It was a very real threat, and on June 20, 1942, Japanese submarine I-26 shelled the lighthouse at Estevan Point on Vancouver Island.[1] They also lobbed ordnance at the nearby radio tower although, as the No.1 song at the time was Sleepy Lagoon by Harry James,[2] perhaps they had cause. In any case, the incident increased the fear of full-scale invasion. They certainly needed the target practice for, incredibly, though the only defenders were a few stray dogs and a nearby orca, no damage was done.
Estevan Point Lighthouse, Vancouver Island.
Photo by Living Cowichan.
And so it was that my dad, flier Robert Thomas Weller and his RCAF crew, found themselves patroling the vast Pacific coastline in support of a major air and ground buildup in coastal British Columbia.
By 1943, keeping up with pilot and crew loses was becoming a challenge so, at seventeen, Dad answered the call. He was simply doing what had to be done. School was over, there was a war on, so enlisting what just was what was next.
He began traing in Dunnville, Ontario, graduating as a Pilot Officer in October 1944. Based now in Comox, BC, his crew patrolled the west coast while training for the possible invasion of Japan.
But then, nine months later, WW2 finally ended. So my dad did what he always did: he did what was next.
‘Next’ was exchanging uniforms, turning in his wings for a tour with the Toronto police force.
Detective Robert Thomas Weller circa late 1950s.
Getting on the force was a natural extension of Dad’s personality. In the late forties, many of the recruits had a military background. When Friday nights rolled around, the regulars in the area would head up to the Jolly Miller Tavern in Hogg’s Hollow, knowing that the cruisers from the old #12 station would be parked outside to take them all home at the midnight — closing time. They called it ‘community policing!’
Dad rose to the rank of detective, and was in on the arrests of some notorious criminals. Among many similar incidents, Dad was part of the recapture of prolific bank robber, Edwin Alonzo Boyd — a picaresque figure who broke prison with a hacksaw stored in a pal’s wooden leg.[3] He was in the pre-dawn raid when Detective Adolphus ‘Dolph’ Payne’s team cracked Boyd’s crib and when, after bursting into the bedroom, Detective Payne pressed his cold revolver to a sleeping Boyd’s head.
Police mugshot of Edwin Alonzo Boyd.
Photo by Canadian Police Department (1952).
[Note: This image was digitally enhanced for clarity and graininess
by Gemini_Ai. No details have been altered.]
On another occasion Dad, his partner, and another squad car, were once again sent out to deal with a local wife-beater. The Police were getting tired of this fellow so this time they cuffed him and drove him out to Sherwood Park where they held a ‘mock trial.’ They ‘convicted’ him and threw rope over a tall branch. Seeing this, the perp bolted. Though the cops laughed, they never received another call from the perp’s wife!
As simple as all this was, I saw my Dad as being very bold in his actions and his career, and that had an impact on me. As for failure, that was never an option.
Dad’s favourite expression was only hard work will turn chicken feathers into chicken salad and that thought stuck with me.
Rooster tail feathers. Photo by I-J.
He was very straighlaced when it came to his mother, his daughters, and his three sisters. Yet, my early years were full of listening to boldness in action. I grew up with cops in the house, and I overheard many stories about what was really going on ‘out there.’ For me, this was a template for how to treat people.
But then, at only thirty seven, and unfortunately for all of us, Dad passed of a Heart ailment. The family fell apart and I found myself on my own at 15.
Although this was somewhat unique for the day, folks generally were very supportive. And as for me, drawing on Dad’s history of simply doing what’s next, I carried on. If he could do it, well, so could I.
I started working at CN[4] delivering Telegrams on my Raleigh Bicycle at fourteen. After College, I worked with Nashua Canada, a local paper converter,[5] and learned the paper business from the ground up.
Eventually, an opportunity arose to form my own packaging manufacturing business. It was a huge risk. There was no net. But it was bold and it was the next thing.
CN Tower. Photo by Renan Kamikoga.
Incredibly, my old company had not only allowed me take my customers with me, they actively directed clients my way. It was an incredibly valuable head start.
I set up an account with CIBC[6] who liked my business plan. I purchased equipment on credit, hired staff and took good care of our clients.
But then I did something Dad was never able to accomplish: I retired. It was, after thirty-three years of making payroll, the obvious ‘next thing.’
But it turned out there was another ‘next thing’ after that. To my own surprise, and after Dad’s prosaic work as an airman and a cop, and my own long stretch as a papermaker, I made another bold move: I went into the arts.
I had been volunteered for theater while in high school and now, what started off as crowd scenes morphed into principal roles. It has become very rewarding.
The author as Santa. Blitzen is on the right.
Ah, but it doesn’t end on the stage.
I’ve also been working as Master of Ceremonies at weddings and, in season, as Santa Claus at schools and clubs.
To be involved in freedom of expression has been liberating. It has allowed me, as an artist, to tell stories about the complexities of life in my own way, and that’s a gift not to be taken lightly.
Meanwhile, I no longer have the responsibility of employees and customers. I don’t have to do ‘the next thing,’ unless I feel like it. I’ve finally been able to relax.
References:
[1] Source: Maritime Museum of British Columbia. https://mmbc.bc.ca/shell-fragment/
[2] Harry James, Sleepy Lagoon. Columbia Records (1942).
[3] Source: Toronto Star, How This Bank Robbing Folk Hero Broke Out of the Don Jail Twice in One Year.
[4] Canadian National Railway Company
[5] A ‘paper converter’ is a manufacturer that cuts, folds, and otherwise turns huge
industrial paper rolls into consumer end products.
[6] Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce
About the Author:
Brian Weller is a retired manufacturer who lives in Toronto where, though retired, he acts, hangs out with flying reindeer, and volunteers. He writes on issues of justice, politics, economics, music, travel, sport, and other matters. Weller was the recipient of the 2007 Ontario Attorney General Victim Service Award for his work with crime victims.
A Word on the Frontispiece
Pilot Officer Robert Weller, graduation photo at
Canadian Forces Base Comox / 19 Wing, March 1, 1945.
[Note: Image enhanced for clarity and grain using
Gemini_AI. No details were changed.]
