First Job

One of the young men who traveled to Ontario with Dad was Don Lewis from Middlesex, N.B. How Dad first met Don, I'm not really sure, but once in Ontario they became best of friends.

They both landed their first job at a chemical plant in Niagara Falls, Ontario, called the Cyanamid. Soon after that, it was time to send for their little families.

Don and his wife Annie settled on Bridge Street and Mom and Dad rented an upstairs apartment on Robinson Street. During our short stay in Niagara Falls a few early memories were made.

For every apartment dweller, there is a landlord. Our's was a short stout man about 50 years old. He was a stern man too, and pretty much kept to himself.

The landlords building was old and in need of much repair. Rather that fix the old one, our landlord began the construction of a new apartment building right behind the one we lived in. It was very interesting, to say the least, for we three older girls to watch.

First the big steam shovel came to dig the hole. Then the footing coarse forms were ready for cement to be poured. The crew of men soon put up the foundation forms to make ready for the cement wall. What a day that was, all those cement trucks right in our back yard. One after another, those cement trucks roared in and out of our back yard. With the pouring finished,the crew abandoned the job for a few days to let the cement cure.

During that time we girls took full advantage of familiarize ourselves with the construction site. We knew every nook and corner, how to jump down into the basement and how to get back out again. This was all a good training session for the days to follow.

When the cement had cured and the crew returned, the whole operation went ahead under the watchful eye of our landlord. Things were starting to take shape. The men had tools and gadgets that would spark the curiosity of any kid.

I don't remember how it all began, but one day the crew had gone, leaving their tools unattended. Now was our chance to get a closer look. While Mom was busy with the younger kids we snuck out the back door.

"Wow. Look at all the stuff," we said. There were hammers, nails, shovels, jackhammers, power tools, boards, crowbars and things we didn't even know the names for. We remembered watching the men using the small power tools and we could do it too, we figured. The three of us took hold of one, and one of us pushed the "on" button. Holay, did we jiggle, jump, and shake. It was great! Dust and chips of this that and the other thing was flying everywhere.

Then it happened. Our landlord had returned to the site, and we never even heard him coming. But no mistaking, we heard him bellow,
"Hey, you darn kids, get out of there!"

Our apprenticeship for construction came to an abrupt end. The landlord came running toward us, the chase was on. Elaine was fast as lightning and thin as a rail, swish and she was under a nearby car. I was close behind, but I was fat and slow and couldn't get under the car. So I just sat beside it and bawled. Gloria had headed out in a different direction. She squeezed to get through a narrow channel of forms and got stuck. The landlord caught her.

What happened after that was kind of foggy. Mother had been alerted to our escapades, and with great convincing of some sort, we didn't do it again. Matter of fact, we never went near the construction site after that.