I Wish to Remain Anonymous
Born in 1914 in Nova Scotia, one young girl grew up in a traditional home, expecting to fulfill the traditional role of wife and mother as an adult. Newly married, she moved to Toronto in 1936. Her first baby, a son, was born two years later. She lived a settled life.
When Canada declared war, her husband, who was not eligible to fight, instead served his country by working in a converted plant building warplanes. Life as a mother and homemaker did not satisfy his young wife. “I got nothing to do,” she said to her neighbour.
“You should get a part-time job,” her neighbour offered. “Why not go to work in a war plant?”
The young woman applied and worked for GECO from 1942 through 1943. She remembers the uniform and the strictness of the change room supervisor. “A girl at the door was checking you for pins,” she remembers. “We couldn’t have nothing.”
The work was easy — dangerous, but easy. “Ten of us were at a table with chairs,” she recalls. “A tray held discs that the powder went in. Then a machine came down and put the powder in. The powder was put in by pressing a lever with your foot on the floor,” she continues. “I was good at it. Many girls had a problem to get the powder in the hole of the disc. One girl was the leader,” the GECOite further explains. “She had a red armband on her arm.”
This young woman had a great time working at GECO. “We sang war songs all the time,” she says, recalling one popular war tune sang by Vera Lynn “(There’ll Be Bluebirds) Over the White Cliffs of Dover.” “The boss came in all the time and we didn’t even notice,” she recounts. “We just sang away. Then he’d count the tray to see what we’d done, then he’d take the filled trays and take them away. We had a lot of fun sitting at the table.”
She remembers the hazards of working with tetryl powder. “The powder made your skin yellow. One girl got pregnant and she had to go to the doctor. The doctor asked where she worked when he saw (her) yellow hands. She told him ‘GECO.’ He told her get out of there right away.”
As the war progressed, working shiftwork six days a week wore the young mother down. She missed her baby. “My son was being cared for by a baby-sitter.” Worse, when her shift at work ended, her work at home began. “When you were done, you had to go home.” Housework, laundry, and childcare, had to be managed. She left GECO and settled into her domestic duties once again. In November 1943, her daughter was born.
In retrospect, the long-retired GECOite is quite clear about her war work and its ultimate purpose. “We used gunpowder to kill the Germans.” Now a centenarian, she lives in Scarborough, Ontario.207
The Dynamic Duo
Philip Dawson Prior and Robert McLean Prior Hamilton’s Story
The Hamilton brothers’ story is steeped in strong Scot-Irish roots and Canadian pride. Their grandfather, Robert Hamilton, born in 1825 in Ireland, immigrated to Canada in 1853. He settled in Montreal, Quebec, where he met and married Margaret McLean. They had twelve children; ten who survived to adulthood. Robert secured a job as groundskeeper at the prestigious McGill University, where he worked for thirty-nine years.208
Robert’s eldest, Edward Henry Hamilton, or “Harry,” was born in 1861. Years later, at the age of twenty-three, he graduated with an applied science, chemical option degree from McGill.209 Harry moved to New Jersey to work as a metallurgical chemist, where he met his future wife, Maud Prior.210 They married and moved to Pueblo, Colorado, where Philip Dawson Prior Hamilton — “Phil” to family and friends — was born in 1898.211 Tragically, Maud, suffering from tuberculosis, died from infection thirteen days after giving birth.212 Four years later, Harry and his little boy, Phil, moved to Anaconda, Montana, where he married Maud’s sister, Ethel.213 A year later, in 1903, their son Robert McLean Prior Hamilton — “Bob” to those close to him — was born.214 Phil and Bob as young tykes couldn’t imagine the many adventures that lay ahead.
The Bloody Red Baron
Years passed, the boys grew up, and with the First World War underway, the family returned to Canada. In a budding family tradition, Phil enrolled at McGill University. With his first year complete, and wanting to do his part for Canada, Phil abandoned school to enlist in the Royal Flying Corps.215 At nineteen he was two years too young to be a pilot … so he lied.216 He trained at Downsview AFB in Toronto, soloed after twelve hours, got his wings, and was shipped overseas.217 Phil successfully flew several sorties over France before he, along with Allied squadrons, took on the infamous Red Baron, notorious for ditching his German flying formation to pick off any plane that dared cross the German lines to hunt him down. A dogfight ensued, resulting not only in Phil’s aircraft getting torn up in a hail of machine gun fire, but also in Phil receiving a serious gunshot wound to his elbow.218 Miraculously, he was able to coax the crippled plane across German lines into No-Man’s Land close to the English defence, where the plane hit land and ground looped, leaving Phil hanging upside-down in the cockpit. British troops, who emerged from their trenches to rescue Phil, did so at their own peril.219
Phil’s flying days were over. He was taken to a mobile hospital behind British lines where doctors intended to amputate his arm … without anesthetic. Phil refused. Doctors removed the bullet, set his arm, and sent him back to England as a casualty of war. He was discharged in 1918 as a member of the newly formed RAF.220 Upon his return to Canada, he headed back to McGill with his arm still in a sling. His arm recovered well; all but for the hole left by the bullet.
The Roaring Twenties
Bob, when he finished high school, moved to Montreal to join his older brother and pursue a degree at McGill. Phil graduated with a bachelor of science degree in 1922; Bob graduated with a bachelor of science degree in geology two years later.221
The early 1920s were good to the Hamilton brothers. Phil met his future wife Evelyn Banfill while at McGill. In August of 1923 they married and moved to Tacoma, Washington, where Phil worked with the American Smelting and Refinery Company as a chemist.222 Bob was hired as a field engineer in Ontario and Quebec by the General Engineering Company.223 In 1927, Bob moved to GECO’s headquarters situated in Salt Lake City, Utah.224
Phil and Evelyn started their family, bringing Mary and Philip into the fold. Unfortunately, when the Great Depression hit the United States at the end of the 1920s, Phil lost his job. Bob found him a position with GECO in Salt Lake City.225 Needing to move, Phil tried to sell his house. He tried to find tenants to rent. He even invited tenants to live there rent-free. All attempts failed. Defeated, he packed up, and, leaving the house and most of their possessions, moved to Salt Lake City with his young family.
The Thirties: A Prelude to War
By 1932, the Pre-Cambrian Shield in Canada presented an exciting new mining opportunity. Bob suggested to GECO executives that an office should open in Toronto, the mining centre of Canada. GECO founder, Mr. Gayford, long-time mentor to Bob and Phil, agreed and named Bob as president and Phil vice president of GECO’s new Canadian office set up at 100 Adelaide Street West.226
Bob Hamilton, still a single young man in 1933, easily made the move to Toronto, establishing GECO’s Canadian operations. But his life was about to change. He met native Torontonian Betty Parsons at a party and was utterly besotted. Meanwhile, Phil, Evelyn, and their little ones packed up and headed for Canada to start a new life in Toronto, where two more children were eventually born.
Bob and Betty were married in 1935.227 They built their first home in the Lawrence Avenue and Avenue Road area of Toronto. Their first child, John, arrived in 1937, followed by their daughter Susan in 1940.228
Although North America struggled to recover from the Great Depression, Bob and Phil were able to get the Canadian arm of GECO on its feet. However, when Canada went to war, the need for wartime facilities took centre stage. The Canadian government, recognizing GECO’s expertise in building temporary buildings, hired Bob and Phil to build several wartime projects, including the munitions plant at Scarboro.
Thus beg
an the story of Scarboro, and with it the opportunity, not only to plan and construct the massive wartime facility, but to oversee its day-to-day operations as well.
Like many of his employees, Phil Hamilton took the Second World War personally, especially because of his own war experience. His dear wife Evelyn’s brother was captured in the fall of Hong Kong on Christmas Day 1941.229 For many, many months he was presumed dead, but miraculously he survived and was repatriated in 1945.230 Despite a world at war, Bob and Phil enjoyed their days at Scarboro. They were approachable, compassionate, passionate, firm, and fair. They participated in employee events and grew their own “Victory Garden.” In an article, “A Ton of Books,” J.J. Carrick wrote, “R.M.P. Hamilton, President of GECO, seldom hears himself addressed as Mister. This demonstrates the friendly association existing in the great organization built by ‘Bob’ and his brother ‘Phil.’”231
Bob and Phil’s wives, Betty and Evelyn, did not engage in war work. As homemakers, they raised their little ones and supported their husbands by tending to domestic duties and fostering a nurturing home environment.
When the war ended, Scarboro closed. The Hamilton brothers invited their younger brother Edward to join GECO’s team and pursued what they knew best — mining. After investing their own money, and investigating a possible prospect in northern Ontario, Bob and Phil Hamilton backed three “weekend prospectors” living in Geraldton, Ontario, who discovered a massive mineral deposit of copper, silver, zinc, lead, and gold.232 They opened a profitable GECO mine in Manitouwadge, with a plan to mine 3,300 tons of ore per day.233 Ore reserves at the end of 1954 were estimated at almost fifteen million tons, with each ton containing 1.72 percent copper, 3.55 percent zinc, and 1.73 ounces of silver.234 In his book, Noranda, Leslie Roberts called GECO’s operation a first-rate mining undertaking.235 He suggested the burgeoning mine’s success was the product of Bob and Phil’s investment of exploration capital, mining giant Noranda’s investment, the rapid construction of Canadian National and Canadian Pacific rail lines, and the installation of hydro-electric power. “A new and great mine had been born,” wrote Roberts.236
The mine operated from 1957 to 1995, but unlike GECO’s other many endeavours, success didn’t come easily.237 Another gold mine company launched a lawsuit claiming they were entitled to a share in the success of the mine.238 Bob and Phil Hamilton eventually prevailed and won their case in October 1956.239
GECO’s mining and engineering success spread around the globe under Bob and Phil’s leadership. In 1955, they bought the rights to the U.S.-based counterpart, and expanded its scope into Ireland, Morocco, Scandinavia, Peru, and Chile.240 When the boys were ready to retire, GECO was sold to SNC (Surveyer Nenniger Chenevert), a Montreal engineering firm, later to join with Lavalin Inc. to become one of the world’s leading engineering and construction companies.241
In retirement, Bob Hamilton kept busy, taking up positions on several boards of directors, and, of course, enjoying cottage life.242
Philip Dawson Prior Hamilton died in 1982.243 Robert McLean Prior Hamilton died in 1996.244 In his eulogy to his father, John Hamilton said: “Can you remember being a high-school student in the early grades, wondering how the school would run after the exemplary leaders in sports and other activities graduated? I think that Dad is like one of those leaders, graduating from this school of life with us.”245
A Son’s Reflection
Philip Henry Banfill Hamilton
Philip Henry Banfill Hamilton, son to Philip Dawson Prior Hamilton, was born in Tacoma, Washington.246 He remembered the Depression and its devastating effects on his parents and their fledgling family. “We only took a fraction of our belongings,” Philip recalled, on having to leave the security and comfort of his home.247 “Our toys, furniture were abandoned. We truly were children of the Depression.”248 He moved with his family to Salt Lake City, Utah, where his Uncle Bob had been able to secure a job for his dad with General Engineering Company.249
Judy Patton Hamilton and Philip Henry Banfill Hamilton with Barbara Dickson, Lac des Seize Iles, Quebec, 2012. Courtesy of Barbara Dickson.
GECO served Phil well. By the mid-1930s, he was able to move his family back to Canada after GECO’s Canadian office opened.250
Philip joined his father and uncle at GECO in Scarboro while its operations wound down during the summer of 1945. He helped desensitize the shops by spraying a special solution on shop walls and floors, killing any explosive residue in the wood. He was paid fifty cents an hour and worked six days a week.
In keeping with a well-established family tradition, Philip pursued a degree in engineering from McGill University, graduating in 1954. On a skiing trip in the Canadian Laurentian Mountains north of Montreal, Philip met fellow McGill student Judy Patton, who graduated with a B.A. the same year as he did. They later married. After graduating, Philip found a job at Dominion Engineering Works in Lachine, Quebec, and went on to have a successful career.
Philip passed away on Remembrance Day 2013 at the age of eighty-five.251
John McLean Parsons Hamilton
Bob and Betty made two significant additions to their family in 1937: a brand new home and the safe arrival of their first child, John.252 Life was idyllic for the recently married couple, with John’s little sister Susan joining the Hamilton clan three years later. His mom, Betty, managed the home while his dad, president of GECO’s fledging Canadian office, worked tirelessly to establish GECO’s reputation as a paramount mining enterprise north of the border. John was only a toddler when Canada entered the Second World War and his father shifted his company’s focus to war work.
“I had mixed feelings about (my dad) growing up,” John says, reminiscing. “The job kept him away from home.”253 When the Second World War started, Bob was away more than usual. “I resented the war,” he says.254 “He was working at a fever pitch while at GECO. He worked long hours and brought work home.”255 Although Bob Hamilton provided well for his family, there wasn’t much time for parental bonding. John recognizes the unique challenges a world at war brought to business. “Women were suddenly in a man’s world; men suddenly were having to care for women in the workplace.”256 His dad and the team made the adjustment well. John fondly recalls accompanying his father to work. “I used to go with Dad to a lot of offices,” he says.257
Betty, doing her part for the war effort, took pride in her victory garden located in a vacant lot beside their home.258 There were three vacant lots, actually; lots of room, John says, to play hockey in wintertime. He enjoyed a privileged childhood, attending John Ross Robertson Public School, followed by UTS — a preparatory school leading to post-secondary education at the University of Toronto.
After high school, John earned an engineering degree from the University of Toronto. He did “the engineering thing” for his father, he says, then “went to England to study industrial psychology to try to get into the people side.”259 He obtained a master’s degree in guidance and counselling and an Ed.D. (Doctor of Education) in adult education from the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education (OISE). John explains his doctorate as “examining the careers of teachers who had lost their jobs due to declining enrollment; the psychology of teachers’ resilience to job loss.”260
He speaks of the close friendship between his mom, Betty, and Florence Ignatieff and Barbara Holmes. “They were great pals. Florence and her children, Paul and Mika, would come for a visit often.”261 So close were the trio that Betty became godmother to Barbara’s son, and the Ignatieff family often stayed in a cottage alongside the Hamiltons’ rental cottage at Lumina Resort in Muskoka, creating happy summer memories that the family still recall fondly decades later.
John married, had children of his own, and went on to have a successful teaching and counselling career at several academic institutions at the secondary and post-secondary level.
“My father and his devotion to his work,” John says, “whether it was GECO at Scarboro in those days, or the work he did in the m
ining industry — he was devoted to his standards he set for himself, and GECO was the medium in which he expressed those standards. I’m proud of the work my father did there.”262
John grew closer to his dad as the years passed. In the early 1980s, he asked his father to accompany him “to the office” — a nostalgic trip to Manitouwadge in northern Ontario.263 In his eulogy for his father, John said, “(Dad’s) going to be hard to replace. He was a model to learn from for many of us among his family and friends.”264
Today John lives with his wife Barbara in Elora, Ontario.
8
Safety First Because Safety Lasts
From GECO’s outset, their mandate was clear: “Scarboro was conceived, constructed, organized and operated for but one purpose — PRODUCTION — and to that end every department of The General Engineering Company (Canada) Limited made direct or indirect contribution.”1 Even the safety of its employees did not take precedence over production at a time when countless lives might be sacrificed for lack of dependable ammunition.2
Despite the Hamiltons’ declaration that production reigned supreme, Bob, Phil, and their cohorts consciously, or perhaps even more so unconsciously, made safety one of their highest priorities. The protection of GECO’s assets was an ever-present and solemn concern for GECO management.
Monday morning quarterbacks — critics who lament their game could have been won had someone made a different play — may have coined the expression “hindsight is 20/20.” While bulldozers and 2,500 strong Canadian men worked around the clock to build GECO, no one could predict the duration or outcome of a world at war, just as they had no way to foretell what ultimate cost Scarboro might pay through the loss of life or limb due to explosion. They did have control, however, over the decisions they made. From the earliest whispers of bringing a top-secret munitions plant to Scarboro, to the last fuse filled, from plant design to safe working practices, from minimizing static electricity to strongly reminding wayward or negligent employees, every decision made, not only during construction but throughout the life of the plant, was first and foremost tested against a consummate safety standard. There could be no room for regret.
Bomb Girls Page 14
