POSTING #130

A Community Divided by a Surveyor's Boo-Boo

In my first few months at Queen's University---while I was trying to get my head around political science concepts such as 'the state', 'the government', 'the administration'---my yellow-jacketed friends in engineering were out surveying the campus. Taking turns squinting through a level or holding the range pole, they recorded the results in sturdy notebooks.

The tools used by the student surveyors were not too dissimilar from those used by the men who marked out property lines and boundaries during the settlement of Canada and the US.

Pushing through forests, swamps and over and around mountains, fighting off mosquitoes, deer flies and malaria, the unsung heroes---like bush pilots from a later era---did their jobs without fanfare. And made it possible for  our ancestors to buy and sell land, confident that their ownership meant something.

Heroes, yes, but sometimes they goofed.

As in trying to follow the 45th parallel in drawing the boundary between Quebec and Vermont.

It was the summer of 1964 and  I was having lunch in a restaurant in Rock Island, Quebec, part of a community that would have been totally in Canada except for an error by some 18th century surveyor.  I can see him in my mind's eye, swatting at mosquitoes, sweating because of a recurrence of malaria, trying to figure out just where the 45th parallel should lie. He took a stab at it, but his line went a little too far north.

A simple mistake, but a mistake that meant that a single community would be split by an international border and the community would be divided into two towns, Rock Island, Quebec ---known now, thanks to amalgamations, as Stanstead---and Derby Line, Vermont.  (The current size of the community is about 3,800 with about 3,000 in Stanstead and 800 in Derby Line.)

In 1964, I had just returned from a posting in the United Kingdom, and was on a cross-Canada re-familiarization tour with three other Foreign Service Officers.  The tour was to give us up-to-date information on jobs for potential immigrants and opportunities for entrepreneurs interested in starting businesses in Canada. After the tour we would be returning overseas.

Led by our guide, the Officer-in-Charge of the Rock Island Immigration Office, we had spent the morning talking to the Chamber of Commerce and touring local plants and businesses. As we drove along placid, tree-lined streets to our meetings, our guide would explain that we had just left Canada and were now in the US, then a moment or so later that we were now back in Canada, and on and on as we crossed back and forth over the invisible border.

Note how the US/Canada Border runs into the Haskell Library and Opera Hall in the background

During our morning drive we saw an imposing brick and stone building that seemed to be sitting right on the border. Our guide told us it was a library and opera house, and he promised to tell us its story at lunchtime. 

We were satisfied with the economic and business information we had collected, but we were full of questions about how a single, small community functions when it is split by the US-Canada border into two towns.

As we ate lunch, the Officer-in-Charge explained that the Webster-Ashburton Treaty of 1842, instead of correcting the 18th century surveyor's mistake, had simply confirmed it. The locals had been living with that decision ever since.

As promised, he told us about the Haskell Free Library and Opera House. Built in 1904, the structure was a gift from a bi-national couple, an American, Carlos Haskell, and his Canadian wife, Martha Stewart Haskell. They insisted that the library and opera house should be built right on the border so that people from both sides could use it freely. Our guide said there was a line on the floor in the library marking the border that patrons went back and forth across as they sought out books. In the Opera House, actors on the stage were in Canada, while most of the audience sat in the US.

Our guide introduced us to some men at the next table who lived on the US side of the border, a few streets from his home. We told the men how much we were enjoying our visit to their community.

Back at our table, we started discussing the latest news from Ottawa. The House of Commons was debating the adoption of a new flag, and the Leader of the Opposition, John Diefenbaker, was threatening to filibuster if necessary to prevent the passage of legislation for the new flag. (The Government of Lester Pearson eventually had to invoke closure, in December 1964, to bring the flag legislation to a vote. The legislation was approved and the Maple Leaf flag was flown for the first time on Parliament Hill on February 15, 1965---and raised on Canada House in London at the same time, one of my proudest moments, but that's another story.)

I eavesdropped on the Americans at the next table, and found they were discussing the Vietnam War and what was happening in Congress. A friend of theirs had received a draft notice and they were soberly discussing what it meant.

I recalled a story a Canadian friend in London had told me just before I had come back to Canada. His son was attending an American high school in London and one of his pals, a young American, received a draft notice when he turned 18. He flew home to the US, joined the army, went to Vietnam and was back at the London school within a year---minus one of his hands that had been left in a Vietnam jungle following a grenade attack.

I thought about how bizarre all this was.

People living a few feet north of an invisible line were looking to Ottawa and a debate going on in Parliament about a new flag, while people living a few feet to the south were looking to Washington and the possibility and danger of being shipped off to a deadly war.

After lunch the Officer-in-Charge took us on a sightseeing tour of the two towns. He explained that there was a volunteer fire department that protected both towns with fire fighters from each side. People from both towns shared churches, sports teams and service clubs. In most senses, it was one community but the line was always there. Living north of the line, you were Canadian, south of the line you were American.

He told us that there was a factory that straddled the line, with goods being manufactured moving back and forth across the border. The local customs and immigration officials had found a modus vivendi that allowed the business to function.

We stopped for a quick tour of the library and the exquisite opera house. (If you have time, I would suggest you come back after reading the Posting and check out these websites, especially the one for the opera house, with its murals and gilded decoration.)

Getting back in the car, our guide said there were a number of homes that were located right on top of the border, with the food being cooked in the US kitchen and served in the Canadian dining room.

As we drove along, he pointed to a modest bungalow on a well-maintained lot that had just been built by a friend, an officer with the US Immigration Service. His friend  had looked for a long time to find a lot where he could built the dream house that he and his wife had been designing in their minds.

Being a US Immigration Officer, he wanted to make sure the lot was totally in the US.

He found a lot that he and his wife liked, and then hired a highly recommended surveyor. After careful calculations, the surveyor assured him that the lot was completely in the US.

The house was built and the Immigration Officer and his wife moved in and were delighted with it.

Then a problem emerged to threaten their happiness. A neighbour, who wanted to sell his house, was required by the buyer's bank to have a survey completed of his property. 

The survey done for the neighbour showed that although his property was fine, the US Immigration officer's house was right on top of the border, with the living room in Canada and the kitchen in the US.

Repeat surveys confirmed that the Immigration Officer's house was indeed on the border.

I suppose there could be a lot of explanations for the surveyor's error, but I like to think that the ghost of that 18th century surveyor was behind it. He gave a little tilt to the surveyor's level, or pushed the surveyor's fingers into writing down the wrong coordinates. Then the ghost giggled, "That will teach you to make fun of the mistake I made 'way back in the 18th century!"

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I have a long list of things on my 'bucket list'---things I want to do before I kick the bucket---and high on that list is a return visit to Rock Island/Stanstead/Derby Line.

I love libraries and would enjoy spending some time browsing in the Haskell Free Library, while Pat went, perhaps, antiquing.

Then in the evening, Pat and I could go to the Opera House and see a play (I note that all the proceeds for this September 15th performance of a comedy, "Nunsense', were donated to the victims of Hurricane Irene), or listen to the Vermont Symphony Orchestra.

And, I would love to wander around and see how 9/11 has changed life in the two towns.

A news item from around 2007 said that Homeland Security wanted to block off all the streets that crossed the border to prevent terrorists from entering the US. According to the item, officials of the two towns were meeting with Homeland Security to try to come up with ways of accomplishing that goal without destroying the closeness of their community. I haven't heard what happened.

Here is a notice from Haskell Library and Opera website that gives some hints on the modus vivendi that the community and Homeland Security may have arrived at:

"Attention!
First time visitors and old friends of the Haskell Free Library and Opera House must be aware that the border between Canada and the United States that runs through our building is real and it is enforced.

Visitors from Canada must park their cars on the Church Street side of the building or report to US Customs via Cordeau St. and Dufferin/Main St. Visitors from the United States must park in our parking lot, on Caswell Ave. or another Derby Line street.

It is expected that all visitors will return to their country of origin. Law enforcement authorities have recently increased their presence in the vicinity of the Haskell and visitors found to be in violation of border crossing rules are subject to detention and potential fines."

I think I can hear the ghost of that 18th century surveyor chuckling, "I fouled things up real good, didn't I?"

But rules like that won't stop me from going back to Rock Island/Stanstead/Derby Line.

I'm just waiting for that wish to come to the top of my 'bucket list'.

P.S.

On reading the above, Pat was full of questions about how everyday life unfolds in a divided community like Rock Island/Stanstead/Derby Line. For example, she said, what if we lived in a Canadian house, and I was baking something that called for milk but we were out. Could I go across the lawn to our neighbour whose house happened to be in the US and get the milk? If I went into her house, would I be guilty of illegally entering the US? If she gave me the milk (remember, Vermonters are very kind people!), and I brought it into our house, would I be guilty of importing a dairy product into Canada?

The questions are many but we couldn't come up with any answers.

More reason to make an early visit to Rock Island/Stanstead/Derby Line and hopefully find some answers!

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See you on November 27th for Posting #131 with more stories from our family’s universe! If you have comments or suggestions, please leave a comment at the bottom of this posting,  or email me at johnpathunter@gmail.com.

Note:

Have you read the latest Posting on The Icewine Guru blog? You can read "Are Canadian Politics Dull?" at http://theicewineguru.blogspot

POSTING #128

Stories About Vermont

Vermont has always been one of our favourite states, and we have visited it many times.

During breaks in my overseas consulting assignments, we would often visit Vermont  to decompress after the stresses of Russia or the Middle East (staying usually at the superbly comfortable and hospitable Palmer House Resort in Manchester). By the time we said goodbye to Vermont, I always felt relaxed and refreshed, ready to do battle once again. 

We watched in horror last August as the flooding from Hurricane Irene devastated many Vermont homes, businesses, roads, and bridges (see a dramatic video shot by a friend, Lester Humphreys, which shows part of a large building being torn loose by the flooding waters in Brattleboro).

The 620,000 or so people of Vermont are tough and creative, folks who work cooperatively to tackle challenges. We wish them well as they fight back after Irene.

Meanwhile, here are some stories in honour of Vermont.

            "Heat Is Your Friend"

On one visit to Vermont we toured the studio of Lynn Newcomb, a blacksmith/sculptor and printmaker, in the village of Worcester.

Above the forge where she heats steel so she can hammer, twist and pull it into artistic creations I saw a handmade sign, "Heat Is Your Friend". Lynn saw me studying the sign and told us the story behind it.

It was, she said, a reminder of a lesson from the man who had taught her to be a blacksmith.

He was an older man who had trained many men in the art of blacksmithing but teaching a woman was something new for him. Lynn said there might have been some hesitation on his part at first but as soon as he realized she was serious he treated her as just another student.

He watched approvingly one day as she worked at the forge and anvil but soon realized that because she didn't have the upper body strength of the male students, she was having trouble hammering the red-hot steel into the shapes she wanted.

He had her experiment with leaving the steel in the forge longer than the men so the steel got hotter and therefore more malleable before she transferred it to the anvil.

That worked!

Pleased, he said, "Remember, 'heat is your friend'.

She turned the advice into a sign, so she wouldn't forget.

Later on, in my work as a public service manager and as a consultant, I often told the story of Lynn and the sign to make the point that when problems are challenging, the 'heat'  given off by them may actually make it easier to find a solution. (It seems to me that the oft-quoted nostrum of President Obama's former Chief of Staff, Rahm Emanuel, that 'one should never waste a crisis' makes the same point.)

            Some Laconic Vermonters

Vermonters have the reputation of not talking very much. That's a stereotype, of course, and we have met Vermonters who were as garrulous as drunks in a Dublin pub.

But we have run into a few who give validity to the stereotype.

Pat was getting gas at a rural service station. After some terse questions about what kind of gas she wanted and how much, the attendant---an older man---started to fill the tank.

Noticing the Ontario licence plates, he said, "A long way from home."

Pat replied, "Yes, but I'm not lost".

"Didn't say you was lost, said you was a long way from home."

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A friend who visited a particular rural antique store each time she was in Vermont noticed one year that a piece of furniture that she liked, but thought was a little too expensive, was still unsold. She asked the dealer whether he would take a little less for the piece.

He shook his head, "Nope".

She pointed out that she had seen the same piece for several years and that was why she wondered whether he might be prepared to lower the price a little.

He shook his head again, "It don't eat nothing".

            Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream

In the 1980s we heard from a son at McGill that there was a fantastic home-made ice cream store run by a couple of hippies in a converted garage in Burlington Vermont. He told us that McGill students regularly drove the 155 kms to Burlington to sample what they claimed was the richest and most imaginative ice cream they had ever tasted.

We began to hear and follow stories about the hippies, Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield.

Astonished by the success of their ice cream, they launched some scoop stores that they supplied from the Burlington garage. Then they built a plant in Waterbury to produce pints of their unique flavours that could be sold far and wide (we were able to buy Ben and Jerry's in Amman, Jordan!).

Then we heard that the two young men were feeling guilty about their success. " We worried we were becoming a cog in the economic machine, whose values we had detested all our lives,' Ben remembers. Jerry Greenfield left the business and moved to Arizona.

Then Ben invented a new business philosophy he called 'Caring Capitalism' in which the company could 'do good while doing well'. Jerry rejoined the company.

In the early 1990s, we visited the plant. It was fun for me because it gave me a chance to compare experiences from the two high school summers I had spent making ice cream at the Royal Dairy in Guelph.

The plant was operating-room clean and the output was delicious.

As we toured the plant, the guide explained that under the Caring Capitalism philosophy Ben and Jerry had stipulated that their salaries should not be more than 7 times that of the lowest paid person in the plant.

I was impressed because my favourite management Guru, Peter Drucker, was arguing (and is still arguing) that the ideal ratio should be no more than 20 to 1, this at a time when the differential was much more than that---often 80 to 1. (Of course, today the ratio is in the stratosphere---often many thousands to one.)

Unfortunately, the company that had been profitable initially, lost money in 1994 and Ben and Jerry decided that they needed to bring in a professional manager. It appears that they had to pay the successful candidate substantially more than 7 times the lowest wage, but I haven't been able to find the exact salary of the new CEO.

In 2000, the company was sold to Unilever, a British-Dutch multinational food giant. I understand that although Ben and Jerry have no Board or management position, and are not involved in day-to-day management, they do influence the behaviour of the company. For example, the company has come out in support of controversial social, environmental and other causes. The current website of the company proclaims that "We stand with the 99".

The company has also named ice cream flavours in honour of causes the two men support. For example, there was 'Yes, Pecan' that recognized Obama's 2008 victory. And in 2009, the company renamed 'Chubby Hubby' to 'Hubby Hubby', to celebrate Vermont's passage of legislation legalizing same sex marriage.

Not every new flavour is tied to some 'good cause'. In September this year, the company introduced a flavour called, 'Schweddy Balls'---in homage of a Saturday Night Live skit. In a press release announcing the new flavour, the company said it consisted of,  "Fair Trade vanilla ice cream with a hint of rum and is loaded with fudge covered rum and milk chocolate malt balls".

Apparently some super market chains have found the title to be a little over the line, and aren't stocking it.

It seems that the two men who had fun concocting exotic and shocking flavours in that Burlington garage are still enjoying themselves.

Health Care

I have been impressed with the effort that Vermont is making in the field of health care. It has had free or low cost coverage for children under 18 and pregnant women for some time and is now in the midst of introducing a single payer health insurance program for everyone---taking advantage of some exemption provisions of the Obama health plan.

Its former governor, Howard Dean, while happy with the introduction of a single payer system, is hoping that the state will also tackle the method of payment to health professionals and hospitals. Rather than the fee-for-service basis, which studies indicate leads to unnecessary expenditures, Dean would like to see some system of flat rates based on the nature of the illness. This is a complex and controversial issue, one which we Canadians have not been able to resolve.

In Canada in the 1960s, Saskatchewan, with a population (925,000) not much larger than Vermont's today, pioneered health care changes that led to our national Medicare program. I am hoping that Vermont will develop and test a new payment method that other states can adopt---and that we can 'steal'.

Perhaps that is asking too much at a time when the state is trying to rebuild itself after Irene, but the people of the Green Mountain State  are tough and resourceful. I think Vermont might just be able to do both things.

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See you on November 13th for Posting #129th with more stories from our family’s universe! If you have comments or suggestions, please leave a comment at the bottom of this posting,  or email me at johnpathunter@gmail.com.

Note:

Have you read the latest Posting on The Icewine Guru blog? You can read "Are Canadian Politics Dull?" at http://theicewineguru.blogspot.com/