THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF KEITH MALCOLM HUNT
It was a few days after my 18 birthday; I caught the bus to Leeds, Yorkshire, I was on my way to the Canadian Immigration Office.
I walked in to be greeted by two middle-age men.
I said to them, “I would like to immigrate to Canada, BUT to WESTERN Canada.”
“WUPEEEE! A young man wanting to go to Western Canada, and not Toronto or Vancouver” they smiled with enthusiasm, “Are you willing to work at anything?”
“Yes indeed I am” I said with confidence.
Back in 1960 it was as easy as pie to immigrate to Canada.
They talked to me a little while, and finally said, “We’ll probably send you to Winnipeg. We will be in touch with them; come back in two weeks for your medical.”
Two weeks later I was back in their office.
“Well we’ve been in touch with Winnipeg, and they don’t want you. They told us to send you to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan.”
Well that sounded great to me, I mean it sounded so Cowboy and Indian—— took me a few days to learn to say Saskatchewan.
They gave me a “small-pox” vaccination, as it was around here and there.
That was it, as simple as that. I guess I must have told them later I was going to go by ship, and the date of arriving in Montreal, then on the train immediately to Saskatoon, arriving on such and such a date, for the immigration guys in Saskatoon met me at the train station—— but that’s getting ahead of things.
I booked with Cunard ships to leave Southampton on May 16th and to arrive at Montreal May 23rd.
Till then I was working in that office with the two young ladies, enjoying our working time together.
I was taking horse back riding lessons once a week. As I knew, it all came natural to me, like I was born on a horse. We did a few “trecks”—— 3 or 4 days staying overnights at Hotels with horse stables. It was all fun, though it was English riding, that’s all there was back then, now they have Western Stables in Britain. But English was okay and it stood me good for decades later when I wanted to do some show jumping.
So the time came for my parents to drive me down to Southampton.
Dad said we should go a few days earlier, to visit relatives in London; I had a few cousins there. And so it was. We went to see Buckingham Palace. I was surprised to see how dirty it was the large iron fencing and the Coat-of-arms— just dirty.
I then realized of course it would be because of all the famous “smog” London had in those years—dirt form industry and coal fires from people’s houses. When I came back to visit 12 years later, they had brought in the “green zones”— no burning of coal, all industries had to have no smoke coming out of their chimneys, and so all building were sand-blasted. Buckingham Palace being one of the first to be sand-blasted, and have all the iron fence and Coat-of-arm re-painted— it now looks terrific.
So came the day I boarded the Cunard ship. I waved a goodbye to my parents and I was off to start my long plan from age 7, of going West and being the next Roy Rogers.
I had my guitar with me, and settled into my kinda small bunk bed quarters. We only had about 200 people on that ship. What do I remember? Well first of all we had sunshine for all 7 days crossing the Atlantic, and the sea was as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Second—— wow, the food was out of this world! And I at age 18, could eat three big meals a day and not gain an ounce. Then lastly I remember they had a movie theatre, and I went to see a movie each day. I did meet a few people I got friendly with, who were surprised a kid of 18 was going so far away from home. I’d entertain them with a few songs on my guitar.
I do not remember much else about that 7 day sea crossing.
When we arrived at Montreal I was told to go over to the Immigration people right on the dock-side. I remember the man saying to me, “How much money do you have?” I told him I had 60 Canadian dollars, and was happily surprised to hear him say, “Well done, very good.” Guess $60 in 1961 was a lot, or at least enough for him to give me encouraging words.
He stamped my pass-port as landed immigrant!
I was out on the street waving down a taxi—— to the train station please. Thinking about it now, I must have already had my train tickets through the immigration office in England. I was on the train for Saskatoon, the same day I landed in Montreal.
I had a bed-birth on the train, for it was going to take 3 days to arrive in Saskatoon. I had never seen a train like this one. A sleeping cabin, and a dinning coach for meals….. it was great, as I’ve told you I loved train travelling.
I met some folks heading my way and further. They were all shocked that I was only 18 and heading out by myself. I realized later that in North America 18 is just finishing High School and thinking about University, not heading out of your country into another one, where you have no relatives, where you know not one person, and then have to find work of some kind. Of course they obviously knew I was not a “University” minded young man.
The first 2 days I found to be boring, nothing but trees and lakes, and the trees were all the same kind. It was the third day as we were approaching Winnipeg, the tree line stopped and the wide open prairies were around us. I remember looking out my room and shouting “Wupppeee! I’m finally HOME!” I had waited since I was 7 years old to greet this day—— finally OUT-WEST!
It was a Friday morning when the train pulled into Saskatoon, the local immigration guys , two of them, met me at the train station. They took me to their office, where you could look down on one of the main down-town streets.
“We have got you board and room, they will be expecting you. Look out this window, that is 2nd Avenue. You walk down there till 2nd Avenue and 3rd Avenue meet; look to your right and find house number 820; they will be expecting you. O yes and as you go, you will pass the Hudson Bay Company Store, go in and fill out an employment form.”
That was it with the two men, never saw them again.
I did indeed fill out an employment form with the Hudson Bay Company.
I was greeted very nicely by the elderly couple running the board and room house. There were also some other young guys there, two of them from Germany [forgotten now why they were in Canada], and a few men thirty-ish in age.
I could not wait to get to the Western Stables and horse ride in a Western saddle. The next day I found out where it was and out I went. It was a wind-storm, blowing the dust around like I’d never seen before. The lady [the wife of the owner] must have thought this wannabe cowboy English kid is nuts, who would come out in a dust storm to ride.
Margaret was her name, and so very kind and polite. She showed me how to cinch up a western saddle on the horse. I was out in the wind of a dust storm—— well out for about 100 yards, and it came to me I was crazy doing this; turned the horse around and it was very happy to run back to the stable.
I was invited in to the trailer where Margaret and her husband lived, their last name was Spence. Mr. Spence was away doing something. Margaret and I had a nice conversation. She was one of those cowboy ladies that make you feel right at home, we hit it off as they say, They had no children I found out, and maybe they kinda adopted me, for I became one of their kids that hung around their stables, when it was not a dust-storm.
I told Margaret I would be back tomorrow if the weather improved. It did and I was back and I then met Gordon Spence; everyone called him Gord. He was I learned “Mati” - half Indian and half Anglo-Saxon white. I soon found out over the next months, what he did not know about horses and could do with horses, was not worth mentioning. It was the very best place the immigration could have sent me—— to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan.
Monday morning I had a phone call from the Hudson Bay, they wanted to see me. Tuesday I was there. They wanted a young fit guy to work in their “receiving department” where the boxes come down the rollers from the trucks above. I was to unpack them and hand the packing slip to a lady who would file and invoice it all. Then the merchandise I would send on down the rollers to the ladies who stamped the price on them.
I did get the job. And the next day I was working. Four days in Saskatoon and I had a full time job. I was told by the immigration in England that the cost of living was about twice as much as in England. I was getting about $12 a week in Canadian money when working with the two girls in that office. So I figured I would be paid about $24 by the Hudson Bay. When they told me I would be paid $42 a week to start, I thought I was a millionaire.
That summer a young lady was selling her Thoroughbred 6 year old mare, a beauty to look at, for $150 I bought her. Then I bought a Western saddle, all engraved, for $150. I had a horse and saddle by the end of that first summer.
I was in seventh heaven!
Just the start of my living in Saskatoon.
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