National Geographic : 1961 Dec
KODACHROMESBY B. ANTHONYSTEWARI N.b.S . and wake people up. Make them feel they aren't in a dormitory. That's what this is land was, a dormitory. We used to have tens of thousands of workers go away every summer and come back and sleep for the win ter. Do you know that some of the highest paid steel riggers in New York City live 40 miles from here? Thousands of Newfound landers, by the way, are now living in New York and Boston." Labrador Needs Big Adjectives I asked Mr. Smallwood what was happen ing in Labrador, part of his province. "You have to search for superlatives," he said, standing up to search. "People thought Knob Lake, the biggest new iron project in the world, was big. We have one coming into production soon near it that is one of the big gest projects in the country. "Here" - he sketched a map of Labrador in the air with his hands-"we have Wabush Lake, where even greater deposits have been found, incredible, incalculable. And here on the Hamilton River"-he paused for effect "we have Grand Falls, 78 feet higher than 814 Bonnie miss with copper curls attends homecoming week at Antigonish, Nova Scotia, a July event that draws kilted clans men from Canada and the United States. This teen-ager lives in Albany, New York. Youthful sword dancer in Fraser tartan jumps nimbly between blade and scabbard at Highland Games in Antigonish. St. Ann's on neighboring Cape Breton holds a Scottish Gaelic Mod each summer. Clans compete in Highland Games, piping, and Gaelic songfests. Niagara. A gigantic thing, gigantic. I've slept beside it. A lake of water falls every minute. It's an awesome, frightening sight. "Now, we're going to divert that river so that it falls from a cliff top, straight down to the turbines. Picture it. All that fantastic amount of water falling 1,040 feet. Bigger than Hoover Dam. Biggerthan Grand Coulee Dam. As big as both of them put together. We may be running the subways of New York by electricity from Grand Falls!" He leaned for a moment against the wall, as if overcome by his vision. "Now, when you've got that much power, that much iron, what are you going to have? A great electric smelter. It's inevitable. All the Queen's horses and all the Queen's men can't stop it." I saw why Newfoundland had changed. This was a dramatist with a story to tell. On the way out, the premier's economic aide, Gordon Pushie, warned me, "This is land will shut down tight tomorrow. It's the 22d of May, the Queen's birthday. Every body goes fishing. The Canadian National's 'Trouter's Special' will drop fishermen at ponds and rivers all over the island." I debated taking the narrow-gauge trans island local, a train once charged regularly by moose until it changed its whistle, which sounded too much like a moose's mating call. But I decided to tour the outports instead. Soon I was skirting little villages that hid behind the headlands. Each turn presented a new seascape, each conversation gave me a new insight into the lives of the hard-work ing, independent villagers. In Port de Grave, I stopped to talk to two men in oilskins. "If the price of fish had gone up as much as the price of traps," said one, "we'd make lots of money. But we have to get three times more fish now or we're up against it." "You could always go somewhere else," I said.