The aged Canyon Creek hall will soon face demolition. Decades old, it’s become a hazard in the community.
But even the wrecking ball won’t destroy the memories, say many that grew up along the Southshore. Nor can it ever diminish the commitment of those that saw the need and were ready to contribute gallons of sweat into seeing the project complete.
Widewater Athletic Association vice president, Harry Bartlett, remembers the hall as an integral part of the community when he was growing up. He doesn’t recall when it was built, but he does have many fond memories of the aging structure.
“I remember going there as a kid to watch the movies, Saturday afternoons,” he recalls.
“All I wanted to do was eat popcorn and watch movies. The popcorn was great and the benches were hard and wooden.”
As he got older, Bartlett recalls the hall as the primary gathering spot whenever there were events in the community.
“Like when there was a curling bonspiel in town. We’d curl, then we’d head to the hall for dinner, and then we’d curl some more then head to the hall for a dance. Then we’d curl some more, sometimes through the night, then it would be back to the hall.
“Sometimes the band would come from Kinuso to curl – and to play. Sometimes we’d offer them money and they’d play all night.
“To us it was huge – like the Westin ball room.”
Now, he says, the building with a decided lean has become a liability – a true asset gone bad.
But Florence Pearson-Thompson remembers vividly the blood, sweat and tears that went into the hall’s creation – and operation for many years.
“It was a very special project that proved by working together, people can accomplish anything.”
It was shortly after the Second World War when the community decided it needed a hall, she recalls. Probably the late 1940s.
“There was no money” to access, she says. “It had to be built by the people. And everyone donated.
“There were no grants like today – we couldn’t cry to the government for help.”
So people in the Southshore communities of Canyon Creek, Widewater and Wagner formulated a plan, she says. And everybody – especially the many sawmills in the area — did their part.
“They went to Imperial Lumber in Kinuso, to Frood’s Sawmill, to the Melin and Nystrom Sawmill – and Spurfield donated lumber too.”
But the builders – that is, the community – needed other materials – like nails — to help their dream reach fruition, “so everyone donated money to get the nails.” And with the raw materials in place, the volunteers put their proverbial shoulders to the grindstone.
“When the men were done for the day on their mink ranches, they all got together and started building. The women made the meals and we all had potluck suppers.” And in the next few months, the community hall materialized, complete with a small furnace room in the back corner that also served as a cloak room when the many dances, card parties, concerts and meetings began happening.
But the volunteer labour didn’t stop there, recalls the former mink farmer’s wife-cum-social worker.
Before long the community decided it should host Saturday afternoon matinees at the hall.
“Then we had to raise some money, so we popped corn at home” and donated it to the Saturday afternoon effort, eventually raising enough cash to afford a small popcorn popper. But still, says Pearson-Thompson, “when we bought that corn popper, the women took turns popping it at home.”
“The movie was 25 cents,” she recalls, “and popcorn was a dime.” And eventually they raised enough money to purchase a real corn-popper.
“A fellow named Watson got the picture shows going,” she remembers, but soon even that equipment began showing signs of wear and tear.
“And Roy Evans took over and looked after the machines. He fixed them and never charged us once,” Pearson-Thompson recalls. “He donated to the Canyon Creek Association all the time, and to this day I don’t know if he’s ever been thanked enough.”
The hall quickly became the focal point of the community, with weekly card parties, socials, and seasonal events, and residents in the community just kept giving and giving.
“The lunch was always donated by the people – the coffee and sugar too. Everyone took turns, and there wasn’t anybody that was lazy” when it came to keeping the community’s pride in operation.
“They wanted to see progress and that’s how they got it.”
Mink ranching – and commercial fishing to keep the mink fed — were the economic heart of the community at the time. Even the ranchers depended on the hall when it came time to show off their labours.
“We had mink shows at the hall, too,” says Pearson-Thompson, “and everyone came out with their prize mink.”
Judges came from across Canada – from Montreal to Vancouver – to survey the year’s crop. And so did the buyers.
“It was a thriving community with 60 or so commercial boats on the lake” to gather enough feed for the mink – and silver foxes – that were also a hit with the buyers.
But perhaps what the community should be most remembered for, she adds, is its pioneering attitude of co-operation – and that community hall that was the proof.
“I’m very proud to say I was part of that community,” says Pearson-Thompson, now 87.
“It taught us things the younger generation will never know.
“Those were all volunteers, and what they did was about more than money. It’s about the feelings you get when you do things together.
“Those were the real pioneers, and they’ve left us a real legacy.”

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