Chasing the Comet: A Scottish-Canadian Life

11. Hatzic

Ye flowery banks o’ bonie Doon, How can ye blume sae fair . . . —Robert Burns, “Ye Flowery Banks” CHAPTER ELEVEN Hatzic This page intentionally left blank W When Pete introduced me to Mr. Houstoun, I was impressed with him, and not just because he was a fellow Scotsman. By reputation , I knew him to be a real gentleman who treated people with respect. Houstoun told me he’d welcome Peggy, Geordie, and Bobby coming to his farm. He explained he lived at the Vancouver Club during the week and came out to Lizzmoil Farm only on weekends. Mr. Houstoun was a prominent man—a millionaire who owned two or three fish canneries—as well as the McLennan, McFeely, and Prior chain of hardware and household goods stores. In the late 1920s, Houstoun had taken over as president of the chain of stores because he’d loaned money to McLennan and McFeely, but they hadn’t made good on their debt. He bought Prior’s Hardware in Victoria because he wanted to employ that store’s manager, who was a hard-headed business man. Houstoun thought employing him would help his business. But I never liked the man, who seemed full of himself. I wouldn’t have worked for him for a minute. When Peggy and I were making arrangements to move, Houstoun told us to sell all our furniture from the house in Coquitlam. He said he’d give us a letter entitling us to buy new furniture in his stores when our job with him was done. He said, “The letter’ll allow ye go to Mc and Mc’s (the common name for Houstoun’s stores) and buy new . . . at my 141 expense.” Since Pete Moore had told me Houstoun was a man of his word, I didn’t get his promise in writing. I took it on trust. I asked Houstoun how he’d become a farmer. “I needed the farm to give me something new to take up my attention,” he said. His answer surprised me. I was impressed that at seventy years old he’d been looking for more to occupy himself. “By the way, Caldow,” he said, “Your wife Peggy can work as housekeeper for Lizzmoil, if she’s willing.” I said, “Listen, Mr. Houstoun. I’m not willing to bring my wife up to Hatzic to have you work her to death, cooking for all the fancy friends you’ll be entertaining.” Houstoun laughed and said, “Listen Dave, I’ve come up there to get away from all those people. Your wife won’t have any trouble with me overworking her, I assure you.” Later, Houstoun told me he was glad Peggy had decided to work for him. He liked the way she filled his house with roses, cut from his prize beds. But he never ever pushed her to do more than was fair. He kept his word. As soon as we could, we packed the few personal things we took with us. I told my nephew Bobby—now 16 years old—he’d be helping me with the farm chores. Later, these chores turned a profit for Bobby because, when Houstoun saw him helping me, he insisted Bobby be paid for his work. (It wasn’t long after this that Bobby graduated high school, then went on to university.) Geordie was still too small to be helping, but both boys were excited about the move and wanted it.
The turnoff to Lizzmoil Farm was on the way to Aggasiz, past Mission and just past Hatzic at the top of a hill, near a little store and post office. On a clear day, we turned into the driveway of our new home. We were greeted by Mr. Houstoun’s pride—the perfume and colours of a large bed of red, yellow, and white roses blooming in front of the house. Sunshine made the whole 160 acres—including tilled fields, pastures, and lake—beautiful and welcoming. 142 CHASING THE COMET Over the next few days, I met the three hired men, as well as the gardener and the cowman. All of them were paid by the hour to do the farm work, with no long-term guarantees. As soon as I could, I looked over the cows because their poor performance was the reason I was here. I thought, In...