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4 IN DIT RT Tn a Noi esha de eae AS Ei gi Sg Me antl CE Ca A ea nid on i HR RGR ana . la ll i al po _; = L Yesterday's Memories 60 YEARS AGO Thursday, October 8, 1925 Here are a couple of items from the Prince Albert area: Accor- ding to reports, the potato crop is only about 60 per cent compared to last year. "A red nose is no longer a sign of too much drinking. He may have a girl friend who uses too much rouge." The estimated loss was $6,000 when a barn and house owned by J. Wright Crozier was totally destroyed by fire recently. Five horses, four calves and most of the household contents were saved. Rev. W.P. Brown, Port Perry advertises fall and winter apples for 15 cents per 11-quart basket. Cartwright Fair celebrated Diamond Jubilee this year with the most successful in its 60 year history. Harris and Christy, realtors, advertising three nice homes for sale, prices ranging from $1,500 to $2,500. 35 YEARS AGO Thursday, October 5, 1950 Ontario County farmers placed well in the International Plow- ing Match Tuesday. In Class 2, Sod - Horses, H. Bewell, Greenbank, placed second. James Lee, also from Greenbank, placed second in Class 4, Horses - Stubble. In order to complete the Community Memorial Recreation Cen- tre, $9,000 is still needed. The first of three Gala Nights in aid of the Centre was held Friday evening and through the co-operation of many interested citizens and organizations almost $500.00 was raised towards the completion and the opening of the Centre. 25 YEARS AGO Thursday, October 6, 1960 Port Perry Juniors showed good form in their first game of the All Ontario Finals Junior C Championship series in Port Perry last week. Archie Menzies on the mound for Port pitched a no-hit game until the 11th inning. The game ended with the visitors from Capreol getting one run to Port Perry's 13. Mr. Lloyd Wright of Carnegie Ave. brought in a fine sample of second crop raspberries on Wednesday, October 5. Cartwright High School students competed in the annual Field Day recently and the following champions were named. Junior girls - June Akehurst, 26 pts; Intermediate girls - Sylvia Lawrence and Laurie Mackie, tied with 27 pts; Senior girls - Francis Staniland, 22 pts; Junior boys - Bruce Gibson, 34 pts; Intermediate boys - lan Frayer, 40 pts; Senior boys - Ardis McArthur, 31 pt. 20 YEARS AGO Thursday, October 7, 1965 The Anglican Church of the Ascension of Port Perry on Sunday, October 3, 1965, marked two important events in its life. The Rev. R. C. Rose was present for the first service as new Rector of the Parish, and a new Chancel window was dedicated by the Rt. Rev. H.R. Hunt, Suffragan Bishop of Toronto. At the last regular meeting of the Port Perry Council, the town fathers proved they know how to appreciate and recognize the younger citizens of the town. Council unanimously agreed to purchase (Turn to page 6) PORT PERRY STAR -- Tuesday, October 8, 1985 -- 3 Letters Legal, but poor judgement Dear Sir: Reader G. Jackman appears to be attempting, through ridicule, to brush under a rug a problem which is held to be a very serious situation by a number of taxpayers and voters in Scugog Township. Surely the crux of the matter is not whether Mayor Taylor's conflict of interest was properly and legal- ly disclosed before Council but whether an elected Mayor of this Township should have deliberately involved himself in such a situation in the first place. It may well be quite legal but, in this writer's opi- nion, Mayor Jerry Taylor displayed poor political judgement, to say the Disgusting garbage Dear Sir: I am writing this letter to say how thoroughly I'm digusted with all the sewage and garbage being dumped in our lake and rivers - and now 1 read that several hospitals and veterinary clinics are shipping their human body parts and rabid animals here for disposal. As a long time resident of Scugog Township - I'm concerned about the health and welfare of our citizens. (All you need to do is go north of town and see all the dirty scum in the Nonquon River). The conservation area, where school children are taken on nature walks etc. is just a cesspool. Isn't it time we had a modern sewage system before granting more and more building permits? I hope someone cares enough to bring this to the attention of our elected council. Thank you, D.M. Aird, Port Perry, Ont. least, when he decided to become a financial partner in this land speculation venture. Good judge ment is essential to the full and pro- per discharge of the duties of the of- fice he sought and which he was elected to carry out. A rough calculation indicates that relatively huge profits depended on the Mayor and his partner's abilities to persuade (through a lawyer) his Township Council colleagues to rezone farmland to permit the sale of "shoreline residential" backlots with no water access. In 1981, before Mayor Taylor became involved in the ownership of this land, he sign- ed into effect the Restricted Area By Law designating this land "Rural." No one has suggested, and cer- tainly not this writer, that any un- due influence has been brought to bear on anyone concerned in deciding this rezoning matter. However, only the most naive of people could really believe that the Mayor could declare his personal financial interest in a matter com- ing before Council and leave the meeting without at least some of his personal influence remaining behind him in the Council Chamber. It probably didn't hurt the Mayor's cause, either, to have his subdivi- sion plan presented to Council by the lawyer who, on other occasions, ap- pears before Council as Township Solicitor. Not undue influence, sure, but pretty potent stuff for the oppos- ing taxpayers to compete with! The Mayor's conflict of interest situation may not be a legal problem - but then, Municipal Elections are not courts of law. In a way, though, the voters do act as a kind of jury. Perhaps the voters of Scugog Township will consider a political "guilty verdict" appropriate when Mayor Jerry Taylor asks for their votes in November. Yours Sincerely, W.L. Williams, Stephenson's Point, R.R.3, Port Perry. Correction An article in the September 30 edi- tion of the Port Perry Star stated that Ward 1 candidate Harold Westerman is a resident of R.R.2, Oshawa. This is not correct. The article should have read that he is a resi- dent of R.R. 2, Port Perry. Our apologies to Mr. Westerman for the oversight. rr to the editor. Letters to the Editor ... our policy It has always been the policy of this newspaper to encourage our readers to make use of the letters to the editor column. Our readers have a right to freely express their opinions and view- points on just about any subject, and we feel that a lively letters column helps make a better community newspaper. We insist, however, that a letter writer sign his or her name. On rare occasions, we will agree to with-hold publication of a letter writer's name, if we feel there are very good reasons to do so. Under no circumstances will this paper print an anonymous letter While we enjoy receiving letters from our readers, we must continue to insist on knowing the identity of the writer. THE WORLD OF Bill Smiley SLEEPING IN A BOX-CAR Feo It's been a long way from there to here. Just forty years ago, I was lying on the floor of a box-car in north- east Holland, beaten up and tied up. And half-frozen. And half-starved. Today, I'm sitting in a big, brick house, with the fur- nace pumping away, a refrigerator stuffed with food, and my choice of three soft, warm beds. Forty years seem like eternity if you're a teenager, but they've gone by like the winking of an eye, as most old-timers will confirm. Back then. I was tied up because I'd tried to escape. It wasn't pleasant. They had no rope, so they tied my wrists and ankles with wire. I was beaten up because I'd managed to pilfer a sandwich, a pipe and tobacco from the guard's overcoat pockets when they weren't looking, and these, along with a foot-long piece of lead pipe, popped out of my battle-dress jacket when the sergeant in charge of the guards gave me a round-house clout on the ear just before escorting me back onto the train and headed for (Germany Serv :d me right. I should have ignored all that stuff we were taught in training: "It's an officer's duty to try to escape,' and gone quietly off to sit out the war, which I did anyway, in the long run But the next few weeks weren't pleasant. I couldn't walk, because my left knee-cap was kicked out of kilter Every bone in my body ached My face looked like a bowl of borstch. as 1 discovered when a "friendly guard let me look in the shaving mirror. Worst of all, there was nothing to read. When | have nothing to read, I start pacing the walls But I couldn't pace the walls because I was on the floor, and tied up. Anyway, the light wasn't so good. One little barred window. Perhaps even the worst of all was my daily ablu- tions. And I don't mean washing one's face and arm- pits. I had to be lugged out of the box-car by a guard, since only one leg was working, helped down the steps, and ushered to the railway bank. Every try to do your dailies (and I don't mean push- ups), with two guards planted in cinders, one leg stuck straight ahead, the other propping you up, and a guy pointing a revolver at you? It's a wonder I wasn't con- stipated for life. One day the guard almost shot me. I never understood why. He was a rather decent young chap, about 21, blond, spoke a bit of French, so that we could communicate in a rudimentary way. He was a paratrooper who had been wounded in France and seconded to the mundane job of guarding Allied prisoners. He hadn't taken part in the kicking and punching at the railway station, for his own reasons. Perhaps pride. He was a soldier, not a member of the Feldgendarmerie. But this day he was out of sorts. Perhaps sick of be- ing a male nurse. His eyes got very blue and very cold, and he cocked his revolver. All I could do was turn the big baby-blues on him and mutely appeal. It worked. He muttered something, probably a curse, holstered his gun, and shoved me roughly back into the box-car. Why did Hans Schmidt (his real name) not kill me that day? He was fed up with a job on which rations were minimal, comfort almost non-existent, and duties boring and demeaning. There was another Schmidt in the detail, Alfred. He was a different kettle, though he, too, was a wounded paratrooper. He was as dark as Hans was fair, as sour as Hans was sunny. He would have shot me, in the same mood, and written it off as "killed while attempting to escape." Luck of the draw. Another hairy incident in that October, 40 years ago, was the night the train was attacked by a British fighter- bomber, probably a Mosquito, perhaps even navigated by my old friend Dave McIntosh. I was dozing, on and off (you didn't sleep much, tied up, on the wooden floor of a box-car) when there was a great screeching of brakes, a wild shouting from the guards, as they bailed out of the train, then the roar of an engine and the sound of cannon-fire as the attacker swept up and down the train, strafing. As you can understand, I wasn't hit, and the bums in the aircraft didn't even put the train out of commis- sion, but have you ever seen a man curled up into the shape about the size of a little finger? That was ich. Sorry, if I've bored you with these reminiscences. But they are all as clear, or moreso, than what | had for lunch today. Forty years Time to complete the war, finish university, marriage, children, 11 years as a weekly editor, 23 years as a teacher, a year in The San for non- existent T B., and 30 years as a columnist. I couldn't hack all that today But I can go to bed and say, "This beats the hell out of sleeping in a box- car.