Morley Edward Trotter

Morley Edward Trotter was born in Sault Ste. Marie on May 23, 1936, a year of birth proudly shared with fellow Canadian Stompin’ Tom Connors.

In 1936, Canada’s Prime Minister was Liberal William Lyon Mackenzie King, who had been defeated in 1930 by the Conservatives, but returned to power in 1935, in part a result of the Conservative’s inability to help the economy. The economy had been hard hit by the Great Depression that had started in the United States in late 1929 and quickly reached Canada. Because of its reliance on base commodities and because its main trading partners were Britain and the United States, both of which were badly affected by the worldwide Depression, Canada was among the worst hit. Between 1929 and 1939, the gross domestic product dropped 40%, unemployment reached 27%, and corporate profits of $398 million in 1929 turned into losses of $98 million. Wages fell, as did prices. The Depression of the times would linger through Morley’s first years of life, until it ended in 1939, as World War II began.

While the economy was in decline, temperatures peaked in 1936. Morley was born shortly before the longest and deadliest heat wave in history, of July 5 – 17, 1936. Temperatures exceeded 111 degrees Fahrenheit in Manitoba and Ontario and claimed 1,180 lives.

Of Canada’s great inventions, Morley was born after the invention of kerosene, the telephone, the electric railway, light bulb, baseball, Canada Dry pop, Robertson screw, insulin, and radar sonar. He was born shortly after the invention of the snowmobile, and in the same year the slider zipper was created. Of worldly inventions, Morley was born after the invention of the diesel engine, telephone, vacuum cleaner, powered airplane, colour photography, sound film, and antibiotics, and before the invention of such things as the jet engine, ballpoint pen, microwave, nuclear power reactor, videocassette recorder, silicon chip, laser, computer mouse, ATM’s, e-mail, pocket calculators, floppy disks, personal computers, camcorders, and digital satellite radio.

When Morley was born in 1936, a car cost $600, gasoline was 19 cents per gallon, an average house cost $6,200, bread was 8 cents a loaf, milk was 48 cents a gallon, a postage stamp was 3 cents and an average annual salary was $1,600. How times would change over the course of his lifetime!

Morley was born in Sault Ste. Marie, a place marked by Champlain on his map of New France in 1632, making it one of the first named places on any European map of the New World. By the time he was born, the Canadian Sault Ste. Marie lock had been completed as the longest lock in the world in 1895. The Algoma Steel Company had been established in 1900, and the flagging steel plant was taken over by Sir James Dunn in 1935, bringing unprecedented expansion and prosperity to the area. He was born well before the 1962 opening of the Sault Ste. Marie International bridge.

The son of Edna (nee McLaughlin) and Clifford Trotter, he was raised on a farm behind Echo Bay, with his younger sister Beverly. Geologists at one point investigated the feasibility of mining in the Echo Bay area, but eventually agriculture and lumbering won out as the main industry, until finally agriculture made its way to the top. Echo Bay benefited from the CPR train station located in the town (closed in 1977) as well as a harbour where boats travelling between Lake Superior and the lower lakes often harboured. Each contributed to the hustle and bustle of the small village. The Trotter name was known in Echo Bay, as the Trotter General Store was located there for many years, first established by Morley’s grandfather, Thomas Wellington Trotter, before being passed on to a son, Wellington Trotter.

Morley’s grandfather also established the farm at Echo River, which would eventually be taken over by Morley’s father Clifford, have a small tourist establishment added to it, expand the farm acreage and would be the place Morley would call home for his entire life.

When first purchased, there was a log house and some other buildings on the property. A small portion of the land was cleared. The summer of 1919 was very dry. A fire, started at Solar Lake by lighting, burned acres of wood land, including the wooded area and cedar railed fences on the Trotter property. After this fire, T.W. Trotter cleared a lot more land, with his son Clifford among others as part of the work crew on the job.

The house burned in 1920 and in the early 1920’s a barn was built to store the additional crops from the cleared land, and then a new house was built. The story is often told of a hired hand for summer work who at the end of the summer term of employment hung his head as he headed up the laneway, with no where to go and no future employment to count on. T.W. Trotter made a deal with him to stay the winter and sand the trim work on the house in return for his keep. The man was grateful for a warm house and food and so the trim work was finished that winter.

Also in the early 1920’s, Mr. Trotter purchased property from Mr. Gordon and expanded the farm. In about 1925 – 1926 Morley’s father Clifford took over the farm. He increased the herd of cattle and increased the sale of hay and grains. Clifford added a tourist trade to the farm, building and renting cabins as well as boats. He had a well drilled so that lake water was no longer a necessity. In 1947 Clifford had the house bricked. In 1960 Clifford and Morley bought a sawmill, to take out logs and saw their own lumber. In 1962 Clifford had an addition built on the barn. In 1963 the implement shed was moved so that a second house could be built. In 1971 the Trotters lost a barn and a lot of machinery and equipment to a fire. In the spring of 1972, Morley had to replace all of the machinery, lost, uninsured to the fire, as the Trotter farm on Echo River passed to the next generation with his father Clifford’s death in February of 1972.

Paula Dunning, Echo River resident and author of “Shifting Currents – A Memoir” describes Echo River. She writes “the Echo River valley perches on the very southern tip of the Canadian Shield. For the last hundred and fifty years, in isolated pockets along the southern boundary of the Shield, [these lands have] provided farmland for people persistent enough to cope with heavy clay soil, poor drainage, and a short growing season. The river itself flows for just five miles southwest from Echo Lake to Echo Bay, a shallow swelling in the wide St. Mary’s River that drains Lake Superior into Lake Huron. That’s its usual and inevitable trajectory. But from time to time, when local conditions raise the waters in Echo Bay to a level higher than Echo Lake, the river really does change its mind and flow backwards. The locals here say, with understandable pride, that this is one of only two rivers in the world to flow in both directions. On most days, it flows from Echo Lake toward its ultimate destination, Lake Huron. But sometimes, when the winds, the currents, and the water levels align themselves just right, it reverses itself to flow back toward its source, the tiny Upper Echo River that trickles into Echo Lake at its northern shore. I’ve never been able to confirm this local myth, and nobody seems to know which other river purportedly shares this retrospective inclination. But I’ve seen it happen here. In the end, of course, there is no stopping the forward flow from hills to river, river to lakes, lakes to the sea.”

By the age of 3 Morley had his own logging business, hauling logs in toy trucks through the hills, valleys, pathways and mud puddles of his backyard. At the age of 3 World War II was also starting – an event his family was spared much of the personal effects of, due to farmers not being conscripted to war, in addition to his Dad’s hearing impairment not allowing him to pass required health tests.

Morley’s mother Edna was a school teacher before marriage, and consequently Morley would receive an education – like it or not. As a young boy, farm life was mixed with school life. His high school years were admittedly more thoroughly enjoyed than his younger school years – perhaps because of his ability to better discover the mischievous ways of himself with a little more leniency as he neared adulthood, and perhaps because high school was geared more toward classes of his liking, such as auto mechanics. Morley was stubborn and much to his mother’s criticism he insisted if he was to obtain an education it would be at the high school of his choice, not hers. He would not go to school to become a doctor, lawyer, teacher or the like. If he was going to school, it would be a technical school, and when he made the change from Soo Collegiate to Sault Ste. Marie’s Soo Technical and Commercial high school, he was in his glory, hanging out with friends like Albert Jones and Bev Muncaster. He often told the story of the old police car the students at the Tech were tasked to work on, and how he was more than willing to test their efforts and ensure it was working properly after it was all fixed up. He decided he might need a few extra opinions so grabbed Albert and Bev for the job, and somehow the test drive took them to a swim hole, where they enjoyed the latter part of the school day. Upon their return, the teacher smiled knowingly and simply asked “how was the water boys?” It was little wonder Morley would reflect so positively on his days at Tech. His stories of Tech school were always ones of a positive nature and he often commented that his last day of Tech was the saddest day of his life.

As a boy, Morley quickly learned the ways of farming from his own father, and as years progressed, it would become a way of life, for eventually he would take over the family farm. It would be a tough way of life, few could have persevered. In his younger years, farm work would be done by horse before giving way to tractors and other mechanical equipment.

During high school and shortly thereafter Morley was kept busy with both the family farm and taking jobs with his bulldozer he had purchased. Never afraid of hard work, he would often tell the story of a contract he and another operator were given to build a logging road. It was needed quickly and each were to start at one end, with the first to make the half-way mark being awarded further contracts for more required roads. With determination, long days as well as nights spent hard at work, he reached the half way point well in advance of his competitor. He became responsible for building many logging roads on the Garden River Reserve, and spent many nights as a guest in their log camps in the process, building a mutual respect for each other.

At 21, he met Gloria Hodgkinson, who would become his life-long companion. A very good friend of his, John Osborne lived just down the road, and John happened to be Gloria’s cousin. She was quite close to his mother, her Aunt Grace, and as fate would have it, just happened to be visiting one day when Morley dropped by to visit John. With a girl as beautiful as Gloria hanging out at the Osborne’s, Morley’s next few visits to the Osborne’s were as much in hope of a visit with Gloria than with John! Though technology was much more limited back then, Morley managed to figure out how to stay in contact with Gloria. Their courting years would be spent attending many a dance at the Bruce Mines Hall, dancing to Fred Kent and the Northernaires, and while old pictures do show them in swimsuits, given Gloria could never swim, it would seem the enjoyment was more of the swim suit than the swim!

At 25 Morley made the best decision of his life, and made Gloria his wife. They were married on June 10, 1961, at 7:00 p.m. at the Echo Bay United Church. Attendants were Howard Kellam, John Osborne, Gary Hodgkinson, Beverly Trotter (later Orr), Doreen Court (later Pollard) and Ferne Osborne (later Girard). Being a farmer’s wife was no easier than being a farmer. Gloria would be expected to share equally in the jobs of the farm, after ensuring three solid meals a day were prepared. It was a partnership that stretched beyond marriage and a test she passed with flying colours. On more than one occasion when Morley was called for supper, before gathering the strength to get up off the couch, he would say “your mother – she makes the best roast beef dinner.

The couple enjoyed their honeymoon in Niagra Falls, along with visits to relatives who were unable to make the trip to attend the wedding.

No doubt, Morley could be a little rough around the edges. Perhaps the thank you’s didn’t flow in the same quantity as the expectations and there were times his frustrations got the better of him. He seldom put to words his feelings, but on special occasions he would get Gloria a card to appropriately do it for him -except for one occasion. He forgot. He called Gloria’s sister and requested a favour. He needed Joyce to pick him up a card from the Soo before she came down to the farm for Gloria’s birthday. Joyce recognized this as the perfect opportunity to teach her brother- in-law a lesson. Morley would never forget her sister’s birthday again, for Joyce was going to buy the mushiest card the store had to offer. What she didn’t know was that was exactly the type of card Morley always bought, for if you were going to sign your name to something, it had to be accurate, and the words of thanks, gratitude, appreciation and love were deep down, the way he obviously felt.

Morley was a true family member. He was a husband, father and grandfather. He took no role as a spectator’s sport but participated fully. He was self sustaining in supporting his family - growing food in his garden and raising cattle, pigs and chickens to supply his family with meat. While there were times he and Gloria may have wondered where the money would come from, they never wondered if they would go hungry. Though his work rarely allowed for leisure time, he always had time for a side-kick and loved to be accompanied by children while he worked. He loved children, in particular when they were old enough to go to the barn. If they weren’t old enough to go to the barn, he had even been known to bring the barn to them!

Morley shared his genes and DNA with 3 kids but he shared being a father with many more, and left his mark on all. For some he taught the simplicity of the value of having three meals a day prepared for their enjoyment, for some he was the route to letting off excess energy in a positive way, for some he filled a gap as a resource for technical knowledge, and for some he was simply the only father figure they had. He took kids who would at first glance have more than him – a nice house in the city and parents with a higher income than he - and showed them that beyond the city lights there are stars at night, beneath the pavement there is soil from which crops can be harvested, and beyond property lines, stop signs and red lights, there is freedom in the mountains and fields which stretch out of sight.

It wasn’t easy raising three kids. As might be expected, given genetics, none of his kids were angels, since of course, neither was Morley. Scott and Brian were moonshine operators, and ironically enough, the local law enforcement as well. When he and Stacey milked cows, more milk may have been used in milk fights than ended up in the milk pail. Morley raised his kids under a theme of “don’t tell your mother” . . . . . and let that theme trickle down to his grandkids as well, only of course, it was “don’t tell your grandmother.”

With the responsibility of raising children behind him, he approached grand-parenting a little differently. While he always believed in children learning things hands on, this was all the more the case with his grandson – after all, if you really want to learn whether you can fly, then you should be like a bird and jump from your nest – or perhaps the lumber pile at the sawmill. Grampa was not a man to be dared. How silly a child might be to think you might dare come close to Grampa with a fire hose he used for watering the garden, and not get wet. His patience somehow grew with his grandchildren as well, as exemplified when he was told his 3 wheeler was in the river, a result of absolutely needing to know what would happen if it were pushed over the little knoll. Without a single word of anger, he simply stated the obvious – that he’d better get the tractor and loader to fetch the 3 wheeler from the river. While some things changed just a little with grandkids in comparison to kids, the theme of “don’t tell your mother” rang strong, but backfired when he thought he could keep a fall off a wagon a secret. He learned the hard way that it was all fun and games until someone breaks a leg!

Morley was a lot of different things to a lot of different people. He was a husband, a father, a grandfather, a brother, a brother-in-law, an uncle, a neighbour, a co-worker, a fellow trucker, a fellow farmer, a friend, and a teacher. He taught many things, but above all, he taught people to drive – in every sense of the word, from the perspective of ambition to the more literal interpretation of driving.

When it came to driving, the situation was irrelevant – be it legal, illegal, tractor, 3 wheeler, 18 wheeler, child or adult on his journey to becoming a fellow trucker. Morley lived to drive – it was a part of him that he shared perhaps the most with others. He even taught Gloria to drive, and he probably thought, if I can teach a girl friend to drive, I should be able to teach ANYBODY to drive – and so he did.

Most people are taught to drive by someone sitting in the seat beside them, but if Morley got his hands on you young enough, you would learn sitting on his knee. When Morley was expected home after a week or more on the road, his daughter would watch carefully to see when the transport turned up from the road that followed the river. If she ran fast enough, she could meet him at the top end of the laneway and steer the transport for the final stretch of his journey home, while seated on his lap. Once you had proven yourself capable of steering and grew old enough to reach the pedals, Morley would grant you control of them too, and before you knew it, you were a truck driver. This was how you learned to drive, as seen by his daughter.

Morley’s boys had a different perspective. Apparently you didn’t need to be able to reach the pedals while you steered. Being taught to drive the old red International was two lessons in one – after all there was nothing wrong with efficiency. It was a lesson not only in learning to drive, but in team work as well. While one son managed the steering wheel, the other, if he slid himself forward enough off the seat, could manage the pedals. Of course there would only be a clutch and gas pedal to operate because the brakes wouldn’t work. If you were going to learn to drive properly you should be able to stop without brakes.

Morley believed you earned the right to drive by learning to drive. He therefore overlooked the need to attain a certain age or driver’s license when he sent his kids on the road. In fact, it was with a great sense of pride rather than shame that he explained his justification to the men dressed in uniform when they questioned him as to just how one of his kids might be found out driving the back roads of the Echo River community.

Beyond his family, the Echo River community was very much a part of Morley’s life. Morley was one of those neighbours that was more than just a neighbour. He was more than just the guy who lived down the road, but rather the neighbour that lived down the road - the one that wasn’t afraid to tell you what you should be doing – and on what day, and what equipment he’d arrive with to get the job done. You didn’t have to be a well established, multi-generational family in the community for Morley’s neighbourly ways to become apparent, and you didn’t have to be a farmer, like him. Differences were permitted, so long as you were willing to tolerate the occasional humour being thrown your way as a result!

Local neighbour Paula Dunning describes being Morley and Gloria’s neighbour in her book “Shifting Currents – A Memoir” when she writes “over many cups of tea I began to understand that [Gloria] and Morley were taking us under their wing – and to realize what a comforting place that was going to be when the real farming began. They had both been on farms all their lives and they were eager to share both their knowledge and their opinions, though sometimes I had trouble telling which was which.”

Morley wasn’t just a farmer, for a single label would never do him justice. As was bound to happen, equipment would break down and he was forced to become a mechanic. Likewise, when an animal was in need, he took the role of veterinarian, assisting birthing cattle and young calves unable to feed themselves, and ensuring Gloria share the warmth of the family kitchen with a new born pig or two, struggling to survive. When the farm needed additional buildings, Morley would never think of hiring the work done. Therefore he was an engineer, making his own designs and plans. He was also a logger, and equipment operator. To build the buildings he needed a sawmill. Again, he built the sawmill himself. Eventually the sawmill progressed from a carriage manually pushed on tracks through the saw, to one run by an engine and hydraulics. Progress was always on his mind. When the farm needed a well, Morley had the equipment for the job and the knowledge to drill it. He was definitely a self sufficient Jack of All Trades.

In many ways, farming was Morley’s road to riches, but not in the monetary sense of the word. When the haying was finished and fall tasks attended to, Morley would take a winter job to make ends meet. For years he worked at Currie Brothers, then Steel City Truck Lines, and finally at McKevitt Trucking. Morley loved his work, and the never ending moments of discovery that went with it – be it discovering new friendships or otherwise. His stories from the workbench of Currie Brothers, where he had rigged his own controls of the shop radio and continually played with the volume and on/off switch on his co-workers from his own secret controls, reflected his need for mischief even in the workplace. He equally enjoyed a good joke he wasn’t necessarily responsible for, but simply made for a good story, such as that of the famous “Chicken Express” – a story told many times and each time with pure enjoyment. Though he kept detailed directions to every place to which he had delivered, Morley’s maps were engrained in his memory as much as on paper, as was every turn in the highway, and the scene that unfolded with each. He loved his driving experience and loved to share it with others – in particular his wife Gloria. When Morley headed off on the road each winter, Gloria always said he left behind with her his three most valuable possessions – his kids, his cows and his mother. However, each spring, as calving season came to an end, and Gloria’s ability to steal away from the farm was a little more hopeful, he would await a really good load, with a really good destination and Gloria would accompany him, to take in his driving experience first hand, before he handed in his keys to go back to the farm for yet another season.

Morley was hard working but he also enjoyed a good time. Through the years, the farm would play host to numerous snow-machining parties, with children and adults alike. There were snow machine outings with current co-workers, snow-machine outings with family and snow-machine outings with friends going back to the beginning of time. All were welcome and all had nothing but fun.

In later years Morley became interested in ice fishing. He was like a farmer’s version of Bob Izumi – the angler with the John Deere hat and two dollar sun glasses. He would get quite excited when he pulled a fish up through the hole in the ice, despite the fact that he was using his pole upside down and backwards, regardless of being told many times he was doing so.

When the winter months gave way to summer, it was tourist season. Morley and Gloria would welcome people from all over the United States to the cabins on Echo Lake, where they came to fish and hunt. They were humble cabins in their later years, with no running water and “outdoor plumbing” but in their early years were at least able to boast of electricity. Though Morley was known in his younger years to partake in an annual hunting trip, he was never really known to fish the waters of Echo Lake, but he always knew where the good fishing areas were, because he always took time to listen to his customers tell their story, as did they his stories of the farm and his driving experiences. Customer relations developed quickly to friendships in many, many cases. There would be get-togethers for sing songs, stories told over the work-bench of the garage as well as the Trotter dinner table and living room.

Many meals and tea times would be shared at the Trotter family table – Christmas dinners with his sister’s family, dinners with various of Gloria’s family, and social times in friendship with extended family and many, many friends. The Trotter farm was a destination for many. Multiple generations of extended family would make it their vacation place, and the service and hospitality they received was far superior to any five star hotel. If the crowd was too big for the table, it became a buffet with the people gathering in the living room. However, it would not only be good food, but good stories as well that would be shared – and Morley would tell the best of the stories. Morley loved to tell stories, and like everything else, what he did, he did well – very well. When he told a story you were a part of it, even if you weren’t a character within it, but rather just a listener. When he told of grease gun fights he would initiate with the campground kids, you ducked when someone came around the corner of the garage with a grease gun in hand, when he told of the sparks flying from the barbed wire fence stretched taught by he and Albert running for life from a black bear, and them being canon balled backward when the fence could bear no further pressure, you envisioned them landing safely on the moon after the resulting journey, and while the line “the cows are out” belongs on every farm, in Morley’s story it meant it was time for all the campground kids to climb into the back of the truck, not to chase cows, but to go to Echo Bay for ice cream. Then of course there were his stories of his experiences on the highway – from the CB chatter (on Coldwater Hill in particular), the weather, the people he met, the places he saw, as well as the insight into the operational efficiencies and deficiencies in the economies driving the very products he was hauling up and down the highways.

Thoughts of Morley bring thoughts of tractors, maybe a wagon, more specifically a “little red wagon, with one wheel up and the axle draggin.” Morley loved music and square dancing, which was as much an event of dancing as it was a social gathering. The Town and Country square dancers were more than just a group of dancers, but a group of friends. Morley and Gloria, and often a whole gang, would make many trips through Michigan in search of a good square dance jamboree. Of course you couldn’t go on a trip without stopping and picking up a new shirt along the way. He would come home from every trip with a new shirt, maybe even two - or three. He had dozens and dozens and dozens and then a couple more dozens of dozens of shirts – some, still packaged and unworn.

Morley was a farmer, a person you would expect to work with the land, not people. He was a truck driver, making many a lonely mile in solitude up and down the highway. He had never lived in a city, with streets lined with neighbours too numerous to count. With Gloria, he ran a small tourist establishment, renting cabins to people on their week of vacation – too short a time you would think to get to know your customer. But this was not the case with Morley.

You would think Morley would be a man of few friends, with perhaps a dog for a little company. In fact, only the latter half of that sentence is accurate, and really only half accurate, for Bootsie was more than “just a little company” – in his own words, repeated often – “you’re a good dog Bootsie – I don’t know what for yet, but you’re a good dog.”

Morley gathered friendships and relationships from all walks of life, and had crossed every generation- the one before him, his own, and more than one after him. If he was your friend, he was a dedicated friend. He maintained friendships going back as far as his school days, and early farming days, and the visits and storytelling that came with such a friendship continued to his hospital bedside and to the last day of his life.

When you shook the hand of Morley Trotter you would soon realize the hand you were shaking was that of a seasoned farmer - not the white collar type, but rather a man whose hands were tough and experienced. His hands had gripped steering wheels of everything from farm tractors to highway tractors, manipulated levers on bulldozers, backhoes, and sawmills with precise coordination and could fine tune an oxy-acetylene torch to get the perfect flame every time. They told a

story.

Morley had a watch, but you never saw it. He never set an alarm. He didn’t tell time by minutes, hours or by the date, but by the seasons . .. . time to go to the bush, time to go trucking, maple syrup time, calving time, planting time, time to work in the garden, haying time, tourist season, combining time, time to run the sawmill, time to put up meat and run the smokehouse, time to go to the bush again. His seasons repeated themselves for eighty years, until finally, on February 25, 2017, it was time to go.

For years as part of the process of gardening Morley would continually segregate the stones to remove them from the garden, and he would say, “you know, I’ve been picking stones out of this garden for so long, you would think by now there would be none left, and yet they keep showing up” . . . as I am sure will happen with the many memories he has left behind.

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TROTTER, Morley Edward – Passed away at the Sault Area Hospital in his 81st year on Saturday, February 25, 2017 surrounded by family, with an abundance of love. Proud husband of almost 56 years to Gloria (nee Hodgkinson). Father of Scott Trotter (friend Saskia and her daughter Courtney), Brian Trotter (Carol), Stacey Colwell (Robby). Grandfather of Katie (Casey) Trotter (friend Julian), Brandon Trotter (fiancé Patti), Dani Trotter (friend Alec) and Jazmin Colwell. Brother of the late Beverly Orr (late Erle). Brother-in-law of the late Gary Hodgkinson (Colleen), Joyce Findlay (late Lorne), late Wanda Bier (late Peter), late Shirley Nevin, Carol Cadham (Ron), Audrey McCaig (Jack). Morley will be missed by many nieces and nephews, friends, neighbours and the “Town and Country” Square Dance Family. Friends are invited to visit at the Arthur Funeral Home & Cremation Centre on Wednesday, March 1, 2017 from 6 – 9 pm. Funeral service to be held in the chapel on Thursday, March 2, 2017 at 1 pm. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions to the Matthews Memorial Hospital Auxiliary or the charity of your choice would be greatly appreciated.