EXTRAS
PERSONAL EXPERIENCE STORIES
PERSONAL EXPERIENCE STORIES
WABANA MEMORIES, 1958-1966
by
Dave Careless
June 7, 2025
by
Dave Careless
June 7, 2025
About the author: Dave Careless was born March 13, 1948 in Rotherham, in the coal-mining district of South Yorkshire, England. His father, Tom Careless, was working in the wages office of the National Coal Board at Aldwarke and Silverwood pits when he received a job offer in the autumn of 1957 to come to Bell Island to work at DOSCO's Main Office in charge of production and projections, determining how much ore was being produced and how much was required to fill the order books. Tom came on his own to get the lay of the land and was quickly promoted to Assistant to the General Manager (a position he held until the mines closed in 1966). In March of 1958, 10-year-old Dave and his mother, Jennie, arrived in Newfoundland. The following are 10 of Dave's memories of his eight years living on Bell Island before the mines closed. (You can read more about Tom Careless in the "C" section of the "People" page on this website. You can see more Careless photos on the "Photo Gallery" page.)
No. 1 Lawtons Drug Store - Soda Fountain
When I landed on Bell Island in 1958, the Lawton's Drug Store was on the west side of Town Square,
about halfway between Bennett Street and No. 2 Road, immediately adjacent to and just south of George Carbage's small supermarket. The most appealing feature about the drug store was its soda fountain, with its high counter and approx. 8 - 10 pedestal type revolving stools, all 1950s style art deco style stainless steel with their seats covered in red leathercloth. A strawberry milkshake whilst sat on one of these stools was probably the most exotic thing I'd ever tasted in my life up until that point. There were several young women from Wabana who took it in turns to run the soda fountain back in the days when my mother and I frequented it, around 1959/60 or so, and I enlisted the help of Dottie Hearn, who, along with her husband Jim, have lived on the island all their lives, in an attempt to obtain the names of the girls who looked after it. Dottie, in turn, knew somebody who was likely to remember, and called on his expertise in an attempt to obtain the relevant names. The girl most keenly remembered in connection with the soda fountain was Jean Spurrell, who, Jim recalled, was being trained by Lou Lawton to become a fully-fledged pharmacist. Three other young women who were remembered as putting in time behind the soda fountain were Sally White, Annie Kelly and Mary Kavanagh. It would be fascinating to discover if any of these ladies are still around and, if so, what memories they might have of the days spent working at Lawton's.
Next to the soda fountain, I remember, was a strategically placed rack of comics, which only added to the experience.
Unfortunately, the building was completely lost in the tragic Town Square fire of December 17th, 1963, as were several of the buildings immediately to the south and further up the hill from the drug store. Lawton's did eventually re-open in a new location some time afterwards, on the south side of Bennett Street just several yards from Hughie's Cafe, which occupied the corner lot, but sadly the new establishment did not incorporate a soda fountain, and so was never quite the same, not for me anyway. With the general downturn in mining which led to the inevitable complete closure in June 1966, I can't help but feel that it was the Town Square fire of December '63, and the subsequent loss of the drug store and its iconic soda fountain, that sounded the beginning of the death knell for the town of Wabana.
Below are two images of Lawton's Drug Store building on Town Square, c. late 1950s. The left side of the building housed Andrew's Barbour Shop and Eaton's Catalogue Office; the door shown in the first image is for Eaton's. The right side of the building was the Drug Store, better seen in the second image. The building to the right of it, across the alley, was George Carbage's Supermarket in the 1950s to 1960s. Unfortunately, no photo has been yet found of the icon soda fountain.
When I landed on Bell Island in 1958, the Lawton's Drug Store was on the west side of Town Square,
about halfway between Bennett Street and No. 2 Road, immediately adjacent to and just south of George Carbage's small supermarket. The most appealing feature about the drug store was its soda fountain, with its high counter and approx. 8 - 10 pedestal type revolving stools, all 1950s style art deco style stainless steel with their seats covered in red leathercloth. A strawberry milkshake whilst sat on one of these stools was probably the most exotic thing I'd ever tasted in my life up until that point. There were several young women from Wabana who took it in turns to run the soda fountain back in the days when my mother and I frequented it, around 1959/60 or so, and I enlisted the help of Dottie Hearn, who, along with her husband Jim, have lived on the island all their lives, in an attempt to obtain the names of the girls who looked after it. Dottie, in turn, knew somebody who was likely to remember, and called on his expertise in an attempt to obtain the relevant names. The girl most keenly remembered in connection with the soda fountain was Jean Spurrell, who, Jim recalled, was being trained by Lou Lawton to become a fully-fledged pharmacist. Three other young women who were remembered as putting in time behind the soda fountain were Sally White, Annie Kelly and Mary Kavanagh. It would be fascinating to discover if any of these ladies are still around and, if so, what memories they might have of the days spent working at Lawton's.
Next to the soda fountain, I remember, was a strategically placed rack of comics, which only added to the experience.
Unfortunately, the building was completely lost in the tragic Town Square fire of December 17th, 1963, as were several of the buildings immediately to the south and further up the hill from the drug store. Lawton's did eventually re-open in a new location some time afterwards, on the south side of Bennett Street just several yards from Hughie's Cafe, which occupied the corner lot, but sadly the new establishment did not incorporate a soda fountain, and so was never quite the same, not for me anyway. With the general downturn in mining which led to the inevitable complete closure in June 1966, I can't help but feel that it was the Town Square fire of December '63, and the subsequent loss of the drug store and its iconic soda fountain, that sounded the beginning of the death knell for the town of Wabana.
Below are two images of Lawton's Drug Store building on Town Square, c. late 1950s. The left side of the building housed Andrew's Barbour Shop and Eaton's Catalogue Office; the door shown in the first image is for Eaton's. The right side of the building was the Drug Store, better seen in the second image. The building to the right of it, across the alley, was George Carbage's Supermarket in the 1950s to 1960s. Unfortunately, no photo has been yet found of the icon soda fountain.
No. 2 Princes Theatre and Hughie's Cafe
The Princes Theatre was a wonderful place to be on a Saturday afternoon when you were fourteen or thereabouts. Admission was 10 cents for those matinee shows back in 1962, and there was always loads of kids in there, ready to let off some steam either cheering or jeering at some cowboy or Superhero flick, or being enticed by the latest Elvis movie; there seemed to be a new one every few months, and all to basically the same format. I can definitely remember seeing 'Kid Galahad' and 'Follow that Dream' there, which prompted me to buy the 45 rpm EPs with the movie's songs on them from Mrs. Sapp's store further down Town Square at some time afterwards, when I'd saved up some more spending money.
After the movie was over and the theatre emptied, it was either just go back home or, if there was enough money left, down the hill to Hughie's Cafe on the corner of Bennett Street to get a Coca-Cola, in that instantly recognizable shaped bottle with the name written in white script on the side, and a bag of chips, and perhaps even a quick session on the lone pinball machine if you were lucky, as yet another perfect Saturday afternoon drew to a close. Life just didn't get much better than this.
Two years later, Elvis Presley had been eclipsed by The Beatles, and in the late summer of 1964, I can remember going to the Princes Theatre twice in the same week to see 'A Hard Day's Night'; perhaps in 1965 or thereabouts, I can recall spending a couple of hours one Saturday night in the theatre watching Spencer Tracy starring in 'It's a Mad, Mad World', without a doubt the funniest film I'd ever seen up to that point. I remember telling the folks the next morning that, "You have to go and see this crazy film!" but as far as I know they never did.
The photo below of the Princes Theatre in 1963 was taken by Phonse Hawco, and is courtesy of Helena Hawco-Highmore.
The Princes Theatre was a wonderful place to be on a Saturday afternoon when you were fourteen or thereabouts. Admission was 10 cents for those matinee shows back in 1962, and there was always loads of kids in there, ready to let off some steam either cheering or jeering at some cowboy or Superhero flick, or being enticed by the latest Elvis movie; there seemed to be a new one every few months, and all to basically the same format. I can definitely remember seeing 'Kid Galahad' and 'Follow that Dream' there, which prompted me to buy the 45 rpm EPs with the movie's songs on them from Mrs. Sapp's store further down Town Square at some time afterwards, when I'd saved up some more spending money.
After the movie was over and the theatre emptied, it was either just go back home or, if there was enough money left, down the hill to Hughie's Cafe on the corner of Bennett Street to get a Coca-Cola, in that instantly recognizable shaped bottle with the name written in white script on the side, and a bag of chips, and perhaps even a quick session on the lone pinball machine if you were lucky, as yet another perfect Saturday afternoon drew to a close. Life just didn't get much better than this.
Two years later, Elvis Presley had been eclipsed by The Beatles, and in the late summer of 1964, I can remember going to the Princes Theatre twice in the same week to see 'A Hard Day's Night'; perhaps in 1965 or thereabouts, I can recall spending a couple of hours one Saturday night in the theatre watching Spencer Tracy starring in 'It's a Mad, Mad World', without a doubt the funniest film I'd ever seen up to that point. I remember telling the folks the next morning that, "You have to go and see this crazy film!" but as far as I know they never did.
The photo below of the Princes Theatre in 1963 was taken by Phonse Hawco, and is courtesy of Helena Hawco-Highmore.
There is no picture available of Hughie's Cafe, which was in the former Great Eastern Oil Building on the corner of Town Square and Bennett Street, but the photo below shows the Hughie's Lunch sign on the snack bar that Hughie ran in the late 1950s that was immediately north of the Princes Theatre. In this photo, the entry to the Princes Theatre property was this side of the bungalow on the right. If you had 5 cents to spare, you could get a bag of potato chips at Hughie's to take into the theatre with you. 10 cents extra got you a bottle of soft drink. Photo courtesy of Henry Crane.
No. 3 The Evening Telegram and the Bell Island Reporter
We used to get the Evening Telegram delivered to the house, I think, on a daily basis, although I admit it was a long time ago and I might be wrong on that score. There was a comic in it every day, just a small rectangular comic made up of four separate frames featuring Andy Capp, an English cartoon character who appeared in the British tabloid, the Daily Mirror. The sort of 'humour' featuring Andy Capp wouldn't be tolerated in today's enlightened world, as Andy's days were spent either drinking in his local pub in between games of snooker and darts, sleeping on his settee at home, and/or fighting with his long-suffering wife Florrie, and all this without ever removing his flat cap, which he presumably wore to bed as well! I used to cut the Andy Capp cartoon out of the paper each night and make them into little comic books for my own amusement, despite Andy Capp being a most unlikely hero! I can remember telling my uncle back in Rotherham in the UK that I did this, and he told me that he could take me into his 'local' back in Rotherham and point out several regulars who lived and behaved just the same way that Andy did! I'm sure there were thousands just like him.
In the Friday edition of the Telegram during the hockey season, the newsprint magazine that accompanied the paper featured a studio portrait of an NHL player, photographed in his hockey gear, including skates, along with a brief write-up about him, and these were addictively collected as well, and a stack of them could be found on a shelf of the bookcase next to my bed, along with the sheaf of Andy Capp cartoons! Sadly, both the cartoons and the hockey portraits were thrown out years ago, to my everlasting disappointment.
Along with the Telegram, we got a copy every week of the Bell Island Reporter, which consisted of several typed, mimeographed sheets put together by its editor and publisher, Ron Pumphrey. I always gave this a good read through as well, although my father seemed to take a special delight in mocking its reporting, with such 'news' items as "Mr Francis Gosine was to the capital city on Tuesday," and the like. Admittedly it was pretty bland stuff, but it was island news nevertheless; I just wish I'd kept a few copies for old time's sake!
Below is a page from the Bell Island Reporter, October 15, 1964. For $1.50, you could see Bobby Curtola and other mainland musicians at the Arena!
We used to get the Evening Telegram delivered to the house, I think, on a daily basis, although I admit it was a long time ago and I might be wrong on that score. There was a comic in it every day, just a small rectangular comic made up of four separate frames featuring Andy Capp, an English cartoon character who appeared in the British tabloid, the Daily Mirror. The sort of 'humour' featuring Andy Capp wouldn't be tolerated in today's enlightened world, as Andy's days were spent either drinking in his local pub in between games of snooker and darts, sleeping on his settee at home, and/or fighting with his long-suffering wife Florrie, and all this without ever removing his flat cap, which he presumably wore to bed as well! I used to cut the Andy Capp cartoon out of the paper each night and make them into little comic books for my own amusement, despite Andy Capp being a most unlikely hero! I can remember telling my uncle back in Rotherham in the UK that I did this, and he told me that he could take me into his 'local' back in Rotherham and point out several regulars who lived and behaved just the same way that Andy did! I'm sure there were thousands just like him.
In the Friday edition of the Telegram during the hockey season, the newsprint magazine that accompanied the paper featured a studio portrait of an NHL player, photographed in his hockey gear, including skates, along with a brief write-up about him, and these were addictively collected as well, and a stack of them could be found on a shelf of the bookcase next to my bed, along with the sheaf of Andy Capp cartoons! Sadly, both the cartoons and the hockey portraits were thrown out years ago, to my everlasting disappointment.
Along with the Telegram, we got a copy every week of the Bell Island Reporter, which consisted of several typed, mimeographed sheets put together by its editor and publisher, Ron Pumphrey. I always gave this a good read through as well, although my father seemed to take a special delight in mocking its reporting, with such 'news' items as "Mr Francis Gosine was to the capital city on Tuesday," and the like. Admittedly it was pretty bland stuff, but it was island news nevertheless; I just wish I'd kept a few copies for old time's sake!
Below is a page from the Bell Island Reporter, October 15, 1964. For $1.50, you could see Bobby Curtola and other mainland musicians at the Arena!
No. 4 Walking back and forth to St. Augustine's school
1958 until the end of term in June 1962 saw me walking back and forth to St. Augustine's school from my home on Greenwood Avenue. On the odd occasion that it was pouring rain, my father would pick me up at lunch time, but normally I walked the same route each and every school day. Skirting the wooden fence around the Stares' property next door, I would make my way up Church Road to the East Track, and then scramble up the slope to bring me to the pathway that ran along the outside of the wire fence around the perimeter of the sports field. There was a drainage ditch that had to be navigated halfway along the pathway, but apart from that there were no other obstacles all the way to the Kiwanis swimming pool and then, just beyond that, the school property itself. It was probably a quarter of a mile from the house to the school, so considering I walked this path twice in both directions each day, that would amount to close to a one mile walk each school day. Allowing for summer and Christmas holidays, and counting the time I spent from 1958 to 1962 attending the classes of Louise Butler (Grade 5), John Jarvis (Grade 6), Mona Ralph (Grade 7) and Mr. Skinner (Grade 8), I reckon I must have logged close to 600 miles walking back and forth to school and back over that period. No wonder that I can close my eyes and some sixty years later still see just about every pebble on that pathway! A good many of my school friends must have walked even further each day, as most of them lived either along Main Street or down Armoury Road way, although I did log additional mileage along the pathway described, as my father insisted I get my haircut at Randolph Noseworthy's barber shop on Grammar Street every few weeks. I hated that ordeal, but sitting waiting for your turn in the chair at least provided the opportunity to catch up on the local news by perusing the latest edition of Ron Pumphrey's Bell Island Reporter!
Below is St. Augustine's as it was looked from 1953-63:
1958 until the end of term in June 1962 saw me walking back and forth to St. Augustine's school from my home on Greenwood Avenue. On the odd occasion that it was pouring rain, my father would pick me up at lunch time, but normally I walked the same route each and every school day. Skirting the wooden fence around the Stares' property next door, I would make my way up Church Road to the East Track, and then scramble up the slope to bring me to the pathway that ran along the outside of the wire fence around the perimeter of the sports field. There was a drainage ditch that had to be navigated halfway along the pathway, but apart from that there were no other obstacles all the way to the Kiwanis swimming pool and then, just beyond that, the school property itself. It was probably a quarter of a mile from the house to the school, so considering I walked this path twice in both directions each day, that would amount to close to a one mile walk each school day. Allowing for summer and Christmas holidays, and counting the time I spent from 1958 to 1962 attending the classes of Louise Butler (Grade 5), John Jarvis (Grade 6), Mona Ralph (Grade 7) and Mr. Skinner (Grade 8), I reckon I must have logged close to 600 miles walking back and forth to school and back over that period. No wonder that I can close my eyes and some sixty years later still see just about every pebble on that pathway! A good many of my school friends must have walked even further each day, as most of them lived either along Main Street or down Armoury Road way, although I did log additional mileage along the pathway described, as my father insisted I get my haircut at Randolph Noseworthy's barber shop on Grammar Street every few weeks. I hated that ordeal, but sitting waiting for your turn in the chair at least provided the opportunity to catch up on the local news by perusing the latest edition of Ron Pumphrey's Bell Island Reporter!
Below is St. Augustine's as it was looked from 1953-63:
No. 5 Evening runs in the car down to Scotia Pier and the Ore Pocket
Sometimes on a decent evening, with the sun shining and nothing in particular on the agenda, my father might suggest a run down to Scotia Pier or at least to the clifftop directly above it, where the ore was stockpiled before being fed by conveyor into the pocket and from there into the ore carriers. My dad knew when the ships were due as he received a telex every day informing him of their 'ETA,' or estimated time of arrival, so he usually had a good idea if there'd be one either tied up at the pier, or out at the anchorage off Kelly's Island waiting its turn to come into the pier to be loaded with a few thousand tons of Wabana Mines' finest hematite. My dad was a bit of an amateur photographer, and often had his camera at the ready to snap a picture of a ship docked at the pier, looking down from the stockpile area. On a nice summer evening it was quite a tranquil scene looking over across the sunlit Bay towards St. Philip's, and if the ship was being loaded, a steady cloud of iron ore dust was constantly billowing up from below as the ore filled the ship's holds. My mother was never particularly interested in these evening outings, but I'd go with him, and often Patch the family dog was along for the ride as well. It was a different world we were living in back then; there was no such thing as security that I ever witnessed, and nobody ever questioned why you were there or what you were doing.
Not very often, but on occasion, we'd go down to Scotia Pier itself, which was accessed by a roadway along the shore from Dominion Pier. Getting down to Dominion Pier, the road passed through a large arched opening that had been broken through what had been at one time a high concrete dam wall, which always added a bit of excitement to the trip. The coal boats from Sydney unloaded their coal at Dominion Pier before refilling with iron ore at Scotia Pier to take back to feed the blast furnaces in Cape Breton, so there was always something of interest to see. Although he was rarely allowed out of the car, I'm sure Patch enjoyed the evening trips out in the car every bit as much as my dad and I did.
Below is a ship loading at Scotia Pier. Photo from the Southey Collection, Archives & Special Collections, MUN Library.
Sometimes on a decent evening, with the sun shining and nothing in particular on the agenda, my father might suggest a run down to Scotia Pier or at least to the clifftop directly above it, where the ore was stockpiled before being fed by conveyor into the pocket and from there into the ore carriers. My dad knew when the ships were due as he received a telex every day informing him of their 'ETA,' or estimated time of arrival, so he usually had a good idea if there'd be one either tied up at the pier, or out at the anchorage off Kelly's Island waiting its turn to come into the pier to be loaded with a few thousand tons of Wabana Mines' finest hematite. My dad was a bit of an amateur photographer, and often had his camera at the ready to snap a picture of a ship docked at the pier, looking down from the stockpile area. On a nice summer evening it was quite a tranquil scene looking over across the sunlit Bay towards St. Philip's, and if the ship was being loaded, a steady cloud of iron ore dust was constantly billowing up from below as the ore filled the ship's holds. My mother was never particularly interested in these evening outings, but I'd go with him, and often Patch the family dog was along for the ride as well. It was a different world we were living in back then; there was no such thing as security that I ever witnessed, and nobody ever questioned why you were there or what you were doing.
Not very often, but on occasion, we'd go down to Scotia Pier itself, which was accessed by a roadway along the shore from Dominion Pier. Getting down to Dominion Pier, the road passed through a large arched opening that had been broken through what had been at one time a high concrete dam wall, which always added a bit of excitement to the trip. The coal boats from Sydney unloaded their coal at Dominion Pier before refilling with iron ore at Scotia Pier to take back to feed the blast furnaces in Cape Breton, so there was always something of interest to see. Although he was rarely allowed out of the car, I'm sure Patch enjoyed the evening trips out in the car every bit as much as my dad and I did.
Below is a ship loading at Scotia Pier. Photo from the Southey Collection, Archives & Special Collections, MUN Library.
No. 6 The sight of the nuns walking back and forth between the Convent at the Front and the Immaculate Conception Church on Town Square
Most days, particularly it seemed in the summer months, there would be at least a couple of Roman Catholic sisters walking along Church Road, on their way either to or from the Convent out at The Front of the island, and the Immaculate Conception church or school on Town Square. They were always in pairs, and always looked rather mysterious in their long black habits and shiny black shoes. They always took the same route, along the East Track as far as Church Road, and along there to Main Street and into the centre of the town. I'm always reminded of them when I see the character of Sister Rose on the television show, Son of a Critch, but the nuns I saw on the island almost on a daily basis were usually quite young looking, and looked nothing at all like the fearsome character in the television show.
The photo below is courtesy of Archives & Special Collections, MUN Library (Livyers, 11-147).
Most days, particularly it seemed in the summer months, there would be at least a couple of Roman Catholic sisters walking along Church Road, on their way either to or from the Convent out at The Front of the island, and the Immaculate Conception church or school on Town Square. They were always in pairs, and always looked rather mysterious in their long black habits and shiny black shoes. They always took the same route, along the East Track as far as Church Road, and along there to Main Street and into the centre of the town. I'm always reminded of them when I see the character of Sister Rose on the television show, Son of a Critch, but the nuns I saw on the island almost on a daily basis were usually quite young looking, and looked nothing at all like the fearsome character in the television show.
The photo below is courtesy of Archives & Special Collections, MUN Library (Livyers, 11-147).
No. 7 The constant 24-hour rumble of machinery from No. 3 Yard
As the mining was a round-the-clock operation, there was a constant rumble of machinery and related noise emanating from No. 3 Yard, which was the center of operations for the Company. It was such a constant that you were only aware of it when it stopped, perhaps if there was a breakdown somewhere or operations were suspended due to the holiday period. The focal point of most of the noise was from the Crusher House, where the ore came up the slope on a conveyor belt and was crushed into manageable-sized pieces for shipping. From the crusher it went to the surge pile and then the Concentrator, where the worthless pieces of rock were separated out from the iron ore. The ore went out across the island to the ore pocket at Scotia Pier, where it was stockpiled to be ready for shipping. The rock was trucked away by Fred Rose's fleet of dump trucks and either discarded in piles or used to form a foundation for roadways and the like. The tipping of the waste rock from the Concentrator into the trucks, that parked under the hopper in order to be filled, was a big contributor to the ever-present background noise emanating from the yard. The so-called fines, almost pea-sized pieces of iron ore, that came out of the crushing process, were trucked out to the pier and stockpiled, eventually to be mixed in with the chunks of iron ore in the ore pocket and shipped out as well. The constant stream of iron ore moving out to the stockpile area and the ore pocket on the trans-island conveyor was a fascinating sight, as it could be seen in several places where the sheet metal covers over the conveyor had either been removed, for whatever reason, or had blown off, exposing the iron ore shuttling along on the heavy rubber belting.
Below is an aerial view of No. 3 Yard in the late 1950s. In the left of the photo is the new Ore Conveyor System (long slanted structure) leaving No. 3 Slope and entering the new No. 3 Deckhead Building on the far left. From the new Deckhead Building, the ore was moved along to the Secondary Crushing Unit just south of it. From the Secondary Crushing Unit, the ore went to the 7,000-ton Surge Pile (just to the right of the middle of the photo). A 42-inch reclaiming conveyor running underneath the Surge Pile forwarded the ore product to the Concentration Plant on the right of the picture. A 36-inch Float Conveyor discharged the Float product from the washing screens into a bin. From there it was trucked to waste. The beginning of the Trans-Island Conveyor that took the ore to the Scotia Pier on the south side of the Island can be seen just behind the Concentration Plant. Photo from the Southey Collection, Archives & Special Collections, MUN Library.
As the mining was a round-the-clock operation, there was a constant rumble of machinery and related noise emanating from No. 3 Yard, which was the center of operations for the Company. It was such a constant that you were only aware of it when it stopped, perhaps if there was a breakdown somewhere or operations were suspended due to the holiday period. The focal point of most of the noise was from the Crusher House, where the ore came up the slope on a conveyor belt and was crushed into manageable-sized pieces for shipping. From the crusher it went to the surge pile and then the Concentrator, where the worthless pieces of rock were separated out from the iron ore. The ore went out across the island to the ore pocket at Scotia Pier, where it was stockpiled to be ready for shipping. The rock was trucked away by Fred Rose's fleet of dump trucks and either discarded in piles or used to form a foundation for roadways and the like. The tipping of the waste rock from the Concentrator into the trucks, that parked under the hopper in order to be filled, was a big contributor to the ever-present background noise emanating from the yard. The so-called fines, almost pea-sized pieces of iron ore, that came out of the crushing process, were trucked out to the pier and stockpiled, eventually to be mixed in with the chunks of iron ore in the ore pocket and shipped out as well. The constant stream of iron ore moving out to the stockpile area and the ore pocket on the trans-island conveyor was a fascinating sight, as it could be seen in several places where the sheet metal covers over the conveyor had either been removed, for whatever reason, or had blown off, exposing the iron ore shuttling along on the heavy rubber belting.
Below is an aerial view of No. 3 Yard in the late 1950s. In the left of the photo is the new Ore Conveyor System (long slanted structure) leaving No. 3 Slope and entering the new No. 3 Deckhead Building on the far left. From the new Deckhead Building, the ore was moved along to the Secondary Crushing Unit just south of it. From the Secondary Crushing Unit, the ore went to the 7,000-ton Surge Pile (just to the right of the middle of the photo). A 42-inch reclaiming conveyor running underneath the Surge Pile forwarded the ore product to the Concentration Plant on the right of the picture. A 36-inch Float Conveyor discharged the Float product from the washing screens into a bin. From there it was trucked to waste. The beginning of the Trans-Island Conveyor that took the ore to the Scotia Pier on the south side of the Island can be seen just behind the Concentration Plant. Photo from the Southey Collection, Archives & Special Collections, MUN Library.
No. 8 Bowring's on Bennett Street - window display of February 1964
The Beatles' second Capitol Records album release in Canada occurred on February 3rd, 1964 when the Twist and Shout album hit the shelves. The eye-catching cover featured a photograph of the group jumping on the wall of a derelict building, and was half in black and white and half in pink. I saw it for the first time in Bowring's window, and with my sixteenth birthday coming up in just a month's time, I was steadily dropping hints over the next few weeks, convincing myself that I'd get it as a birthday present. It turns out I was disappointed, and received a very nice pair of hockey gloves instead, but I can still remember the lasting impression it made on me, seeing that album cover for the first time, in that shop window display on Bennett Street.
Below is a photo of Bowring's, Bennett Street, Bell Island in the early 1960s. (Source: Posted to FB by George Garland.)
The Beatles' second Capitol Records album release in Canada occurred on February 3rd, 1964 when the Twist and Shout album hit the shelves. The eye-catching cover featured a photograph of the group jumping on the wall of a derelict building, and was half in black and white and half in pink. I saw it for the first time in Bowring's window, and with my sixteenth birthday coming up in just a month's time, I was steadily dropping hints over the next few weeks, convincing myself that I'd get it as a birthday present. It turns out I was disappointed, and received a very nice pair of hockey gloves instead, but I can still remember the lasting impression it made on me, seeing that album cover for the first time, in that shop window display on Bennett Street.
Below is a photo of Bowring's, Bennett Street, Bell Island in the early 1960s. (Source: Posted to FB by George Garland.)
No. 9 The Sports Field and the Little League baseball games, in the summer of 1962
In July of 1962, my father went back to the UK for three weeks to see his sisters and also to check out the job market, as he was apparently becoming somewhat disillusioned with his job at Wabana and was considering perhaps returning to Yorkshire. Thankfully, it turned out that the job market back in Britain held out no hope for my old man, and another four years on Bell Island was in his future.
While he was away, I would cycle down to the Post Office on No. 2 Road most days and pick up any mail that might be in P.O. Box 752, and would often stop by the sports field for an hour to check out any Little League baseball game that might be going on, organized by Jim Hearn of the Wabana Boys' Club. Jim, as often as not, umpired these games as well as got the equipment, uniforms and the boys themselves organized which, looking back on it, must have taken an awful lot of time and dedication to accomplish. The fact that Jim is still to this day living on the island is a remarkable story in itself. I can remember sitting on my blue Raleigh bicycle behind the wire mesh backstop at the ball field as if it was yesterday, and sometimes have to pinch myself when I realize it was all of sixty-plus years ago!
The photo below of the Wabana Boys' Club Little League team on the Sports Field was probably taken in the summer of 1956 as the Dominion Staff House, that was a familiar backdrop to similar photos of the Sports Field, was destroyed by fire on May 20, 1956, and two 1 and 1/2-storey Company-staff-family houses were built on the site in 1957. Photo courtesy of Jim Hearn.
In July of 1962, my father went back to the UK for three weeks to see his sisters and also to check out the job market, as he was apparently becoming somewhat disillusioned with his job at Wabana and was considering perhaps returning to Yorkshire. Thankfully, it turned out that the job market back in Britain held out no hope for my old man, and another four years on Bell Island was in his future.
While he was away, I would cycle down to the Post Office on No. 2 Road most days and pick up any mail that might be in P.O. Box 752, and would often stop by the sports field for an hour to check out any Little League baseball game that might be going on, organized by Jim Hearn of the Wabana Boys' Club. Jim, as often as not, umpired these games as well as got the equipment, uniforms and the boys themselves organized which, looking back on it, must have taken an awful lot of time and dedication to accomplish. The fact that Jim is still to this day living on the island is a remarkable story in itself. I can remember sitting on my blue Raleigh bicycle behind the wire mesh backstop at the ball field as if it was yesterday, and sometimes have to pinch myself when I realize it was all of sixty-plus years ago!
The photo below of the Wabana Boys' Club Little League team on the Sports Field was probably taken in the summer of 1956 as the Dominion Staff House, that was a familiar backdrop to similar photos of the Sports Field, was destroyed by fire on May 20, 1956, and two 1 and 1/2-storey Company-staff-family houses were built on the site in 1957. Photo courtesy of Jim Hearn.
No. 10 A day out to St. John's, and the return home, Beach Hill etc.
My last recollection, at least for now, is of the occasional Saturday trip to St. John's, which, as often as not, featured a stop at the airport at Torbay for a cup of coffee (the parents) and a donut (!), lunch in Bowring's cafeteria on Water Street overlooking the harbour, and a stop at the Pioneer Drive-In on Portugal Cove Road later in the afternoon for a refreshment on the way back to Portugal Cove to catch the ferry. When we got back on solid land again at The Beach, the traffic had to make the turn in front of Dicks' Fish and Chip shop in order to get properly lined up for a run at the hill. For the longest time, the Main Road was only paved to the top of the slope, and the Beach Hill was gravel right down to the bottom. My father always used to say, "Yep, we're home," as the car bounced and sluiced its way up the hill, eventually reaching the pavement that stretched all the way down Main Street to Church Road, by which point we were more or less home. Yet another successful trip to town, which, had Ron Pumphrey happened to be on the boat, might well have been written up in the Bell Island Reporter as, "Mr. and Mrs. Tom Careless and their son were to the capital city last Saturday!" Happy days, and, without a doubt, lots of joyful memories of my time spent living on Bell Island, which, in all honesty, I wouldn't have missed for the world!
Below is a photo of the iconic Pioneer Drive-in that was located on the east side of Portugal Cove Road somewhere between Newfoundland Drive and Major's Path, if memory serves me correctly.
My last recollection, at least for now, is of the occasional Saturday trip to St. John's, which, as often as not, featured a stop at the airport at Torbay for a cup of coffee (the parents) and a donut (!), lunch in Bowring's cafeteria on Water Street overlooking the harbour, and a stop at the Pioneer Drive-In on Portugal Cove Road later in the afternoon for a refreshment on the way back to Portugal Cove to catch the ferry. When we got back on solid land again at The Beach, the traffic had to make the turn in front of Dicks' Fish and Chip shop in order to get properly lined up for a run at the hill. For the longest time, the Main Road was only paved to the top of the slope, and the Beach Hill was gravel right down to the bottom. My father always used to say, "Yep, we're home," as the car bounced and sluiced its way up the hill, eventually reaching the pavement that stretched all the way down Main Street to Church Road, by which point we were more or less home. Yet another successful trip to town, which, had Ron Pumphrey happened to be on the boat, might well have been written up in the Bell Island Reporter as, "Mr. and Mrs. Tom Careless and their son were to the capital city last Saturday!" Happy days, and, without a doubt, lots of joyful memories of my time spent living on Bell Island, which, in all honesty, I wouldn't have missed for the world!
Below is a photo of the iconic Pioneer Drive-in that was located on the east side of Portugal Cove Road somewhere between Newfoundland Drive and Major's Path, if memory serves me correctly.
The unpaved Beach Hill, sometime between 1958 and 1966. Photo by Tom Careless.
