Category Archives: PEI History

Patrick Peters and Frederick Tobin

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Here are two stories from the Charlottetown Guardian archives about long-ago aviators with PEI connections: Patrick Peters and Frederick Tobin.

First on the runway is Patrick Peters, who was reported to have built a flying machine and took it to Maine in 1890 to put on public shows. I’ve not found the original article that was quoted in the August 26, 1950 Guardian piece I read or any other account of his time in Portland.

I located a Patrick Peters on Find a Grave who was born around 1864 and is buried in Rumford, Maine, so he could very well have been the brave flyer; his connection to PEI seems valid even if the information about his date and place of birth is a bit mixed up.

Report Tells How PEI Man Navigated Air Machine In 1890

How a Prince Edward Islander navigated a 38-pound flying machine as far back as 1890 is related in the following article reprinted from a Halifax exchange of Aug. 13 of that year. The Islander’s name was Mr. Patrick Peters and the report tells of his arrival in Portland, Maine, with his machine.

Mr. Peters said he had made up his mind in 1885 that he was going to make a machine that would navigate the air. He objected to balloons, he said, “because they were too far beyond the control of those who risked their lives in them,” but believed a machine could be constructed capable of being as much under the management of the flyer as a horse rake.

He said he “took the wings and motion of a bird for a model, believing that if he could fly like a bird it would be quite enough. Only after repeated failures did he bring his idea to a point where he could say with any degree of confidence, “I can fly”.

“At last,” the report continues, “he constructed a bird of the following dimensions: From the head to the tail, 16 feet, and from the body to the end of each wing, 3 feet. The seat was in the body and the motive power used in the propelling of the machine was obtained by a combination of wheels.”

Described Flight

The account describes Peters’ first flight.

“His first real trial of his machine was made when he passed over a forest, making about two miles in about four minutes.”

“From his description of the way things looked below it would seem possible that he went at least 2,000 feet up in the air, and perhaps more than twice that distance. He says he went up and down at will, managing his 38-pound machine without the least degree of trouble.”

Peters’ purpose in going to Portland was “to make a little money by giving a public exhibition of his machine.” “He says he is willing to give any desired test and can go any distance desired. He can keep a few feet above the ground or can go up into midair.” 

Peters assured Portland people that “it is a perfectly easy thing to fly with one of his machines.”

In 1890 there was still quite an amount of suspicion towards anyone who claimed he could fly, so the story concluded: “Portland people who know Peters say he is honest and he acts that way.”

Charlottetown Guardian – August 26, 1950

Our other flyer, Frederick J. Tobin, was as famous as Peters was mysterious. The following article from the September 29, 1925 Guardian describes his first connection to 20th century airship history as a surviving crew member of the Shenandoah that crashed September 3, 1925, and includes a link to an even more notable event he was involved in some years later.

Islander Has Narrow Escape

Among the members of the crew of the ill fated United States dirigible “Shenandoah,” which crashed to earth in Ohio over three weeks ago, with a heavy loss of life, was Pilot Frederick J. Tobin. Mr. Tobin is a son of Mrs. Margaret J. Tobin, formerly Miss Margaret O’Brien, daughter of the late Mr. and Mrs. John O’Brien, of Bristol, Prince Edward Island.

Pilot Tobin had a miraculous escape from death, having fallen on the tree tops.

Letters from Mrs. Tobin to her sister Mrs. James A. O’Brien, Morell, and her brother, Mr. John O’Brien, Bristol, state that after Fred fell on the tree tops, a part of the rigging caught in his clothing and carried him off again trough the air. Once more he became disengaged from the plane and fell to the earth from an altitude of 100 feet, and was picked up by a passing plane, and at once carried to safety.

After a day of terrible suspense Mrs. Tobin was getting ready to go to Lakehurst, when she received news of her son’s safety.

Both Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien, aunt and uncle of Mr. Tobin, are very proud of his escape, and of the honor that will now be his. Prince Edward Island also has need to be proud of her grandson, as she can claim him through his mother. Mr. Tobin was next to the late Capt. Lansdowne. If there is another Shenandoah constructed Pilot Tobin may be first in command.

The Boston Post of September 11th contains a photo of Pilot Tobin, and the following notice: Frederick J. Tobin, a member of the crew of the Shenandoah who is reported safe, is well known in Arlington, where he formerly lived. He is the son of Mrs. Margaret J. Tobin of 6 Russell Terrace, Arlington. He has been in the United States navy for 11 years.

He was married two years ago, and besides his wife, who lives in Lakehurst, N. J., and his mother, in the family group are a sister Miss Mary R. Tobin and four brothers, Frank E. Tobin, a veteran of the late war, Henry L. Tobin, John L. Tobin and George W. Tobin, all of Arlington.

From a September 4, 1925 Boston Globe article on the Shenandoah crash.
Patrick J. Tobin shown third from the right ,middle row of this composite photo from the US National Archives via the NavSource Naval History website’s page about the Shenandoah: https://www.navsource.net/archives/02/99/029901.htm

There is tons on the internet about the Shenandoah, including 1924 British Pathé footage and a comprehensive interactive online exhibit from the US National Air and Space Museum.

Tobin remained in the US Navy after the Shenandoah crash, and was still based in Lakehurst, NJ in 1937 when the Hindenburg made its final voyage. Not only was he there when the Hindenburg came in for a landing, it seems he was standing under it when it exploded, as outlined on Dan Grossman’s excellent Airships.net:

Natural instinct caused those on the ground to run from the burning wreck as fast as they could, but Chief Petty Officer Frederick J. “Bull” Tobin, a longtime airship veteran and an enlisted airship pilot who was in charge of the Navy landing party, cried out to his sailors: “Navy men, Stand fast!!” Bull Tobin had survived the crash of USS Shenandoah, and he was not about to abandon those in peril on an airship, even if it meant his own life. And his sailors agreed. Films of the disaster clearly show sailors turning and running back toward the burning ship to rescue survivors; those films are a permanent tribute to the courage of the sailors at Lakehurst that day.

I’ve probably seen clips and stills from the famous British Pathé newsreel footage dozens of times, but I’ve never seen the original reel and heard the narration that went with it; t was jarring to see that the Hindenburg had Nazi swastikas on its tail.

Interestingly, the “Oh, the humanity!” line so often quoted from the Hindenburg disaster coverage is not from the newsreel but had been recorded by radio reporter Herbert Morrison and matched up many years later.

Tobin retired from military service in 1947 and died in Fort Worth, Texas in 1978 at age 85.

One Day O.H.M.S.

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Here’s a lovely, wry letter to the editor of the Charlottetown Guardian, printed February 27, 1926, about the joys of being a mail carrier in wintery rural Prince Edward Island.

I think that “breaking a road” meant creating a path with horse and sleigh over newly-fallen snow so that it would be easier for other travellers, and I believe it was up to each landowner to do the section of road that ran in front of their property. I would guess this might have included knocking down tall banks by shovelling. People being people, not everyone would get around to breaking the road early enough after a storm, or at all, as the mail carrier finds out.

In some spots, where winds would regularly leave substantial drifts in the road, section of fencing would be taken down in late fall so folks could travel through a flat field over the winter, so when the writer talks about “going over tree tops, on the road through fields, dodging a fence here, a post there, and a barn some place else,” they weren’t exaggerating.

ONE DAY O. H. M. S.

Sir.— As I was sitting enjoying a good “home fire” this evening, I decided I would get my pen and paper, and write a few lines concerning “One day O. H. M. S.”

This winter especially we have to contend with an immense lot of snow, and storms mostly, every second day. However when the storm eases and the sun shines again, we make ready for our journey (over an unbroken road.) We wait awhile and it’s soon shovelled out, after the men go home with frozen feet, hands, etc. After going to the P.O. we bundle up the mail that has arrived the night before (or what’s left of it) and start our journey with a good, faithful horse that’s not afraid of a few feet of snow. The old horse will wade along stopping at the boxes, some are on sticks, some on snow-banks, and some on posts. Nevertheless we get along a few miles.

“Are you cold, come in, come in—rest your horse—and get warm.” You will welcome the voice of a farmer calling from his barn door.

“Thank you but I must keep on. I am not cold, since the roads are bad the travelling is slow. Good day.”

After going some distance, a man will meet you.

“Glad to see you—you must have had a bad road.”

Farther on a woman will appear.

“Isn’t it cold, if you can’t get through the rest of the way call in and have a cup of tea.”

“Thank you” but on we go. Then comes a turn to the right.

“Whoa—Hello Mr. Snowbank you are in a very convenient place, right on the middle of the road, huh.”

“A step ahead old horse—whoa wait that won’t do, can’t get through that, lay still till I get you unharnessed and the sleigh back—good job I took the shovel, old horse, comes in pretty handy sometimes—all clear come around now if you can. I’ll get you back in the sleigh again and we’ll go back to the P. O.—This won’t make our Route any shorter, old horse, although we have to turn back.”

“Oh good-day sir—yes, yes all right now—thanks—bad roads, bad roads, yes a lot of breaking done on that road this winter—well good day.”

All right, old horse we will go right back home, perhaps “Mrs—“ will be insulted for not calling for that cup of good tea, but we must get back.”

“Hello there” comes a voice like a clap of thunder. “That road broke”—

“No” then some words too numerous to mention.

“Come on old horse never mind h’m”—

“Funny for a man to drive a mile or two out of the way if that’s a passable road, and another man drive a mile or two out of his way for a Doctor if that is a passable road.”

“Too bad we Mail Couriers didn’t have Reindeers, or a few St. Bernard dogs, that could go over those “Passable Roads” then some of our box holders wuld have more time to make false statements.”

Sir.— would you consider a mile of road solid snow banks passable? I find that the individual who has the longest portion of the road to break alone, grumbles the least.

After going over tree tops, on the road through fields, dodging a fence here, a post there, and a barn some place else, we get back to the Post Office.

“Road not broke, had to turn back Post Master.” Now in the sleigh and home again where a good supper is waiting for both.

“Ahem—But its glorious too, to be On His Majestys Service.”

I am, Sir, etc.,

MAIL COURIER.

Feby 24th. 1926.

Charlottetown has a flag, and I’ve never seen it before?

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That green-and-white flag in the background of the photo below? It’s the flag of the City of Charlottetown, and I don’t remember ever seeing it before it was helpfully pointed out to me by Councillor Mitch Tweel in this morning’s Guardian.

Screenshot of a page of the Guardian newspaper that shows a man with grey hair wearing a dark top who is gesturing with his hand. A green-and-white flag is behind him.

It’s quite striking. Looks a bit like the diagram for the most boring, frustrating game of chess ever conceived.

A flag design of five green rectangles on a white background, with a purple-and-white crown in the middle rectangle.
Svgalbertian, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

But it’s a good design because even I, rural PEI mouse who obviously doesn’t spend enough time in the Capital, knew immediately what it represented: the five squares that were part of the original 18th century city plans.

Screenshot from a
From Charlottetown Heritage Squares: Conceptual Master Plans and Design Guidelines, April 2012

In my defense, I poked around Charlottetown via Google Street View and saw the flag flying outside Charlottetown City Hall, but couldn’t find it in any other prime flag-flying locations like parks. It certainly isn’t part of the City’s “Great things happen here” branding. I will keep my eyes peeled for it next time I visit.

West Prince Forest Fire 1889

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When I happened upon what is said to be the last intact telegraph pole on PEI earlier this year, I searched the islandnewspapers.ca site for more PEI telegraph information and found the article reproduced below about the 1889 West Prince Forest Fire.

The information I’ve shared about the 1960 West Prince Fire is, by far, the part of my website that generates the most emails and comments, so I’ll add this article to the pile of Prince County fire info.

Note: I’ve left the term “squaw” in as it was commonly used at the time, but want to point out it is an archaic, offensive term for an Indigenous woman and best left in the past with similar racist, misogynistic language.

For some time past forest fires — many of them started for the purpose of clearing land — have been more or less prevalent in that portion of Western Prince County lying between Port Hill and Alberton. No consequences of a serious nature were anticipated from these fires, and the people generally paid but little attention to them.

However, the high wind of yesterday fanned the flames, and in an incredibly short time all that stretch of country between Conway Station and Alberton was a mass of fire. The flames spread with great rapidity, licking up almost everything in their way. The roaring of the fire as it spread was terrific. Everything possible was done to stay the progress of the flames, but without success. The fire fiend was master of the situation.

At O’Leary, Barclay’s mills were burned down. The dwelling house of Mr. White, the dwelling and office of Postmaster Frost and several unoccupied buildings met with a similar fate. It was only by the greatest exertions that the railway station house and coal shed were saved, clay having to be shovelled upon the fire to prevent its spreading in that direction.

It is feared that a squaw and her child, encamped a short distance behind the station at O’Leary, were burned to death. Rumors of other persons being burnt are also afloat, but lack confirmation. Let us hope that the rumors may prove groundless.

Between O’Leary and West Devon the fires were burning so close to the railway track that the express train, in charge of Conductor Kelly, had to be stopped several times to examine the track before proceeding.

At West Devon, Arthur’s mills were burnt down, and all his lamber was destroyed. The heat from the burning mills and lumber, as well as from the fires in the woods, burnt the sleepers and warped the rails for nearly half a mile, necessitating the stopping of the train at that place. Here Conductor Kelly took advantage of the only clear space available, and here for a time he and his men had to work hard to keep the train from being burnt up.

Besides Arthur’s mills, at West Devon, three or four dwelling houses were destroyed. It is said also that several farmhouses in the vicinity of that place succumbed to the devouring element, but we cannot vouch for the correctness of the report.

The heavy rain which began to fall between seven and eight o’clock last evening put the fires down a little and cooled the air considerably. This enabled the men to go to work and make the necessary temporary repairs to the track, in order that the train might be able to get over. By ten o’clock new sleepers and rails were put down and other work performed which enabled the train to pass over and proceed on her way.

The train had to proceed at a slow rate of speed. The sleepers in many places were burnt, and between Portage and Conway a culvert was destroyed. Here, again, the train had to stop, and temporary repairs had to be made before they could proceed. As they went along, the greatest care had to be taken to prevent an accident to the train. The line was carefully scrutinized to see that the rails and sleepers were in their places, and that the track was free from obstructions. On the way they could see the telegraph poles and trees, as they were attacked by the flames, sway to and fro finally falling — many of them across the track, necessitating further stoppages. At Portage Mr. Wallace’s dwelling house and saw mills were burned down. Several small houses between Portage and Conway also succumbed.

So great was the heat from the flames all along the route of the fire that it was with the greatest difficulty anything could be done to stay the progress of the flames. The smoke was also very troublesome. Some of the people living in the neighborhood took the first opportunity of sending their wives and families away from home, remaining behind themselves to battle with the enemy. But their efforts were largely futile.

Conductor Kelly’s train reached Summerside shortly before three o’clock this morning, where she remained until seven this morning, when she left for Charlottetown, arriving at half-past nine.

The mails and passengers by the St. Lawrence were brought to the city last evening by a special train from Summerside in charge of Station Agent Grady. As soon as the news of the delay in the arrival of the express was received here, Summerside was instructed to make up a special and forward the mails and passengers immediately on arrival of the steamer. This was done. The promptness on the part of the railway authorities is very commendable.

The western freight train, in charge of Conductor Ryan, was held at Port Hill by order of the Superintendent until daylight this morning, when she proceeded on her way. To-day all trains except the western freight above referred to are on time.

Up to the hour of going to press this afternoon there was no telegraphic communication west of Port Hill, so that no information as to the situation of affairs to-day is available.

The Daily Examiner, September 20, 1889

Classifieds

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Classified newspaper ads of yore were often fairly stale and repetitive, but every so often one popped out. Here are a couple of my favourites.

Bird House Caper – Charlottetown Guardian July 21 1948 page 9
Free Debris – Journal Pioneer June 4, 2011. Never saw who won or what their prize was.

And as an added bonus, feast your eyes on this unfortunate layout in a Lawton’s weekly sales flyer from November 12, 2011.

You can manage to get diabetes from our sales items.

Thomas Phillips Family Reunion

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My great grandparents, Thomas and Agnes Phillips, lived on a farm on the Ellerslie Road. Agnes died in 1920 at age 66 and Thomas four years later, aged 72. Their youngest son, my grandfather Alvin, married my grandmother, Gladys, in 1912, and I assume they lived with Thomas and Agnes as Alvin eventually took ownership of the farm.

On September 30, 1925, all nine of Thomas and Agnes’ children returned to Ellerslie for a reunion. The rapidly growing clan would meet regularly over the following decades, into my lifetime. The last Phillips picnic I can remember was held at the West Point Lighthouse, 10 years or more ago.

My father knew most of his 38 Phillips first cousins quite well, though I could never keep them straight. Using a genealogy app (the reliable and powerful Reunion) for the past twenty years has definitely helped me with the “who’s yer father” game.

Those who met that September night are long gone, the last, Penzie (Martha Penrose “Penzie” Millar), in 1975. Their children are all gone now as well, the latest to die probably being my father’s brother, Sterling, in 2022, the youngest son of the youngest son. 

I attended the funeral of what I believe to be one of the last spouses of my father’s Phillips first cousins just last month, a woman I had heard about from my parents, and who I no doubt met at a long-ago picnic. She lived to be 105. I didn’t know anyone at the funeral, her children being older than me and having moved away many years ago, but I was glad I went to represent my branch of the family. May the circle be unbroken.

FAMILY REUNION

On the evening of September 30th the family of the late Mr. and Mrs. Thomas H. Phillips of Ellerslie assembled together with their husbands and wives at the old home. The family were all present namely: Mrs. Joshua Millar and Mrs. E. S. Burleigh, Ellerslie, Mrs. Leslie MacLean, Arlington, Lot 14, Mrs. Russell MacArthur, Enmore, Willard of Summerside, Sanford, Sargent and Forrest of O’Leary and Alvin on the homestead. After partaking of goose and other delicacies all gathered in the living room where the evening was pleasantly spent in games, music and singing till after midnight when all joined heartily in singing “God Be With You Till We Meet Again” after which all departed for their homes, hoping to meet again on many such occasions in one unbroken family circle.

From the Charlottetown Guardian October 7, 1925, p6.

A group of people facing the camera, with trees in the background
Cousins and more cousins at a Phillips picnic at Green Park, 1971. Still from 8mm film footage.

Standing tall

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I’m happy to report that what is advertised as the last telegraph pole on Prince Edward Island does indeed still stand, insulators and all, on the Confederation Trail halfway between Elmsdale and Alberton, and it’s also easily visible from the Dock Road. The day I found out about the pole’s improbable existence, on a walk from Elmsdale towards Alberton, we had stopped just about halfway between the two communities at the beginning of a bend in the trail.

As we moved towards our previous-day’s stopping point, this time from Alberton, a couple of days later, I began to doubt we would find it still standing. Suddenly there it was, a few feet around a bend from where we had stopped and turned back.

Grey telegraph pole in the centre of photo, with cloudy sky at the top and leafless bushes and dried grass around. A gravel trail is on the right side.
Close up of three black insulators on the top of a grey telegraph pole. There is wire around the pole, and a cloudy sky in the background.

The PEI Railway opened in 1875, 150 years ago this year, 50 years after the first recorded passenger trail journey between Stockton and Darlington on September 27, 1825 (a gorgeous episode of the BBC Radio 4 Illuminated documentary series brings that event to life). Could this pole be 150 years old? If so, it has survived forest fires and ice storms, vandals and woodpeckers and rot. I suspect its survival might be due to the fact it is planted in a swampy area, replete with spiky bushes, at the bottom of a steep bank. “Let’s just leave ‘er, boys!”

As historic sites go, it’s not Green Gables, but it is a relic of an important Island story. The railway opened up commerce and travel to people in far-flung parts of PEI, and allowed farmers and fishers access to more markets. Building the railway nearly bankrupted our small island colony, so PEI finally agreed to join Canada in 1873 so the project could be finished with an influx of federal dollars.

In addition to signalling train travel, the telegraph that accompanied the railway brought news and could summon assistance in case of emergency. Imagine living in non-electrified 19th century Alberton, heating and cooking with wood, lighting with candles or newly-discovered kerosene, travelling by horse and wagon or sleigh, and then suddenly being able to send a telegram to your brother in Boston asking about work opportunities or ordering supplies from Holman’s in Summerside in the morning and then having them shipped to you by train that very afternoon? It would have felt like magic. And that pole helped make all that happen.

As much as it was a thrill to find the pole right there in the open, I wonder if someday it might be able to stand proud and straight inside a centrally-located provincial museum? Time will tell.

A person with pale skin wearing a hat and holding a walking pole standing next to a trail in front of a leaning telegraph pole. There is a cloudy sky at the top and bushes, grass and trees behind.
Happy Nerdmas (which is every day at my house)

The Last Telegraph Pole(s) on PEI

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Steven and I walked the Confederation Trail from Elmsdale corner half way to Alberton and back this morning, about six kilometres round trip. We had planned to walk to Alberton and back, but the cold wind was whipping and that was far enough.

We saw a couple of lupins blooming well out of season, some daisies, lots of apples and even some grapes. As always, the trail is beautifully maintained and clean. Benches and shelters with picnic tables along the way make this entire trail an ambler’s dream.

Interpretative storyboards have added interest to each walk we’ve taken, but this one really caught my attention: the last telegraph pole on PEI? Yes please!

A storyboard called Last Pole Standing with text in English and French, with a photo of the top of a telegraph pole complete with insulators, and photos of steam locomotives in the bottom corners.

LAST POLE STANDING
The P.E.I. Railway was welcomed by communities across the province that had previously been limited to travel only via poor (often impossible) roads and coastal boats. In May 1875 people who had known isolation all their lives were suddenly able to reach any of the Island centres with comparative ease. They received mail twice a day rather than twice a week. What a change! The railway also connected rural communities with the world. The Island had an underwater telegraph cable to the mainland since 1851, but the service was only available in large urban centres. Telegraph lines now followed the tracks from Tignish to Souris, linking all railway stations. It was used for emergencies along the line but also by government and business. The entire service was operated by Canadian National Telegraph from the 1920s but previous operators included the P.E.I. Railway and Anglo-American Telegraph. The last pole standing is located about halfway between Alberton and Elmsdale.

We were halfway between Alberton and Elmsdale! I looked near the sign for a pole to match the photo, but no luck. I’m now anxious to make the trek from Alberton to where we stopped to see if that last pole complete with insulators still stands.

I did notice a couple of poles without insulators on our return walk that looked like the pole on the sign. They were shorter than most poles, and three notches were clearly visible at the top of both. They seem to be holding fibre op cable, the modern telegraph, I suppose.

Grey utility pole holding a thick black wire, blue sky in the background.
Grey utility pole holding a thick black wire, blue sky in the background.

In trying to (unsuccessfully)* find out what the little wooden insulator holders are called, I came across some wonderful websites, including one for the UK-based The Telegraph Pole Appreciation Society and, well, anything I clicked on after searching for “parts of Canadian telegraph poles”.

*I did some further reading and believe those little wooden pieces that held the insulators may have been called side-block brackets, as per this archived article by John Gilhen**, “Telephone and Telegraph Insulators: The End of an Era”, published in 1976 by the Nova Scotia Museum.

**John Gilhen died in April of this year. He had a 50 year career at the Nova Scotia Museum in the natural history section. His obituary noted he was “an avid collector including antique glass and insulators, hockey pins and cards.” He sounded like a marvellous, interesting person.

I swear I know how to read, and I have bookmarks to prove it

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Peter’s wonderful post about Charlottetown’s venerable Bookmark (his photos of tiny details around the shop and their aerie office are delightful) made me dash pre-morning-coffee to rifle through my small bookmark collection to confirm his observation that there has never been a “the” before the bookstore’s name. Me too, Peter, me too.

I guess I had my final visit to the Queen Street location this past Wednesday, when I dashed in to pick up a book order while a friend waited in my illegally-parked car. I didn’t know to give a final nod to the place where I’ve spent many happy hours, so Peter’s post allowed me one last wistful glimpse. Looking forward to the new digs!

A series of yellow and blue bookmarks from a Charlottetown, PEI, store called Bookmark. The oldest one would likely be from the early 1980s and the most recent from a couple of years ago.
The bookmarks of Bookmark, from the early 1980s to almost today.