"THAT MAN PARTRIDGE!"
Any man can work when every stroke of his hand brings down the fruit
rattling from the tree to the ground; but to labor in season and out of
season, under every discouragement, by the power of faith . . . that
requires a heroism which is transcendent. And no man, I think, ever
puts the plow into the furrow and does not look back, and sows good
seed therein, that a harvest does not follow.--_Henry Ward Beecher_.
It was a handy place to live, that little tar-paper shanty around which
the prairie wind whooed and whiffed with such disdain. So small was it
that it was possible to wash oneself, dress oneself and get breakfast
without getting out of bed. On the wall was a shelf which did duty as
a table. There were also a little box stove and some odds and ends.
When the roof leaked, which was every time it rained, it was necessary
to put pans on the bed to catch the drip.
But it was better than the tent in which E. A. Partridge and his
brother slept through their first star-strewn winter nights on the open
prairie--more pretentious than the tent and assuredly not so cold. The
two boys were proud of it, even though they were fresh from
civilization--from Simcoe County, Ontario, where holly-hocks topped the
fences of old-fashioned flower gardens in summer and the houses had
shingles on top to keep out the weather, and where there were no
coyotes to howl lonesomely at night, where--Well, never mind. Those
houses belonged to other people; the shanty was theirs. All around
stretched acres and acres of snow; but there was land under that
snow--rich, new land--and that was theirs, too, by right of
homesteading.
It was about Christmas time in 1883 when E. A. Partridge was
twenty-one. The place was near Sintaluta, District of Assiniboia,
North-West Territories, and homesteading there in the days before the
Rebellion was no feather bed for those who tackled it. A piece of
actual money was a thing to take out and look at every little while, to
show to one's friends and talk about.
Season after season the half starved agricultural pathfinders lost
their hard-earned crops by drouth and what was not burned out by the
sun was eaten by ubiquitous gophers. The drouth was due, no doubt, to
the frequent prairie fires which swept the country; these found birth
in the camp-fire coals left by ignorant or careless settlers on their
way in. Under the rays of the summer sun the blackened ground became
so hot that from it ascended a column of scorching air which interfered
with the condensation of vapor preceding the falling of rain. Clouds
would bank up above the prairie horizon, eagerly watched by anxious
homesteaders; but over the burned area the clouds seemed to thin out
without a drop falling upon the parching crops.
Forty-three acres, sown to wheat, was the first crop which the
Partridge brothers put in. The total yield was seven bushels, obtained
from around the edges of a slough!
One by one discouraged settlers gathered together their few belongings
and sought fresh trails. Lone men trudged by, pack on back, silent and
grim. Swearing at his horses, wheels squealing for axle-grease, tin
pans rattling and flashing in the hot morning sun, a settler with a
family stopped one day to ask questions of the two young men. He was
on his way--somewhere--no place in particular.
"I tell ye, boys, this country ain't no place fer a white man," he
volunteered. "When y'ain't freezin' ye're burnin' up, an' that's what
happens in hell!" He spat a stream of tobacco juice over the wagon
wheel and clawed his beard, his brown face twisted quizzically. "God
A'mighty ain't nowheres near here! He didn't come this fur
West--stopped down to Rat Portage![1] Well, anyways, good luck to ye
both; but ef ye don't git it, young fellers, don't ye go blamin' me, by
Jupiter!" He cracked his whip. "Come up out o' that, ye God-forsaken
old skates!" And, mud-caked wheels screeching, tin pans banging and
glaring, he jolted back to the trail that led away in distance to No
Place In Particular.
But along with some others who confessed to being poor walkers, the
Partridge boys stuck right where they were. They set about the
building of a more permanent and comfortable shack--a sod house this
time. It took more than seven thousand sods, one foot by three, three
inches thick; but when it was finished it was a precocious raindrop or
a mendacious wind that could find its way in.
About thirteen miles distant was a little mud schoolhouse, and one day
E. A. Partridge was asked to go over and teach in it. It was known
that back East, besides working on his father's farm, he had taught
school for awhile. Learning was a truant for the younger generation on
the prairies at that time, there being only a few private schools
scattered here and there. Though it was not much of an opportunity for
anything but something to do, the offer was accepted, and every
morning, after sucking a couple of eggs for a breakfast, E. A.
Partridge took to loping across the prairie on a "Shag" pony.
But the little school put an idea into his head. He wondered if it
might be worth while starting a private school of his own, and in 1885
he thought the Broadview locality offered profitable prospects. He
decided to go down there and look over the situation.
By this time the occupants of the sod house numbered four--three
Partridge brothers and a friend. The problem of fitting out the
school-teacher for his Broadview trip so that he would create the
necessary impression among strangers was one which called for
corrugated brows. The solution of it was not to be found in any of the
teacher's few text-books; it quite upset Euclid's idea that things
which were equal to the same thing were equal to one another--when it
came to finding enough parts to make a respectable whole! For among
the four bachelors was not one whole suit of clothes sufficiently
presentable for social events. Everything was rough and ready in those
days and in spite of the hardships the friendly pioneer settlers had
some good times together; but the sod house quartette had never been
seen at any of these gatherings--not all four at one time! Three of
them were always so busy with this or that work that they had to stay
home, you know; it would have been embarrassing to admit that it was
only by pooling their clothes they could take turns in exhibiting a
neighborly spirit. As it was, there was often a secret fear of
exhibiting even more--an anxiety which led the visitor to keep the wall
at his back like a man expecting general excitement to break loose at
any moment!
On reaching Broadview the prospects for the new school looked bright,
so the hopeful pedagogue sent back word to the sod house to this effect.
"And don't you fellows forget to send my linen," he wrote jokingly.
"Make the trunk heavy, too. I don't know how long it will have to
represent my credit!"
When the trunk arrived it was so heavy that it took two men to carry it
into the hotel. When in the secrecy of his own room E. A. Partridge
ventured to look inside he found his few books, a pair of "jumper"
socks--and a lot of stones! Also there was an old duster with a piece
of paper pinned to it, advising: "Here's your linen!"
The Broadview school did not last long for the reason that the second
North-West Rebellion broke out that year and the teacher joined the
Yorkton Rangers. Fifty cents a day and grub was an alluring prospect;
many a poor homesteader would have joined the ranks on active service
for the grub alone, especially when the time of his absence was being
allowed by the Government to apply on the term set for homestead duties
before he could come into full possession of his land. Many farmers
earned money, also, teaming supplies from the railway north to
Battleford and Prince Albert.
In common with his fellow grain growers, the five years that followed
were years of continuous struggle for E. A. Partridge. The railway
came and the country commenced to settle quickly. The days of prairie
fires that ran amuck gave way to thriving crops; but at thirty and
forty cents per bushel the thriving of those who sowed them was another
matter.
This man with the snappy blue eyes and caustic tongue was among the
first to foresee "the rising colossus," the shadow of which was
creeping slowly across the farmer's path, and he watched the "brewing
menace" with growing concern. With every ounce of his tremendous
energy he resented the encroachment of Capital upon the liberties of
Labor. Being of the people and temperamentally a democrat, he had a
great yearning for the reorganization of society in the general
interest. His championship in this direction earned him the reputation
in some quarters of being full of "fads," a visionary. But his
neighbors, who had toiled and suffered beside him through the years,
knew "Ed." Partridge, man to man, and held him in high regard; they
admired him for his human qualities, respected him for his abilities,
and wondered at his theories. On occasion they, too, shook their heads
doubtfully. They could not know the big part in their emancipation
which this friend and neighbor of theirs was destined to play through
many days of crisis. Not yet had the talley begun.
But events even now slowly were shaping. With the winning of their
first clash the farmers' movement was achieving momentum. In the
latter part of December, 1902, down in the town of Virden, Manitoba, a
committee was appointed at a meeting of the Virden Agricultural
Society, to arrange a district meeting for the purpose of organizing
the first Grain Growers' Association in Manitoba. As soon as the date
was set J. W. Scallion wrote to W. R. Motherwell, urgently asking him
to assist in the organization. Although roads and weather were rough,
the President of the Territorial Grain Growers' Association at
considerable inconvenience went down to Virden, taking with him Matt.
Snow and copies of the constitution and by-laws upon which the
Territorial Association was founded, With this assistance a strong
local association was formed at Virden on January 9th, 1903, with
capable officers[2] and a first-year membership of one hundred and
twenty-five.
The same difficulties that faced the farmers farther West were being
experienced in Manitoba and the newspapers were full of protesting
letters from country points. As President of the Virden Grain Growers'
Association, J. W. Scallion wrote letters to every place where
complaints were being voiced and urged organization. At every
opportunity it was advocated through the press that from the eastern
boundary of Manitoba to the Rocky Mountains the farmers should organize
themselves for self-defence against oppression, present or possible, by
"the interests." In about six weeks over fifteen local associations
had been formed in Manitoba and Virden began calling for a Provincial
association. Accordingly, on March 3rd and 4th, 1903, the Manitoba
grain growers held their first convention at Brandon with one hundred
delegates present, representing twenty-six local associations. Great
enthusiasm marked the event and the officers[3] chosen were all men of
initiative.
The members of the parent organization watched the rapid expansion on
all sides with sparkling eyes. Their own second annual convention at
Indian Head revealed considerable progress and the promise of greater
things to come. On the invitation of the delegates from the Regina
district it was decided to hold the third annual convention at the
capital and the rousing gathering which met there in due course was
productive of such stimulus and publicity that its effect was felt long
afterward.
At every convention the farmers found some additional weak spot in the
Grain Act and suggested remedial legislation. Records are lacking to
show in what order the various changes came; but step by step the
farmers were gaining their rights. It all seemed so wonderful--to get
together thus and frame requests of the Government at Ottawa, to find
their very wording incorporated in the Act. The farmers scarcely had
dared to think of such a thing before. To them the ear of a government
was a delicate organism beyond reach, attuned to the acoustics of High
Places only; that it was an ear to hear, an ear to the ground to catch
the voice of the people was a discovery. At any rate when W. R.
Motherwell and J. B. Gillespie, of the Territories, D. W. McCuaig and
R. C. Henders, of Manitoba, went to Ottawa for the first time they were
received with every consideration and many of their requests on behalf
of the farmers granted.
With such recognition and the recurring evidence of advantageous
results the jeering grins of a certain section of the onlooking public
began to sober down to a less disrespectful mien. Those who talked
glibly at first of the other farmers' organizations which they had seen
go to pieces became less free with their forebodings.
In 1904 the farmers began to press for something more than the proper
distribution of cars and the freedom of shipment. They were
dissatisfied with the grading system and the re-inspection machinery.
Some of them claimed that the grading system did not classify wheat
according to its milling value. Some wanted a change in the
Government's staff at the office of the Chief Grain Inspector where the
official grading was done. Some wanted a sample market; some didn't.
The farmers were about evenly divided.
The Department of Agriculture for the Territories commissioned
Professor Robert Harcourt, Chemist of the Ontario Agricultural College,
to conduct tests as to the comparative values of the different grades
of wheat. E. A. Partridge, of Sintaluta, and A. A. Perley, of
Wolseley, undertook to secure eight-bushel samples of the various
grades from their districts. These were carefully sacked and shipped
to the Chief Grain Inspector at Winnipeg, where he graded them and
forwarded them to Professor Harcourt, sealed in such a way that any
tampering with the shipment would be detected readily.
These samples were all of 1903 crop. There had been a bad snowstorm in
September of that year and much wheat had been standing in stook. The
farmers believed that the grain was not frozen or injured in any way
and that they were defrauded to some extent in the grading of their
wheat. The samples represented all grades from "No. 1 Hard" to "Feed."
They were milled with exceptional care to prevent mixing of the various
lots and the flours obtained were put through three different baking
tests.
The conclusion reached was that there did not appear to be much
difference in the value of the different grades of wheat. Even the
"Feed" sample proved by no means useless for bread-making purposes,
either in yield or quality; the only thing that rendered it less
available for bakers' use was its darker color. All who saw the loaves
were surprised at the quality of this bread.
The tests on these 1903 samples confirmed the farmers in their opinion
that on 1903 wheat the spread in price between No. 1 Hard and No. 4 was
not in harmony with the milling quality. From No. 1 Hard the amount of
flour obtained was 70.8 per cent. as against 68 per cent. from the No.
4 grade. The large percentage of stook-frozen grain that went into the
lower grades because it was technically debarred from the higher ones
no doubt raised the milling value, it was thought, of all the grades
that year.
The Department of Agriculture for the Territories therefore decided to
repeat the tests with 1904 wheat. The samples with which Professor
Harcourt was furnished represented the grain just as it was sold by the
farmer and graded either at the elevator or by the Chief Grain
Inspector; it was not a composite sample of the commercial grades. The
second tests practically confirmed the work done the previous year.
The milling, chemical and baking tests failed to show very wide
differences in the composition and milling value of the grades
submitted. The conclusion reached was that the difference in
composition and milling value was nearly as great between samples of
any one grade as between the various grades.
The farmers began to feel that it would be a good thing to have a
representative at Winnipeg to watch the grading of their cars and to
look after their interests generally. The Department of Agriculture
for the Territories was asked by the Sintaluta grain growers to appoint
a man and W. H. Gaddes was commissioned to act for two weeks. Then the
farmers began to wonder if they could not send down a man of their own;
at one of their meetings the question was put and those present
subscribed five dollars apiece for the purpose.
Thus it came about that on the 7th of January, 1905, there stepped from
the train at the C. P. R. depot in Winnipeg a man who looked no
different from any one of a dozen other farmers who daily reached the
city, tanned of cheek and bright of eye. But his business in town was
of a very special nature. In his pocket was a hundred dollars and the
grip in his hand was packed for a month's stay.
It was a month of "cold shoulders" and patronizing manners for E. A.
Partridge. No band music was played in his honor, no festive board was
spread, nor was he taken around and shown the sights of the city. On
the contrary, he was made to feel like a spy in the camp of an enemy;
for he found himself entirely without status, the grain dealers
recognizing him merely as a farmers' representative, whatever that was.
Even at the office of the Chief Grain Inspector he was looked upon as a
man who was meddling with something which he wasn't supposed to know
anything about.
Nevertheless, the Chief Inspector himself gave him information at times
and there were one or two others who took the trouble to explain some
things about which he asked questions. Among the latter was a grain
man by the name of Tom Coulter. For the most part, however, the
presence of the "farmers' representative" at Winnipeg was looked upon
as a joke; so that information as to the grain business became for him
largely a still hunt. He visited offices, listened to how interviews
were conducted over the telephone and picked up whatever loose ends he
could find to follow up.
"Who is that fellow, anyway?" asked a grain man who had just got back
to the city. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
"Oh, him!" laughed his partner as he saw who was indicated. "Only that
gazabo from Sintaluta who's been nosing around lately. Some hayseeds
out the line sent him down here to learn the grain business. They
believe that all wheat's No. 1 Hard, all grain buyers are thieves, and
that hell's to be divided equally between the railways and the milling
companies!"
"So that's the guy, eh?--that's that man Partridge!"
[1] The new name of Rat Portage is Kenora (Ontario).
[2] See Appendix--Par. 2.
[3] See Appendix--Par. 8.