1954, THE MICAELENSE YEAR
José-Louis Jacome, January 18, 2021
The Big Trip - Leg 2
For most 1950s Azorean pioneers, the boat trip to Canada was also the first of their lives. At the time, even travel within São Miguel was scarce and counted. They were expensive and the Micaelense camponeses financial means were rather limited. Pioneer Afonso Maria Tavares writes in his biographical book that there were people who were born and died without ever having been to the island's capital, Ponta Delgada, especially those who lived on the other side of the island in the Nordeste area, 40 km from the capital.
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The boat trip lasted 5 days. Many emigrants did not manage to sleep for several days before boarding. Imagine the tear they were preparing to make. They were going to leave their little world, not knowing where they were going and having no idea if they could ever see their loved ones again. They arrived in Halifax completely exhausted. Many did not sleep much during the boat trip. Several got seasick the whole way, others were indisposed, some already regretted their decision, others were crying. For many others, the trip went well but after 5 days at sea, the journey was not over.
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At Pier 21 in Halifax, as they disembark the boat, they are directed to the customs room where they are interviewed and filled out immigration forms. They don't understand a word. They are heading for the exit, some have had time to visit the city; others will go almost directly to the train that will take them to their final destination. Montreal is 2 days away. For those going to Toronto, it will be 3 days and 4 or 5 if they go to Western Canada. This article traces the typical journey of an Azorean emigrant leaving São Miguel for Montreal in 1954, that of my father and thousands of other Azoreans who made the same trip in the 1950s. Here is the second part of this great journey, the train portion.
Aboard the "Colonist Car" (Halifax-Montréal)
Colonist Car, Canadian Pacific Railway The Colonist signature was removed in 1912. (Heritage Park)
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Halifax-Montreal Train Ticket, 1948. Given to the museum by Vera Gallagher. (Canadian Museum of Immigration at Pier 21)
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Inside a wagon. At the bottom, the top bunks are open.
(Library and Archives Canada)
While the accounts of Azorean immigrants from the 1950s offer few details of their boat journey, they are even less talkative about the train journey they made upon arrival in Halifax. Shortly after arriving at Pier 21, immigrants took a train to one of the major Canadian cities, an endless journey back then, 2 long days, only to reach Montreal, another gruelling journey. They had just spent 5 days at sea, they were tired, some sick, they now had to embark on a Colonist car, a trying experience...
In addition to my father's comments, over the past few years I have heard testimonies from a few pioneers. In general, they are unanimous in describing their train journey as very exhausting and uncomfortable. Their comments are shared by thousands of immigrants who used the famous Colonist Cars operated by rail companies including Canadian Pacific and Canadian National. These wagons were specifically designed to transport immigrants from one end of the vast country to the other at an economical price. They were in service from the late 19th century until the 1960s. The wagons were rudimentary. They had no beds, bedding or pillows, these were offered as an extra. In the Small Stories Great People book, José Mario Coelho reports that Firminio Gouveia, an immigrant who arrived from Madeira in 1953 on the Nea Hellas, paid $ 1 for a pillow. The train did not have a dining car; a stove was available in each of the cars. The seats were hard and the bunks even harder. Passengers shared a ladder to climb to the upper bunks. In the 1950s, most of the time, emigrants used these to hold their big and bulky luggage. Each car could accommodate up to 72 people. (1)
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For the first Portuguese immigrants arriving in 1953, it was very difficult. Manuel Arruda* told me about his journey. The comfort of the train was minimal. It was a very old coal train. The benches were hard, everything vibrated and the noise of the rails was appalling. It was impossible to rest. “We were totally exhausted when we arrived in Montreal. Several had not eaten anything. I ate a bun during the two day trip. We didn't even know how to ask for food” commented Manuel Arruda. “Plus, we were all soaked up with the coal soot that escaped the locomotive. We were all wearing suits and had put on our beautiful white shirts for the trip to Montreal. But we arrived with our shirts and faces all black, completely covered in soot” added Mr. Arruda.
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It appears that in 1954 an effort was made by the Canadian authorities to improve services, particularly the feeding of immigrants between Halifax and their final destination. According to Jacinto Medeiros, as soon as they arrived in Halifax in April 1954, immigrants received 100 Canadian dollars and a rosary. He told me about his early days in Canada: “We were advised to buy a few cans of sardines and some bread for the train ride. A few did, but others were unsure of what to do and preferred to keep the money for their final destination. We had very little money in our pockets. Two days by train, it's incredible. Not understanding anything, we are like in the void. There was no one left to give us any advice. The train stopped in Quebec City before continuing on to Montreal and Toronto. Our destination was planned. I went down in Quebec. The trip was long and very tiring. The sliced bread we were offered on the train was awful, but most of us had no choice. Many thought it was some kind of cake." Talking about the bread, my dad ate one whole before train staff brought him a meal. It was at this moment that he realized he had just eaten bread. For an Azorean accustomed to eating homemade, dense and crusted breads, mostly made from unrefined corn flours, eating these slices of Weston bread was a shock. "The seats were hard. We couldn't sleep because of the constant noise from the rails and the train in general. We were also confused; everything we were seeing was so different, the country had no end. The fact that we didn't speak the language caused a lot of frustration. We were like children, not understanding what we were being told, where we were and where we were going.” added Jacinto Medeiros.
An attendant pins an identification tag to the jacket of an Azorean immigrant arriving in Halifax.
(Museu da Emigração Açoriana)
At Pier 21, since most immigrants did not speak English, they were identified. They now had labels with their name and final destination. At each stop, train workers directed them outside according to the destination indicated on these labels. Several immigrants, speaking about the labelling, said that they sometimes felt like cattle. Jacinto Medeiros, a pioneer from 1954, told me that with this tag attached to him, he felt like an animal. “Many would start to cry, bewildered, dizzy and exhausted from the trip. “ He added.
I am closing this article on the long, difficult and courageous journey Azorean pioneers took in the 1950s to immigrate to Canada with a funny little story. A Madeirense, a man from the island of Madeira, immigrated to Canada on May 26, 1953 aboard the Nea Hellas. At home, he was a policeman, but in order to emigrate, he became a farm worker. You had to have rough hands to be able to immigrate to Canada in those days. His boat trip was painful. He was very ill. He arrived in Halifax on June 1, and had a bit of time to visit the city before getting on the train. Shortly after leaving the port, a beggar asks him for a few cents. He thought to himself. “I did a lot of sacrifices to immigrate to a rich country, and already there is someone begging for money." (2)
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Heaven, who knows where it is? We look skyward and talk about it as if it is somewhere above us. Nobody knows. One thing is more certain, paradise must always keep a safe distance from hell ... It moves and is not eternal; notions about which little is said. The lucky ones among us have bits of heaven… the country we live in can be one. We cling to these bits of heaven afraid that an arm rises out of hell and grabs one of our legs. Hell is lower down, for sure.
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* I just learned that Manuel Arruda died on December 25, 2020. He was 91. I had the pleasure of meeting this Azorean pioneer a few years ago at his home in Toronto. It was a memorable meeting. I pay tribute to this great man.
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References
1. The Colonist Car, Dan Conlin, Curator, Canadian Museum of Immigration at Pier 21
2. Stories told by the first Immigrants, page 41
About the author
Born in São Miguel and living in Montreal since 1958, I published a book in 2018 about Azorean immigration to Canada in the 1950s. “De uma ilha para outra” was published in Portuguese and French. The book and an exhibition that accompanies it were presented in Montreal, São Miguel, Toronto and Boston. The book is sold in Montreal, Toronto and São Miguel, and through my Website. I continue to publish information and stories relating to the first big wave of Azorean and Portuguese immigration to Canada in the 1950s through my Website jljacome.com and my Facebook page D’une île à l’autre.
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