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New Hampshire Federal Writers' Project Subject: Living Lore
#1801 in New England
THE FRENCH CANADIAN TEXTILE WORKER
BY PhiliDDO LOMAY
Reported bY Louis Pe.r;
"French Canadians from the province of Quebec have worked in the mills
of Manchester for a long, long time. There was one as far back as 1833, and
for more than 50 years they kept on coming until now we are 35,000 strong,
40% of the entire population of the city. Ours is said to be the largest sin-
gle nationality group.
I am going to tell you all well as I can the story of the French Canadian
textile worker; what brought him here; how he came, lived, worked, played and
suffered until he was recognized as a patriotic, useful and respected citizen,
no longer a 'frog' and 'pea soup eater,' a despised Canuck. And it's the story
of all the French Canadians who settled in New England mill towns. The picture
of one French Canadian textile worker and the picture of another are just as
mOch alike as deux gouttes d'eau, or, as we have learned to say in English,
like two peas in a pod.
Let me say, first of all, Monsieur, that the current of immigration was
strongest between 1850 and the early 70's. Some came before, as you will see,
others after, as long as there was no limit by law on immigration, no head
tax nor passport required. In 1871, French Canadians here were strong enough
to have a resident priest of their nationality and a parish of their own. A
second parish was founded in 1880 on the west side of the Merrimack. At the
time, New Hampshire was a part of the Portland diocese. In 1884, thanks to
French Canadian immigration, the Manchester diocese was created.
Why did out people leave Canada and come to the States? Because they
had to make sure of a living for their family and themselves for a number of
years, and because they greatly needed money. The wages paid by textile
mills was the attraction.
Here and wherever else they went, they didn't forget their duty to God:
the churches, schools and other institutions they built testify to that. But
their duty to the country that was feeding them, thit was another thing. They
didn't like to become citizens and feared it for more than one reason. They
couldn't speak English, and that, let me tell you, was a big handicap. They
were afraid of war and might be drafted. Most of them were still tax -payers
in the province of Quebec and the different places from which they came, and
they felt that they couldn't pay taxes here too. Most of them hadn't come
here to stay. What they wanted most was to go back to their Canadian farms
with the money earned in the textile mills. So they kept putting off taking
out naturalization papers.
But we already had able leaders, among them Ferdinand Gagnon, and they
preached Americanization to all those who intended to stay in this country.
They pointed it out as a duty to ourselves as well as to the country. They
told us that naturalization was something that gave to a foreigner all the
rights belonging to the citizen in the country to which the foreigner swears
allegiance. Our people began to realize that their ideas against being na-
turalized were wrong. They saw the privileges as well as the duties, and so,
as early as 1871, we had fifty voters in Manchester, fifty men who, support-
ing ood Father Chevalier, were able to obtain from the city authorities,
without cost to the French-speaking Catholics, a French language school;
building, heating, lighting, books and lay teachers. This success was en-
couraging. Naturalisation increased, and that, if you take account of the
many births, tells you why so many of us are voters and tax -payers today,
wny so many of our folks settled here for all time.
Before we had the railroads, immigrants from the province of Quebec came
to Manchester in wagons or other horse-drawn vehicles. If they brought their
household goods with them, and that was rare enough, they travelled in hay-
racks. Did some travel on foot from Canada? No, I don't think so. Perhaps
from places near the border to northern Vermont, but if any immigrant had
walked as far as Manchester, we certainly would have heard about it from old
settlers, and there were quite a few left in 1872. Anyway, travelling in
wagons was bad enough. Even the trip by train in 1864 was terribly slow.
There wasn't much comfort for the voyageurs and it was expensive, because we
had to stop over more than once and even children were obliged to pay full fare.
Here is the case of my own family, for example. It took us four days and
as many nights to go from our home town, St. Ephrem d'Upton, to Lowell. Train
engines weren't big and powerful in those days. Besides, they were wood -burners,
and you couldn't put enough wood in the tender to make long trips. So trains
didn't run far and never during the night. We started from St. Ephrem in the
afternnon and went as far as Sherbrooke and slept there. The next day, we
reached Island Pond, in Vermont, and spent the night in that customs tom. It
was a very small pe, too. The following morning, the old Grant Trunk took
us to Portland, Maindliknd again we passed the night there, because the train
went no further. After another night's rest, on a different railroad, we were
on our way to Boston where we had to find lodgings once more. At last, the
fifth day, we landed in Lowell where we were to live for eight years.
Many things can happen on such long trips, and something did while we
were coming to the States, aux Etats, as French Canadians say it even today.
At Island Pond, my mother was taken sick and couldn't go on with us when we
left for Portland on the third stage of our journey. Father remained with
her. We were told to continue towards Lowell and to mind our uncle and aunt
who were making the trip with us from St. Ephrem. We promised to be good and
followed our good aunt and uncle, but we worried on account of our parents.
We weren't separated for long, though, for mother was a strong, healthy woman,
of good Canadian stock. Father and mother arrived in Lowell only three days
after we did, and what do you think they brought with them? A new little
Lew whom we all welcomed to our already rather large family.
The majority of French Canadian immigrants came to Manchester at their
own expense. In faot, all of them did, so far as I know, and they didn't
have to be coaxed, either. It is true that some companies, seeing in the
type cu‘bicois an honest, able workman, asking little for himself and rather
unwilling to let himself be fooled by strike agitators, brought here a certain
number through recruiting agents sent to Canada for the purpose. The com-
panies built homes to house these new hands. However, if their fares and
other expenses were paid by the textile corporations, it was never mentioned
and I don't believe it was done.
Our people didn't come to the States with money they had saved up, though,
since they emigrated because they were really obliged to go where they could
earn their daily bread and butter. To raise enough money to buy railroad
tickets for the family and pay for food, rooms and other expenses en route,
they had to faire encan, sell all their household goods at auction. That
money was practically all gone when they arrived here, and all they pos-
sessed was the clothes they had on their backs, you might say. Parents and
children alike were dressed in homespun and homemade clothes and they were
Once a week, sometimes twice, our women folks broke their backs over the
washboard and wrung the family washing by hand, washing machines and wringers
being unknown at the time. There was no hot water in large, convenient tanks,
only the one you heated on the kitchen stove in the washboiler, pans and pots,
or if you came to afford it, a tea -kettle. This hot water served for cooking,
washing the dishes, clothes and floors and to take the weekly bath in the
wash tub.
But we had big appetites and ate well and slept well, going to bed and
getting up early every day in the week, except Sunday. Sunday nights, we had
our veilloies du bon vieux temps, as we had them in Canada. The younger folks
enjoyed birthday parties, but early French Canadian'textile workers, even in
the 'Seventies, never thought of celebrating their golden or silver wedding
anniversaries. In 1871, our first parish was established and our new church
was opened in 1873. In the meantime, we worshipped in Smyth Hall and in the
church located on the corner of Chestnut and Merrimack Streets. A few years
later, we had two parishes, so we really could practice our religion as easily
as we did in old Quebec. We said our morning prayer separately, but after
supper, before the dishes were washed, we recited the beads and evening pray-
er en famille, father or mother alternating with the children and the boarders.
After a while, the children became young men and women. They had been
earning money for a few years and, being prouder, thought of changing from
homespuns, worn even on Sunday, to more fashionable store clothes. We saved
pennies until they became dollars and when there was enough, we dressed up,
you bet, paying in full for what we bought, not a little down and so much a
week, as so many do today with the creation and the spread of the installment
plan.'
'You must have heard about the earliest Frencia Canadian settlers in Man..
chester, M. Lemay,' M. Pare inquired.
"Yes, I learned much about them when I was a very young man, and I can
tell you they all started in the textile mills where most of them stayed.
The first one to come here was Louis Bonin, in 1833. I understand that a
Madame Jutras kept a boarding house in Amoskeag village (the northwest cor-
ner of Manchester) in 1830. Ryacinthe Sutras was another old timer. In
1848, he was the best man at the marriage of Louis Bonin and Miss Henriette
Bonenfant, the other witness being Miss Catherine Bonenfant. M. Jutras, who
died in 1893, had a remarkable memory and was able to tell us much concerning
the beginnings of the local French Canadian colony.
The records of births, marriages and deaths at City Hall were far
from being complete. When the names of our people weren't changed so that no
one could recognize them, they were left out altogether. It is true that the
law wasn't strict so long ago, but certain doctors seemed to find it useless
to register the names of children born of French Canadian parents. In some
cases, they would simply report that on a certain day a boy or a girl had been
born in a Frenchman's home.
The old records show that Louis Marohand married Sarah Robert in 1839.
The first birth recorded is that of a child born of L, et Mme.Cyrtlle Lebrun
in 1852. Mme.Jean Jacques died in 1853. Others among the earliest settlers
were J.P. Lariviere, John Montplaisir, Julie and Amelie Prevencher, Pierre
Bonenfant, Michel Hevey, Jean Biron, T4lesphore Lemire who died at Stoke Cen-
tre, P.Q., in 1891, Nazaire Laflotte, Joseph Sanelle, Joseph Berard and Michel
4
Cote, one of the men who, in 1849, chopped down the trees on the site of Saint
Anne's church located on the corner of Merrimack and Union Streets where it
still stands. The pastor was Father William McDonald Who had come here in
1844. There was also a Thibodeau family and another by the name of Rocheleau.
In those early days, there was a City directory, but it was published
lortoce,
only every two years. Those Who came and left between the times, names4taken
didn't figure at all in the book. Here is, as far as we are concerned, a re-
markable thing about this Directory: after almost every French Canadian name,
you found this: occupation, mill -worker) and the addresses were always some-
thing like theses Amoskeag Corporation, Stark Corporation, Machine Shop,
Print Works, with the number, just as you'd say today' John So -and -So, 40
Main Street.
Some doctors came to Manchester from Canada more than eighty years ago
to minister to their sick fellow -countrymen, but none of them stayed very
*qv
long because business wasn't very good,,ror some other reason. The first
was Dr. Joseph A. Parent who came here in 1852, had his office at 20 Amherst
St. and went away in 1854. That year, a Doctor Belisle beoame the resident
French Canadian physician. He was still here in 1856 and had his office at
No. 3 Granite Block, his residence at 12 Manchester St.
The first photographer of our nationality group was Benjamin Milette
with a studio at No. 79 Elm St., his home at 20 Pine St., corner of Manchester
St. He came in 1858 and was gone in 1860. Dr. Elder Provencher arrived in
1858 but remained only a short time, not so long as those who came before.
Olivier Desmarais, who also took pictures, livedbere about 1882. In 1862,
Nazaire Laflotte entered the employ of the Barton Company, owners of a dry
goods and notions store, and was probably the first French Canadian store
clerk in Manchester. Our first merchant was Joseph Duval who opened a gro-
cery and liquor store in 1863. In 1870, Nestor Goudreault rents half of
Marchand Beausoleil's grocery store on Elm St. and starts the first French
Canadian bakery. Godefroi Messier is doing so well with his oyster and re-
freshment shop opened in 1869, that he takes his sons Pierre and Luther as
partners and moves to a larger place at 285 Elm St. In 1870, H. Girard
owned a shoe store at No. 5 Well's Block; the same year, L. Lacroix was a
wheelwright and carriage -maker on Elm St., opposite the Tremont building.
In 1869, Dr. A.L. Tremblay, who came to Manchester in 1867, formed a company
and started the arst French language newspaper, La VOix du Petiole, with Ferdi-
nand Gagnon, nolped leader and pioneer of our newspaper man, as editor. In
1871, Father Joseph Augustin Chevalier became the first resident priest and
founded St. Augustine's parish. In 1872, he resided on the north side of
Laurel St., No. 62, between Pine and Union Streets.
There are now eight Franco -American parishes, each with its cure and
most of these with wicairea or curates. By Father Chevalier and those priests
who followed him to Manchester from Quebec province, parish records were very
carefully kept. every birth, marriage and death iewritten down with all the
names spelled as they should be, and if you want any information, you have it
complete and right. A census is taken each year in all the parishes; that
tells us the number of Franco -Americans at any time. That may be a difference
of two or three hundred between that number and the real total because some
French Catholics married into Irish families and belong to Irish parishes,
and others lost their faith and joined Protestant denominations.
In 1871, there were about two thousand French Canadians in the city.
After Father Chevalier's coming and the opening of the first church in 1873,
immigration was speeded up for a while, as many as five or six families ar-
riving on the Canadian train, the train du Canada, every day.
What was the pay of these earliest settlers? Well, in 1845, Michel at‘
mixed mortar for five shillings a day, but in the mills where every other
French Canadian was employed, the pay was fifty cents a day and the board
cost two dollars a week. The workday began at five o'clock in the morning
and finished at eight o'clock at night. The workers had a half hour off for
breakfast, dinner and supper. Later, every day of the week, in summer as in
10
winter. the working hours of millhands were from six in the morning till 6
at night and that schedule was continued for many years. Nobody complained
because everybody was happy and contented. It was good to have a steady job
and a steady pay with the assurance that you didn't have to loaf unless you
wanted to.
Today, we live in other times and fit ourselves to new conditions. The
workweek as been considerably shortened and there is talk of making it
even shorter. Machinery has been perfected, everything is modern. Between
yesterday and today, what a difference! During my fifty-three years in the
local mills, I have seen a seventy-five percent improvement. New looms in
which the machine stopped if a thread broke were introduced about 1885 and
saved much time and cloth. Ring spinning succeeded fly spinning with fins
results for everybody. In 1872, the mills made fancy shirting, fleeced and
plain cotton cloth as well as blue and brown drilling for frocks and over-
alls; then came gingham and ticking and finally woolens, worsteds, every kind
of textile product.
People work as hard now as they did years ago, but life is better, easier,
more satisfactory for the mill -worker of the present time and we old timers
are glad that it is so. We are glad that we have brought it about to a cer-'
tain extent. We were proud and insisted on working for our living, instead of
depending on charity. We wanted to better our dondition; own our home; set
aside something against a rainy day; give our children a better education than
we had ourselves. So we did our work honestly and well in order to keep our
jobs and get better ones. Out of our wages, we built churches, then schools,
while supporting public schools and the government of our country, state and
city. Our children, better educated, are already in higher positions or pre,
pared to fill them with honor. Some of us have retired to the homes we worked
so hard to buy, while others have bought farms and gone back to the occupation
11-
WhiCh was that of their fathers and ancestors in the country where we were
born.
Some French Canadians were not afraid and fought for the Union during
the Civil War; there were many more in the war against Spain, but the great-
est number served in the World War, hundreds having enrolled as volunteers
in 1917. Our men would be ready and willing to answer another such call to-
morrow. They'd rather have peace, just as the rest of the nation does, but
if the fight is brought to them, they'll want to be in it, just as sure as
you're there. I guess those early settlers I told you about won't have to
be ashamed of us, because we've done our best.
You would like to have me introduce myself? Because it will lead me up
to my first job in the mills, I will try to satisfy you, but we'll make it
short, because there are so many things much more interesting to tell.
I was born in St. Ephrem d'Upton, P.Q., not far from St. gyacinthe and
Montreal, June 29, 1856. I was the fourth in a family of fourteen children,
five of whom are still living. I told you that my mother was of good old
Canadian stock. She was 97 years old when she died. My father was killed
in an accident while at work; he was 80 and in perfect health, so he might
have lived for quite a few more years, don't you think so?
When we came here in 1872, we livedin 'Squog, on the west side of the
river. After I was married, I occupied the same tenement for 44 years in
an Amoskeag corporation house, on the north side of Stark Street, between Elm
and Canal Streets. For the last ten years, we have lived in this cottage I
own on Candia Road, near Lake Massabesic. I have with me my granddaughter,
the housekeeper, and her son, 17 years old and a Freshman at St. Angela's
College.
I have always loved to travel, especially since I have been out of the
mills. I have a son living in Florida and I have spent seven or eight winters
12
with him. I drove my car both ways every time. This year, again by automo-
bile, I went to Canada three times. No, I haven't forgotten my birthplace
where father, mother and others of my family are buried.
I use glasses to read, but when it comes to see from a distance, my eyes
are just as good as they were fifty years ago. Do I eat well? Mon cher alai,
I can eat baked beans for supper and not feel the worse for it. I do quite a
bit of work around the house. From spring until fall, I take care of my gar-
den. My granddaughter thinks I work too much and often scolds me in a nioe
way; you hear her scold even now, but look at her smile. When I'm not work-
ing, I read and that brings me to a little nap in my rocking -chair. When you
are going on 83, you too will like your petit sommein the afternoon. I am
still considered the head of the family, loved and respected. With all that,
who wouldn't be happy in his old days? As you see, we are able to speak Eng;
lish without a trace of accent, and that is natural; I have been in this
country so long and the children were all born here.
After working for over sixty years, stomach ulcers began to bother me.
I thought I wouldn't be able to go on any longer and spoke of leaving the
mills, but they didn't want to let me go. The company in May and June, 1924,
gave me a vacation with pay and told me that would put me on my feet. I did
come back in July but things went from bad to worse with my stomach. In Sec
ember, I was forced to retire and the Amoskeag, giving me a month's extra pay,
had to lot me quit my job as overseer of the Coolidge spinning mill. I went
to the hospital where I spent quite a while and recovered my health.
I liked the people who were with me in the mills and I sympathized with
them. I helped them as anybody else would have done in my place. Did I,
when I was a boss, hide some who weren't quite sixteen, when inspectors visited
the mills? wouldn't have mentioned that if you hadn't put the question, but
there is some truth in it, thou& I wonder who could have told you. You see,
13-
I started working in the Lowell mills when I was only eight years old and I
could understand. If boys and girls were big and strong enough to work,
even if they were a little under the legal age, I gave them a Chance to
keep their jobs. Their parents were poor and needed every cent they could
get. So I'd tell these younger workers to keep out of sight until the in-
spector had gone away. There was no harm to anybody in that and it did a
lot of good. And besides, the law wasn't so strict in those days. Looking
back over the years, when I think of those who worked with me and for me,
I feel in my heart that I miss a lot of friends and I'd be lonesome at times
if I didn't have something to keep me busy around here. But let me talk a-
bout something else, about my first job, for instance, and then we'll go
along.
When we landed at Lowell in 1864, there were very few French Canadians,
only five families at one end of the city, fifteen at the other. Many more
came after the Civil War was over. I was only eight years old, but that
didn't stop me from going to work. My first job as a textile worker was in
the Lawrence mill, No. 5, where I worked as a bagboy and doffer for about
three years. Then I wanted to do outside work and one of my jobs was driv-
ing a one-horse wagon. In 1872, when I was sixteen, our family moved to
Manchester. In 1875, father and mother returned to St. Ephraim'.
Here, in the beginning, I started in a card room as roping and bobbin
boy, but I wanted to be a spinner, not a mule -spinner. I had seen mule -spin-
ning in Lowell and didn't like it at all; fly -spinning that makes cotton into
thread, ready for the weave -room, that's What I wanted to do. But it wasn't
until 1875, the year my folks went back to Canada for good, that I got my
chance. How I landed in No. 1 spinning mill of the Amoskeag, where no French
Canadian could be hired before, is a little story in itself.
14
Each spring and fall, it seems, the older immigrants had a touch of
homesiokness. Most of them still had farms in old Quebec. "I want to see
if it is still where I left it," they'd smilingly tell the boss when they
asked permission to be away for five or six weeks. So they went back to
Canada twice a year. While there, they visited friends and relatives,
that's sure, but their principal reason was a serious one, and they had to
make many sacrifices in order to save up enough money to pay railroadffares
and other necessary expenses.
At heart, Monsieur, they were still farmers like their ancestors had
been, and they wanted to got something out of those farms, some of which had
been in the family for many generations. In the spring, they attended to
ploughing, harrowing and sowing; in the fall, to the harvesting of the crops.
During the summer, some relative or neighbor kindly gave a look once in a
while to see that all was well.
While they were absent from the mills --others having to loaf on account
of sickness or for some other reason, spare -hands had their chance to work.
That's how I got into spinning. The overseer was kept at home by sickness
and the second hand hired me. When the boss came baok. I was giving all my
attention to my work and not losing a minute. We all did that. But the over-
seer didn't look pleased and he was mad when his assistant told him my name.
He wanted to know why I had been hired when he didn't want any Frenchman work-
ing there in his mill. The second hand said he'd discharge me right away and
I felt that my dream of becoming a fly -spinner was coming to an end quickly.
I kept on working. The boss looked at me, seemed to think twice before he
spoke and then said: "Don't do it now; wait until Smith comes back to work."
Smith did come back and I was out of a job, but not for long. The boss
was sorry to let me go, that was plain. He took my address and said he'd let
15
me know as soon as he needed me. He had changed his mind about hiring French
Canadians after he had seen one of them at work. The very next day, at noon,
he sent for me and after that I had a regular job in the Amoskeag. And that
same boss hired many of my people, and that is the point I want to bring out
in my story.
Later, I was transferred to No. 4 mill where there were, besides the
overseer, three second hands in a department of 18,000 spindles. You can
imagine how little work those assistant overseers had to do. They ought to
have been running some of the frames to keep themselves busy. I went back to
No. 1 with a job that paid me $1.30 a day, 20 cents more than I was getting
at No. 4. I was roping -boy, oiled the shafts and pdlleys and did other jobs.
The boss of No. 4 mill wanted me back and offered me $1.45 a day. I
went, of course, One day, another overseer tried to get me, and When I spoke
of leaving, Hamilton, bossof No. 4, wouldn't hear of it. To keep me, he of-
fered me extra pay if I would do the work of a sickly operative who had to
loaf at times, and more extra pay if I wanted to take the place of a third
hand once in a while. I accepted, did my own work besides and, as long as
the arrangement lasted, I got $2 a day and a little more. I was finally
given a regular job as third hand, quite a promotion for a French Canadian
at the time. In 1881, I was made second hand and, in 1901, overseer in No.
1 spinning mill. It Included No. 2, where I had such a hard time getting
a small job twenty-six years before.
It was a big event when I was appointed overseer of the 1 and 8 spin-
ning mills. There was to be a vacancy very shortly. I knew about it and,
being convinced that no one would say a good word for me, I decided to speak
for myself. I wasn't bashful any more. So, one day, I asked the super if
he wouldn't give me the chance. He was so surprised that he couldn't speak
for a long time, or so it seemed to me. He was looking at me as if he had
16
been struck by thunder and lightning. What,' A Frenchman had the crust to
think he could be an overseer: that was something unheard of, absolutely
shocking. And the super was shocked, I'm telling you. When he recovered
enough to speak, he told me he'd think it over, turned his back on me and
walked off, Be was certainly upset.
The next day, he came to me and, still with a doubting expression spread
all over his face, said he'd try me for six months. But I didn't want six
months, I answered back. I wasn't going to clog up that spinning department.
Either I was the man for the job, I said, or I wasn't. If I was, it wouldn't
take six months to find it out. If I wasn't, I'd get out in a hurry. No six
months for me. One month, that's all I wanted to show what I could do. The
super seemed to be wondering again but answered it was all right with him just
as I said. So I became the over -seer of No. 1 Spinning where I had made my
shaky dgbut in 1875.
That was another step ahead for the Frhnch Canadians, wasn't it? But
this time, it was an awful scandal. The sad news didn't take long to spread.
Americans and Irish were mad clean through. They looked at me and spoke to
me only when they were strictly obliged to, but as far as friendship was con-
cerned, there was no more, you bet. I, a Frenchman, had jumped over the heads
of others who thought themselves the only ones entitled to the job of over-
seer; here was a sin that could not be forgiven, and what was the world com-
ing to, anyway?
My disappointed fbrmer friends had another shock of the same kind two
years later when The1ophile Marchandr.we called him Tofil--was named overseer
of weaving, and. he was included with me in their hate. Tot ii, who had been
a first class weaver, was then a first class lbomfixer, a big job in those
days. His promotion, like mine, became the talk ofihilltown" and was a ter-
rible scandal.
17
Later, those who were afraid of us got used to these things and took
them in a better spirit, for several other French Canadian textile workers
got well deserved promotions. Thafophile Marchand, better known as John,
was one of my own second hands, and I recommended him. He was a boss just
three days, then he came back to his old job with me, after telling the su-
perintendent that he'd be happier and healthier that way. 'An overseer's
job has too many worries,' he said. 'The first thing you know, I'd be loaf-
ing because I was sick, and I can't afford to do that, because I have quite
a family to support.' And so, my friend Tofil had the distinction of being
the first French Canadian, perhaps the first one of any nationality group,
to refuse an overseer's job.
Others who didn't worry were a Mr. Lalime who was made a superintendent
of weaving; Frank Houde who came with me to the Coolidge mill as a second
hand and went later to No. 1 spinning mill as an overseer; Wilfred Lew,
one of my sons, who was second hand for the one who took my place as boss of
old No. 1 when I was transferred to the Coolidge in May, 1910. Then there
was Domicile Nolet, superintendent of carding at the Stark Mills, and a M.
Blais, overseer of spinning for the same company, when Amoskeag bought Stark
in 1922. They stayed as bosses for the Amoskeag until it shut down for good.
M. Nolet became overseer for the Pacific Mills who opened a plant here a few
years ago in a part of old Amoskeag. Pacific moved to Dover this year,
Domicile followed and is still there.
An overseer has a good chance to get even with those who hate him and
have been mean to him and his people, but such a thought didn't come to my
mind. Is soon as I had been appointed, the super came over and said to me;
'Lemay, now is the time to get rid of your first second hand. He never liked
you and he's no good anyway. You are now able to discharge him and pay him
18
back what he did to you.' I'm giving this man a chance to make good with
me if he wants to. Besides, he's just as good as I am. I won't punish him
nor anybody else that way because I have been treated meanly._ Don't expect
me to get rid of John until I have good reason to, and that goes for all
those who work under me.' So I kept my first second hand. I recommended him
to take my place in No. 1 when I was transferred to the new Coolidge mill.
Again the super couldn't understand me. 'But can he do the job?' he asked.
'Sure,' I answered,'even better than I can.' There you are again,' replied
the big boss. 'Whether it's to keep a second hand I don't want or to get
him the job of overseer, you insist he's a better man than you, and the man
isn't a French Canadian either.' 'He doesn't have ;to be one of my people,
Mr. Super. If he's all right, I say so, and that's jUstice. Go ahead and
try him out and find out what a fine man he is.' The super did, the man made
good and I had my revenge twice against John, a Christian's revenge. I got
no credit for what I had done but wasn't diaappointed. My own good luck had
brought me the congratulations and good wishes of only one American official,
the superintendent of the Machine shops. The others kept their grudge until
the time to congratulate had passed and then made the best of a thing that
couldn't be avoided."
'What schooling did you have, M. Lemay?' M. Pare asked.
be
"None at all when I was a boy,",,replied, and none until I had been
made a second hand, and that was in 1881. I had three terms at evening school,
each term beginning in October and ending sometime in March. Afterward, I
took one term in a business college, again attending evening classes, of course.
When I started to go to school, I already could speak English pretty well, and
that was a great help to me.
When I was a young boy in Lowell, my father wanted me to attend day school,
but I didn't care much for reading, writing, spelling and arithmetic. Father
left home early in the morning to go to work in the sawmill, as he
19
had to walk about a mile and a half, coming back only for supper. As soon as
he was gone, I went in my turn, but not to school; I went to the mills. At
night, I got a good spanking, this happening every day, but I couldn't change
wY ways.
I wanted to work, that's all, to do something for my parents who
needed all the help they could get, with the family they had to feed and take
care of. Father had to let me have MY %III, but he didn't like to and showed
it more than once.
In general, French Canadian children living here could have had some
schooling in the grammar school grades if their parents had been able to get
along without the earnings of these boys and girls, but most of them couldn't
afford that. The only ones who had a chance to get an education were the
youngest of the children, because older brothers and sisters were in the
mills, helping their parents at the time. There were even boys who went to
college and became priests, doctors, lawyers, newspapermen, and girls who
studied to be religious teachersothanks to the hard-earned money of textile
workers in their families.
After 1870, there were enough of our children to make schools necessary
for them, with lay teachers for the first ten years or so. In Manchester,
Father Chevalier, who came here in May, 1871, having been the first resident
parish priest from Quebec in New Hampshire, started to build St. Augustine's
church in 1872 and it was opened for worship in 1873. Young women helped the
pastor by teaching catechism to the children in church each Sunday. It was
as late as January, 1881 that the Sisters of Jesus -Marie were brought to Man-
chester from Sillery, near Quebec, by the curl of St. Augustine, to teach
both French and English, besides religiontwhich ranked first, as it does now,
in the school program, to young Franco -Americans."
Immigrants from the province of Quebec settled not only in Manchester
but in other New Hampshire mill centers, Great Falls (now Somersworth),
20
Salmon Falls and Newmarket, to name only a few. In each community, they built
a church first of all, then a presbytare or residence for the pastor, as soon
as possible a school for their children (which the children had to attend),
and they finally bought a tract of land on the outskirts of the city for a
cemetery. To protect their homes and families, they later organized mutual
benefit or fraternal societies, the first of which was the Saint-Jean•Baptiste
Society, Union Saint -Pierre. Socati Saint -Augustin and Union Saint-dtrges.
The first of these groups and Union ISA4t-Fierre have ceased to exist but they
lived remarkably long; Union Saint-Goorges and Sociit6 St. Augustin have joined
the Association ganado7Americaine founded in 1896. I know of some St. Jean-,
Baptiste Societies, some started as early as 1867, that are today strong and
active as independent fraternal groups.
Finally, to link themselves more closely, they had their newspapers. Some
didn't live long like Voix du Peuple, the first one, and Echo des Canadians,
but LiAvenir National, started as a weekly fifty years ago, is one of the im-
portant French dailies in New England. We have also two monthlies, Echo de,
Notre -Dame, and apubligue,and 0anado-Americain, the monthly organ of Associai-
tion Canado-4mericaine. The church, the school, the societies and the press
are what have kept Franco -Americans alive as a group. Let them all disappear,
and we go into the famous American melting pot.
"From what I have already told you," M. Lemay continued, "it can be
guessed that the children of Quebec immigrants, like most of their parents,
had no school education when they arrived here. They had been well and re-
ligiously brought up by devout parents in their Canadian homes; their mother
had taught them to pray, but they could neither read nor write. One of the
exceptions was Joseph E. "Joe" Pellerin. Joe was 17 when he came to Manches-
ter with his folks in 1881. He had been to grammar school under religious
teachers at Yamachiche where the family then lived and which was the birth-
21
place of Joe's Canadian ancestors. He then had. four years of classical stu-
dies at the seminary of Trois-Rivitres. He followed this up with two terms
of business college in Manchester, attending night classes and learning book-
keeping, English and penmanship. He was a first class weaver and what did his
education do to him? It took him off the looms in the early 90's and placed
him in the weave room office. There he kept books, including the workers'
time, for overseer Adam Graf, and marked the new cotton until 1922, at which
time he was made a cloth inspector in another room. He remained there until
he retired from the mills in 1930.
Joe was born in Baie-du-Fsevre, near Nicolet, and is now 75 years old.
He came here from Yamachiche with his father, step -mother, two brothers and
sister. In the order of birth, he was the second. of this family of fbur.
His parents and. sister returned to Yamachiche in 1884; one brother married
and settled in Lowell, while the other, also married here, moving to Canada
with his family some time later. My friend was an investigator for a local
bank until 1933. lie then retired and lives with his wife and unmarried dau-
ghter, Miss Germaine, in a corporation house he has occupied for the last forty
years and is located at 59 West Bridge St. M. Pellerin has four children, two
daughters and two sons. A son, Alfred, is an attendant in a State hospital,
and the unmarried daughter is a fine pianist and the able organist of St.
George's church.
Joe is a nice talker, has a wonderful memory and, with his distinguished
appearance, could pass just as easily for a doctor, a lawyer or a professor as
for a retired textile worker. But Joe was one of the best weavers known in his
time, and that's what he's proud of. He tried his hand at politics twice. The
first time, running for the City Council in 1889, he was defeated at the Ward 1
caucus by 25 votes. He tried again the following year and was elected. as he
had told his political enemies he would be.
22
Like myself, Joe says we owe our success in the mills to the fact that we
were faithful, honest workers, giving our attention to what we had to do instead
of losing time talking to our fellow -workers. Joe is a man of fine character,
a loyal citizen who'd rather go without eating or postpone a trip to Canada
than to miss a chance of voting on election days. He loves his adopted city
and country in a practical way, being ever ready to serve them, yet lie remains
at 75 loyal to the land of his birth and to his nationality group here. He
speaks English fluently.wnile preserving his faith, his mother tongue and cus-
toms of our people. He is a very active member of St. George'ms parish, of
parish and fraternal groups, a worker for every good cause. Yes, Joe sets a
fine example for us to follow, he is a real leader among Franco -Americans in
Manchester and he's a jolly good fellow."
"You wish to know about a French Canadian textile worker who was neither
a boss nor an office clerk in the mills? Then let me tell you about Stanislas
Gagnon. M. Gagnon is 63 years old and lives at 100 Orange St., near St. George's
Church. Stanislas served the Amoskeag Manufacturing Company for 47 years, al-
ways in the card rooms where has done every kind of work that department offers
to a textile operative. He was just twelve and a half years of age when he
started to work as a mill hand, and he's still at it, a carder. He came to our
city in 1888 with his mother, his grandmother on his father's side and his bro-
thers and sisters. They lived first on Pearl Avenue, near their present resi-
dence, and Stanislaus has never moved out of that district, though he has be-
longed to two parishes. Our friend now occupies a very neat tenement and lives
in comfort with his wife and their unmarried daughter. A married daughter is
a resident of Boston.
M. Gagnon, when he was a young man, wanted his share of gold and adven-
ture, so he left the mills to go to the Klondike Where he spent three years.
23
He returned to Manchester and worked for a while in the card room of the
Amory mill. During the strike of 1922 and after the final shutdown of
Amoskeag, he worked for several months at Exeter, this State, Lewiston, Me.,
Lawrence and Fall River, Mass., and Brattleboro, Vt., but he passed the
greater part of his 47 years as a textile worker in the service of Amoskeag.
He is a good hand and enjoys his work which he does faithfully and well. Every-
body likes Stanislas who is a fine, good natured and good looking man, a six-
footer and just a little shy, with a fair complexion, blue eyes, square shou-
lders and large, capable hands, all of which gives the impression that he is
not a day over fifty.
For three whole days, M. Gagnon was an employed of the Stark mills. He
was a boy of 13, full of fun and innocent mischief. He enjoyed himself until
the third day when he got a good scolding from his boss. Stanislas liked it
so little that he quit his job without giving notice and went back to Amoskeag.
Like many youngsters of his day, Stanislas got his job in the textile mills by
pretending to be 16. He was tall enough, but not built to look like a strong
and able workman, and the bosses, though guessing that the truth was being
stretched, gave him and other boys a chance.
As Stanislas was telling me one day, there were difficult moments in
the lives of these young mill workers. If they happened to be loafing, they
were generally out on the streets. Sometimes, a truant officer would come
along and ask questions. Why weren't the boys in school? How old were they?
Where did they live? Stanislas says he and his friends were in hot water all
the time this third degree business lasted. They had to think up some rea-
sonable answers in not too much time and apparently satisfied the officer,
since they kept their jobs in the mills. If they had been forced to go to
school, the loss of their small earnings, added together, would have made
quite a difference in the family budget.
-24
Ask any French Canadian textile worker and be will tell
you how well he got along with his overseer. Stanislas Gagnon,
who never was a boss, says that he never had any trouble with
his, nor with his fellow -workers, and thousands of other French-
Canadians say the sane thing. We got along well because we
never killed time, gave our attention to our jobs and turned
out work that the company could sell. That is why we got the
reputation of being skillful operatives who could be trusted
to remain on their jobs even if the bosses weren't always
around to watch them. It is for that same reason the local
textile corporations sent agents to Canada and to American tex-
tile centers to bring more of those French Canadians.
Our American overseers were always fair and just to us
and it is fair and just to admit it. They were fine men and
knew their business. They never bothered those who did their
duty. We can certainly be thankful to them for their decent
treatment of us. Stanislas Gagnon tells this story to prove it.
Illy second hand,' says Gagnon, 'vas an Irish -American who
took away some work from an Irish operative. It was extra
work for me without any extra pay. At first, being a little
timid, I told the second boss I'd do the work, but tire more I
thought it over afterward, the more convinced I was the second
hand was favoring his countryman at my asn expense, and I re-
fused to be anybody's goat. I went to my overseer and told
him all about it. He thought I was right and told me so. He
then went to the Irish assistant boss and asked him if what I
-25
had said was true. The second band admitted it was and went on
to say that I lost a lot of time talking with women operatives
and killed time otherwise. Speaking louder, he continued: 'Be
has plenty of time to do this extra work I gave him and he's
going to do it or somebody's going to get out.' To which the
boss answered: 'Yes, somebody's going to get out and it won't
be Gagnon. I'm keeping him, so you'd better change your mind
pretty soon about that extra work you gave him, because be isn't
going to do it. Think it over if you care anything for you job.'
The second hand changed his mind in a hurry and the Irish oper-
ative got his work back again.
The overseer trusted Gagnon, that is why he stood by him.
The company itself had much confidence in us and gave us big
and important tasks to do. Not the least of these was the job
of setting up the machinery and putting in operation the spin-
ning department in the new Coolidge Mill, in 1910. We started
in May. In December, the executives were told the jobbed
been completed. They couldn't believe that it had taken only
seven months, and only a personal investigation could convince
them. If all those who worked with me hadn't given their full
cooperation, it couldA have been done, so the greater part of
the credit belongs to them. We had set up in record time vlhat
was said to be the largest single spinning department in the
world, 1050000 spindles and 460 hand on one floor, and there
were also the picker -room men in the basement. Many French
Canadians worked forme and my first assistant was Th‘ophile
Marchand.
-26..
It lasted nearly ten months and was the worse thing that
ever happened. It was bad for the city, its merchants) tene-
ment owners, business in general. It destroyed Amoskeag's
trade and the Company, never recovering from the blow, kept
going down until it had to close its doors. My sympathy, how-
ever, goes first to all the workers for they are the ones 'to
suffered the most. They lost all their savings, went deep in
debt and lived on canned beans while the hope of winning the
fight was kept dangling before their eyes. They were told al-
most every day by the strike leaders to be patient and tighten
up their belts because victory was in sight. But there was no
victory) only defeat for all concerned.
As an over I couldn't join their ranks in the labor
union nor help them in any way, but neither could I be against
them. As a boy) a young man and a middle-aged man with a fakily,
I had worked long hours for anything but high wages. I knew
what it meant to be poor, what sacrifices must be made if you
want to lay something aside for a rainy day. The workers wanted
more pay; I would have given them a living wage if it bad been
in my power to do so, every worker having a right to that. They
wanted shorter hours; I would have given them a reasonable work-
week if I had anything to say about it. Even as a second hand
and an overseer, I never forgot my humble beginning and. always
considered myself a textile worker. Those strikers were textile
workers too, and I was sorry for them. Yes, that strike of 1922
was really a terrible thing.
Where did we meet the girls we married? Why right here
in Manchester. No, we weren't in love before we left Canada.
-27
We were too young to think of such things when we came to the
States. Vary few had known in childhood the girls they were
going to marry; so many of us, you see, came from different
parishes and villages.
The young lady who became my wife in 1878 was Miss Slime
Laliberte. She lived in a private home, that of her friend,
Miss Laurence who kept house with her two brothers and worked
in the mills besides. Now Dames* and Georges Laurence, Mase
Verrette, and Joseph Baril and myself were intimate friends.
Joe Baril's mother wasn't in good health, I had only one small
room, so we spent our evenings together with tile Laurences or
at the home of MoYse Verrette, never dreaming then that he
would later be the owner of a large grocery store and meat mar-
ket and twice mayor of Manchester. While visiting Georges and
Damase, I became acquainted with Miss Lalibert4. She was a
fine, attractive girl and interested me. Soon I was going to
the Laurence home mostly to see alima, then for herself alone,
We had fallen in love, we became engaged and were married by
Father Chevalier in St. Augustine's church.
Joe Pellerin, once more the exception to the rule, found
his wife in Canada, she was a stranger to him. He went to
Yamachiche in the late summer of 1891 while on vacation after
an illness. He was coaxed to take a job in a general store
at Maskinongi, only a few miles away. He got the job and stayed
thirteen months. His pay was five dollars a month with room
and board, but it was a lucky day for him, he says, when ie went
to Maskinonge, for it was there he met the girl he was to make
his wife.
I couldn't translate that in verse, but here is what
it means: This is the day of my wedding, the happiest day
of my life; beloved, I am yours and forever.
Some were very good at singing comic songs, like E212
in which the words are so misplaced that sense becomes non-
sense, the kind that makes you laugh. I believe I remember
the first verse. Here it is, and it's crazy:
Je suis Zozo, par mes actions comiques,
J'ai fait parler de moi pendant-z-onze ans.
Je suis le fils de mon seul pere unique
It pour le sur aussi bien de WIAmen
Un jour, la nuit$ cette pauvre Valero
Tomba malade, mon pre me dit: Zozo,
Va chercher du bouillon pour ta Mere
Qujest bien malade 11 -bas dans un petit pot,
Va chercher du bouillon pour ta niers,
Qu'est bien malade A -bas dans un petit pot.
This part of another verse is even worse:
Weis t'y pas qua ma maladresse
Je chavirai lea assiettes at les plats;
Je fis une teche sur ma vests de graisse
Et lea culottes de me. jambe de drip....
In the first, Zozol the son of his only father, is told
to fetch some broth for his mother who is sick over there
in a little pitcher. In what there is of the second,'',Zozo
knocks down the dishes and spills the broth over his,ftt vest
)40
and the trouselp of his woolen cloth leg.
-30
Another song, this one a chanson a repondre,was a sort
of catechism and mentioned one God, two Testaments, etc. up
to the ten Commandments. As he went along the singer, as
we do in Alevetty, repeated backwards what be had sung and
finished as be had begun, with the words: Il n'y a outun
seul Dieu. Il n'Y a QUIIM seul Dieu which the others re-
peated after him in chorus.
For our round and square dances as well for jigs, the
music was furnished by a fiddler Who always played the same
tune as long as you wanted himto--he knew no ther-- and by
a fellow who played the accordion, but they never played to-
gether because their tune was different. We didn't care
about that and we danced and had great fun. In St. Ephrem,
even these home dances weren't allowed because our people
believed that the devil himself was present as a cavalier,
wherever people danced. Stories of tragic happenings were
told and mad* you shiver. Here, we never went to public
dance halls but weren't afraid of the devil being in our
homes if we conducted ourselves as decent people should.
In. 1874, Father Chevalier, wishing to encourage the study
of music among his parishioners and to give more prestige
to the French Canadians of Manchester, called a group of young
men to his home and proposed that they should start a band.
The idea was quickly accepted and in a short time and after
much work, we had the Fanfare Canadienne de Manchester. In-
struments and uniforms were bought. At Father Chevalier's
invitation, Joseph Lafricain came from Marlboro, Mass., to
help in the organization of the musical group and to be its
leader.
-31
The men practiced in a small hall and were seated.
There came a time when they had to learn to play while
marching. So, one day, they went in carriages to the vi-
cinity of Alsace and Amory streets where there was a park
in those days but no homes. There they marched and played
to their hearts' content.
The Fanfare Canadienne became an institution. It paraded
many times in our city and gave concerts which were well at-
tended. It was engaged by fraternal groups and travelled as
far as Quebec. There were twenty-seven members in the Fan-
falcalled the French Military Band by the English newspapers.
It was reorganized in 1882 as the City Band which ceased to
exist only a few years ago. Father Chevalier's band was
composed of textile workers and I played the slide trombone.
I have here a list of the charter members. I'll read it off
to you:
J. R. Lafricain, leader, clarinet; Solyme Daigneault, bass;
Charles Blanchard) cornet; Edouard Harrington) bass; John
Harrington) altogean-Baptiste Blanchette, cornet; JoSeph
Gagnon) bass; Charles-Borromee Boulanger) aide trombone;
Napoleon Monette, cornet; Hormidas Manseau, baritone; Jules
Provencher, cornet; Fred Sansouci, alto; Edouard Geoffrey,
cornet; Joseph Marcotte, bass; Victor Hilbert, clarinet;
Victor Sansouci, cornet; Edouard Brown, fife; Cyrille Lebrun,
cornet; Damase Laurence, cornet; Philippe Archambault, alto;
Joseph Letendre, cornet; Philippe Lemay, aLide trombone;
James Manseau, snare drum; Joseph Desjardins, bass drum and
cymbals; J. Champagne, bass drum. Five of them died and the
band escorted them to the church and cemetery.
-32
"It has often been said, Mr. Lemay, that the Frinch
Canadian immigrants here and in all industrial centers had
much to suffer from a certain nationality group for a number
of years. Please tell us something of those troubloas times,"
said Mr. Pare.
"Those days of petty persecution, beatings) rock -throwing
o
swill -slinging and tragedy are rot nice to remember, M. Lemay
answered sadly, 'Besides, Monsieur) a big book couldn't tell
all the story, Our troubles came mostly, not to say entirely,
from Irish people who, it seems, were afraid that we had come
here to take their jobs away from them in thb mills and who
tried bard to send us back to Canada by making life impossible
for us in America. They wanted us to speak the English among
ourselves when we only knew French) and it made them mad
because we didn't. They bad forgotten --or didn't know-- that
French Canadians had taken into their homes many orphaned
children of Irish immigrants to Canada and brought them up
as their own. Yes, Irish -Americans should have been our
best friends over bare) not our worst enemies.
It was bad enough here in 1872 and later, but it was
worse in Lowell about 1864. It was impossible to get drink-
ing water from public pumps in the daytime. Irish boys
threw dirt in our pails, so we had to go at night, in the
darkness and by roundabout ways.
Sundays, we went to mass at the Irigh church. There was
no other. 'Isiah lads sat behind us and, with needles or pins
stuck in the ends of their boots, they'd dig into us. We
jumped and yelled, and other people in the church were disturbed.
We had our ears boxed by the man in charge of children.
When we couldn't stand it any longer, we stopped going to
church. The priest visited our homes to inquire about our
absence. We told him why we stayed at borne, thezailty boys
got alicking and then we could attend Sunday services in peace.
My father worked in a saw -mill located almost in the
center of the city. For a time, the men were obliged to work
at night and the owners had to build a shack Where the workers
could eat their lunch without fear of being injured or killed
by rocks thrown at them. The job was lit up by flaming rosin
placed in large irons pans, but all around the place, it was
very dark, so it was easy to hide and throw rocks or bricks
and you'd never know where they came from.
Irishmen were fond of clay pipes, tT. D. so, they were
called, but they must have thought nobody else had the right
to use the same kind. When they met a French Canadian smok-
ing a clay pipes they'd break it off between his teeth. If
he'd onoke a briar pipe, they'd push it down his throat. Not
liking this sort of sport, our fathers and big brothers
smoked nothing but short 0T. D. 'SI' that couldn't be shortened
anymore nor pushed in.
In. Manchester, it was in those parts of the city Where
only Irish people lived, especially what was called l'Irlande,
all around Park common which was called la commune d'Irlande
that we found plenty of trouble. Our family was then living
in the 'Squog section of West Manchester, and the shortest
wily to St. Augustine's church, the only French church at that
time, was over Granite St. bridge, across Elm St., up
Lake Avenue, through the Commune d'Iriande and up Spruce
St. to the corner of Beech where the church was located.
Well, sir, we cJaldn't pass there without having our
Sunday clothes ruined by filthy swill thrown at us from
yards and alleys. Rocks flew also, and many of us young-
sters received painful beatings from young Irish -Americans
Who were nearly always armed with sticks. The only way
for us to save our clothes and our skins was to go to
church by making a long detour and approaching St. Augustine 's
from the east instead of from the west as we would have
naturally done if there had been no enemies on the way.
NO, we didn't fight backibecause we were afraid of hav-
ing trouble with the law. Being strangers, we didn't know
how it would turn out for us. The first Greeks Who came to
Manchester weren't so timid. Welcomed as we had been by the
Irish, they thought they hadn't come from far-off Greece
to be chased away without some resistance. They paid back
with interest everything they received from the residents of
the district. Often they were arrested but just as soon
acquitted after they had proved that they had acted in self-
defense The Irish hated chief of police Healy for that,
though he was an Irishman himself, but he was a just man
and a fin* chief who made Manchester the orderly city it is.
Anyway, the (reeks did so well that the commune d'Irlande is
now called the commune des Grecs Where people may pass with-
out being insulted or beaten up.
-35
Some years later) French Canadian grown-ups were treated
more decently. There were too many of us then and we weren't
so bashful about defending ourselves. Irish boys alone re-
mained mischievous. Armed with sticks and stones) they
often chased French Canadian boys thraagh streets and back
yards) even into homes where the attacking "army" didn't
always dare to follow.
But the worst blow struck at us was the killing of Jean
Baptiste Blanchette, a member of the French Band of which he
was then the leader and a fine fellow if there ever was one.
On the night of September 30, 1880, Blanchette and four
444.0
friends)4also belonged to the band, were talking quietly
about the Fanfare and its leadership, in French) of course,
on Amherst St., near the corner of Vine. The friends were
Georges Laurence) Edoaard Harrington) Joseph Desjardins and
Frank Manseau. Blanchette) called John Blanwd by the
English-speaking people) had met them at the Excelsior House,
Concord St., where he owned a lager beer parlor, his other
place being at 34 Amherst St. All five walked to Amherst
St. Where they continued their conversation. It was a little
after 11 o'clock.
Threee Irith young men --no need of mentioning their names
came out of another beer parlor located nearby) on the same
street. They) like many others, hated to hear French spoken
It
and called on the five "frogs" to talk United States
They rushed the French Canadians as they passed them. The
three attackers were drunk. Blanchette pushed them away,
One of the three cane back at Jean -Baptiste Who met him once
more) and the assailant) either struck or pushed, fell on
-36
the sidewalk. A large, round beer bottle, containing a
small quantity of hard liquor, was broken in the fall.
The man was now furious. He got back to his feet, seized
the upper part of the broken bottle and holding it by the
neck, he threw it and it struck Blanchette on the left side
of the throat. Blanchette had run into the street and there
he fell. The jagged edge of the broken bottle had made a
wound one inch deep and two inches long and cut the jugular
vein. Blanchette was soon bathing in his blood which was
coming out so fast nobody could stop the flow.
Quickly, Harrington and Laurence pickes:1 up their friend
and carried him to his room over the saloon. They laid him
down an the floor where another pool of blood was soon formed.
There was now a wide, sticky red trail leading from the street,
onto the sidewalk and the stairs .and into the room. A piece
of glass, the pointed end sticking out, was still in the
wound. It was removed and one of Blanchette's companions
held his hand over the gaping hole, trying to stop the constant
flow of blood. Officer John Cassidy, later deputy chief, was
patrolling his beat when a woman shouted to him from an open.
window that a man was dying upstairs. Officer Cassidy went
to the bloodyiaan, then called his captain and he soon arrived
on the scene with four doctors who did all they could but
couldn't save the terribly wounded man. He died twenty min-
utes after being hit, having lost all his blood.
The news spread like wild fire around the usually quiet
city. The next morning, at 7 o'clock, hundreds of French
Canadians stood near the corner of Vine and Amherst Streets.
The bloody spot was still there and staring at it, they said:
'This is where three Irishmen killed Jean Blanchette last
night. The crowd was excited and you could hear a low grumb-
ling, but there was no other demonstration. They held them-
selves as they had dons whenever they had been made to suffer.
Only this was worse and could hardly be believed. A man
had been killed by a "frog" hater. Those hundreds of men
could have cried as if Blanchette had been the near relative
of all of them while they kept looking at that awful red
spot which nobody had thought of cleaning up.
The Irish lads were arrested and locked up in cells at
the police station. Two were charged with being drunk and
fined, being held afterward as witnesses. The bottle -thrower
who admitted throwing the top half of the beer bottle but
insisted he didn't know where it landed, was accused of murder.
At the January term of Superior Court, he was sentenced to
five years in prison. He served his sentence and died a
few months after coming out. He was only 18 years old at the
time of the tragedy, his father and mother were dead and he
lived here with an uncle. He had worked in the mills but had
been idle for some time.
Jean -Baptiste Blanchette was 23 years of age and had
come to Manchester thirteen years before. He had worked for
the Amoskeag in a weave room, then in the Langdon mill. Later,
though still a young man, he had saved up enough money to run
two small lager beer parlors where French Canadians liked to
gather and talk of the things that interested them. They had
no social clubs at the time.
Blanchette wasn't wasn't married. He roomed with the family
of Alexandre Boucher and boarded at 22 Concord St. His body
was laid out at the home of his good friend, M. Harrington,
51 Pearl St. The funeral took place at St. Augustine's
church on Sunday morning) October 2nd, at 9 o'clock. As
early as 7 o'clock, there was a large crowd of French Ca-
nadians in front of the Harrington home. At half past eight
the long funeral procession started its march to the church.
In front was the Fanfare Canadienne led by Joseph Lafricain
its first conductor, who had come back to honor his friend
John) one of the founders of the band. Then came the Soci4te,
St. Jean -Baptiste, 104 members wearing their insignia and
carrying their banners, the president) Charles Robitaille)
leading the imposing group. Blanchette had been voted in as
a member but had not yet signed the society's constitution
and by-laws, so he wasn't an active member, but the Societ4
turned out just the same. From 200 to 300 young men, all
intimate friends of Blanchette, marched in ranks behind the
hearse. There was also the French Republican Club of which
John was a member. Then followed carriages in which were
Blanchette's relatives. His father lived somewhere in New
Hampshire but no one knew his address. Following the carri-
ages) in the procession) were about 4000 persons of all
ages. Crowds lined the streets on the way to the church
and all seemed to sympathize with the relatives who es-
corted the body. In a few minutest the church was filled.
Father Chevalier officiated at the high mass for the dead
and gave absolution. On the casket, we could see the uniform
-39
our friend wore and the cornet he played in the band) with a
crown of natural flowers made by Miss Emelie Harrington.
After the church service, the procession was formed
just as it had been before and marched to St. Augustine's
cemetery, in the southern end of the city, Where the body
was buried.
The Rrench weekly) Echo des Canadiens, wrote nice things
about Jean Blanchette, and that was quite natural. But the
Daily Union calling him John Blanchard, praised him even more.
In the story of the murder, it described John as a 'genial
and pleasant fellow' and, in its edition of Monday, Oct. 3rd,
here is the clipping --after relating the details of the fu-
neral) it says: 'The large number of friends of the deceased
who turned out to allow their respect shows plainly the es-
teem in which he was generally regarded. Blanchard was pop-
ular, will liked by all Who knew him. It is the general
opinion that he had no enemies and that he was upright in all
his dealings.' The Union called the killing a 'terrible and
bloody tragedy.'
Only a few hours before Blanchette met his death, I had
visited him at his room. I was terribly shocked when I heard
what had happeined. He was a very dear friend of mine) al-
ways cheerful, quiet) minding his own business, kind to
everybody. I asked myself how anyone could have struck him
down in this awful manner just because he was talking to
fellow -countrymen in the language that was most natural to
him) his mother tongue. I can't understand now) after al-
most sixty years.
That tragic tragic episode of 1880 brought much grief to
the French Canadian colony and, compared to it, the mean
things that had been done to us seemed very small indeed.
Feeling ran high among us, but not one of us thought of a
avenging our murdered friend. As always, we suffered in
silence with the hope thilt some day) our right to live
peacefully in America would be recognized. We had so much
confidence in God and in this adopted country of ours.
Well, the day did come. Now, the surviving French Canadian
textile workers of long ago, their children) grandchildren
and great-grandchildren have won the respect and esteem of
their fellow -citizens. Yes, we surely have found our place
in the sun of American liberty. Franco -Americans are pro-
minent in all lines of business and namy are quite success-
ful in politics. Since 1918, Manchester has had four mayors
and they were all Franco -Americans. We have distinguished
doctors, lawyers, educators, judges, artists, architects,
bankers and clergymen) one of these having been the third
bishop of Manchester for 25 years.
To what do we owe our success? I believe we owe it
to the self-sacrificing French Canadian immigrants from old
Quebec) to the courage that made them refuse to accept de-
feat and quit when that would have seemed the natural thing
to do; to the cheerfulness that carried us through our trials
and tribulation and helps us old-timers to wait happily for
the final bell calling us home to rest after our long) hard
life in the textile mills. And perhaps the bloody death of
Jean -Baptiste Blanchette, a martyr in the true sense of the
word, had its share in bringing about the conditions we are
enjoying today.