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--~-- 4 -- PORT PERRY STAR -- Tuesday, November 18, 1986 Editorial Comments Sea Shepherd Folly Saving endangered animals from extinction is a noble cause; one that deserves the support of reasonable people everywhere. ~ Itis a crime against nature that so many species have already disappeared from the earth and the oceans, victims of over- harvesting, pollution and sheer indiscriminate slaughter. But what the Canadian-based Sea Shepherd Society did last week in an effort to save whales is also a crime and must rot be tolerated by reasonable people. Members of the Sea Shepherd group are taking credit for the deliberate damage and sinking to Icelandic vessels used in the alleged illegal hunting of whales Members of the group are claiming responsibility for this criminal action and warning other nations which continue to kili whales that similar action will be taken against their vessels And the group members have been none too shy about talking up their actions through the national media in Canada and the United States The group claims that Iceland has been using a legal loop-hole in international agreements that ban the hunting of whales Those agreements contain a clause which allows a certain number of whales to be taken for scientific research. Sea Shepherd says Iceland is simp- ly using this scientific research argument to harvest whales for com- mércial reasons Whether that indeed is the case, there are legal and more respon- sible ways to close legal loop-holes, if they exist. The deliberate sink- ing of private property is not one of those ways, no matter how noble or just the cause may be. There are a number of groups and organizations in this country working for noble and just causes. They do not have the right to break or flaunt the laws. If just a small number of these groups opted for the course of action taken by Sea Shepherd, the rule of law would fly out the win- dow, society would slip into a sea of anarchy. : In this case, Canadian authorities find they are on the horns of a trickly legal dilemma because Canada and Iceland have no extradi- tion treaty. But surely Canada must do whatever it can to assist Iceland in finding and prosecuting those responsible for the criminal acts. At the same time Canada should be doing something to prevent no- gooders or anyone else from committing crimes anywhere in the world and then bragging about them in this country. As for the Sea Shepherd Society, we suspect that unti! last week, -most Canadians had never heard of them. We suspect the Society "gained few adherents to their cause. We suspect that a lot of Cana- dians are repulsed by what was done And rightly so. The rule of law is paramount. Bad laws should be changed not - flaunted or broken. If we all followed the lead of the Sea Shepherd, this planet might have a few more whales. but «t would not be a fit place for men and women IN THE CORNER STORE, THIS 15 THE LEAST WE CAN DO / . Port Perry 2) STAR 235 QUEEN STREET - PORT PERRY. ONTARIO Phone 985-7383 P.O. Box90 LOB INO (scha i C1} J PETER HVIDSTEN Member of the Publisher Canadian Comm unity Newspaper Association Advertising Ma er and Ortano Community Newspapor Association Published every Tuesaday hy the Port-Perry Star Co U* Part Perry Ontar JB McCLELLAND Editor AUtho 2@d 3s Secor Hass vi by the P Othce Departmen: Ottawa aad to 3s! CATHY OLLIFFE News & Features payment of postage nn cash acon Class Ma Rep stration Number 0260 Subscription Rate In.Canada $15 00 per year Elsewhere $45.00 per year Single Copy 35 OCOPYRIGHT All tayou! and composihion of adver isements produced by He yaver tising department of the Port Perv Star Company Lrmitext are protected unde: copyright and may not be reproduced without! the acter permission of the puhhisner Chatterbox by Cathy Olliffe CAESAR'S GHOSTS '"Have you ever noticed Caesar's Cemetery?" Doug asks me late one night. My reply is negative. I haven't even heard of the place. "It's right on 7A, on the west side of the road. There's a sign. You can't miss it,"' Doug says. This, I find hard to believe. "I must have driven that stretch of highway a thousand times," I say in disbelief. "Sorry," Doug shrugs. "It's there." On the way into work the next day I keep my eyes peeled for the mysterious Caesar's Cemetery. And sure enough, there's the sign, less than a quarter of a mile away from the 7A road to Caesarea junctions. I pull over and take a good look. The sign marks a grown-in driveway that winds over a small bridge and gradually disappears into a field of overgrown grass. . At the top of the hill, a short walk away, sits several tall marble tombstones, eerily white against the blue morning sky, as well as a myriad of stubbier markers. Even from my position on the side of the highway, I can see the cemetery 1s in a sad state of disrepair. I make a mental note to take a closer look at the place in the near future, drive into work and promptly forget about it. thhkk \ It's about a week later, and Doug and I are driving home on an ugly Tuesday afternoon. The first snowfall of the season is melting down in grey sheets, the wind is screeching outside our car, and the sky is the colour of winter. Doug's at the wheel, and without warning, he pulls over in front of Caesar's Cemetery, skidding to a stop in the wet sand. "You want to take a look?" he asks, grinning. "You bet," I reply, already half out the door. The walk up the driveway is uneventful but cold. I zip my ski jacket up to my chin and Doug does likewise as we plod through grass up to our knees. "It looks like nobody's been here for awhile," I say, eyeing the grass, laced thickly with burrs, dead summer wildflowers and assorted thistle. 'Somebody's been here recently," Doug con- tradicts me. 'Look at the tire tracks." Sure enough, two lines of beaten down wheeds wind up to the cemetery gate. a rusted iron an- ctent. swung open wide Hey. thev ve opened up the gate for us," Doug laughs "Yeah, it's our welcoming committee," | say "Sure 1s spooky looking." "It looks like the kind of place where someone could film a horror movie," Doug adds. We stand at the gate for a moment before go- ing in, surveying the tiny cemetery, squared off by fencing in the middle of a farmer's field. "It looks like nobody's been here in ages,' | repeat self-consciously. Indeed, the place is a mess. If the grass out- side the fence was long, the grass inside is even longer. Many of the smaller tombstones are buried in the weeds, broken, their inscriptions erased by the ravages of time. We tread carefully over the sanctified ground, wary of the curiously sunk-in ground surrounding many of the stones. "Look at this one!" I squeal at Doug, who, by this time, is across the cemetery from me. The father of the family lived nearly 100 years. His wife died about 40 years before he did, but both out-lived their three children. A son died ""at 23, a daughter at 19, and a second daughter at the tender age of three. The deaths of the children were only a few years apart. "I wonder what happened to them, Loug says out loud, echoing my private thoughts The names of those who rest at Caesar's Cemetery are mostly familiar. Taylor, Beacock, Watson and Caesar. '"Caesar!" I yell to Doug, who has again wandered off. 'That must be the family Caesarea is named after. After a trip to Scugog Shores Museum and a _ glance through Doreen Van Camp's Cartwright Revisited book a few days later, I discover .e're right. According to Doreen's book, John and James Caesar were among the founders of the hamlet of Caesarea. James was Reeve in 1859, Treasurer from 1837 to 1858, and councillor in Cartwright in 1860. John Caesar was a councillor in 1858. In her book, Doreen states that the Caesar family settled on land near the shore of i.ake Scugog in 1836. Prior to their influence, the village was called Lasherville, after a man named John Lasher who ran a local inn. The name, legend has it, was derived from Caesar's Area, after the bachelor James. who never married. There are no Caesar's listed in the 1986 telephone book. Did the family name die when its members were buried? Or did some leave the hamlet? Doug and I are filled with so many questions about the history of our village, and about the (Turn to page 6)