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Record #4313
Name :
: H. Richard WRIGHT (1922 - )
  aka : Dick


Father
:
Mother
:
BMD and other details
Date of Birth
: 1922 (approx.)

Marriage (1)
:
Marriage (2)
:

Date of Death
:
Abode (1) : Place of BirthEngland
Abode (2) : Place of Death / Burial
Sailing Information
Date of Arrival
: Apr 1938
Country
: Canada

Ship
: Duchess of Bedford

Placement Family
:
Homes / Agencys
Institution (GB)
:

Agency
: Fegan Homes for Boys
NotesParents: John Leonard Wright and Ellen Cecilia Clinton.

Richard's immigration story is in his own words:

"I am a Home Child having arrived in Canada in 1938, I came out by choice, I was not "deported" and I certainly was not abused by any of my farm employers after my arrival. It seems to me all we hear are the horror stories. I was born into a dysfunctional family in the west end of London, and put in Mr. Fegans Homes by my fathers "live in" a Hetty Elvin and she hated me, she will never know the favour she did me."

Dick's story was told in the pages of "The Golden Bridge," by Marjorie Kohli, copyright 2003, all rights reserved. (Published by Natural Heritage/Natural History, Inc.; Appendix D.)

A Fegan Boy's Story:

On September 21, 1932, I was placed in Mr. Fegan's Homes Inc., an unloved, unwanted boy, ten years of age who had never truly lived in a regular nuclear family. I will always remember that short journey from Euston station in London to that beautiful historic town of Stony Stratford, the home of the "Cock and Bull Story" but also the home of Mr. Fegan's Homes Inc. So began my five-and-a-half year odyssey that ended in this wonderful land of Canada. One thing I find interesting is the same gentleman that brought me from London to Stony Stratford also led our party of fifteen lads from the Canada Training Farm in Kent, England, to Toronto, Canada, and his name was Michael J. Smith.

April 8, 1938, at dawn we were roused from our beds (I did not require much rousing I slept very lightly that night), this was the great adventture, Indians, Eskimos, Pioneers, Log house, no roads -- no! us Fegan boys were much more knowledgeable about Canada. I will alsoways remember the beautiful photographs that hung in the dormitories, that were given to the home by the Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR) in 1922 after they were through with them at the World's Fair at Wembley, showing pictures of some of our great cities, as well as the Rockies, the prairie, farm scenes in the east, even pictures of Indian capmps compelte with the traditional teepee. After breakfast we donned our new suits and were driven to the railway station at Marden, where we boarded our train for London, and our journey would really begin, because the CPR had arranged a "boat train" to Liverpool from London, so our ticket took us from London, England, to Toronto, Canada.

The train ride from Euston in London seemed to be long and boring, despite the many interesting sights. My mind was focused on that great ocean liner and the journey across the Atlantic to a new life and a new country; we were the Empire builders, you know, and we had great expectations. I now vividly remember the beautiful English countryside. The back gardens with seedlings sprouting in neat rows, the football and ruby fields, numerous church spires, and the hawthorn and gorse growing through the railway embankments. When I was a very small boy, I had travelled that same line with my Dad and it revived memories of happy times, as we passed the great railway junction at Crewe with its myriad railway tracks and hundreds of rolling stock. Finally we arrived in Liverpool, to my young eyes, not a very pretty town. Like most industrial port cities at that time it was suffering from the malaise and hardship of the thirties. It was from such cities that the home movement began seventy years before.

Finally we arrived at the doc, with the long row of huge cranes, and great stacks of goods and merchandise waiting to be shipped all over the U.K. There she was! That great liner the Duchess, waiting to take us to that land we had only read about in our geography books; the land of milk and honey, where anything could be accomplished, where motor cars were automobiles, shops were stores and Friesian cows were Holstein cows. No doubt about it Canada would be changed forever; you can always tell an Englishman but you can't tell 'em much, eh? We were boarded right away; all we had to do was line up two by two; came natural to us lads we had been doing it for years. And so began my journey into the unknown.

At four o'clock on Friday, April 8, 1938, the tug boats guided the ship out into the river Mersey, and we were on our way, to the cheers of people on the dock who had come to see friends and relatives off. As I stood leaning on the ships rail, oblivious to those around me, watching the land fading in the evening light, it hit me! I was watching the land of my birth "England's green and pleasant land" disappearing, perhaps forever. I tried to choke back the tears at the realization of the enormity of the decision I had made some months before. Sixteen-year-old boys do not cry, at least they do not let other fellows see them, so I tole a quick look at my buddies, and saw others who were having much the same thoughts as I. However, we were soon engulfed in the excitement of being shown to our cabin, deciding who we would bunk with and who would sleep in the top bunk. We were traveling third class, but to us boys it was fit for royalty. we had hardly settled in, when the cabin steward brought around a large bowl of fruit and offered us a choice, then informed us "tea" would be served in the third class dining room at five sharp. Served? That just was not in our vocabulary, but we were quite versatile and soon became used to it. I wonder what first class was like?

Friday evening and Saturday were quite uneventful. The Duchess stood off Belfast to take on mail and a few more passengers, then sailed north up the Irish Sea to Greenock in Scotland, and took on more mail and passengers. When we turned in on Saturday night, all was calm, the ship was steaming along on an even keep and sleep came so easy.

Sunday morning? Something was wrong; the bunk was moving. Our cabin was right on the waterline and when I looked through the porthole glass, one more I could see across the waves, and next there was just a wall of water. I had to investigate, so out of my bunk I jumped, ready ot run up on deck and see the great Atlantic Ocean. I got as far as the companion way and "died." Everything I had eaten for the last week was deposited on the lower deck! I did not see the great Atlantic for two days. I still am absolutely paranoid if I think I may throw up. It was two days before I was able to go up on deck and play shuffleboard, stare at the ocean as it hurried past the ship, or make acquaintance with some of the other passengers, including a couple of lovely young ladies about my own age. Somehow I seemed ot enjoy their company more than some of my chums, but all good things come to an end when a fatherly voice says "come along girls, it's time to ...."

Finally, when most of us had recovered from our rude introduction to the ocean, somebody discovered a football, and we found a wonderful place to play the game as only English kids can. The stern deck, reserved for third class passengers, was ideal until some kid kicked the ball overboard. The skipper refused to "heave to" to allow us to rescue the ball. That would be our fourth day out and we were probably half way across the Atlantic when one of the crew told us Mr. Smith would like us to gather where we had lifeboat drill, so we all hurried for this impromptu meeting wondering what it was all about.

When we were all assembled , we were told Captain Meikle would like us to visit him in the lounge. This was an honour, so we could not wait to meet him. Captain Meikle was held in very high esteem by the members of the crew as he had fought in the Battle of Jutland in the Great War [First World War]. He was known as a man who skippered his hip with a firm eye to perfection, and was quite aristocratic. It was a pleasant surprise to find a man with a wonderful sense of humour, who obviously enjoyed talking to us young men. He also spoke with an engaging Scottish brogue, which put us even more at ease. He then commenced a tour of the ship taking us to places most passengers would never see. He took us on the bridge and even let a couple of us take the helm for a couple of minutes, explained the purpose of the gyroscopes that give the ship stability (how come i nearly died from seasickness!). We visited the engine room that powered this great liner; the engines were steam turbines and the noise was deafening, no stokehold a la Titanic, as the ship was powered with bunker oil the same as most of our great lakes steamers. He also showed us the spotless kitchens and, believe it or not, the freezers that were kept at zero degrees F. Now I knew why the menu was so varied. They even had corn on the cob. One of our guys actually ordered a cob and tried to eat it with a knife and fork, as you would roast beef, until a kindly Canadian passenger explained it was not bad manners to hold it in your hands and just eat the outside.

As the ship drew nearer to the east coast of Canada, we sighted the odd iceberg. They looked so close and yet we were told they were over a mile away. It was less than thirty years since the Titanic disaster. The year before a lady visited the home who was on the Titanic and told us of her experiences, so icebergs were a reality to me. We saw whales coming quite close to the ship, no doubt out of curiosity. Before we sighted land the sea became quite calm, and we all wondered why until a member of the crew explained how the current from the mighty St. Lawrence can affect the ocean six hundred miles offshore. Finally we sighted land and then the inevitable ice floes grinding along the sides of the ship, all one could see, as far as the eye could see, was ice. We knew we would soon be in Canada, the land of eternal ice and snow. A few days later we would be in Toronto, and receive a rude awakening, I was in the tropics I thought, perhaps Fegans had sent me to Tahiti by mistake! Now I know why I nearly freeze to death when I visit the Old Country.

Now came the most interesting segment of the journey, the trip up the river to Montreal, Newfoundland a ghostly grey to the north, Cape Breton a faint smudge on the horizon to the south. Gradually the land became clearer as the Duchess passed very close to Anticosti Island -- a truly beautiful sight to behold, and completely uninhabited by humans. So we travelled upriver to Quebec, no more sickness, just a lovely holiday for a party of fifteen young teenage boys, who had been used to strict military discipline and a very structured life.

At last our first look at Canada, the beautiful City of Quebec, but form our viewpoint, anchored in the middle of the St. Lawrence River, it did not look so great. What appeared as a somewhat poverty stricken village perched on top of a cliff was the historic city of old Quebec, built by the early settlers three hundred years ago, as I was to discover when visiting some fifty years later. It was here that Mr. W. J. Hutchinson, Fegan's representative in Canada, came on board to escort us on to Montreal, and also with the help of some Canadian Immigration officials facilitate our landed immigrant status.

The next day, a Sunday, we started for Montreal, a long journey as we ran into fog and had to drop anchor and blow the fog horn every two minutes, a nerve-racking experience to say the least. Being Sunday, there was a church service in the dining room and, as the Bishop of Athabasca was travelling to Canada, he was engaged to hold the service. He knew there was a group of boys on board, so we were asked to sing at the service. Now when it came to music we were well trained. I will ever been indebted to the Fegan Home for my love of music, good music, not the cacophany of juvenile clatter that is generating millions for many so-called artists who wouldn't know a bar from a crowbar. I well remember the passengers' applause after singing a number of the old hymns, especially when applause was a "no-no" in church in those days.

The third class lounge was another place where people enjoyed congregating to sit and play cards, drink from the bar, and of course smoke, everyone smoked in those days. There was a very nice organ in the lounge and Uncle Hutch, as we called him, soon spotted it. He was the organist in Jarvis Street Baptist Church in Toronto. He rounded up as many of us as he could find, gathered us around the organ, gave us a hymnal, and played the first chord of a hymn. Well, I can assure you we were not very enthused about singing gospel songs in that atmosphere, but nevertheless we continued to sing. Slowly the cards lay still on the table,s the liquor stayed in the glasses and the dice ceased to roll, as everyone gave us their undivided attention. An elderly gentleman with a large cigar put his head in his hands and started to sob, as we sang "When the roll is called up yonger." It was a surprise to a group of teenagers to see that sort of reaction from a room full of strangers. We left the room that evening quite subdued. I later saw Uncle Hutch sitting wit the man, having a somewhat intimate conversation.

At last, Montreal, soon we would set foot on Canadian soil and the great adventure would begin. Slowly with the help of those little tugs our ship was docked, the gangway was lowered, and passengers started to disembark, any pangs of homesickness were gone, as with suitcase in hand we hurried off the boat to gather on the dock to wait for further instructions. Uncle Hutch was in charge now, he had done this many times before, so we were quickly loaded into taxis and taken to the railway station. At the station our trunks suddenly appeared, we had not seen them since packing them in England, and Uncle Hutch gave us strict orders that we should allow no one to carry our trunk for us. The reason for this soon became evident when a porter asked if I would like him to carry my trunk to the train. When I declined, he said, "Sonny, you are like an elephant, you carry your own trunk," then he picked it up and carried it to the baggage car. One of my colleagues said, "You have to pay him." The porter, who was a kindly black man, put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Welcome to Canada." I remember walking past one of those huge steam locomotives, and marvelling at the tremendous size. This was symbolic of how I would continue to become awestruck with the size of my adopted land, since arriving in Canada I have travelled much of this land and still marvel at its size ad complexity.

Soon the train pulled out of the Montreal, and through the towns and cities of eastern Ontario, following the St. Lawrence River and then Lake Ontario, a part of the world I had only studied in school. I was very surprised to see the desolate landscape, not a blade of green grass, not an animal anywhere, was this a part of Ontario where there was no rain? Everything was brown, it must be very dry, or perhaps there was a serious drought. What I had not realized was that this was not April in "England's green and pleasant land" but hte result of Canada's harsh and frigid winter. In a couple of weeks I would see the result of our later but still beautiful spring.

"Toronto the good?" I have lived almost within sight of this wonderful city, courted my wife (she worked in a munitions plant during the Second World War) sold some of my produce there. My first child was born in Toronto, and i have watched the city grow to the wold class city it is today. On our arrival we were housed at Fegan Lodge, 647 Broadview Avenue, for three glorious days, where Uncle Hutch and his wife cared for us. Arrangements were made for a number of limousines to drive us fifteen boys on a tour of the city, and I well remember how pristine and clean the city appeared compared to English cities like London. We went swimming at the Broadview YMCA (in the nude) swimsuits were not allowed -- for sanitary reasons we were told. Uncle Hutch sat us down and gave us a long lecture on how we should behave when we went to our new job, including our behaviour toward the ladies, in other words a lesson about sex, a rather taboo subject in those days. So ended what to me was an epic journey into the unknown. Sixty-one years later, I can look back and realize what a wise decision I have made, Canada is truly a land of opportunity.

These are the contents of my trunk given to me by Fegan when I came to Canada:

One trunk of excellent quality.
One overcoat.
Garters, laces, studs and cufflinks.
Two suits of excellent quality, one was blue-striped, the other was brown with a fine pin-stripe. (Unfortunately I grew out of the very quickly.)
Two suits of underwear.
Two nightshirts.
Four pairs of socks.
One part of braces.
Two ties.
Two pairs of work trousers.
Two pairs of boots.
Four handkerchiefs.
One hairbrush.
One pair of plimsolls (running shoes).
One clothes brush.
Two pairs of overalls.


Two shoe brushes.
One work jacket (I still have them.)
One jersey (sweater).
One toothbrush.
One comb.
One Sunday cap.
One razor (I still have it.)
One ear flap cap (I never wore it, it looked so funny.)
Books: Bible, Traveler's Guide, Pilgrim's Progress, Daily Light on our Daily Path.
One scarf.
Three dress shirts.
Stationery (We were encouraged to write home often.)
Three shirt collars. 
ContributorsCreated : 2008-10-04 20:23:39 / From original database

Additional Contributions from : alanmack

Last Updated : 2008-10-11 20:45:51 /

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Surnames starting with:   A  B  C  D  E  F  G  H  I  J  K  L  M  N  O  P  Q  R  S  T  U  V  W  X  Y  Z  30 Entries        
Page: [1] 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 902 Entries        
IDNameDOBPlace of birthArrivals & ShipsDest.AgencyFamily links
3056 ABBOTT, Ernest James1897ENG,     Apr 1911 : Empress of Britain CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
3104 ABRAMS, Frederick1892ENG, LND, Battersea May 1906 : Empress of Britain CAN Fegan Homes for Boys Diblet  
22986 ABRAMS, Frederick1893ENG,     May 1906 : Empress of Britain CAN Fegan Homes for Boys Diblet  
3105 ABRAMS, Reginald Edwin1896ENG, LND, Battersea Apr 1909 : Empress of Britain CAN Fegan Homes for Boys Diblet  
3110 ACE, David1869ENG,     Jun 1885 : Sarmatian CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
3138 ACKLAND, William1869ENG,     Jul 1884 : Parisian CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
5341 ADAMS, Frank J.1914ENG, KEN, Bridge Apr 1929 : Duchess of York CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
9111 ADDYMAN, Edward Harold1893ENG, KEN, Plumstead May 1906 : Empress of Britain CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
3619 AGAR, George1900ENG,     Apr 1909 : Empress of Britain CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
13148 AIMES, Harold1886ENG,     May 1896 : Scotsman CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
22828 AINGER, Charles1884ENG,     Jul 1893 : Oregon CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
8538 ALDEN, Thomas George1878ENG, LND, Holborn Jul 1893 : Oregon CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
22771 ALDERS, George1898ENG,     Apr 1911 : Empress of Britain CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
22772 ALDRIDGE, Charles J1908ENG,     Apr 1924 : Montreal CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
19952 ALEXANDER, James1883ENG,     Apr 1897 : Labrador CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
22774 ALLEN, Charles1911ENG,     Apr 1926 : Montrose CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
18435 ALLISON, Edward Albert James1895ENG, LND, Woolwich Apr 1910 : Empress of Ireland CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
18590 ALLISON, William George1897ENG, LND, Woolwich Apr 1910 : Empress of Ireland CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
23148 ANDREWS, George1898ENG,     Apr 1911 : Empress of Britain CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
19911 APLIN, Albert1887ENG,     Apr 1897 : Labrador CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
23091 APPLETON, Alfred1898ENG,     Apr 1911 : Empress of Britain CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
22684 ARCHER, Jesse1892ENG,     May 1906 : Empress of Britain CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
22896 ARNOLD, Edward1889ENG,     May 1906 : Empress of Britain CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
22989 ARNOLD, Robert1894ENG,     Apr 1908 : Lake Champlain CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
22885 ARNOLD, Thomas1890ENG,     May 1905 : Southwark CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
15131 ASHER, Thomas1882ENG,     Apr 1899 : Dominion CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
22215 ASHFORD, John1867ENG,     Apr 1887 : Circassian CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
19855 ASHMAN, Frederick1892ENG,     May 1907 : Empress of Britain CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
22339 ASHTON, Albert1889ENG,     Apr 1900 : Dominion CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
23123 ASTRIDGE, Arthur1897ENG,     Apr 1912 : Empress of Ireland CAN Fegan Homes for Boys  
IDNameDOBPlace of birthArrivals & ShipsDest.AgencyFamily links
Page: [1] 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 902 Entries        
Surnames starting with:   A  B  C  D  E  F  G  H  I  J  K  L  M  N  O  P  Q  R  S  T  U  V  W  X  Y  Z  30 Entries