THANKS for stopping by, I do my best to acknowledge when someone leaves a comment,you do not have to be a member here & everyone is welcome.
Ps: This site is monitored but not actively posting on a regular basis. Mostly these are stories & some photos saved from a defunct site known as Verdun Connections which was on MSN Groups initially then on a social network called Multiply.
I'll bet this would be a really interesting book, some great old photographs a lot of them we most likely would have seen or posted by now, but some new gems may be there as well. I will look into getting this book. The following appears in todays online Gazette. Cheers ! LesF
William F. (Buffalo Bill) Cody was already a legend of the
American Old West when he founded the famed Buffalo Bill’s Wild West
travelling show in 1883. That show spread the myth of the Wild West as
Buffalo Bill toured North America and Europe.
One of his most important stops was in Montreal in August 1885. He
and Sioux chief Sitting Bull posed for photos taken by Montrealer
William Notman, the first internationally acclaimed Canadian
photographer in the 19th century.
“Sitting Bull is looking off far away — there’s a kind of sadness in
his gaze — and William F. Cody is posing, trying to look dignified,”
says journalist, author and historian Jean-François Nadeau, whose
recently published photography book Montrealers: A Story in Portraits (Juniper Publishing) showcases the shoot.
Jean-François Nadeau wanted to focus on everyday people in Montrealers: A
Story in Portraits, “because that gives you a special feeling about
what Montreal was really like.”Pierre Obendrauf /
Montreal Gazette
“This is probably the most famous photo of the myth of the American
Wild West, probably the most-reproduced photo of the story of the
American West, and it was taken in Montreal!” says Nadeau. He adds that
while “Sitting Bull was booed at other stops on this tour, in Montreal
he was cheered by audiences.”
Neither Sitting Bull nor Buffalo Bill were Montrealers, of course,
but their presence looms large in Nadeau’s book because, he says, “it is
one of the most important photos taken in Montreal in the
19th century.”
This image of Sitting Bull and Buffalo Bill is “one of the most
important photos taken in Montreal in the 19th century,” according to
Jean-François Nadeau.William Notman & Son /
McCord Museum
The image is one of more than 400 black-and-white photographs in
Montrealers: A Story in Portraits, published to coincide with Montreal’s
375th anniversary. Nadeau’s beautifully packaged commemorative book
includes previously unpublished or unknown photos that depict the lives
of Montrealers from the beginnings of photography until 1976. They
include work by many masters of the form, such as Gaby (Gabriel
Desmarais), Alain Chagnon, Yousuf Karsh, Gabor Szilasi and Notman, as
well as work by lesser-known and anonymous photographers.
“Notman was the most celebrated Canadian photographer of his era,”
says Nadeau. “He had over 25 studios in North America, he was well
organized, his was a big business. But most early photography before the
20th century is of rich people. Photographers (then) were not
interested in taking photos of people living in poor neighbourhoods and
suburbs — they took photos of what their society permitted them to
photograph.”
Complicating matters, Nadeau says, is that in Montreal “we are not
(overly) familiar with our past. Montrealers talk a lot about it, but
our knowledge isn’t very deep. We also don’t know a lot about
photographers here, though we know there were a lot of pictures taken.”
Taverne de Paris, St-Denis St. (1973)Alain Chagnon
So while readers will enjoy portraits of such celebrities as Mordecai
Richler, poet Émile Nelligan, actress Geneviève Bujold,
conductor/pianist Wilfrid Pelletier and trailblazing female impersonator
Guilda, Nadeau hopes his book will also deepen Montrealers’
appreciation for their city and the working-class citizens who put
Montreal on the map.
“Yes, I included pictures of well-known people like Leonard Cohen,
but those photos are interesting because the photos themselves are
special,” Nadeau explains. “It’s not about well-known or famous people,
and I’m not interested in monuments, buildings and streets — I am much
more interested in ordinary people and their lives, because that gives
you a special feeling about what Montreal was really like.
“While these faces do not mirror our (contemporary) lives, you see
incarnations of what you could have been, and that further roots us in
our city.”
Self-portrait in mirror, Notre-Dame St., Griffintown (circa 1970).David W. Marvin /
McCord Museum
Montrealers: A Story in Portraits also lovingly shines a light on
little-known pioneers, such as “Mrs. Fletcher,” who opened her photo
shop and studio in Old Montreal in 1841.
“She is important because she is (likely) the first woman in Canada
taking pictures, taking portraits, and she’s doing it right here, at
Place d’Armes,” Nadeau says. “We don’t know much about her, but we do
know that from the beginning of photography in Montreal until now, there
were a lot of women photographers. Unfortunately, like other women in
history, their contributions have been neglected. In my book I also talk
about Kéro, who was everywhere in the 1960s and 1970s, but we don’t
talk about her anywhere today. She’s gone, but she was really
important.”
The book’s 12 chapters each include an in-depth profile of a Montreal
photographer, and photos are grouped under different themes, such as
housing, work, nightlife, religion and First Nations, complete with
commentary.
All photos are in black and white because, Nadeau says, “before the
MoMA (Museum of Modern Art) in New York accepted a colour exhibition in
1976, black-and-white photography was considered superior. For instance,
if you were a Canadian citizen at the time, you couldn’t get a colour
passport photo — black-and-white photos were considered more ‘real’ than
colour. Which suggests that what is real is not always the truth.
Montreal Alouettes football player (circa 1963).Antoine Desilets /
McCord Museum
“If you look at ads for camera companies over the past 50 years, they
keep advertising that their photos look more real. But what is real and
what is not real? In the 1950s the Kodachrome colour process gave you
blasting red and blasting blue. At the time it was considered the best
rendition of colour. We know today that’s not true. When we see a photo
from that time, we know it was from the ’50s. The same will be said of
our photos today. It is always a convention of our time, of what we
see.”
In a world where some 350 million photos are uploaded to Facebook every day, has the value of photography been diminished?
“There will always be photos that manage to capture a moment in time
and stand the test of time,” Nadeau says. “But today everybody thinks
they are a photographer and can take timeless photos. People think they
take good photos because they get a lot of likes on Facebook. It’s not
because you post photos on Instagram that you’re a photographer — it’s
the capacity to deliver your own thoughts in your photos that makes you a
good photographer.
“Each photo in my book has at its core an idea, a message. People take photos today, but many have nothing to say.”
Six of Jean-François Nadeau’s favourite photos from Montrealers: A Story in Portraits
Union representative Huguette Plamondon with Montreal meat-packing employees (1956).Basil Zarov /
Library and Archives Canada
“Basil Zarov was a well-known photographer, really into the arts, and
here perfectly captures Huguette Plamondon in her daily work, so well
dressed, talking with workers in a slaughterhouse. Gives you an idea of
how rough Montreal could be at the time.”
Buildings slated to be demolished in Victoriatown (Goose Village) (1963).Jean-Paul Gill and Ludger L’Ecuyer /
City of Montreal Archives
“Montreal asked two city photographers to take photos of buildings
that were going to be scrapped. The photographers would number each
photo with a little marker, to identify the building, snap the picture,
then were off to the next place. But people were still living there.
Their photos are incredible views of Montreal; (they) give you a very
precise idea of what life was like at the time.”
Griffintown (1966).Antoine Desilets
“One of the kids is black, the other I’m not sure, and they are
playing in a poor neighbourhood. We don’t see many photos of children
today, because people are wary and there are laws protecting children.
You can no longer just take photos of children and publish them. There
were also a lot more children in the streets back then. Here, Antoine
Desilets captures a simple moment. He always brings a fresh touch to his
photos.”
Young boys in street (circa 1940).Paul-Marc Auger /
McCord Museum
“People were not afraid to let their children play outside. People
had large families, so it was nice to stretch outside where there was
more space. Montreal was a young city. So you see kids running in the
middle of the street everywhere!”
Montreal Botanical Garden (1946).Conrad Poirier /
BAnQ
“Such a great shot! Conrad Poirier is working with the lines created
by the light. Two young girls are walking, but all the viewer can see
are the lines. Poirier’s magical touch here is all in the geometry of
the photo.”
Place d’Armes (1941).Conrad Poirier /
BAnQ
This was chosen as the cover image for Montrealers: A Story in
Portraits. “You can say from today’s perspective that this is a bad
photo — that the woman is out of focus, the focus is behind her, it’s a
bit overexposed in front, and by the end it’s a fantastic photo because
it gives you a sense of freshness, of speed, of Montreal at its best:
Place d’Armes with streetcars and elegant, well-dressed people. It gives
you a perfect feel of what Montreal is, or was. Sometimes a picture is
not about capturing perfection in the details — it’s the composition,
the feel, the idea behind it. This photo is Montreal.”
This story was first published on Jan. 12, 2003, in the Montreal Gazette.
It was one of the most bizarre rail accidents in Montreal’s history
and also one of the least auspicious. Bizarre, because the rails were
laid not on terra firma but on ice across the frozen St. Lawrence. And
inauspicious, because the accident came on the very first day of
operations that winter.
The Victoria Bridge was an undeniably magnificent response to the
formidable, mile-wide barrier of the river at Montreal. Its opening in
late 1859 gave shippers in the city easy rail access to the Atlantic, at
Portland, Me. It almost seemed a miracle. Freight and passengers could
now move between tidewater and the American midwest through central
Canada even when the ice of winter shut deep-sea ships out of Montreal’s
harbour for months at a stretch.
But the bridge was also a barrier in its own right. It was owned by
the Grand Trunk Railway, and though other lines could use it, they had
to pay for the privilege. Even then, their timetables had to cede
priority to the Grand Trunk’s. Was there a way out of the dilemma, short
of building a new rail bridge?
In winter, at least, there might be. For generations, Montrealers had
been accustomed to laying out ice roads across the river to the South
Shore communities. To and fro, the sleigh drivers would make their way,
conveying firewood, occasional farm products and other loads, as well as
people. They followed tracks marked by evergreen saplings set at close
intervals along the way, much as snowmobile clubs mark routes for their
members across frozen lakes in our own day. It was rough going, for the
ice in places off Montreal often heaved up in daunting ridges and
blocks, and occasional thin spots in the surface presented other
dangers, but it worked. Could it work not just for sleighs but for
something far heavier, a steam locomotive and a string of cars?
In January 1880, a small consortium of Grand Trunk rivals, led by the
provincially owned Quebec, Montreal, Ottawa and Occidental Railway, set
out to try. Thumbing their noses at the Victoria Bridge, they laid a
temporary rail line across the now-thick ice to Longueuil and announced a
shuttle service to the South Shore for as long as the ice was safe.
The first run was a sensation. Crowds gathered at the waterfront
where a small engine and several cars, all decorated with flags and fir
boughs, stood ready to go. People were invited to climb on board for the
inaugural run, and many quickly did. However, a few among them found
that their winter boots were no antidote for their suddenly-cold feet
and just as quickly climbed back down. Holes had been cut in the ice
nearby to test its thickness, and the water now bubbling up through them
was an ominous sight. Nonetheless, the jaunt across the river and back
came off without a hitch. The QMO&O and its allies had presented
shippers with an alternate way of getting things across the river, at
least for a few months.
Flushed with their success, they decided to repeat the venture the
following winter. The ice railway opened for business on Jan. 5, 1881,
but that very afternoon things went bad. QMO&O yard engine No. 31
pulling 17 cars from Longueuil to Hochelaga jumped the tracks and fell
over on its side. The shock was enough to crack the ice, and the engine
began sinking into 30 feet of water. The crew just managed to jump clear
in time; the engineer lay stunned for a moment on the ice, only coming
to when cold water from the widening gulf in the ice began to soak him.
Despite this setback, and as audacious as ever, the line’s operators
vowed to continue. “Almost immediately afterwards,” the Gazette
reported, “the work of repairing the track was commenced. … The engine
will be raised at once, the Company having already received a number of
offers to undertake the work.”
An experienced diving contractor from Sorel named Charles Champagne
was chosen to direct the recovery. Within three days of the accident,
the tracks had been rerouted and service resumed. Meanwhile, Champagne
and his crew, led by a diver named Larin, set about determining that the
sunken engine was in sound condition. More challenging, they also had
to figure out how the engine could be levered up from the river bottom
and placed on the fragile ice surrounding the hole without it or their
equipment plunging back through again. Five days after the engine had
gone down, however, it was on its way back up to the open air and
safety.
The service across the ice continued for the rest of that winter
without serious incident, prompting the QMO&O to go for a third
season. However, nature failed to co-operate. January 1882 was unusually
mild, and the service was late in getting under way. The unsuitable
weather continued, and runs across the river often had to be suspended.
It proved to be the last year for the ice railroad. The Victoria Bridge
had the last laugh.
