E. T. W. Combatting Common Sense: An Anthology of Scripts
THE MONOLOGUES
Venue:
These monologues were devised by ETW participants for performance out-of-doors. In this setting, audience members walking along a trail in Cootes Paradise, guided by a member of ETW, happen upon a character who interacts with them.
There were significant variations to this. A so-called "Compilation Sketch" was created with excerpts from all the "North Shore" monologues connected by movement into a more traditionally presented stage performance.
Also, selected "South Shore" monologues were presented at the Environmentalist of the Year Award dinner in 1994. Theatrical idiosyncracies:
Typically one performer plays more than one role. There is an exposed theatricality intended in this. The actor wears regular clothing with a patchwork of costuming (say, a vest for the Raspberry monologue or a straw hat and glasses for Thomas Keefer). After the first monologue is over, he or she races through the woods ahead of the walking audience to meet them later on the trail, with different costuming. There is no effort to fool the audience, for several reasons. Practically, exposing the hard work of the performer builds interest (how did he/she get there?), suspense (who will appear next?), and a respectful sympathy (this person is working hard; he/she must really want to say something). Thematically, such doubling of roles ties distinct characters together in the audience member's mind; and (in intention at least) exposing rather than trying to hide that doubling raises questions of thematic connection between characters. And, finally, there is no effort to fool the audience because it is impossible anyway--best to admit the artificiality in all honesty and get on with the job of communication. Typically, the monologue is altered through improvisation. Each audience will interact differently with the performer. Each performer will judge the needs of the audience by various means, in particular age. And each performer will adjust the length of the monologues depending on such things as audience attentiveness, the time frame for that day's activities, and the weather. There is nothing worse for conjuring the feel of a performance than a script; but it's all we have. It also happened that the company, during its summer together in 1994, became so familiar with its stock "characters" that it did not need a script. Each member simply reacted to each audience with the stock of information/attitude at his or her disposal.
What follows, then, is one sample of the kind of monologue series performed by ETW (with some variations added for comparison).
THE NORTH SHORE MONOLOGUES
THE SOUTH SHORE MONOLOGUES
<
>
Frame: Historical These monologues are exercises in communicating a sense of human history within a natural setting.
Characters played by each performer: Young Jesse, old Jesse and Nika Mrs Moodie and Anne Morden Clinton and Keefer Mrs. Simcoe and Lillian Begue, Flowers and Beasley
Sample "staging" for the North Shore Monologues, in the Royal Botanical Gardens:
Eastern entrance to Cootes Clearing Alex Begue/ Desjardins
Western Entrance to Cootes Clearing Young Jesse
1st waters edge at " no fire sign " Mrs. Simcoe
Big tree before uphill path Clinton/ Rasberrys
1st path intersection OscarFlowers/Shacktown
Triple silver maples Old Jesse
2nd path intersection Mrs. John Moodie
Lookout after 1st boardwalk Anne Morden
Sycamore tree after foot bridge Nika / La Salle
Top of stair at sediment pond Thomas Keefer
Tree roots half way up last hill Lillian / Cholera
Big tree at the end of the trail Capt. Coote
Alexis Begue--The Desjardins Canal, 1820-1895
"Coller avec moi...coller avec moi." Stick with me. That's the advice Pierre Desjardins gave me, Alexis Begue, in 1825. "There's a fortune to be made building canals. They are the cornerstone to commerce and trade in the 19th Century. A canal leading directly to the village of Cootes Paradise would secure our collective economic futures." So I listened to him. I stuck with him. I invested every penny I had in his canal company and all I have to show for it are these worthless pieces of paper.
I have to admit, at first it seemed like a brilliant idea and perhaps my greed had got the best of me.... It all seemed so simple and foolproof. All we had to do was to get a charter from the government which permitted us to raise the ten thousand pounds necessary to complete the project in the form of shares offered to the public. The time was right. Work on the Welland Canal was well under way and a permanent canal through the beach strip connecting Burlington Bay to the lake had already been built. Our canal would begin at the western tip of the bay, near the mouth of Grindstone Creek.. From there the canal would make a kind of "S" curve following the marsh, Initially moving northward, then eventually turning southward back to the main marsh and straight down the middle of Cootes Paradise, along a portion of Spencer's Creek until we reached the western end of the marsh where the canal would end and our system of warehouses conveniently began.
Simple...foolproof...right?...Wrong! Public interest in the share offering was weak and the money flowed in slower than expected. In 1827 Pierre Desjardins was out Grimsby way trying to sell some shares to a farmer friend of his. Well he sold those shares but never lived to see the fruits of his labour. That same day Pierre was found dead in the middle of a field, next to his horse. A coroners jury concluded that he died as a result of, and I quote, "a visitation from God." Seems quite appropriate...Pierre truly was a visionary but not a very good businessman or for that matter a good horseman.
It took another 10 years of intense effort, loss of men's lives to the cholera infested water and another seventeen thousand quid before the canal finally opened in 1837...to great fanfare. A Ferry ride from Burlington Beach to the west end of the canal was offered to all inhabitants of the area. Suddenly everyone was there to take credit, including that underhanded, train lover, Allan MacNab. True, we did have a number of good years, even profitable years, but the canal constantly required repairs and injections of capital to keep it...afloat as it were. The channel cut through Burlington Heights in 1857 helped by straightening and shortening the canal but the advent of steam locomotives and machinations of certain city of Hamilton politicians proved too much for our struggling company to survive. By 1876 the canal company went into receivership and by 1895 the canal, in dire need of dredging and more money, was closed for ever...
At least Pierre got the canal named after him. Me...I've got my memories. And these! (shows stocks)
Young Jessie--The Dundas Valley, 1845
Oh - you've startled me - I'm just trying to dodge that Billy Holmes. He's chasing me because he wants his letter back. He gave it to me earlier today, then got shy, and decided he wanted it back. But I say, he gave it to me, and it's addressed to me, so it's mine. Here, let me read it to you.
July __, 1845 (that's today) Dearest Jessie, (that's me) "The mossy marbles rest On the lips which I then pressed In the cellar."
With all my adoration,
William Holmes XXO
You see, four days ago, I was working at the Valley Inn -the tavern at the junction of Snake and Guelph Roads, near Carroll's Point. It was a really busy night because all the shipmen from one of the big logging sailboats had stopped off on their way to Brown's Wharf, and the stagecoach from Toronto had drawn in. Whiskey all round. Boy, the old sobering barrel got a lot of use that night. Those sailors -even took a barrel of whiskey with them in the morning. So I was busy doing my bit, and in walks Billy. I've known him since we were little, he's working at Johnny Applegarth's flour mill now, just up the road. He saw me serving near the bottom of the staircase, made his way through all the singing sailors and other barmaids straight to me. He grabbed me by the hand and without saying a word led me down past the chimney foot and around the potato bins -then he was very bold - he kissed me, twice! So when he came in tonight for a meal, and I saw this letter I knew it was for me and I was right. Ahh.
I should probably head back to the Inn before they miss me. I wouldn't want to lose work there. It's a splendid place. Everybody comes in and has such a jolly time. Some boatmen think our old canal, that runs past the Valley Inn and up towards Dundas is too windy and their logging boats will get jammed in the marshy areas. I think that even if the big boats stop coming, the people will still come, to drink with friends and have a nice hearty meal, or just to hear exciting stories. Because everyone loves the Valley Inn.
I'd better get back...if you see that Billy Holmes, tell him I'm keeping it!
Old Jessie--The Dundas Valley, 1880
Oh- hello. Excuse me, I'm just taking one last look. I'm on my way to Dundas Valley to catch the train to Toronto, or beyond. Where the new action is. There's just not enough customers at the Valley Inn anymore. Most of the sailors have found new taverns to carouse in, closer to town. That's a real pity. I just loved all those brawny boatmen. When the old canal was still open, and the big logger boats would stop off on their way to Brown's Wharf, we'd have a jolly time singing show tunes over by the piano. Whiskey all round. And those sailors could sure drink, let me tell you. The old sobering up barrel on the corner of the Inn got a lot of use in those days.
Mr. James Kenney had just hired me at the Valley Inn, summer of 1849, when they cut the new channel through Burlington Heights. Some of the boatmen thought that the old canal that ran right past the Inn, was too windy, and their boats may have gotten jammed in the marshy areas. So, they cut that new canal, which took some of the Inn's business. There was still lots of action though for a couple of years. Pleasure boaters often stopped in, we still had Johnny Applegarth's millworkers until he moved his business closer to town, and plenty of lumberjacks with all their stories. And the stagecoaches still pulled in. Fancy ladies and marvellous gentlemen used to pass through. Some of them were famous, and I used to serve them so I could overhear their tales of the big cities and show life. In fact, we got a lot of the travellers in those days. We actually built a second story on to the Inn just to add some extra sleep bunkers. When the Grand Trunk railway came through, they had to fill in most of the old canal to make a solid ground for the rails. That stopped some of the river traffic. I guess it stopped some of the road traffic too, seeing as the train was quicker and shorter than most roads.
I hope another boom comes for the Valley Inn, it's a lovely tavern. It was home for me for 30 years. It'd be a pity to let such a loved, merry place disappear.
Mrs. Simcoe--Coote's Paradise, 1793
I am so very happy that my husband Governor John Graves Simcoe allowed me to accompany him on this journey to the Head of the Lake. It is not often that one is able to drink in the splendour of such a magnificent habitat. We had not planned that our visit should last very long but the weather has blessed us with a stay at this lovely bay. Allow me to read to you what I have just written in my journal for today.
August 11,1793
At 8:00 we set out in a boat to go to Beasley's, at the head of Burlington Bay, about eight miles. (aside--That would be Beasley's over there. [pointing to Dundurn Castle]) The river and bay were full of canoes; the Indians were fishing; we bought some fine salmon of them. When we had near crossed the bay, Beasley's house became a fine object. We landed near it and walked up the hill...... Further west of this terrace we saw Coote's Paradise, so called from a Captain Coote, who spent a great deal of time shooting ducks in this marshy tract of land below the hill we were upon. It abounds with wild fowl and tortoises; from hence it appears more like a river or a lake than a marsh and Mordaunt's place in the distance takes a fine shape. I was so pleased with this place that the Governor stayed and dined at Beasley's. A strong east wind prevented our sailing back. We therefore arrived late and found a salmon dressed for our dinner.
This really is a splendid place and rarely in my journeys through this land have I seen such an array of species of plants, birds and animals. One could spend an eternity watching nature in this sheltered area if not for insects, which also appear quite abundant.
Mr. Clinton: The Raspberry Monologue
Yeah, I know the Raspberrys. They own all this land back up in here. It's good farm land, the soil's nice and rich and there's good irrigation from all the streams around here. Their property runs right along Grindstone Creek and down to the marsh. You know, that's where the freight steamers going up to Dundas used to come through. They'd have to wind their way around the lowlands to get into Coote's Paradise. It wasn't till just before they brought in the train that they cut the straight path out to the bay. I used to sit right about here with the kids and watch as the big old paddle boats came along with those wheels a-turning and steam pouring out of the stacks. Wow, what a sight!
Boy that was a money maker for old John at one time. Aside from farming he had a couple of swing bridges on his property. One on the road to Toronto and the other on the road north. No one could get by Dundas without giving John a little money. Dairy farming is a good living I guess--but controlling the main transportation line is better. Of course that only lasted until the train took over and they cut that new pathway through the heights. Did you know that when they dug that out they found some bones? A scientist was called in and he said it was called a woolly mammoth and it lived thousands of years ago. I tell ya that caused quite the stir around here for a good long while.
Heck, around here a man doesn't have to earn a lot to keep his family fed. Me and John used to come here together fishing and hunting. We used to pull in all kinds of fish--and big too. Well, you wouldn't believe the size of some of them puppies. I've pulled in sturgeon the size of my wife and in the spring the salmon were so thick you could reach in and pull them out with your hands. In the autumn we used to come down here for ducks and geese. Why all you would have to do is walk down to the marsh, fire you're shot gun, pick up you're bird and walk home. My youngest boy can't shoot worth a hill of beans but he could usually bag one down here.
But with the town getting so big and all the people moving to the area there doesn't seem to be as many fish or birds around. And the train too. I think all the noise is scaring off the game.
You know just last winter there was a big accident over there at the bridge. The darn thing collapsed and the train went right into the water. A lot of people died. Now when you see the train come up to the bridge it always stops to let off anyone who is scared so they can walk across by foot.
You know, what with the loss of the toll bridges and all the game, it wouldn't surprise me if John didn't have a bit of a hand in that train wreck. Nah, that's just my imagination acting up.
Oscar Flowers--Shacktown, 1917-1946
Who's there?... Herb...is that you? It's me Oscar!...Oscar Flowers. Why Herb Matthews, I never thought in a million years that I would ever see you again....Oh! I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else. I thought 50 years had faded away and it was 1944, only a couple years before shacktown disappeared forever. Well whoever you are, I can say you are the splitting image of a friend of mine, Herbert Matthews. You see Herb was one of the last people evicted from his home here at Coote's Paradise in 1946 by the City of Hamilton Parks Board. I lost my home here on the North Shore in 1939. The City gave me a relief room at the Fisher Hotel as compensation, so whenever I could, I'd sneak down to Herb's place to do some fishing like we used to in the old days...
Geez, back in 1924 there must have been around 80 homes over here on the marsh side and another 40 homes on the bay side by Carrol's Point. Well actually they were more like permanently docked houseboats or shacks made from small trees for the frame, bits of lumber we'd find scatted along the shoreline and tar paper or tin, if you could afford it, for the roof. All sorts of people lived down here. George Bolton, the caretaker at Woodlawn Cemetary got tired of going back to the city every night during the warm months; built a place just over there. Walt Duckworth, the best hunter, angler, trapper and frog catcher there ever was lived over by Bull's Point. Everybody's place had a name, a little sign above the door. I can remember names like Jakaloo, Kildare, Idle Some More, Cosy Within, Seldom Inn, and Tumble Inn. And after a busy day fishing a bunch of us would head over to Brunt's Cafe for a drink and maybe a little bit of cards...
When the Great Depression hit us in the thirties a lot of us couldn't afford to live anywhere else, so we started living here all year round. Back then Cootes Paradise was too far away from the city to be of any real concern but as Hamilton grew so did its bi city aspirations and it was soon decided that Shacktown did not fit the image the Ambitious City wanted to project. We were called an eyesore, squatters, a blight ruining the western entrance to the city. We didn't care what they called us as long as they left us alone...On a night like tonight with the summer sun setting lazily in the west, surrounded by Rocky Mountain clouds, far from the noise and bustle of the city, we what we had here and what to call it...PARADISE.
But you cant stop progress. I know because we tried. We went to the papers with our story... hired lawyers, went to court...all to save our homes and all to no avail. We had never bothered to get clear title to our land or deeds for our homes.
The last shack was torn down in 1946 and so came to an end to our own paradise and the beginning of a paradise that could be shared by the whole community. I hope you treasure it as much as we did.
Mrs. John Moodie--The First Automobiles
Hello... Hello... umm, excuse me but have you happened to see a car coming along the road there? No? Oh dear! My husband John was supposed to pick me up here ages ago. At least, I think he said to meet him here. It's the best road around. Oh, I imagine he's just fiddling around with that old horseless carriage of his. Men and their toys, eh?! Gasp! I can't believe I just said that! Oh, he'd kill me! You see everyone thinks the automobile is a passing fancy--not to mention a nuisance! Call it nothing but a toy. Everyone but my husband, that it!
How are you? The name's Mrs. John Moodie. My husband was the very first man to drive a car in Canada. Before that he introduced this beautiful country to the first high-wheeled bicycle it had every seen! Won every race he entered with that thing! Won every race for a while in his 1898 Winton automobile, too. That wasn't especially hard to do, mind you, when the speed limit was 10 mph, and only 6 in the city. That's 6 miles per hour. But that Winton--what a car! He tells me "she purrs". Now, I don't know about you but the only thing that I like tohear purr is my cat, Fluffy! All of these new contraptions spark a passion in John, though, that even I have never sen before. Most folks, myself included, are content enough with riding our horses and taking our time. Not John, though. He can go as fast as, oh, 25 miles per hour--when the police and I aren't breathing down his neck! Whew, that thing sure can fly!
It's funny, but we're having a heck of a time with that old "horseless carriage" of his! Picture this--you're cruising into town in the pinnacle of modern invention, crowds gather everywhere staring in amazement. John and I drove straight to Hamilton from Toronto in 2 and 3/4 hours--beating the boat--arriving at the corner of King and James Stret relaxed, tidy and without a scuff on our shoes. Unheard of! Even the animals don't quite know what to make of it! You know, he had to put a row of nails, sharp side up, on the rear bumper to keep the kids from hitching a ride on the back.!
But a toy! They actually think it's only a toy! Oh, it's definitely exciting, something to marvel at--but a toy?!? Unvelievable. You'll have to forgive my change of tone, but you have to understand that we re constantly onthe defensive. Soon there'll be hundreds of cars in Canada. Why, John has helped found the Hamilton Auto Club, so all the automobile owners can band togather against the histility they're receiving. Practically everything we do is against the law, you know. If a car breaks down the driver can be fined for obstructing traffic. If he doesn't give notice of his approach he can be fined for negligence. If he goes, oh, 8 or 10 miles per hour he's charged with speeding! I mean fine, I can understand laying down some guidelines and maintaining some order, but some things are just way out of hand. Farmers have started laying huge poles, the size of this tree over here, across the roads so that the cars can't get by. They acturally bury their rakes andhoes into the groud, sharp side up, to sabotage the tires! Roads are being deliberately neglected. [Sigh] You'll hae to pardon my frustration. Change is always hard to adapt to and many new things in the all-too-recent frontier have often led to trouble. But people don't realize the extraordinary benefits to be reaped from the automobile! They don't even try to imagine the luxuries it offers. This so-called menace John introduced carried my sister Becky over to Dr. Mason's house in the middle of the night last week when there were complications with the baby she was delivering.
John got her in the car and drove her safely to Dr. Mason in less than twenty minutes. Now can yo imagine what might have happened if Jhn hadn't had his car? No horse or shaky buggy could have delivered her and to go and fetch the doctor personally takes up to an hour. By the time that old geezer gets up and dressed, anyway! No, I believe this new technology is a true miracle. Cars can carry the sick, help to put out fires, save incredible amounts of time, and they're a heck of a lot of fun just to be in. And so clean, too. Not messy, like horses. Just a little smoke.
Mark my words, technology is going to win over those farmers, and cars will one day be a necessity, taken for granted. Roads will be wide and flat and they'll take people to places they never dreamed existed. people won't even have to live in the city anymore. they'll be able to travel in to their workplace and then leave to go home to a calm paradise, like this one. My, it is beautiful out here. Someday everyone will be able to drive out here and relax, and so easily. Well, I'm very happy to know that all of you can see our point of view. thanks for listening, but I am afraid i might be waiting at the wrong road. I'd better look about up here... or here... If you do see a car wandering about out here, would you kindly point him in this direction? Thank you so much. Bye!
Anne Morden--The First Residents, 1780s
Hi folks! How are ya? Careful now! Stand back! I don't want to set you on fire as soon as these two rocks start to spark! It'll happen you know...it will..if only it would happen soon...whew! Forget it!I'l l get the hang of this someday--just not today. Oh, I'm sorry, how rude of me...Anne Morden, pleased to meet you. I wanted to start a fire to keep the bugs away - especially the mosquitos--but it doesn't seem to want to work for me today. Gee you folks must be new in these parts--you don't look familiar and there sure is a bunch of ya. Well, welcome to the village of Cootes Paradise. Just up there is Dundas. Now don't get the too confused; lots of folks do. It's much prettier down here though; that's how you can remember to call this area 'paradise'. I was the first person to settle here! I didn't discover it, mind you. Robert Land found this area for me and my boys. You may run into him...Robert Land...he's a British officer... Oh mercy!!! You folks aren't with the army now, are ya? Oh sure, I've seen your type before - especially you little ones! The American Revolution is over now, or hasn't anyone told ya? You people are lower than a snakes belly following me up here! Isn't it enough that you hanged my husband Ralph? You'll have to hang me too, if you expect me to say he's anything but innocent! Well...? Umm... judging by the looks on your faces...you're not with the army, are ya? Well, that's a relief! I'm sorry for doubting you and all, but you can't be too careful nowadays. The revolution may be over but there's still a lot of hurt feelings wandering around, if you know what I mean!
Hey! You're not Quakers are you? It's all right, you can tell me. I'm a Quaker too! It's quite safe to admit it in the Canadas. No, huh? Well, so you're clear on it, a Quaker is someone who doesn't believe in taking any side in any war. Quakers show mercy and kindness to all. That's all my husband Ralph ever did, a right true Quaker he was--and the American army hung him--called it treason.
So you're not with the army and you're not Quakers; but you're awful quiet. On the run, huh? Keeping things hush hush? Trust me, I understand. One word of advice for ya--learn to count on yourself. For everything--especially you women. Look at me, I was born and bred a right lady and now here I am sitting in dirt and fighting off bugs! Who'd have thought it? I'm helping my boys to build me a log house too! Not very big, it's just over these lakes and on the far side of the escarpment there, on top of that twisty old York Road. I want you to remember all this because if you ever run into trouble you'll know where to come. And don't you be letting your pride get in the way--especially you men. Now I mean this, if you ever need some victuals or a place to rest for a bit you just come right over. And if you ever get split up from your families you're welcome to use my place as a meeting place, all right?
Oh, I should warn you though... I don't quite know how to say this...well you're in for a few surprises, I might as well be the first! Ahem...y'know... and don't tell anyone this on your travels...but when you come up to my house, you'll discover that...well...that I wear trousers. Yes it's true!!! It's quite liberating really! Feel like I'm prancing around in my bloomers, I do, but trousers are the most practical thing to wear when you're building a house. They're a heck of a lot easier to get around in out here in the bush too, I'm telling ya! Oh I'm probably shocking you. Well like I said, get ready for a few surprises. It sure is pretty in this new settling land but it's mighty rough too. Take care of yourselves and best of luck to you! I'd best be going before it gets dark! Now remember, the name's Anne Morden and my house is past the lake, past the escarpment, on top of twisty old York Road. If you run into Robert Land he's a close friend of mine and a British officer--you can trust him. Take care. Bye now.
Nika--LaSalle and the Neutrals, 1669
It is good to feel these winds on my face. They often whisper stories to me. The winds tell me of times, days when many more white men will come to these shores. I am Nika, I am of the Neutral Tribe of Indians. We are peaceful, friends of the Huron and Iroquois tribes that border our land here at the head of the lake. My family has built our longhouse just inland. There is also good land for growing our corn, beans, squash and sunflowers. We also grow much tobacco, which is good for trade with the few white men who visit. My favourite white man, is that pup Rene LaSalle, who arrived in 1669, and has stayed for a long time. He is kind and interested in our people. I have taught him our language, and he is eager to learn the many other native tongues that I know. He is a curious white man. He tells tales of treasure and gold on a Mississippi river. He is travelling west to reach Ohio and this place of riches.
Although he is a brave man, who has travelled through many dangers, there are times when he acts like a coyote, running with its tail between its legs. I remember--he stayed with us for a night to trade and feast. Before the meal, he left us to walk up the shoreline on the rocks. Suddenly, we heard him shriek in terror, and he came running back to us, shaking like a big leaf. He had seen 3 giant rattlers, thick as a man's arm, black and coiled ready to strike. Guess he was not quite ready for the marshy land and its snakes. His big adventure left him with a fever and sickness, for a few days. I stayed with him. You know, I do not think he was too sick from those rattlers. I think he was sick of those 2 priests, who had come with him on the journey. They slowed him down, stopping to convert all we Indians to Christianity. He wasn't here to do that, but to see the world! I think he pretended to be sick, and hoped those priests would grow tired of waiting and move on. And they did--the mosquitoes finally got to them and they moved on. LaSalle stayed here, with us, for a while longer. He is a good white man.
It is late. I must leave. Goodbye.
[Nika: An earlier version, for reference]
I am Nika. I am of the Shawnee Nation. We live south of here. I travel because of the European settlers who have come into my land. I met Rene Cavalier La Salle in the winter of (16) '64. I wintered just outside of Quebec. I met him and his brother Jean. That's right, the Jesuit priest. It was just outside of La Salle's Garrison. He was interested in my people. He asked me about the many Native languages I knew. He was a curious fellow. He told tall tales of treasure and the search for gold at the end of the Mississippi. He was making plans to travel throughthe Great Lakes to the west. In September 1669 we travelled west, by canoe, to these shores. There were twenty in our party, seven canoes, each carrying three men and supplies. Two of the party were priests--Galilee and Dollier. Well, the church funded the expedition. I don't think La Salle figured on travelling with them. He did not care where the money came from. He did not care about converting all of us. He just wanted to see the world! We made our camp over there [points]. It was dusk, but we hunted to save our supplies. I went down this path, and La Salle went along the shore near that large rock. After only a few steps I heard La Salle screaming in terror. When I had made it back to camp he told us he had seen three giant rattlers as thick as a man's arm, entirely black and coiled to strike. La Salle doesn't like snakes, I guess. He was only twenty-five, and wet behind the ears. He didn't get bit. He stayed in a blanket by the fire with a fever for a few days. Looking back I think he was faking it. Why? I think it was his way of getting rid of those two priests. That time of year, around here, it wasn't really very pleasant. Giant mosquitoes, swampy smells, and dark mountain looming overhead--and of course the snakes. He was right, you know. After two days the priests got tired of waiting for La Salle to get better. They left for the west, to find the village of Tinawatawa. We broke camp soon after, and went--exploring.
Thomas C. Keefer--The Poet-Engineer, 1850s
[Delivered with great arrogance]
Due to the huge population explosion from 6000 in 1846 to 16000 in 1855 the city of Hamilton needed a more extensive and powerful water works, and so the Fire and Water Committee of Hamilton called upon the "tireless and prolific writer" Thomas C. Keefer. From the age of five Keefer was interested in being an engineer, due to the engineers who had billeted with his parents during the Welland Canal project. He was schooled at Upper Canada College in Toronto from 1833 to 1838. He has written several papers on rail roads including the widely read The Philosophy of Railroads in 1849, The Toronto, Simcoe and Huron Railway in 1850 and the fascinating 500 page Report on the Preliminary Survey of the Kingston and Toronto Section of the Grand Trunk Railway in 1851. Ladies and Gentleman, I am Thomas C. Keefer.
Now, you may not recognise me from my treatises on railroads but you most certainly remember my Ballad of the Iron Horse that great poetic work. That was the Ballad of the Iron Horse written in 1850. You remember "...." (Keefer attempts to recite his poem but somehow loses his thought). Oh well I came to talk about my wonderful work on the pump house any way. My task was to assess the situation and to find out how to correct the dire problem of the water shortage. To solve any problem one must first find its source. After much research I came to the conclusion that the increased need for water was taxing the creeks and streams of the local watershed. The first plan was to draw water from Ancaster into huge reservoirs. Unfortunately after much testing I found that the water could not sit for any period of time and still remain fit for consumption. And so after much debate and conjecture, I conceived and proposed the idea of a pumping station with the capacity to draw millions of gallons of water daily from Lake Ontario. The price would be a 300 000 pounds but well worth the money. The completed pumphouse was a marvel to behold, glistening and gleaming, Chrome and mahogany everywhere, 40 miles of pipe and a huge reservoir on the escarpment just east of the city. In 1860 the pumphouse was opened in grand style by the Prince of Wales and a local orphan boy. You may have seen my likeness on the front cover of The Canadian Illustrated in the September 1863 issue. They did a wonder article with a full page rendering and a write up of my life's achievements. Yet somehow they overlooked my poetry.
Lillian--The Cholera Epidemic, 1830s
[In the event, delivered at dusk.]
My name is Lillian. This was my husband's favourite spot. David--that's my husband--died in '32. 1832, when the cholera epidemic hit the town pretty hard. The papers told us to prepare. David was smart. At the town meeting he told everybody to clean their houses, scrub the streets, and burn the garbage. But none of it seemed to help, when it hit.
It was June, a hot dry spell. It started in the town jail. First the prisoners got it. Then the jailer. His wife, their children. Then everybody. It didn't seem to matter who you were, or where you lived. And if the cholera wasn't enough we had problems with fires, too. You see, we had a real problem with the water supply in town. Sure there were private wells and public cisterns on most of the mail streets but it usually wasn't enough to stop a fire. The dry spell also brought problems with the dust from the roads. People got scared of the dust demons. It sounds silly now, but we just didn't know where the plagues came from.
We should have known the water was the problem all along. Water that sits for too long, no matter how clear, could be filled with disease. Just 'cause you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there. Well, we didn't know that. Not way back in '32.
If David wasn't putting out fires he was helping with digging graves. He wore gloves and a scarf aroudn his face because of the smell--and to protect himself. Him and Robbie Berrie were the only ones in town who would do it. Robbie insisted, and rightly so, that the bodies be buried. People would drag the poor, poor souls by long ropes and leave them by the cemetery entrance--it just wasn't right. And then my David would have to drag them the rest of the way in. Hamilton wasn't that big a town, some of them wre our friends and he knew nearly everybody he buried. It tore him apart inside. "Such a waste," he used to say. Later that summer David died, too.
I took our daughter, Sarah, out to the cemetery. She was only five the first time we went. In one section of the cemetery there are no grave stones because too many were dying. And there was no money, or no family. She was playing on some of the mounds and asked me, "What are these little hills, Mama?" I told her they were graves. She got very serious and stopped jumping from one to the next. Then she asked about the bigger mounds nearby. "They are graves, too," I said. "Oh, Mama, no one is ever as big as that." I couldn't tell her that they were mass graves. Early on they just died one at a time. But by July they came by the cart load and David couldn't keep up. There were just too many.
I've looked for David's grave since then but I can never seem to find it. So I come there, to his favourite spot. I feel him here with me sometimes, and that makes me less lonely.
Richard Beasley--about Captain Coote, 1770s
Hello there friends, welcome to what we like to call "Cootes Paradise" at the Head of the lake. I'm Richard Beasley. I was the first settler in this area; I came here just prior to Mr. Robert Land's arrival. Oh, of course there were others before me. Why just the other day I was digging a new garden behind my trading post and I came across some flint arrow heads. They must have been left there long ago by some sort of Indians but I had never heard tell of any tribe that lived in this area. My good friend Mr. Joseph Brant lives across the heights from me but he and his people had settled here from elsewhere. I asked Mr. Brant about my rare find and he told me that there was once a group called the Neutrals that spent their summers around the Head of the Lake just a little more a century ago. It seems that they were torn apart by famine, disease and a war between the Hurons to the north and the Iroquois to the south. These Natives called the Head of the Lake and the marsh "Macassa" which in their tongue means "beautiful waters". Later when French explorers and missionaries came to the area they renamed Macassa Lake Geneva and Governor Simcoe called it Burlington Bay.
When I arrived at the Head of the lake in 1777 I decided to set up my trading post over on the Heights because it was on the main route (pronounced r-out in this instance) used by anyone travelling from York to Niagara or to Detroit. I also had the most beautiful view of Coote's Paradise. Of course then it was only a Marsh. It didn't get its present name until the 80's.
You see, between 1782 and 1787 there was a young captain named Thomas Coote stationed at Niagara who used to spend his leaves of absence fishing and hunting in the marsh. Often I would look across the heights and see him sitting on his chair firing at the fowl as they flew over his head to the bay. People travelling along the road to York would often stop to ask me where they might see Coote's Paradise, as this is what the men of his regiment began to call his hunting grounds. He loved the place greatly and it was a sad day for sure when his turn for duty here was over.
Governor Simcoe decided that the little village at the end of the Marsh should be named Cootes Paradise as well. Mrs. Morden and her children were the first to build down that way. They were brought to the area by Robert Land. Mrs. Simcoe has drawn for me one of her maps showing where all that now inhabit the area live. (show map and refer to some of the places) With the building of the King's Head Inn, the Head of the lake is becoming a very popular place to live and visit as well. I do hope that we are able to preserve the Marsh. I have never yet met the person who didn't marvel at the splendour of Cootes Paradise. It would be a shame to lose this for others yet to come.
Not many years ago the Irish poet Tom Moore visited with me and as he was leaving he handed me this verse
"I knew by the smoke that so peacefully curled Above the green elms that a cottage was near; And I said, if there's peace to be found in the world, A heart that is humble might hope for it here"
It was written as he sat down by the marsh and looked towards my home.
Frame: Contemporary caricatures
Theatrical idiosyncracies: Typically, one actor played two roles. The exposed theatricality ties together the characters through the performer. One example is included:
The Hypochondriac and the Politician are twinned through the actor. One is overly sensitive to the environment, one not sensitive enough. Both are centered on the environment's effect on them, rather than the other way around.
The Poet and the Doctor (not included here) are twinned.
The Waitress (not included) and the Reporter are twinned.
The Steelworker and the Industrialist (not included).
Extremes: The Steelworker
Hi I'm Martin. I work for one of the big industries down on the harbour. I've worked there for twenty years. Came right out of high school and right into the labour force. I'm the third generation to work there. Both my grandfathers worked for the company one was in sales the other was a welder, later a foreman. My dad worked there as well. He went to school to become an engineer. He made it pretty high up the ladder. Retired last year after 40 years service. Good pension he and mom live pretty well.
I started with the company the summer after grade thirteen. Went in as a summer student but at the end of August there was so much work people were invited to stay on. It was good cash. Well it wasn't long before me and Ann got married. we were able to put a down payment on a house after only two years. Six years after that there were three little rug rats running around. The economy was changing and it began to appear that there may not be a fourth generation in the company. Today I'm wondering whether the third generation is going to be around when the time comes for a pension.
You see when I started the company was the most important thing around here. It was the city. McDonalds, Canadian Tire, Jackson Square, they wouldn't be here if not to serve the families of the men who worked in the factories down by the harbour. Laws were made to keep us going.
Now its like everybody's coming down hard on us. Like it's our fault that the harbour is polluted, that there is a yellow haze over the city everyday, that grass is dying in Cootes Paradise. Okay sure back in the beginning we didn't give a rats ass what we chucked on the floor or dumped down the drain but the guys have become pretty self conscious about what they do. And the company too, they've done a lot. Things are being cleaned. We had a plan and were sticking to it. Until recently.
Some gung ho tree hugger starts bitching that we're not doing our share that we should do more. Starts a frigging letter writing campaign to the Spec and to the government. Now Bob and his boys up in Queens Park got it in their heads that the company needs a new filtration system for all liquid discharges and scrubbers for all the stacks and they gotta do it now. Well the company already told us they can't afford all this right now. Sales are down we can all see that and we gave up everything we could in the last contract.
Hey man I've got a mortgage, car payments, a wife and three kids to feed, and a daughter who wants to go to Mac next year. I can't afford to lose my job over this. I mean I love nature as much as the next guy but I gotta eat, I gotta live. Extremes: The Politician
First, I would like to thank you all for assembling on such short notice for this news conference. I will begin by issuing a brief statement regarding recent allegations levied against me and my office in regards to accepting bribes and kick-backs as well as knowingly and wantonly using hazardous materials as land fill in the creation of Happy Hamilton Harbour Park. I would like to assure you that the events surrounding these circumstances are purely coincidental, accidental and truly just a bizarre twist of fate. While it is true that my sister is the major share holder in the numbered company that owns the property from which the contaminated soil was excavated, and my brother has a controlling interest in the trucking company that transported the soil to the waterfront site to which my mother owns the real estate options to and where the city is planning to build a park--I would like to remind you--and I do stress this, ladies and gentlemen--that we were not a close family. In fact, we only get together on Boxing Day to exchange income tax receipts.
[Lost in thought for a moment. Remembers s/he is in front of people, and adjusts.] Yes, well. [Clears throat.] As I stand here before you, members of the media, I understand that it is questions, the big questions that give meaning to our lives. And the question I would propose to you today is what is the question, because every question deserves an answer and like every good answer the question contains the answer. So, the question may not be what is the answer to the question but what is the question to the answer that contains the question. This itself is a good question or perhaps a good answer to a question that has no answer. Now you know that I know that you know that I know you know me as a clear, simple, uncomplicated, straightforward, plain-speaking, ordinary, average, concise, everyday, common, mundane, straight-to-the-point kind of public official. I do not hide behind favourable public opinion polls nor do I spout statistics that show 95% of all statistics are untrue. In short, I love the environment and since we are all part of the environment it is clear that you must love me.
Are there any questions? No... thank you, this press conference is over. Extremes: The Hypochondriac
[Enters hesitantly, sits in chair quietly and primly, checks for dust, takes off dust mask and smiles and tentatively looks up.] Hi,
I'm Milly. I'm a bit early for my appointment. I don't go out much. Have you been waiting long? You all must be new. I've been coming to Dr. Johnson for two years and three months. This is my 120th session, and it's free on the 120th visit. That's something for you to look forward to. The worst thing about waiting for the doctor is, the patients can all be so sick, you know? You don't have any airborn diseases, do you?
[Reaction accordingly. For example: "Oh, phew!" and relaxes, takes off gloves or coat, etc. Or for example: "Ohhh!" and gets nervous, breathes through mask and tightens coat.]
The nurse doesn't like me to wear my small particle dust mask in her waiting room. I think it reminds her of her own vulnerability. Oh, why can't they have separate doctors for healthy people!
[Takes out gloves and blows nose. Takes off gloves.]
You can't be too careful. And I can't wash the germs off here.
I have been off work for the past few months. It started out with a harmless cold, and then other symptoms started to develop. Mysterious pains. And then I developed this cough, and my lungs felt heavy. The doctor says there's nothing wrong with me. Of course I don't believe that, so I've done some research. Does my tongue look yellow to you? [Sticks out tongue] It tastes a bit metalicky today. I hope it isn't mercury poisoning. The thing that is really scary these days is our own environment, and the water supply.
Is it hot in here or is it just me. Do I look peaked?
You see, all of the water that ever was or ever will be is here, and it has all been used for hundreds of thousands of years by all living organisms. Now that is a revolting thought. I still get sick just thinking about it. So my biggest worry is the cleanliness of our water supply. I mean we can't live without water, now can we?
[Takes pulse, times it. Smiles and continues.]
You'd think with all of this technology they would invent new unused water. They have been doing tests for all kinds of minerals and metals in the water. You know--arsenic, cadmium, chromium, copper, lead, mercury and zinc. And for persistent organic chemicals--pcp, pcb, tcdd, ddt, mirex, lindane, endrin, and clordane. If all of these things are present in our water, you can bet that some of that stuff is in us. We are higher up on the old food chain, so you can bet all those pesticides are doing a job on us. Right?
[Scratches the back of the neck and feels a lump.]
Oh, my God, do you see a lump there? No? Maybe it was just a muscle spasm. Or a lymph node reacting against some infection. Oh God. Why do I even leave the house? You do know that there are hundreds of millions of particles in the air all terribly bad for our immunity system. It's a wonder we all don't just break down. [Checks watch.] I seems we have been waiting an awfully long time. I hope the doctor hasn't come down with something. Oh God, I hope it's not contagious. Well, I'll wear my mask, just in case. It's time for me to take my vitamin b6, and put my eye drops in to prevent cataracts from the ozone depletion. I hope you enjoy your visit. If you'll excuse me. Extremes: The Poet
Hello! Gorgeous day, isn't it? [Melodramatically describes the appropriate weather.] To celebrate, let us dance the dance of nature! [Jumps and soars joyfully, trying to include audience members.] Oh, that was lovely! You know--before you came along I was just standing here, all alone, writing poetry about this environment. Would you like to hear it? Good!
Ahem! Ahem! [Poses melodramatically] "Grass. Grass. Grass is--Green!" Thank you! Thank you! You know, the green grass is very much like each and every one of us. [Picks a blade of grass.] It stands alone in a wilderness of others, reaching for sunlight--planted in filth. But its beauty--its beauty is everlasting. Look closely at it. Closer. Closer. Shh! See how it's--. It's--. IT'S DEAD! [Gasp] I'VE KILLED IT! And you stood there and watched me! Watched me destroy the delicate balance of nature! This blade of grass will no longer provide shade for ladybugs--no, no, no. They will no longer rest in their favourite spot and will have to dredge onwards, tired and weary. Defenceless. Likely to be EATEN or STEPPED ON!
Oh, the tragedy of it all! And you watched me do it! You stood silently by! What next, huh?! Are you going to stand by and watch me pluck a tree? A forest? Victimize and torture all of Cootes Paradise?!?! How could you?!? This pitiful piece of grass is screaming out. Screaming out for justice. For vengeance. As it nobly dies its humiliating death. Plucked from life. Destroyed. All for a whim, for a good time. for NOTHING! Well?!
I think we owe our slain friend a farewell. A POEM. Don't you? Who will begin? [Picks an audience member.] Quickly! Quickly! Begin our poem. [Chooses audience members randomly, each adding to the last's words until a "poem" has evolved] THAT WAS--beautiful! I think you should leave me alone now, alone with my thoughts, alone with nature. Go along. Shoo. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. Goodbye! The Tabloid Reporter
Hello. Hi. I'm Marci Maxwell, assistant to the assistant top reporter from the Harassing Hamilton Herald. Our tabloid has been in circulation now for over ten years. Highly read. Highly respected. And highly revealing. Our motto is "No News Means Make News". Always draws the readers.
I am working on a short survey concerning environmental changes, and I was wondering if you would be willing to answer a few questions. Yes, yes. Good.
Questions #1: Recently, there have been reports throughout the area, of increased levels of harmful fish--specifically, carp. Have you heard anything about the carp? Have you heard anything about the carp? The carp. Any comments? Have you noticed anything--fishy? Hm? Have you? No. No. No. NO!
Of course you haven't noticed anything! And you won't! "CARP CREATURES INVADE UNSUSPECTING COMMUNITY!" Recently, reliable sources investigated rumours about these supposedly harmless "fish". It has been discovered that they are actually--aliens in disguise! YES! "EVIL INVADERS! PERMEATING PISCES!" Scientists--and other experts in the field--have been tracking and studying their every move. In fact, the information collected does suggest a highly intelligent plan to capture--the Bay. Then the city. Hamilton. Then Canada. Oh, I can see it now! "CARP CONQUER THE WORLD!!" Comments? Questions? Comments? Anything to say? Good--"CITIZENS SHOCKED AND APPALLED OVER RUTHLESS ALIEN PLOT!!"
Hm-m-m. This is going to be a real winner, all right. Rungs on the ladder. It's not every day that a story like this lands in your lap. Sometimes you really have to work for a good story. But, the carp--ah, marvillous! Of course, not only does it take a good topic, but a great write as well. Someone who can add a little spice, a little razzle-dazzle. For instance, perhaps you saw the article I wrote for last week's edition--"MAN TRANSFORMS INTO BIG BUSTED BLONDE--After Eating Too Many Bullheads". Oh, it was a gem of a story, let me tell you. I used the old "high estrogen in the water" twist. You--they lapped it up. And you know, it was the absolute truth--sort of. But that's what they want. That's what they buy. It's my duty as a responsible reporter to display the news in an appropriate manner.
Hm-m-m, ok, let's see, question #2. Oh, God, would you look at the time. I'm going to be late for my interview with Cobain's ghost [old, topical reference--replace with equivalent]. You're going to have to excuse me. Thanks for your help. Don't forget to subscribe. Must be going. Ta-ta.