Once the trains were running, the catering companies often retained contracts to provision the maintenance crews, while the train crews usually looked after their own meals, except under extraordinary circumstances. In cases of accidents or emergencies, the railway would pay for their meals if they could be fed by local farmers or settlers living near the track. As a general rule, the train crews carried their own lunches, packed at home to last for a few hours, or a few days, if it was to be a long run.
The engine crews had one great bonus when it came to meals, for they could clean up a stoking shovel and cook on it — bacon, eggs, steak, and fried potatoes could all be on the menu. If they brought soup or stew in a jar, or a bottle of tea, it could be set up on the engine and would soon be warm enough to eat or drink.[18]
Steam trains could travel approximately 120 miles before they needed servicing with water, fuel, and maintenance. At these divisional points the train crews were expected to rest for the next leg of the journey. In 1896, Charles Hayes, general manager of the Grand Trunk Railway, became concerned about living conditions for his crews at the destination points, often remote and desolate railway towns, and persuaded D.A. Budge, secretary general of the Montreal YMCA, to investigate. Budge was appalled by the dreadful food, drafty shelter, absence of entertainment, and the fact that crews were often expected to sleep in abandoned boxcars.[19]
Hayes’s concerns and Budge’s bold experiment marked the start of an era. In more than two dozen Canadian railway towns, railway Ys would become an important part of both the physical landscape and the social fabric. While a few were located in Canada’s larger and more prosperous communities such as Moncton, Montreal, Toronto, and Stratford, more than half were in Northern Ontario’s remote railway divisional towns strung along the CPR line and what would become the Canadian National Line — Sioux Lookout, Ignace, Kenora, Chapleau, Cartier, Schreiber, Hornepayne, and White River were some of these — while others were in the British Columbia mountain towns of Field, Cranbrook, and Revelstoke.
“The Railway Ys form a remarkable group, offering as they do comfort and cheer to those who man the trains running through the wilds of
B.C. and northern Ontario,” boasted H.B. Stevens, chief dispatcher of the CPR, on opening the White River Y in 1909. “In erecting these buildings, the CPR has set a worthy example for other corporations.” Now tired crews could relax in reading, lecture, or games rooms, or repair to rest-rooms, with beds and bathrooms with tubs and showers, or prepare their meals in lunchrooms on gas stoves.[20]
What of the passengers on the trains? As we have seen, the first short runs gave the passengers an opportunity to pack picnic lunches to consume in the coaches, beside the tracks, or at their destination. With the building of the longer railways and the opening of the transcontinental lines, hampers of food brought from home or sandwiches purchased at station counters, from nearby hotels, or from platform vendors would not suffice, particularly for the well-to-do, who were accustomed to being served.
George Pullman of Chicago recognized as early as 1864 the importance of making railway passengers comfortable — and the profit that could be made by doing so. Pullman designed elegant dining cars, where the first-class passengers enjoyed lavish meals prepared by his chefs. Advertisements read:
THE CANADIAN PACIFIC RAILWAY DINING CARS Excel in Elegance of Design and Furniture and in the Quality of Food and Attendance Anything Hitherto Offered to TRANCONTINENTAL TRAVELLERS.
The fare provided in these cars is the best procurable and the cooking has a wide reputation for excellence. Local delicacies such as trout, prairie hens, antelope steaks, Fraser River salmon, succeed one another as the train moves westward.
The wines are the company’s special importation, and are of the finest quality.[21]
Meals in the dining car were advertised at 75 cents during the first years of transcontinental service. It is interesting to note that on CNR in August 1940 it was still possible to have a table d’hôte luncheon that included a choice of tomato juice or consommé or dessert, a choice of an omelette, salad, or sandwich, two hot vegetables, rolls, and a choice of tea, coffee, milk, iced tea, or iced coffee for the same amount.[22]
This Dining Car Service Menu for Canadian Pacific Railway details the dinners available in 1941 for $1 and $1.25.
One of the important offshoots of the dining-car service was the CPR hotel system, which stretched from the Empress Hotel in Victoria to the Lord Nelson in Nova Scotia and included two fishing resorts at the French River and at Kenora in Ontario. Passengers on the CPR, “The World’s Greatest Travel System,” were assured that the sleeping-car conductor would be pleased to wire ahead, without charge, to any of the company’s hotels for reservations.[23]
Many travellers on transcontinental trains, however, could ill afford the cost of dining-car meals, and it became common for restaurants to spring up at divisional points where a passenger could obtain a quick and cheap meal while the locomotive was being changed, watered, or fuelled. Passengers were always fearful of moving too far from the platform and the steps to the train in case it glided off, for the conductor would call “All aboard!” and even as he uttered the words the train would begin to move.
Cafés near the station had their specialties. One might be renowned for its roast beef, another for its great breakfasts. If you boarded a train that had no diner in the 1920s, you would hope for a long stop near a good café. At High River, Mrs. Robinson’s had raisin pies that made you drool thinking of them. The Lethbridge train would stop in the town for ten minutes, and folks would rush to Mrs. Robinson’s for a slice of pie.
Once, about twenty people trooped into the café, and Mrs. Robinson ran out of raisin pie. The conductor and the engineer came in and said they wanted some so badly that they would wait until a new batch came out of the oven. ”What about your schedule?” somebody asked.
“Don’t you go having no conniption over the schedule,” the engineer said. “We’ll make her to Lethbridge okay.”[24]
These restaurants were usually privately operated, but the railway had to establish its own restaurants in the mountains, where it was impractical to haul the extremely heavy dining cars over the steep grades. The westbound Pacific Express and the eastbound Atlantic Express were timed to arrive at these points at mealtimes. Although they had not been ready for operation when the first transcontinental went through, temporary quarters in the form of dining cars pulled to the side of the tracks were used until the work on the line was complete.[25]
Other alternatives to the dining car were also provided for the floods of passengers on the railways. “Newsies” such as Denny Hollows from North Bay were popular on many railways. Mr. Hollows started on the T&NOR in 1928 at age fourteen and was soon earning $70 a week.[26] Hartley Trussler describes the newsies he remembers and how their wares could augment a lunch from home:
It was amazing all the stuff he had for sale and it was all kept in a couple of trunks or cases between two seats in the end of the smoking car. I will never forget the smell of the oranges and bananas as he strolled down the aisle with his wicker tray filled with fruit and chocolate bars all nicely displayed so you could not resist the temptation to buy. In those days we country kids only smelled oranges at Christmas or some special occasion; and the pop or soft drinks. What a treat it was to get a drink of cream soda or orangeade. It was pure nectar to us. And the smell of the cigar smoke, another aroma which was rare to we kids. Cigarettes were not as common then; people who could afford to smoke, smoked 5 cent cigars and on the train was where they indulged.[27]
An innovation introduced by the T&NOR in 1912 was the Agumik, an air-conditioned restaurant car. This pioneering effort provided service and comfort at a moderate price. Agumik means “Place of Eating,” and the car was indeed a good place to eat. Prices ranged from 10 cents for a peanut-butter sandwich to $1.25 for a steak. The Agumik was built in the railway shops, and the dining counter was set up like a very long soda-fountain counter running t
he length of the car, with the staff and equipment on one side, and stools and the patrons on the other. The Polar Bear Express that runs from Sault Ste. Marie to Moosonee (Ontario) offers its own menu and appears to cater to the younger passengers travelling with their parents, or to adults with slim pocketbooks and simple tastes.[28]
Eating on the rails has changed a great deal in the past 150 years in Canada. Whenever a group of people gather to reminisce about their experiences travelling on our railways, the elegance and superb cuisine of the dining cars are always remembered with a great deal of nostalgia tinged with regret at their disappearance. The modern substitutes, even in first-class coaches, are treated with disdain by many who believe we have lost an important part of our culinary heritage.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
From Sea to Shining Sea
FOR CENTURIES THE WEST COAST OF CANADA remained a mystery to much of the world, especially to the Europeans, despite the probing and speculating that went on to find the elusive Northwest Passage across or around the continent. As the search continued, Captain James Cook and his crew were among the first newcomers to visit the shores of present-day British Columbia. Cook became famous in the history of maritime exploration for his magnificent accounts of his expeditions, for once they were printed, they aroused keen interest around the world. He became famous also for his innovative measures in preventing scurvy among his crew. Cook was one of the first sea captains to order his men to eat “Sour Krout” (salted cabbage) and Portable Broth (green vegetables and fresh meat) on their three voyages around the world between 1768 and 1780. In the spring of 1778 on his third voyage as he was searching for that elusive northern passage, Cook’s vessels sailed into Nootka Sound on Vancouver Island. Cook and his men were met by the First Nations and leave us this description of a meal in preparation:
I was in one of these Houses about the middle of the day, and saw them cook their Dinner, which was done after the following Manner; they took a wooden Box, pour’d some Water into it and put it by the side of the Fire; their Method of making a Fire is, by first forming a round hole in the Ground, which they line with Stones; upon these Stones they lay the Fuel and make the fire; having placed the Box in a convenient situation by the Fire with the Water in it, they put in their Flesh or Fish, or whatever they have to dress, and then keep plying it with a Succession of hot Stones, which they are supplied with from the Fire, and by this means keep the Water simmering till the contents are done to their palates. When I saw them perform this Operation, they cook’d some Flesh, which I believe was part of the Carcass of a Porpuss, however they laid it down upon the bare Ground and cut it up in convenient Junks for cooking; when they put it in the Box, it was in many places so cover’d with dirt that you cou’d scarcely see the colour of the Meat, however with these honest fellows it was very well, dirt and Meat went altogether.[1]
In The Flavours of Canada, Anita Stewart enlarges on Cook’s description of meal preparation by the Native peoples on the West Coast:
Canada’s only indigenous cooking method, bentwood box cookery, was developed during the ancient times, long before European contact. It was women’s work, a ritual completed with pride. Handmade cedar boxes were filled with water to soak and tighten for three to four days. A fire was lit and potato-sized beach rocks were placed in it to heat. The hot rocks were then picked out of the fire with a split alder branch, washed briefly in one box, then placed in a second filled with water and salmonberry shoots. In moments the water foamed and boiled. Seafood was added — prawns, scallops, clams, chunks of halibut or salmon — and a woven mat was placed over top to hold the steam. Within minutes the pure, sweet taste of the sea were retrieved from the box and the feast began.[2]
The First Nations continue to prepare fish for family and friends in traditional ways and to give fish as a gift to a new acquaintance or an old friend.
The nations of the northern West Coast, the Nootka, Haida, Tlingit, and Tsimshian, built their communities, each with its own chief, along the shore and close to their livelihood. There was salmon in abundance, bear, deer, and mountain goats in the dense forest, while whales and porpoises roamed the coastal waters. They erected giant poles (called crest, or totem, poles) in front of their homes as the genealogical record of the family to confirm their status and position in the community. It was imperative that the chiefs maintain their reputation as strong, wealthy leaders, and this goal was often accomplished with a traditional potlatch.
The potlatch was generally planned a year in advance, the clan chief directing his family, quite conceivably an entire village, to prepare not only enormous quantities of food but a huge supply of blankets, boxes, and all manner of useful and valuable items. When this mass of material was accumulated, the chief would invite the headman of a rival clan and his people to the feast. Here everyone dressed in their finery, and the host would distribute gifts to his guests — the dozens of blankets and boxes and other articles that he and his clan members had gathered together throughout the year. A sumptuous feast was presented, with more than anyone could eat. To climax the potlatch, the host might take one or more of his shield-shaped coppers (a sheet of copper used as a symbol of wealth or distinction), valued at perhaps a hundred blankets, and hurl them into the sea. The host herewith displayed to the assembled throng his utter disdain for material wealth. The ostentatious exhibition was frequently accompanied by the killing of one or more slaves for, as property, they now meant nothing at all to their owner. It was a glorious occasion, a time for receiving gifts, of feasting, of being honoured by a powerful and beneficent leader.
There was one catch, however, to the potlatch. The guest chief knew that within one year all of the things he had been generously given, all of the displays and destruction of property, must be reciprocated, and reciprocated with lavish interest. The potlatch was, in fact, a form of insidious economic warfare waged with the calculated design of ruining one’s rival. And it worked. Some headmen went bankrupt, others went mad, and a few ventured upon suicidal expeditions of war.[3]
In 1884 the federal government outlawed potlatches on the grounds that “the institution was wasteful and destructive.” The Potlatch Law, as it became known, remained on the statutes of Canada until 1951.
Meanwhile explorers and adventurers continued to penetrate the channels along the coast, among the Arctic islands, across the tundra, and into the labyrinth of mountains from the west, while the servants of the North West Company and the Hudson’s Bay Company approached from the east, where many of their forts now had communities growing up around them, with gardens and fields to supplement the traditional rations.
It was the young Scottish-born North West Company trader and explorer Alexander Mackenzie who read Captain Cook’s accounts and persevered until he successfully reached the Pacific. With a mixture of grease and vermilion, Mackenzie wrote the following words on a rock overlooking the open sea:
Alexander Mackenzie, from Canada, by land,
the twenty-second of July
one thousand seven hundred and ninety-three.
The Rocky Mountain barrier had been penetrated, and when Mackenzie’s book about his travels was published in 1801 and was read by the English-speaking world, it galvanized countless explorers and traders to make their way across the mountains to the coast, as well.
Meanwhile, events in the United States were to have a profound effect on this coastal region when gold was discovered in California and armies of fortune hunters arrived. They soon pushed north from one valley or river to another until they struck gold on the Fraser River in 1858.
This was the “birth” of modern British Columbia, a territory that was a fascinating mixture of First Nations, explorers, adventurers, fur traders, and merchants. There were two settlements, Victoria and Esquimalt, with a total population of about two hundred. Vancouver Island was a separate colony, and surveyor general Despard Pemberton leaves a prophetic description of the area’s future:
The fertility of the soil in the neigh
bourhood of the gold-bearing rocks is very remarkable, and is indicated rather by production from ordinary seed of gigantic roots, and vegetables and fruits, than by crops of grain. Turnips as large as hassocks, radishes as large as beets or marigolds, and bushels of potatoes to a single stalk, are nothing astonishing….
Indians everywhere grow potatoes and carrots as far north as Queen Charlotte’s Island; their plan is to repeat the crop until the ground is exhausted, and then to clear some more. The potatoes are excellent; and potatoes and salmon their standing dish….
With a market close at hand, and high prices for everything he can produce, the farmer’s prospects are extremely promising; and in consequence of the dearness of labour in every department, the larger his family the wealthier he is.[4]
Those “gold-bearing rocks” mentioned by Pemberton, and the dream of one lucky strike with an instant fortune, lured thousands of prospectors and miners to the goldfields of British Columbia after the strike of 1858. Among them was Ah Hung, merchant and agent for a San Francisco company, who was prospecting not for gold but for new business. Mr. Hung was Canada’s first “official” Chinese arrival, and when he wrote about his experiences in the San Francisco Daily Globe on May 16, 1858, he described receiving a job offer as a cook for $20 a day! Drawn by such enthusiastic reports of Gum San, “the Land of Gold,” as Canada was briefly known, three hundred Chinese men arrived two months later from San Francisco by ship, and a few months after that, arrivals landed directly from Hong Kong.[5]
Canadians at Table: Food, Fellowship, and Folklore Page 11