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I enjoyed reading Sudbury, Rail Town to Regional Capital (Eds C.M. Walker and Ashley Thomson, 1993), a book which spans one hundred years: from the “muddy construction camp for the surveyors and labourers building the Canadian Pacific Railway in 1883” to Sudbury’s rejuvenation in the 1980s having surpassed its reputation as a one-industry town. Matt Bray writes of the tense climate that could be felt in this mining town following WWI in the chapter entitled “1910 to 1920”: he describes events leading to a frayed relationship between the normally cooperative English and French communities. The xenophobic undercurrents that prevailed in the postwar era were probably at the root of a
“1919 [town] council decision to reinforce the British image of Sudbury by renaming a number of streets, especially those with German and other “unpronounceable” – mostly French – names; du Caillaud Street, for example, was changed to Howey Drive.” (90)
The name “du Caillaud” refered to Frédéric Romanet du Caillaud, a native of Limoges in France. A mining prospector who had made a series of visits to Sudbury in the early 1900s, Caillaud commissioned the construction of the Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes after his wife recovered from an illness in 1907. This memorial shrine is set on a rocky hill behind Van Horne Street with a 20-foot grotto nestling a 6 foot bronze statue of the Virgin Mary engraved with the inscription Regina Gallorum (Queen of the Gauls). This hundred-year-old shrine is still the site of pilgrimages and Marian gatherings today.
The practice of renaming streets often harbours a political bent. The rue de Caullaud/Howie Drive shift spoke of the antagonism that existed at that time between Sudbury’s two largest ethnic communities, the French Roman Catholics and the Protestant English elite.
I wonder if francophones still referred to the street between themselves as “du Caillaud” for a period of time after the official renaming? It was my interest in these often hidden stories that lie behind name changes — the palimpsest of placenames on maps through time — that led me to the creation of the Tongue Rug project. I was curious about how geographical markers can act as repositories for memory, carrying varied meanings and associations for different people.
I found one of the old paper forms that I had distributed during my earlier cycling trips:
With the Tongue Rug project, I researched topographical markers that bear my interwoven family names. I chose bodies of water as the main areas to explore because their interconnected, meandering structures can resemble family relationships. Like a lake forming from an undulating river, like a river running dry and cutting off from another body of water, family ties are never static and are constantly evolving.
I was also drawn to water because of the occasional discrepancy between official names of lakes on maps and the names given to these same lakes by local residents. Just like the name of a landmark can reflect local history the chronology of changes to this name can tell an even bigger story…
I did uncover a few alternate placenames: Penage, Bear, Skimenac and Hüaonjacaronté... A work-in-progress with the Twitter Tongues.
Panache – Penage (PA-1)
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The inspiration for this project had been the co-existing names for the same lake in Whitefish, Ontario: Panache and its anglicized equivalent Penage. I wondered if there was also an Ojibwa name for this body of water since a significant portion of Panache Lake lies within Atikameksheng Anishnawbek (Whitefish Lake First Nations).
An interesting aside: Atikameksheng Anishnawbek’s proposal entitled “G’Wiigwaamnaaniin”, which means “Our Homes”, was chosen to participate in the Holme’s Group pilot project “Building Homes and Building Skills” with project planning and development set to start this month.
Bauer – Bear (A-1)
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I have yet to document Bauer's Lake in Minburn County, Alberta, but it is most likely named after a family in the area, as there are a few businesses nearby with the same name such as Bauer Auto & Tire LTD. in Mannville. This body of water is also known as Bear Lake, either because there is a significant bear population in the area, or perhaps, because it is a phonetic equivalent to the German word “bauer” which means farmer.
Angers – Skimenac (A-11)
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Protected Planet touts itself as the new face of the World Database on Protected Areas (WDPA). I was impressed with the interactive map and its database — its capacity for collaborative work. I found Angers River in their database because this salmon river had been designated as a protected area by the Québec Ministry of the Environment. While visiting the Cascapédia River Museum during my cycling trip in the Gaspésie, I had discovered that this waypoint was also referred to as “Anglers River” by sport fishermen and “Skimenac River” by the Mi’kmaq community. A provincial salmon fishing brochure also identifies Angers and Skimenac as the same body of water at the confluence of the Cascapédia River.
I wondered though at the spelling of “Skimenac” as I came across a Point Skimenack in New Brunswick (Eskumiinaak in Mi’kmaq) in the book List of Micmac Names of Places, Rivers, Etc., in Nova Scotia compiled by Elizabeth Frame, of Shubenacadie, for the library of the Massachusetts Historical Society in 1892.
Is “Skimenac” or “Skimenack” then the anglicized versions of the Mi’kmaq word “Eskumunaak”? If so, does “Eskimunaak” bring up the Inuit practice of eating raw fish, keeping in mind that this is a salmon river?
In A First Reading Book in the Micmac Language by Silas T. Rand (1875), I also found mention of “Mount Scumunaak” (Eskumunaak). If “Scumunaak” is a version of “Eskumunaak”, then perhaps Skimenac river means “a watching place”? The French spelling (Pointe Escuminiac) would seem to follow this definition: a lookout point.
Lac-à-l'Épaule – Hüaonjacaronté (LE-4/LA-5)
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I had documented Lac-à-l'Épaule for its historical significance in terms of Québec's Révolution tranquille and because my two other waypoints were not accessible by bike: Legault Lake and Lapalme Lake in the Lac-Jacques-Cartier, Côte de Beaupré area. According to La toponymie des Hurons-Wendats report put out by the Commission de toponymie du Québec in 2001, the name “Hüaonjacaronté” was used to represent Lac-à-l'Épaule and the whole hydrographic basin surrounding it. This report underlines the importance of First Nations names in Quebec’s history as evidenced in placenames like Canada, Québec, Saguenay, Abitibi, Chicoutimi and Kamouraska which all date from the 17th and 18th centuries. Though the spelling may differ from the original names, many place names in Quebec (and Canada) still retain their Aboriginal roots.
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A second hand bookstore find (Illustrated Dictionary of Place Names: United States and Canada, ed. Kelsie B.Harder, 1976), shed light on the meaning of some of these placenames. “Kamouraska” stems from Algonquian and refers to the “rushes on the side of the river.” (266) Also from Algonquian is “Québec” (“where the river narrows”) referring to the geolographic location of Quebec City. The name Quebecq first appeared on Guillaume Levasseur’s map of 1601. (445) “Rimouski” is a Mi’kmaq term that probably means “where there are moose” (459) and Temiscamingue is the French spelling of the Algonquian “Timiskaming” which means “at the place of deep dry river.” (548)
As of yet, I have not found the meaning of the word “Hüaonjacaronté” which first appeared on a map drawn on a piece of birch bark by Chief Nicolas Vincent Tsawenhohi in 1829. The immense hunting territories of the Huron-Wendat people were drawn from memory and would later become known as the Vincent plan.
I'm hoping I may be able to get at some answers by writing a series of tweets with appropriate #hashtags. I will need to do some trend research beforehand.
