One of my favourite songs is "Cowboy Bill". It was done by Garth Brookes a few years back and whenever I hear it, either on the radio or on my iPod, I am taken back to my youth. We never head a "Cowboy Bill" in my youth; But we did have Jumbo. And the stories and adventures he could tell. We, the group of eight kids, were transported back to the heyday of Cumberland; its' non-stop casinos [although we were to young to appreciate them], the 'red light district [okay, that we had at least heard about] and Chinatown....old chinatown.. For at one time, Cumberland could boast of the largest Chinatown north of San Francisco.
These days, parents would go ballistic but back then, the group of us kids would get together on a weekend, or holiday, and peddle our bicycles up to Cumberland. In its day, Cumberland was THE premier coal producer in the world. And it was only a four mile ride to get there from Courtenay, my hometown. We went to explore, have adventures and generally, be kids. The old houses were still standing [or at least some were], the old mines beckoned, and we went exploring. After a few weekends of tromping through the bushes and the houses, I remember it was Johnny Ellis who discovered the entrance to the mine. About 1/4 of a mile from what is now the present day city hall, he found the entrance to a mine..... #4 mine to be exact, although back then we did not even care for a name to the mine.
We rode home, got flashlights and candles,rope and lunches and back we rode. When mom asked where we were going, I replied "Cumberland". "Okay, son, just do not be late for dinner". Try doing that these days. I think not!! So armed with our equipment, we headed into the mines. To this day, I still wonder why we were not killed or , minimally, seriously injured; or at least why we did not get lost. Those tunnels went on for MILES. There were crossdrifts, pitfalls, holes that went on forever [we know, we dropped rocks into them listening for when it hit bottom], methane gas. I mean pretty much any peril that you could think of, well, it was there. And yet, each and every one of us,emerged from our adventures that summer totally unscathed...well except for me when I whacked my head on a timber and bled for a while. But other than that, nothing.
When we tired of exploring the mines, we would head up to Comox Lake and go swimming. To get there, we had to ride through what remained of Chinatown. It was falling into disrepair by that point but even so, we explored the old houses [most of which still were almost totally furnished]. The times we had!! And it was on one of our trips to the lake that we encountered Jumbo. He was a small wisened old man with a very grumpy demeanor. We all, at first, were terrified of him. "What do you kids think you are doing?" in a sing-song, gruff voice. "Well sir [yes we said sir], we were just exploring and...." And so, after that rocky start, the beginnings of our true summer adventures began.
The more we sat and talked to him, the more he would open up. And the tales he would tell us. There was Fan Tan alley, Mah Jong palaces, the hooker row [red light district] Coontown [yes that is what he called it. It was a small settlement of negros at the north end of town.], and he talked about the 24 hour a day gambling casinos. The miners and how they lived. We were entranced. And then there was Ginger Goodwin. Jumbo mentioned Ginger, but would not go into detail. One day, I asked my father about Ginger. His first question, of course, was how did a mere child hear about Ginger. So I told him!! And, oddly enough, considering my father, he told me. You must consider that back then , we kids were not allowed to play with certain other kids since "their father, or grandfather" had crossed a picket line to go to work; they were the son or daughter of a 'scab', and as such, even 40 years later, were not to be played with. Animosity can run very deep at times. Ginger Goodwin was a miner who, just before the first world war, had contracted TB. He tried to organise a 'union', such as it was, and the Canadian government then drafted him into the army. he went for his physical and in spite of his TB and health problems that he developed while working in those coal mines, he was declared fir for duty in the war.
He immediately took to the hills and lived there for several months while the villagers provided him with the necessities for living. Each time the special police or army tried to find him, he would disappear until they left. However, in time, the government was tiring of this game, and sent some special constables into the forest to track him down. A special constable, Dan Campbell, found and killed Ginger. Some say it was self defence....some say it was murder. Either way, Ginger was elevated to martyr status. My father took me out to the Cumberland graveyard and showed me the headstone and grave of Ginger. It still holds a powerful memory to this day.
And Jumbo? Well, I believe that he enjoyed the retelling of the stories of old town. He probably enjoyed seeing the kids again too, for at that time, he was the last inhabitant of Cumberlands' Chinatown. No one came to Chinatown at that time. It was a derelict area in a dying town. However, his memory does live on. The good folks of Cumberland saved his cabin and resurrected it as a tourist sight and momento of Chinatown. And Chinatown? Eventually it was discovered in the '60 and '70s. People came from as far away as Florida to dig and explore. Bottles by the tens of thousands, were taken from there. People stripped houses of their furnishings and belongings. There is the story of a fellow finding a large cache of old coins in a box. He ran from other people to examine his find, only to discover that it was a stash of common chinese coins....worth very little.
Cumberland is still there, surviving and today, even thriving as is much of the Comox valley. But, there are still echoes there, whispers of a grander time, when coal was king and Cumberland was the throne.
These days, parents would go ballistic but back then, the group of us kids would get together on a weekend, or holiday, and peddle our bicycles up to Cumberland. In its day, Cumberland was THE premier coal producer in the world. And it was only a four mile ride to get there from Courtenay, my hometown. We went to explore, have adventures and generally, be kids. The old houses were still standing [or at least some were], the old mines beckoned, and we went exploring. After a few weekends of tromping through the bushes and the houses, I remember it was Johnny Ellis who discovered the entrance to the mine. About 1/4 of a mile from what is now the present day city hall, he found the entrance to a mine..... #4 mine to be exact, although back then we did not even care for a name to the mine.
We rode home, got flashlights and candles,rope and lunches and back we rode. When mom asked where we were going, I replied "Cumberland". "Okay, son, just do not be late for dinner". Try doing that these days. I think not!! So armed with our equipment, we headed into the mines. To this day, I still wonder why we were not killed or , minimally, seriously injured; or at least why we did not get lost. Those tunnels went on for MILES. There were crossdrifts, pitfalls, holes that went on forever [we know, we dropped rocks into them listening for when it hit bottom], methane gas. I mean pretty much any peril that you could think of, well, it was there. And yet, each and every one of us,emerged from our adventures that summer totally unscathed...well except for me when I whacked my head on a timber and bled for a while. But other than that, nothing.
When we tired of exploring the mines, we would head up to Comox Lake and go swimming. To get there, we had to ride through what remained of Chinatown. It was falling into disrepair by that point but even so, we explored the old houses [most of which still were almost totally furnished]. The times we had!! And it was on one of our trips to the lake that we encountered Jumbo. He was a small wisened old man with a very grumpy demeanor. We all, at first, were terrified of him. "What do you kids think you are doing?" in a sing-song, gruff voice. "Well sir [yes we said sir], we were just exploring and...." And so, after that rocky start, the beginnings of our true summer adventures began.
The more we sat and talked to him, the more he would open up. And the tales he would tell us. There was Fan Tan alley, Mah Jong palaces, the hooker row [red light district] Coontown [yes that is what he called it. It was a small settlement of negros at the north end of town.], and he talked about the 24 hour a day gambling casinos. The miners and how they lived. We were entranced. And then there was Ginger Goodwin. Jumbo mentioned Ginger, but would not go into detail. One day, I asked my father about Ginger. His first question, of course, was how did a mere child hear about Ginger. So I told him!! And, oddly enough, considering my father, he told me. You must consider that back then , we kids were not allowed to play with certain other kids since "their father, or grandfather" had crossed a picket line to go to work; they were the son or daughter of a 'scab', and as such, even 40 years later, were not to be played with. Animosity can run very deep at times. Ginger Goodwin was a miner who, just before the first world war, had contracted TB. He tried to organise a 'union', such as it was, and the Canadian government then drafted him into the army. he went for his physical and in spite of his TB and health problems that he developed while working in those coal mines, he was declared fir for duty in the war.
He immediately took to the hills and lived there for several months while the villagers provided him with the necessities for living. Each time the special police or army tried to find him, he would disappear until they left. However, in time, the government was tiring of this game, and sent some special constables into the forest to track him down. A special constable, Dan Campbell, found and killed Ginger. Some say it was self defence....some say it was murder. Either way, Ginger was elevated to martyr status. My father took me out to the Cumberland graveyard and showed me the headstone and grave of Ginger. It still holds a powerful memory to this day.
And Jumbo? Well, I believe that he enjoyed the retelling of the stories of old town. He probably enjoyed seeing the kids again too, for at that time, he was the last inhabitant of Cumberlands' Chinatown. No one came to Chinatown at that time. It was a derelict area in a dying town. However, his memory does live on. The good folks of Cumberland saved his cabin and resurrected it as a tourist sight and momento of Chinatown. And Chinatown? Eventually it was discovered in the '60 and '70s. People came from as far away as Florida to dig and explore. Bottles by the tens of thousands, were taken from there. People stripped houses of their furnishings and belongings. There is the story of a fellow finding a large cache of old coins in a box. He ran from other people to examine his find, only to discover that it was a stash of common chinese coins....worth very little.
Cumberland is still there, surviving and today, even thriving as is much of the Comox valley. But, there are still echoes there, whispers of a grander time, when coal was king and Cumberland was the throne.
.