I Am A DAR Conductor's Daughter

I Am A DAR Conductor's Daughter

By June Boswell (1935-2019)

Edit June Boswell

It is highly likely that many memoirs have been written by retirees and employees of the Dominion Atlantic Railway. But I would like to jot down some memories of my experiences as a daughter of a DAR conductor.

My Dad, Malcolm Leroy Taylor, worked with DAR from 1931 until his retirement in 1971. He would have started as a rookie trainman and finished his career as a conductor on the Dayliner running from Kentville to Halifax. He would have seen the transition from steam to diesel powered engines and would have been in the forefront of the eventual dissolution of the railway. As a child growing up in this environment, my recollections are those of a child.

In the 1930’s the family lived in Rockland, some ten miles from the rail centre in Kentville. Those were the days of party line telephones, and eager neighbours to listen in on the calls to catch up with the (news) gossip. This caused my Dad much concern, as the more listeners reduced the transmission and hence the indecipherable messages when he would be called for the spare board. Then the Second World War rationed both tires and gasoline, and he could not travel to work easily. The decision was made to move from my comfortable country home to a squatty little house on Main Street, Kentville. Then he could walk to work. I was not too happy to lose my local school or Grampy’s milk and garden.

But the move to Kentville did bring us closer to the War effort. Aldershot Camp was just “up the hill” and was the last station before men were shipped to the war front. Dad would often take a troop train to Halifax or bring new recruits to Kentville. For me, the joy would be the occasional magazine left by the soldiers, or perhaps a few ration coupons the men donated as they left for Europe.

But I have to admit, I was somewhat jealous of the kids whose parents were at the Camp. They would have a great Christmas party to which none of the DAR kids were invited. Nor did the DAR ever host a children’s party for us DAR kids. In hind sight, I should have been glad that my Dad was a DAR man – he survived the war, whereas many of the Camp dads did not.

As a trainman, and later as a conductor, Dad worked the “Fast Freight”. This assignment took him from Kentville one night to Yarmouth where they would catch a little rest. The next night they moved from Yarmouth to Halifax. Again, a short rest and then they took the train back to Kentville. For me, this meant total silence in the house when he finally finished his shift in Kentville. For my mother, it meant packing a lunch box that would provide nourishment for the two days – without refrigeration! I still can picture that big tin box filled with fresh bread, bake goods, and bottles of everything else that Dad could reheat in the caboose.

The Fast Freight would pick up and drop off freight cars along the route, with the result that Dad carried keys to all the switching boxes from Halifax to Yarmouth. These heavy brass keys made short work of pants pockets. I can see my mother now – on regular basis - sewing new pockets in the trousers.

Periodically, the Rule Car came to Kentville. Again, it was time for the DAR kids to be quiet and not troublesome! If the men did not pass the exam at the end of the instructions, they were in jeopardy of losing their jobs.

As time passed, I was enrolled in Kings County Academy where I shared classes with students who came to school by train. DAR ran a spur line to Kingsport and scheduled a small train to pick up and return students from Kingsport, Canning, Centreville, Canard, Port Williams along the line.

An excursion train, once a year, provided students from KCA to travel to Halifax for a hockey game with students of Queen Elizabeth High School. After the day and game, we came home late at night to Kentville. DAR gave us the coldest and oldest equipment they could find – I am sure! No wonder that we hid under our coats in huddles of two’s. That is my story; you can surmise what was happening under the coats!! As I suspect this was not a choice assignment for the crew; I wonder now how the men decided who would work this shift?

Dad loved meeting new people. He would come home to tell us stories of those he had met along the way – the hermit in the Uniacke area, the blueberry pickers outside Windsor Junction, the delightful ladies off to shop at Simpsons – and so the stories would go. He prided himself in being able to relate family connections, or detect the person’s locality by their dialect or enunciation. They were the good stories.

But occasionally, he would come home late, after filing a report of an accident during the shift. He tried not to scare us children, but one story was perhaps the most heart wrenching for him. The train had struck a family car crossing a private crossing somewhere outside Windsor. He managed the accident scene and instructed the engineer to take the train onward to Halifax. It was not until he walked to the front of the train when it parked in Halifax, and he saw the blond curls of the little boy caught in the cow catcher, that he was overcome. And there would have been no expectation of post traumatic care or leave of absence for him, as we would expect today.

Railway crews were exempt from conscription during the war years, as their service to move goods and personnel was vital to the war effort. They also had no vacations or pay raises during this time. I don’t remember any discussions or disgruntlement among Dad and his friends. Perhaps they grumbled among themselves! However, when the war ended the tone changed. In my memory, it seems that in the late 1940’s there was a general strike to address these issues. I can remember Dad being very concerned. I don’t know how much compensation he received from his union, or what arrangements were made for the men during the strike. I do know we did not go hungry as we had a huge garden and a farm family to see us through.

As a child of a DAR employee, I was entitled to one free pass a year. My brother, mother and I traveled to Ottawa, the spring of 1953, to share Easter with my aunt. I have to admit, sleeping in the Sleeper was not particularly comfortable. And I did get tired of the huge box of egg sandwiches my mother had packed to save us the expense of using the dining car. Frugality was my mother’s middle name!! However, I did use this privilege often when I studied at Mount Allison University. The train was the most convenient way to travel from Kentville to Sackville, New Brunswick.

And lastly, I spent a summer working at Grand Pre Park, while it was still owned and operated by the Dominion Atlantic Railway. It was a delightful summer in spite of one of the worst hurricanes the area had ever seen. The storm, Hazel (I think) came in during a Saturday night and I was expected to open the gift shop that Sunday. The only access was by train, as all the roads were impassible. Eventually, order was restored and the buses of American tourists arrived to enjoy the history and beauty of Grand Pre.

In retrospect, I am grateful to the Dominion Atlantic Railway for giving my father stability in his working life, a good home for me, and resources to continue my education.

Sources worth reading:

History of the Dominion Atlantic Railway
1755 to subsidiary of Canadian Pacific Railway
Printed by Kentville Publishing Company, no date

The Land of Evangeline, Historical & Descriptive Annotated Guide
Dominion Atlantic Railway, 1947

Editors Note:
Not long after this article was written, June passed away. Her obituary in The Chronicle Herald on May 22, 2019 and on the T.J Tracey Funeral Home Site follows.

Age 83, Bedford. Our mother was born August 28, 1935, grew up in the Annapolis Valley and went on to graduate from Mount Allison University. In 1957 she became the first woman to hold the position of Assistant to the Deputy Minister in the male-dominated Nova Scotia Department of Labour. She then spent 28 years as the Head of Guidance at Halifax West High School, where she helped develop counselling in the province and enjoyed encouraging young people to strive for their potential.

Her "retirement" in 1993 allowed her to dedicate herself to the organizations and people that meant so much to her. This included an 18-year run as a full-time volunteer office manager for the Nova Scotia Gambia Association. Her other community work included Bedford United Church, Camp Kidston Memorial Camp, Phoenix Youth Programs, Brunswick Street Mission, the Fort Sackville Foundation (Scott Manor House), researching and writing historical monographs on Bedford, and making 129 donations to Canadian Blood Services. She was quietly delighted to receive many awards for her efforts over the years, and only weeks ago was recognized with a nomination for the Bedford Volunteer Award.

Mom was a constant coach and loving champion for her family. She enjoyed a good book and any opportunity to learn, and tending the gardens and yard. She especially enjoyed having young people in the house - and the opportunity to serve a meal. She loved to travel and explore. Mom had many wonderful trips to interesting parts of the world with her special friend the late Elizabeth Brown, and many adventures closer to home with her dear friend Susan Rolston.

She was predeceased by her parents, Malcolm and Hazel (Nichols) Taylor; her brother, Boyd Taylor; and our father, Henry (Harry) Charles Boswell, who died in 1997. She lives on in us, Andrew (Kim Hayward) and Traci (Kim Walker) of Bedford; her sister-in-law, Joyce Taylor; and many nieces and nephews and their children. Also left to mourn is her bad but beautiful cat Tigger.

Mom passed away peacefully on May 20th after a brief illness that she faced in her kind yet determined way. A Celebration of Life will be held on Tuesday, May 28th at 2:30 p.m. in Bedford United Church, 1200 Bedford Hwy. A reception will follow. Kilts welcome. Family interment will take place at a later date.

Mom avoided the limelight; however, recently she was proud to make a presentation to the students of the Halifax West World Involvement Committee. She opened and closed her remarks with the proverb: "Many people, in many small places, do many small things that alter the face of the world." In her spirit, please donate your time to a worthy cause, tutor a young person, invite a newcomer to dinner, or help a woman to achieve her potential. #ManySmallThings. Online condolences can be made by visiting: www.tjtracey.com