I have always been fascinated by the early 1900's, particularly the 20's and 30's. The first house I owned was built in 1915 and was decorated much the way it would have looked about 1935.
To me this was an interesting time, not only because of the social and political upheaval, such as the Volstead Act, Great Depression etc, but also changes in the conservation landscape. The Sierra Club was founded in the 1890's and in the 30's had a few thousand members. The much faster growing Izaak Walton League, founded in Chicago in 1922, boasted 500,000 by the early 1940's. The rise of naturalist authors such as Jack London and James Oliver Curwood spoke to the harsh beauty of nature in its raw form.
In reviewing old documents for this site, a newspaper article from Rockford states that Eyner Peterson and Dennis Chabot met when Chabot spoke at a meeting of the Izaak Walton League. This meeting taking place in the cradle of the Walton League at this early date places these men at the beginnings of this organization.
In the days since, I have contacted the Izaak Walton League and will be adding a link to their website. This group has accomplished much in the name of conservation. In some small way, perhaps the Camp at Gohere Bay is a legacy to the work of this group as well.
21.7.10
5.7.10
Willard's Corner
Nearly as soon as Willard arrived in Gohere Bay, he began searching for an alternate to the crowded Government Dock. The parking lot was dirty, dusty and became a mud pit after the slightest rain. There were often not enough spaces and the docks were crowded with boats left by camps from other lakes. Finding space for the thirty-six foot cruiser he bought along with the camp was a challenge at best. He began scouting the shoreline for suitable sights. He needed enough water to land the large boat and enough parking for about ten or so cars. Finally, he settled on a narrow patch of land between the highway and the lake along the sweeping curve of highway 17, just north of the bridge over Nestor Falls.
Willard’s first attempt was to purchase the swath of land but it was deemed too small to deed. Perhaps a permit from the highway department would be the best idea. So Willard headed off to the ministry of highways who were sympathetic to his plight. But since he was seeking water access and since the property was actually lakefront, they suggested he visit the Ministry of Natural Resources. After explaining, in gentle detail, his dilemma and plan, he was informed that to build within fifty feet of a highway required permission of the Ministry of Highways. Explaining that he had already been referred to Natural Resources by Highways, he was referred back to the Lands office in Kenora.
This carousel continued for quite a while with Willard visiting the Provincial office, the District of Kenora and the District Offices in Fort Frances because, as if to add to the confusion, Nestor Falls sits on the dividing line between these two districts. Frustration continued to mount until it occurred to Willard that perhaps he had been asking the wrong question. Instead of asking how he could build on the strip of land, he began to ask why he could not build there. He asked Resources why he could not build and he was told that they could not grant him a permit, Highways would need to do that. He asked, to be perfectly clear, “Natural Resources could not stop me from building?” and the answer was a resounding “No, we could not stop you from building.” Willard nodded and left the office with a note that stated the Ministry had no objection to his building along the road.
As you may have surmised, the next stop was the Ministry of Highways, and the conversation was much the same. There was no reason he could not build his landing, as they had no jurisdiction.
With these ‘assurances’, Willard began planning the day. He directed the crew to fell and branch a few sturdy pines, far enough back from the shore as to not arouse suspicion, but close enough to easily skid out. A load of lumber was delivered to the island and drew little attention. By Saturday, framing was complete for four walls and the floor of the building. Rafters were cut to length as were stair treads and stringers. Saturday morning, as the camp was changing over, the guides and crew floated the floor and walls into town on the camp barge while others skidded logs and floated them to the site where they were cut and nailed into cribs and the dock frame was laid. The barge pulled up to the new dock and planks were laid while the building frame was carried over them. Stringers were laid along pine logs to create the stairway and railings. Finally, the building sections were hauled up to the roadside and assembled and sheeted with planks. By dinner time, the roof was being shingled.
All this work did not exactly go unnoticed. The Provincial Police stopped and asked to see a permit, to which Willard replied, what permit. They warned sternly, “You can’t do this.” To which Willard replied, “It’s already done.”
Those phrases were to become commonplace relating to the dock at the corner. Over and again officials would say “You can’t do that.” Over and again Willard replied, “It’s already done.”
Eventually, tax bills arrived. Willard dutifully paid the tax bills on the tiny piece of land for which he had no title. After a few years, according to legend, the tax bills stopped arriving. Willard, not wanting to lose his little piece of land, made the trip to pay the taxes in person. He was surprised to learn that, since he had no deed, there was no need to pay taxes or, conversely, since he had been paying property taxes, he could be considered the owner of the property.
He was advised to complete a land use permit, which he promptly did.
Willard’s first attempt was to purchase the swath of land but it was deemed too small to deed. Perhaps a permit from the highway department would be the best idea. So Willard headed off to the ministry of highways who were sympathetic to his plight. But since he was seeking water access and since the property was actually lakefront, they suggested he visit the Ministry of Natural Resources. After explaining, in gentle detail, his dilemma and plan, he was informed that to build within fifty feet of a highway required permission of the Ministry of Highways. Explaining that he had already been referred to Natural Resources by Highways, he was referred back to the Lands office in Kenora.
This carousel continued for quite a while with Willard visiting the Provincial office, the District of Kenora and the District Offices in Fort Frances because, as if to add to the confusion, Nestor Falls sits on the dividing line between these two districts. Frustration continued to mount until it occurred to Willard that perhaps he had been asking the wrong question. Instead of asking how he could build on the strip of land, he began to ask why he could not build there. He asked Resources why he could not build and he was told that they could not grant him a permit, Highways would need to do that. He asked, to be perfectly clear, “Natural Resources could not stop me from building?” and the answer was a resounding “No, we could not stop you from building.” Willard nodded and left the office with a note that stated the Ministry had no objection to his building along the road.
As you may have surmised, the next stop was the Ministry of Highways, and the conversation was much the same. There was no reason he could not build his landing, as they had no jurisdiction.
With these ‘assurances’, Willard began planning the day. He directed the crew to fell and branch a few sturdy pines, far enough back from the shore as to not arouse suspicion, but close enough to easily skid out. A load of lumber was delivered to the island and drew little attention. By Saturday, framing was complete for four walls and the floor of the building. Rafters were cut to length as were stair treads and stringers. Saturday morning, as the camp was changing over, the guides and crew floated the floor and walls into town on the camp barge while others skidded logs and floated them to the site where they were cut and nailed into cribs and the dock frame was laid. The barge pulled up to the new dock and planks were laid while the building frame was carried over them. Stringers were laid along pine logs to create the stairway and railings. Finally, the building sections were hauled up to the roadside and assembled and sheeted with planks. By dinner time, the roof was being shingled.
All this work did not exactly go unnoticed. The Provincial Police stopped and asked to see a permit, to which Willard replied, what permit. They warned sternly, “You can’t do this.” To which Willard replied, “It’s already done.”
Those phrases were to become commonplace relating to the dock at the corner. Over and again officials would say “You can’t do that.” Over and again Willard replied, “It’s already done.”
Eventually, tax bills arrived. Willard dutifully paid the tax bills on the tiny piece of land for which he had no title. After a few years, according to legend, the tax bills stopped arriving. Willard, not wanting to lose his little piece of land, made the trip to pay the taxes in person. He was surprised to learn that, since he had no deed, there was no need to pay taxes or, conversely, since he had been paying property taxes, he could be considered the owner of the property.
He was advised to complete a land use permit, which he promptly did.
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