He ran a crew of Chinese workers on the CPR in 1881 and laid the Kicking Horse portion of the track. He made no records of his experiences there or elsewhere, he was considered illiterate. I wish we could sit down with him today and ask him about his life - apparently he could remember anything.
After working on the rail he made his way to Alberta where he started as a cook and labourer at Bow Valley Ranch for W.R. Hull. If you or I could visit the Ranch then, it would have been Charlie coming out to greet us in long strides, setting us up in our rooms, and offering up breakfast.
Early on in Canada Charlie wore his hair long so that he could return to China. He had a wife and children there and returned a handful of times with a long absence until 1938. On this year, when he went for the last time to end his days in peace, he was not able to find his family - they had been scattered during unrest.
People say he died there of a broken heart and his soul came back to wander in Canada.
To me he is handsome, tall, remembering everything of his children's eyes, his days hammering steel in the mountains, the waves of the Pacific Ocean - right out in the middle of it, no one around but a lonely ship in the wind. He might sit in the light of a Prairie evening, listening to the grass in the Bow Valley moving, looking over East to see the faint outline of the Sweetgrass hills, a sacred place where so many other spirits roam.
(information collected by Georgeen Barrass from an interview with Mr. and Mrs. Hoschka, Calgary in Salt of the Earth by Heather Robertson, 1974)
4 comments:
His eyes!
Earlier this year I flew up along the rocky mountains towards Grande Prairie. One on side was the flat prairie, and on the other the mountains. Roads and settlements spread wide across the prairies until the foothills, which began scattering them a little (though seismic lines and oil sites demonstrated clear signs of Western infrastructure), and then the giant rocks brought it all to a standstill. I watched that vast expanse, and the longer I studied it the more it felt like I was witnessing the birth of Alberta in my mind. I saw it as a land that could stand up for itself, and that would inevitably leave a mark on all who touched it.
I'm not sure where I'm going with that. I wonder how Charlie Yuen felt about this place. Did he love it, hate it, tolerate it, or not really think about it.
Whenever I've met some old true blue Westerners who experienced the West before the Canadian infrastructure spilled out over EVERYTHING, I feel like they're holding onto some incommunicable secret. One old guy I know talks about dirt roads with only horses able to take people to Edmonton. He might've been telling me an "uphill both ways" tale, but there was a hint of sadness in his memory. There's always a sadness when we look at the past, isn't there? For me, at least, there is.
That was really interesting. You sited your source, but was this tribute in your own words? It was very well written.
While I read this, I got Gordon Lightfoot's "Canadian Railroad Trilogy" stuck in my head for some reason. If you haven't heard it before, you should check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0d7arwcIPBo&feature=related
Charlie Yuen looked like a very approachable, kind hearted man. Not the type I would normally associate with the cut-throat railway business back then.
Matt = part of what you're saying makes me feel sadness, right in my chest and head. I wonder too, how did Yuen feel about the place? It's hard to believe he thought much of it, given the hardships he would have faced. Still, there is something unique about the sky and the way the land bursts out of itself that draws a person in.
The past does seem to have a air of misfortune, or something pulling it a little to the dark. Maybe it's that we know they are all dead and gone, all wrongs set in stone, no longer available for righting.
David - I was surprised when I found out he'd worked on the railway as well. But the Chinese workers were all treated horribly, and died in huge numbers, so he probably wasn't one of the "bad" guys along the line. It seems to me that he would have been barely surviving, and getting a stagecoach ride out of the pass, West to the Bow Valley would have been a god send. It's hard to imagine him living in squalor, but it probably was the case.
I did write up this entry, using sources for the factual information. Thanks for the compliment on my style.
Thanks for the recommend. I'll have to give it a listen.
PH, and I forgot to include the sources of the photographs...
Portrait of Charlie Yuen - Glenbow Museum archives
Photograph of Kicking Horse Pass - Peel's Prairie Provinces image archives
Thank you for introducing me to a man that I had never crossed paths with before. A very fascinating tale and written in the most exquisite manner. Indeed, he is a striking and handsome man. He has the face of a man who would have been a friend and a safe one at that. I believe six feet tall for someone of Chinese origin, especially during that era, may be extraordinary. His independent spirit really shines through. I believe he really connected with the land and could really hear its moanings and groanings and voice and song. I wish the photo would have shown his long beautiful queue. The loss of his family absolutely likely broke his heart. I know, there is truly such a thing. I love the idea of a part of his spirit roaming the Sweetgrass Hills. They truly are a magical spiritual place and a fitting resting place for such an appealing soul.
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