Every time I pass Niagara Street in Toronto's west end a story my Father
told me comes to mind.
My Grandfather Tanas Radeff with some fellow villagers from Ohschima
had come to Canada from Macedonia in 1898 looking for work. They had not
come to stay but to sojourn for a few years then to return, hoping to buy a
farm or build a bigger house with what money they saved.
When my Grandfather returned to Macedonia at the end of the nineteenth
century it was his intent to send his eldest son to Canada as the future was
bleak in the Balkans.
My Father was a child during the 1903 Ilinden Uprising of Macedonians
against the Ottoman Turks which was brutally and revengefully put down by
destroying and burning to the ground over two hundred Macedonian villages.
What followed was political upheaval and unrest over the fate of Macedonia
as unofficial armed bands of Bulgarians, Greeks, Serbian and Albanians
avoiding contact with the Ottomans roamed the land. They were vying with
each other seeking to impose their national interests over the people. This
was the period that precipitated three Balkan Wars and the First World War.
Bulgaria, Serbia and Greece in an unlikely alliance against the Ottomans
drove them out of the Balkans. And then fought among themselves for
possession of Macedonia which was repeatedly overrun and then partitioned.
My Father grew up in this hostile environment of continual war. In 1914 an
opportunity for him to leave arose. Wasting no time his Father sent him by
himself to Canada at the young age of fourteen. A few years earlier his older
brother had run away to Serbia and there found a way to immigrate to
Canada.
My Father did not meet up with his brother for a long time and this part of
his early life in Canada he never spoke of. It does not take much imagination
to understand the hardships he faced. There was no welcoming group to
teach him English as there is today. The mostly British stock Canadians were
not standing in line to welcome any one from Europe much as the
Government said we need immigrants. The feeling among the average person
was, more foreigners to take their jobs,, work for less and then, not spend
their money here but take it or send it back to where they came from. Things
have changed from then to now as the Government helps the immigrant with
language classes, money to get established, rent subsides etc. Not so then,
you were on your own, sink or swim.
My father to my great regret did not speak much about the first years in
Canada and I was not mature enough to question him. Some stories were
grudgingly pulled from him such as living in two rooms with four
Macedonian men on Niagara Street and doing the cooking and washing for
them. He was royally paid with room and board and the princely sum of a
dollar a week. (twenty-five cents from each of them ) He picked up a word of
English here and there and soon was elected to go to the store for their food.
He kept asking them to get him a job, he did not like cooking or washing.
He kept saying he was a man and cooking and washing was a woman's job.
One of the men took him to his place of employment at an Abattoir ( a
slaughter house) in the district.. Speaking to the foreman the fellow
Macedonian said "This kid is from my country, he can speak a few words of
English. Will you give him a job, he is a very good worker, pay him what you
want. he really needs a job!"
The foreman looked at my father and said "he's pretty young."
The older man said "he's not that young he came here by himself."
Whatever meaning that had to the foreman it seemed to move him to
give my Father a chance. "I'll give him a tryout without pay, we
will see what happens. If he works out I will keep him." All that
day my father was given every dirty job that the foreman could
find to do. My father released from the drudgery of those two
rooms leaped to what ever task he was given, even working through
lunch when the other men sat down. One reason was, he did not have
a lunch to eat, the other was the foreman did not touch him to indicate he
could stop.
When the Macedonian man who brought my Father to ask for a job came
by from his station of work elsewhere in the abattoir, the foreman said bring
him tomorrow. And so my Father got his first job in Canada or anywhere.
After few days he was shown how to squeeze by hand the contents from cattle
intestines and then wash them. They were used as casings for the production
of sausages in those days.
He smelled very rank, his clothes reeked of offal. He was left to walk home
by himself and people on the street gave him wide berth. His fellow roomers
were not very happy with him, even though he was now paying a small
amount for his share of the rooms. He did no more washing but shared in the
cooking.
A kindly older Irish man took him aside and told him by word and gestures
to bring other clothes to come and go from work. Leave your smelly work
clothes on a hook in their work area, then wash with the hose they cleaned the
intestines with before going home each night. Things began to look up for my
Father. This man would show my Father little things of how to do his work
better, wordlessly at first by example and nodding approval as he caught on.
As this kind man began teaching and speaking to my Father it increased his
knowledge of English. He told my Father that he came to Canada by himself
at an early age. Perhaps this explained his interest in my Father getting on.
My Father never told me much more of his early life, but now I realize I
was too young to have the desire that I now have to know all about him. After
a while he made connection with his older brother who rented a house on
Niagara Street a popular location with the slowly growing Macedonian
community.
He like all young immigrants absorbed all he could of his adopted new
culture. It was at this period that he told me this story.
On August 30, 1927 (a date I looked up) my Father was drawn to a crowd of
people lining both sides of King Street. He heard them talking about the
arrival of the two Princes from England, Edward the Prince of Wales and his
brother Albert, Duke of York who after the abdication of Edward was later to
become King George 6.
Earlier the brothers had cut the ribbon for the new eastern entrance to the
Canadian National Exhibition grounds which were named The Princes Gates
in honour of the two royal visitors from England. They were to now pass in a
motorcade on to their next public function at the Parliament Buildings at
Queens Park.
Staying separate from the crowd his back pressed against a glass store
front he watched as the motorcade drew nearer. The procession slowed down
and the car carrying the two Princes came to a full stop directly in front of
where my Father was standing at the rear of the crowd. What ever caused the
stoppage it was fortunate for those at this spot.
And there before my Fathers eyes was the heir apparent Edward the Prince
of Wales the next King of England. He could see the other Prince sitting
beside him.
He instinctively realized at that moment in time that all that was good in
becoming a British subject was symbolized in this man the Prince. Now as a
British subject through immigration he was under laws that protected him,
and not persecuted him, he had freedom of religion;
He had opportunity to work and better himself; also he did not have to fear
the police, they were there for his protection. As a British subject he had
equality with every body else. He was not a second class citizen as many in
the Balkans were. Here there was not constant warfare as where he grew up.
He was slowly beginning to think of himself as a Canadian who came from
Macedonia. After all everybody else came from other places like England
Ireland, Scotland and France, one, two or three generations back, didn't they?
He was a young man, a free man, a thankful, grateful man. All this was
brought on by seeing before his eyes the Prince as the persononification of all
that was good to and for him by allowing him entry to this great land of
freedom.
Caught up in the moment he was overcome by a great moving wave of
patriotic emotion which he had never known or experienced before in his
young life.
He came to attention as smartly as if he were trained to do so.
His arm as if by its own volition was slowly coming up to form a salute. He
told me he did not raise his arm. It seemed to act on its own.
It was an unconscious form of respect and allegiance showing his gratitude
and patriotism to the Prince of his new country.
He experienced himself stiffly standing and saluting as though it were an
out of body experience.
Just then the Prince of Wales who was waving to the crowd saw my Father
standing by himself in rigid salute at the rear of he crowd.
He turned slightly and acknowledged my Father with a quick nod, thinking
perhaps my Father was a young veteran?
At this the crowd turned in mass to see the recipient of this Princely notice.
Realizing the crowd was staring at him my Father dropped his arm. He
thought they know I am just an immigrant a newcomer. Turning to hide his
face he ran off in fear of reprisal from this crowd.
Why this fear? The times were Brit Anglo Saxon and new comers from
Europe were constantly reminded of this by the Canadians (Not the multi-
cultural society of today) He thought they will think, who I to salute their
Prince how dare I. I am just a greenhorn as many called him. He had not
shed the immigrant thought pattern yet.
He ran for the sanctuary of his rooming house and locked himself in for
the rest of the day. And it was only with fear and trepidation that he ventured
out the next day.
His patriotism for Canada sprang to life the moment he saluted the Prince
of Wales and it never waned. In fact because of the importance of this event in
his life he named his first born son Edward.
He once told me his love for Macedonia was that of a son for his Mother,
And his love for Canada was that of a man for his Wife.
This is one of the many stories my Father told me.