Eddie (Ted)

To Canada as a Family, 1946-1947

“I will follow where you lead,” Milly had said as we walked along the cliffs of Tintagel on our honeymoon. At the time they were romantic words, and I loved her for them, but when she put those words into action, my imaginative spirit was freed. I felt like a whole man, able to do anything.

Milly’s trust made me take our future very seriously. After much thought, and considering all our alternatives, the best opportunities I saw for us were in the New World. Of course, I was thrilled when Milly supported my decision to move.

I researched methods of transportation to Canada. Ships were booked months in advance. A few airplanes were available but completely booked.

One day I was talking with a friend about the shortage of housing in England, versus the building opportunities in Canada. “I’ve been considering moving to Canada, but transportation from here is as impossible to find as housing.”

He suggested, “There’s a small new airline called El Al that flies to Canada and Israel. Maybe they’d have something.”

I found the phone number and called them a few days later. A courteous agent responded to my request, “We fly to Canada once a week. The flights are completely booked right now, but if you wish to leave your name and number, we will put you on our waiting list. If we get a cancellation, we’ll call you.” I left our name and number but did not expect to hear from them.

However, the next week the telephone did ring. It was El Al. “Mr. Ware, if you and your family can be ready in two days, we can fly you to Canada.”

I couldn’t believe it. “Okay. We’ll take it. I will be by your office tomorrow to purchase the tickets.”

“Purchase what, dear?” Milly asked as she entered the hallway to the bedroom. Her arms were full of fresh laundry from the clothesline.

Dazed, I responded, “Our flight to Canada.” She nearly dropped the stack of laundered diapers.

“When? How? ” Her pretty face was slightly pale.

“In two days. Can we do it?”

We both sat on the edge of the bed and looked at each other. We hugged for a good, long while. Then she pushed me back and with her beautiful, kind, blue eyes slightly misty said, “Yes, dear, we can do it. But we’ve got to get to work immediately!”

I hugged her again until she squealed, and then began our whirlwind preparation for our trip to Canada. We made a list of what we had to do and whom we had to call. We gave things away, sold our car and what little furniture we owned, and miraculously arrived at the London Airport in 2 days with our children and quota of boxes.

The El Al Constellation took off with us belted in our seats heading north and then west. We stopped en route both in Scotland and in Iceland for fuel. We were fed six eggs during one evening meal and savored every delicious mouthful.

When we landed in Montreal, Canada, we were exhausted, but excited. A friend in England had given me the name of his daughter who lived there. When we contacted her, and told her we came with gifts from her father, she welcomed us warmly into her big home.

That first night after everyone had gone to bed, Clive woke up hungry and started to cry. His tummy was still on British time. We were not prepared for him to awaken hungry during the night. “Eddie, he needs a glass of warm milk. What shall we do?” Milly whispered as she rocked Clive back and forth to soothe him.

“I don’t know, but we can’t wake up the household. Get him dressed, and I’ll go out and see what I can find.” I pulled on some clothes and walked with him outside. With Clive in my arms I searched for an open store or restaurant. Thankfully I saw a trucker’s diner with the lights on. As I entered the diner, the lady behind the counter looked up at me, and Clive started to cry again. She gave me a nasty look deciding I was either a delinquent parent or a kidnapper.

“May I bother you for a glass of milk?”

“Shouldn’t the baby be in bed?” she asked as she poured a glass of milk. As soon as I raised it to Clive’s lips he stopped his crying and began to slurp hungrily.

“I know this looks peculiar, but we just flew in from England, and the baby is still on a British time schedule.”

“Oh, you poor dears. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?” She refused to let me pay for the milk and packed some cookies in a bag for a snack later.

Our new adventure in Canada continued the next day as we took a train to Milly’s Aunt Ruth, in Chatham, Ontario. On the way Kevin complained, ”My tummy hurts.” Before Milly or I could respond, Kevin started to fill his pants. He had been trained for over a year so we had not anticipated any accidents. His little English suit was soiled, and he started to cry. I took him to the train toilet where I found it quite a job to clean him up. ”I’m sorry, Daddy, I couldn’t help it,” he said.

“Of course you couldn’t. You’ve been a big boy. The food and time zones are different here; that’s why it happened.”

The reality that I was no longer a bachelor, but responsible for the well being of my children and family became a reality.

After I settled Kevin back in his seat, Milly mentioned that she did not feel well.

“Darling,” I replied, “you worked so hard before we left, and now the time zones are different. It’s understandable.” I kept my eye on her though, and noticed as we traveled that her face was drawn, and dark circles formed under her eyes.

At last we arrived at Aunt Ruth’s home and were warmly welcomed. The kind woman, happy to see her relatives again, played with the boys, waited on us, and fed us delicious meals.

I immediately looked for work. Even though I had brought some tools with me, no one needed anything fixed or built. I tried to sell my salesman abilities, but found no sales opportunities.

A few days later, a fair came to town and advertised for workers. I signed up. It was heavy labor. Huge pieces of steel had to be connected to set up a Ferris wheel. From dawn to dusk I toiled for 35 cents an hour! The boss was very demanding and gruff. At the end of the job when we went for our wages, we found that we were each shorted several dollars. Outraged, I complained. I was then told that they were out of cash, and we should be glad for any. Some of my fellow worker’s plight was more serious than mine, and I was angry and frustrated.

Following this injustice, I answered an ad for a carpentry job. I applied and was hired. I learned to lay bowling alley floors. I was instructed to nail one-inch-by-four inch wide strips of hard maple wood together to a height of four feet. These boards were then turned on their side and became a section of the bowling alley floor. During the first hour on the job I broke the handle of my hammer, so I hurried to a nearby hardware store and bought another. At the time I was unaware that hammers came in different weights. The hammer I bought was the least expensive and quite light. I later realized that the lightweight tool took more energy and time to drive the long, coated nails into the rock-hard wood.

When I returned to work I only finished a third of the height required. The foreman came, looked at what I had finished and sent me to start a new section while he completed that one. Back on my knees I struggled to nail the next section. When the boards were a height comfortable to work on, the foreman returned to finish the easy nailing. He sent me to begin another section. By this time my hands, unused to this manual labor, were blistered and bloody. Disregarding the pain, I continued my hammering. I had a wife and family to support. The wages were eighty cents an hour, which was good pay.

After a week of doing my best, the foreman came to me. “I’m going to have to lay you off. You’re not fast enough.” I was devastated.                 

To compound my worries, back at Aunt Ruth’s house Milly was experiencing terrible pain. Since she also had a fever we took her to a doctor.

After she was examined the physician stated somberly, “Your wife has a severe kidney infection. Her kidneys are deteriorating, and if the fever increases she should be hospitalized. The excess protein in her body after years of restriction has caused it.”

When we drove back to Aunt Ruth’s, the boys met us at the door. “Aunty Ruth said that the doctors were going to make Mummy better!”

Milly was pale and trembling as I tucked her under the covers. She gave the boys a wan smile and closed her eyes.

“Why isn’t she better?” Kevin whispered. Just then Aunt Ruth stepped in and took the boys to dinner.

“Come and eat, Ted,” Aunt Ruth suggested.

“I can’t eat.” Food would have choked me, the lump was so large in my throat.

I grabbed my hat and went out the back door of the house, tears coursing down my cheeks.

A few blocks away I spotted an empty park bench. I sat down and put my head in my cracked, bruised hands. I agonized, “What have I done? What shall I do? What can I do? Please God, show me what I must do. Shall I take her back to England and call off this venture?”

From my inner depths came a strong impression, “No, don’t go home. Go on.” Peace and assurance flooded my mind. Even though Milly was too ill to travel, I felt sure that God had given guidance, and somehow we were to follow it. Suddenly I had to speak with Milly.

I hurried back to the house and entered the back door. In our room I got on my knees by my sweetheart’s bed, touched her pillow, and gently wiped her damp forehead. “Darling, I think I know what we’re supposed to do.”

“What’s that, Eddie?” she whispered.

“Leave Chatham and go on to Vancouver.”

“As we discussed on the plane coming over?”

Her blood-shot eyes looked deeply into mine. “We don’t have the money for a car yet.”

“That’s my problem, Milly”

Since she was a nurse, she knew that she was very ill and should be going to a hospital, not Vancouver. And yet, she said, “If that’s what you think we should do, Eddie. Let’s go.”

Within two days, an unexpected advance of eight hundred dollars from our savings in England arrived, and I was able to buy an old 1938 six cylinder Chevrolet from a traveling salesman that I happened to meet. It had high mileage, but the engine ran well.

That evening Aunt Ruth took me aside. “Young man, I am Milly’s only relative here, and I feel like her mother. If you take her away from the help she needs, you will kill her. She is too ill to care for the boys, and I am warning you, you are embarking on a foolish, senseless errand. Do not go!”

I listened and then went to Milly’s bedside. “Darling, what do you want me to do? If you think that we should stay, we will.”

“Eddie, I trust your direction. Let’s go,” she replied. Her faith in me and my connection to God, humbled me as nothing had ever done. I packed our belongings and prepared the boys for the trip.

On July 4, 1947, after prayer in our room for God’s mercy, guidance, and healing, we got into the car and waved goodbye to Aunt Ruth.

Since I had heard that roads were faster and gas was cheaper in America, we headed south. My strategy was to travel through the northern part of the United States and into Washington, then turn back into Canada.

During the first and second day of our journey I witnessed a divine miracle: to my amazement, color returned to Milly’s cheeks, her fever disappeared, and the sparkle in her lovely eyes came back. She became actively involved in my plans for the trip.

“I’m feeling better!” she announced with a lilt in her voice. From that moment she was perfectly well! We could only explain the miracle as God’s message of approval.

To reach America we drove onto the ferry that crossed Lake Michigan. We got out of our car and into America and were walking around on the ferry enjoying the view when two young men came up to us.

“The ferry landing is numerous miles from town. Would you give us a lift?”

“Sure, we’ll take you.” we said.

As the daylight turned to darkness, with excitement we watched our approach to the distant shore.

A voice announced over the loud speaker, “Everyone back to your cars. Be prepared to disembark.” We gathered our hitchhikers and returned to the car.

As the ferry approached to the landing and the gangplank was lowered, men in uniform hurried us off of the ship. “Get going! Get going!” They waved each car along. I stomped on the gas pedal and we roared out of the boat onto a road running along the water’s edge. All of a sudden there was a bang! Our car careened toward the edge of the dock. We braced ourselves for the plunge into the deep, dark water below.

Then came a loud crunch that threw us forward in our seats. We had fortunately slammed head on into the only iron post on the embankment! Without a word, the young men got out of our car and disappeared.

But the car behind us stopped. A man and his wife hurried up to where I crouched under the car trying to locate what may have caused me to loose control of the steering.

“You must live right or have protecting angels,” the man said. “ You were headed for the water! It’s amazing that you hit the only post along this whole embankment!” He bent down with me and pointed a huge flashlight under our car.

“It looks like the drag link broke,” we both said in unison.

“What’s that, Eddie?” Milly asked.

Relieved to know what would have taken the lives of our entire family, I explained to Milly, “The bar of metal that connects the steering to the wheel. Do we have a coat hanger?”

“What does Daddy want a coat hanger for, Mummy?” I heard Kevin ask.

“I don’t know, darling, but help me find one!” They located one and handed it out the window to me.

I climbed underneath the car and tied the two parts together.

The “Good Samaritan” volunteered, “I’ll follow behind you to town where you can get help.”

Getting behind the wheel again, I slowly eased our car back from the edge. Then I very slowly drove up the steeply inclined road, gently applying pressure to the gas pedal. Half way up the hill, to my dismay, the coat hanger broke with a bang. Milly prayed, “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!”

I stomped the brakes, and we jerked to a stop. The man behind us stopped, got out of his car and handed me a piece of bailing wire that he remembered he had.

Again I climbed back underneath the car and connected the tie rod. The bailing wire held! At the outskirts of Luddington we slowly inched into the first gas station we came to. Our friends waved goodbye.

The gas station mechanic had already left for the day and would not be back until morning. We had no other choice. We slept in the car.

The following morning when the station opened the mechanic looked under our car and diagnosed the problem, “We’ll have to go for a new drag link.” He wiped his hands with a greasy rag, “It’ll be a few hours before you’re fixed up.”

A few hours wait did not bother us. We were so very grateful not to have been buried in an untimely death in Lake Michigan.

When our car was repaired, we were on the road again. I turned to Milly and assured her, “I think that God is helping us, Milly!”

The countryside was beautiful and unlike anything we’d ever seen. At the top of one of the mountains we were amused to see a public convenience with a signpost. “London: 5,000 miles, Paris: 6,000 miles, Tokyo: 8000 miles. Farther down the post was a sign, “Scratching post, men”. A few inches underneath that sign it read,” Scratching post, women.” A few inches further down, “Scratching post, kids.” Near the ground a sign read “Scratching post, dogs.” And finally a sign, “Scratching post, cats.”

We laughed and got the impression that Americans were always ready to see the humor in life and look for the best in everything.

Not only did we drive all day, but often all night. Milly had never been taught how to drive but she was wonderful company and helped to keep me awake and happy. The children played happily in the back seat. Periodically Clive required a diaper change. I then stopped the car by a mountain stream, and Milly did the laundry. She dipped the diapers in the icy water, wrung them out as dry as possible, then clamped them to the outside of the Chevy’s rear windows.

We bought our food at grocery stores and prepared it along the way.

The car was also our motel on wheels. The children slept on the back dash while we stretched out to sleep the best we could on the car seats.

As we drove, we talked about our hopes and dreams. “When we get to Vancouver we’ll find temporary housing, then we’ll build our dream house!” I exclaimed enthusiastically. “What do you want in our dream house, Milly?”

“Oh, a yard for the children and a kitchen with a stove to cook and bake.”

“I’ll try to get you the most modern stove there is.”

“What do you want in a dream house, Eddie?”

“I’ve always envisioned a white house, with a blue roof, on a hill overlooking a beautiful view.”

“Hmmmmm, certainly does sound like a dream!” Milly said.

At the Montana border, one of the widest states in the union, we were greeted with a huge sign: “Brother, you’ve got to push a lot of miles behind you to get anyplace in this state.”

Although we traveled as fast as we could, it was in Montana that we decided that it wouldn’t take much longer to make a side trip once in a while. At one point, we turned south and visited Yellowstone Park. The first things we noticed were the bears and other wild animals. They appeared tame, so we, along with the other tourists, fed the bears quite fearlessly. Kevin even put food directly into their mouths from the window of our car.

Mud pools and holes in the ground bubbled with boiling water. Old Faithful, the park’s main geyser, shot thousands of gallons of water into the air at precise moments. We left awed and somewhat frightened at the heat, steam and geysers that gushed from the very depths of the earth.

The rest of our trip through Montana was uneventful. But in Washington, what a delight! We encountered an unbelievable abundance of delicious fruit: pears, apples, peaches and apricots. Costing only pennies per pound, it was incredible! We had never seen anything like it!

Finally we reached Blaine, Washington, the westernmost border crossing into Canada. It was only 60 miles from our longed-for destination, Vancouver. The miles sped by and soon we entered Vancouver. At that moment, reality hit us. What were we doing here? We knew no one in Vancouver. Where should we go? What should we do first?

I drove to the heart of the city and parked at Victory Square. I did not feel very victorious. The towering buildings made a concrete canyon fourteen stories high.

A policeman knocked on my window and interrupted as I pondered my dilemma. “You aren’t allowed to park here for longer than fifteen minutes. Move along!” I started the engine and drove around the square, then parked in a different spot.

“Milly, what have I done to you? Here we sit. I have no idea what to do next. No place to stay. No job. Nothing.”

“Eddie, let’s pray. You’ll soon know what to do. Meanwhile, we’re together, and the children are safe, happy and well fed. The only immediate problem is having to move the car.”

I bowed my head. “Thank you, Father, for getting us here safely. Thank you for my wife. Please guide us and show us what to do next.”

Clive started to cry. Milly turned to help him, while I looked up at the buildings around us. Many windows had gold lettering naming a business or a service. As I looked up, one sign caught my eye: "Department of Veteran's Affairs."

“I'll go talk to them, Milly! Maybe they can help.” Of course it was the Department of Canadian Veterans, but I thought I’d give it a try.

I took the elevator to the correct floor and entered the door marked Veteran’s Affairs. The girl at the counter looked up, “Hello, can I be of any help?”

“We've just come over from England. We're down in the park right now, my wife and two children. Do you have any recommendation as to where we can find an inexpensive place to stay until I find a job?”

“Are you Canadian?”

“No, I'm British, but I am a veteran.”

“Now let me get this straight,” she said. “You've just come from England?”

“Yes.”

“You have a wife and children?”

“Yes.”

“And you don't know anybody here?”

“That’s right.”

“Your family is sitting outside in your car?”

“Yes.”

“Now? Downstairs? In the park?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I must say, you seem to have the courage of your convictions! I don't know if we can help you or not. Let me talk to the superintendent.” She disappeared, and I prayed under my breath as I looked out at my family sitting in the car.

The superintendent came out of his inner office. He was a stocky man with a crisp mustache. “The only thing I can do for you is to help you find a hotel. We have a hotel that we've commandeered called ‘The Dunsmuir Hotel’ where we are placing Canadian veterans who are in your situation. It would be a single hotel room at a cost of twenty dollars a month. You're not allowed to cook in it, and the facilities are down the hall. But, if that would be of any help to you, I could put you there.”

“Thank you,” I said. “We very much appreciate it.”

I drove Milly and the children to the hotel. It was old, and the facilities were limited. However, instead of one room, they assigned us two! Besides that, although we were told we were not allowed to cook, we learned that everyone had a hot plate and a hidden fry pan.

Within a few days I had a job at a tool company making thirty-five dollars a week. In a short time I was managing my department. However, I did not receive a raise. Watching for a better opportunity, I applied at a typewriter and calculating machine company for better wages. When I was hired, I changed jobs. I was seeing my dreams come true.

A few weeks later a fellow worker told of a beautiful piece of land that had just opened up for development on Vancouver’s north shore. I began my first steps to make our Dream House come true!