by then. I introduced them to Ross and Murton—Madge was away. We all had a good time, but it wasn’t the same as before for Grandma or me. Grandma had tears in her eyes as did I as we left. We knew our dream was over. You finally reach a point where you can never go back!
I have been following Niks dream to cross the falls for awhile now and was so happy when he got permission from New York State officials, but he then ran into a road block with the Niagara Parks Commission.
The first time in your life you see the falls in person, you are in awe of its majestic beauty, the sound, the power of nature. I would highly recommend a visit to the IMAX theatre (pyramid shaped building in above photo) to see the movie, Niagara Legends and Daredevils. It will give you a better understanding of the history of Niagara Falls. I saw the movie many years ago, and am planning to see it again this upcoming weekend.
Another Niagara icon is Marilyn Monroe. The Club Rialto is a charming place with Marilyn memorabilia and at one time it had a center dance floor surrounded by a moat, which you crossed over little bridges to get to the dance floor. I think its still there, but without any water:-( The Club Rialto is attached to the rear of Caso d'Oro Dining Lounge on Victoria Avenue, which is one of my recommended places to have dinner.
