When I tell you the name of this tune, some of you senior citizens will probably say to yourself, “yeah, it used to be popular when I was a kid.” Then you’ll hum a few bars of that old country piece to yourself. You won’t be able to help yourself. The tune is still catchy.

But before I tell you the tune’s name, you might be interested to know that it appears to have come from Ireland. In 1903 an Irishman living in Boston, Captain Francis O’Neill, collected and published nearly 2000 Irish tunes, most of which were traditional pieces that had been played in Ireland for generations.

Last winter I sat down at my keyboard to play every one of those tunes. It took me several months this time – I had already done it once before – and in the process I discovered something interesting. Some of the music we think of as New World, especially the square dance and fiddle music Americans claim as their own, is of Irish origin, or at least of Celtic origin, meaning in this case that the tunes came from Scotland or Ireland.

The proof of this is in the O’Neill collection. I found numerous pieces in the book that are played today as traditional American music. Among them is the tune I said I’d tell you about. It’s a fiddle standard that has been in the public domain since the 1920s and it was first popularized, with lyrics added, in the 1820s and early 1830s.

The tune is Turkey in the Straw. One can find it in the O’Neill collection as Turkeys in the Straw; note for note, it’s almost identical to the tune Americans claim as their own. One Dan Bryant added the lyrics to the tune and published it circa 1860. Since then, various songwriters have used the melody of Turkeys in the Straw with other lyrics; the song Old Zip Coon is one example.

A lot of so-called traditional American tunes, besides Turkey in the Straw, have Irish and Scottish roots. Look, for example, at how heavily the Bluegrass genre was influenced by Celtic people who immigrated to America. The creator of Bluegrass music, Bill Monroe, freely acknowledged the Celtic influence on his music. Ricky Skaggs, who undoubtedly is one of the best Bluegrass performers in the world today, also acknowledges the Celtic influence on his music. Listen closely to some of Skagg’s recent Bluegrass compositions and you’ll hear a strong hint of bagpipes.

In the days when the railway ran through the Valley, many of the smaller communities had stations and station agents. Some of the stations were in what appear to be areas of little importance to the railway; a station was located in Steam Mill for example, which is surprising since it was located a short distance from the Kentville and Centreville stations. However, Steam Mill had one or two flourishing industries in its heyday and this may explain why there was a railway station.

One of the compilations attempted by railway historian Leon Barron was the listing of the names and locations of the numerous railway stations in Kings County, along with the agents who served in them over the years.

We got many a chuckle over oddities in the station list. The railway insisted on adding “village” to many of their station signs, for example, and it apparently didn’t matter if the stop was officially a village or whatever.

In some cases, the railroad appeared to be correct about the names. For example, the Steam Mill station carried a prominent sign that said it was Steam Mill Village. Two sources, Eaton’s 1910 Kings County history and Charles Bruce Fergusson’s Place-Names and Places of Nova Scotia confirm that the correct name is Steam Mill Village. However, Eaton placed the name of the place in quotes, perhaps indicating he wasn’t sure it qualified for village status.

One of the railway oddities Leon Barron pointed out to me was the location of Port Williams Station. If you had happened to stop at the Port Williams Station when riding the rails away back when, you would have found yourself in Greenwich.

Of course, we all know the railway line never ran to Port Williams. It almost did, however. When the railway was being planned it was at first decided to run the line from Wolfville to Port Williams, and thence westerly towards Kentville possibly after crossing the Cornwallis River.

After all the literature – tickets, schedules, etc., – with Port Williams Station on it was printed in England and shipped here, someone apparently took a second look and decided it was more direct and less expensive to run the line straight to Kentville along the south bank of the Cornwallis River. However, it was too late to change the literature and the name Port Williams Station remained. A few half-hearted efforts were made later to properly designate the stop as Greenwich Station but nothing came of it.

In the history of Kings County, Arthur W. H. Eaton writes that early on, horse racing was popular here; in this connection, Eaton mentions the existence of the Kentville Trotting Park, located, he says, “near the present Aldershot Camp grounds.” In his history of Camp Aldershot, published 1983, Advertiser columnist Brent Fox refers to a “Kentville racetrack,” placing it on the grounds of Camp Aldershot, “just to the right as one passes the… gatehouse.”

I also have a clipping from The Advertiser, dated September 18, 1903, which refers to the existence of the Kentville Trotting Park and the military camp literally in the same breath. There’s little doubt the racetrack was located on the camp grounds since The Advertiser news story says it was demolished when the federal government expropriated the land. “The old fence of the Trotting Park was taken away,” to make way for the camp, The Advertiser announced. “The barns of the Trotting Park are utilized for stabling the officers’ horses.”

While it existed before Aldershot Camp opened, I’ve been unable to determine when the Trotting Park came into existence. Obviously, it was the centre of horse racing, at least in and around Kentville and possibly in the county as well in the late 19^th and early 20^th century. Apparently, it was also a place were various social functions took place beside the horse races. Historian Marie Bishop remembers stories her mother told her about race day at the Trotting Park when everyone would turn out in their Sunday best. From these stories, it appears that races and other functions were held on the camp grounds up until World War 1 when the camp was opened for training year around. Before this, the camp was only open for militia training a few months of the year.

The references by Eaton and Fox to the racetrack on camp grounds and the newspaper clipping placing it there are all I have on the Trotting Park. An 1895 sketch of Kentville and a later similar sketch in 1932 that looked back at Kentville in the mid 19^th century fail to mention the Trotting Park. I was surprised that there was no reference to the Park in Mabel Nichols Kentville history, but the search goes on.

In 1921 the number of Dominion Atlantic Railway employees working out of Kentville numbered 320. In 1921 the D. A. R. payroll for Kentville office alone was $400,000. This is an average yearly salary of $1,250.00 per employee, which wasn’t bad for the 1920s.

In 1921 the total number of D.A.R. employees in Nova Scotia was 800. In other words, some 40 percent of all D.A.R. employees in the province worked out of the Kentville rail yard. Kentville’s role as a railway hub and the contribution of the railway to the local economy is well illustrated by these statistics. In the 1920s nearly one-third of Kentville’s population worked for the railway or belonged to families employed by the D.A.R.

I found these statistics in a history of the D. A. R. by William W. Clarke. This probably was the first published history of the D.A.R., predating Marguerite Woodworth’s work on the same topic by over a decade. Woodworth’s work, the official history since it was commissioned by the D.A.R., was published in 1936. Clarke’s work contains no publication date, but its content indicates it was probably published no later than the early to mid-1920s.

About a decade ago I reviewed Clarke’s book in this column, but I knew little about the author. There’s a photograph of Clarke in the book and he tells us he was a longtime railway employee and worked as a conductor. Other than bits and pieces of information in local railroad lore, Mr. Clarke was a mystery man.

But not anymore. Purely by chance, when I was reading the scrapbook collection at the Kings County Museum, I came across a newspaper clipping announcing Mr. Clarke’s death in 1929. Clarke was born in Hantsport in 1865 and came from a railway family. When he was a boy his family moved to Annapolis Royal where, at age 16, he became a water boy for the Windsor and Annapolis Railway.

Mr. Clarke served for many years as a conductor on the D.A.R. and his obituary notes that he was one of Kentville’s best known and most respected citizens. The Advertiser’s news release announcing his death noted that he was “one of the outstanding figures in the railway history of Nova Scotia.” A dedicated railway man to the last, Clarke had insisted on staying at his post as a conductor while still suffering from a long bout of influenza. “It was this devotion to duty which probably resulted in his death as the influenza was followed by pneumonia which resulted fatally,” reads his obituary.

When I reviewed Mr. Clarke’s D.A.R. history here in 1999, I said that it was an invaluable contribution to railroad lore. I haven’t changed my mind. I’m surprised that his history isn’t better known. Unlike Marguerite Woodworth’s work, Clarke’s history contains railroad lore that but for his book would be lost. If you have a copy of Clarke’s history, cherish it. There aren’t that many copies in existence today.

It’s late in 1760 and several shiploads of settlers out of New England have reached Kings County to take up Acadian land and are busy settling in. In December of that year, a brigantine arrives. Sailing up the Canard River for about two miles, the brigantine docks and unloads troops and provisions for the settlers of Horton and Cornwallis.

Once its offloading is completed, the brig retraces its course back down the Canard River. Unfortunately, it’s low tide. The brig strikes a sandbar, topples over, is stranded, and eventually is demolished by the high tide.

James Martell records this event in his 1933 paper on early settlements around Minas Basin, citing government records as his source of information. While this may only have been a minor catastrophe, this could qualify as the first recorded shipwreck in Kings County waters. Unfortunately, Martell doesn’t give the name of the brigantine but maybe one of you history buffs can come up with it.

You could call it a shipwreck record of sorts and it’s mentioned by David Fairbank White in his book Bitter Ocean, the Battle of the Atlantic, 1939-1945. White writes that a Canadian steamer built in Pictou was the final merchant ship to die in the last battle of the Atlantic. This was the Avondale Park. She almost made it to harbour, White says, going down on the last day of the war.

Here’s another shipwreck, one also in Kings County, involving a ship with an unusual name. Under the heading “A Marine Mishap,” the late Leon Barron found this record in the April 26, 1889, issue of the Wolfville Acadian:

“The schnr. Sparkling Billow, Capt. L. R. Morris, left this port (Wolfville) on Tuesday evening in ballast for Cornwallis and missed her course (and) ran upon the flats on the north side of the Cornwallis River.”

As a result, the 25 ton Sparkling Billow “tipped over and split in two from stem to stern, and now lies a wreck just north of this village.” The news story concludes by informing readers that the ship “has been stripped of her sails and rigging and abandoned.”

It’s generally agreed that during the era of sailing ships, Canning and Kingsport were the busiest shipbuilding ports in Kings County. I believe it’s a consensus as well that Canning’s Ebenezar Bigelow and Kingsport’s Ebenezar Cox were the leading shipbuilders.

Bigelow and Cox were mainly active as shipbuilders in the 19^th century. However, long before these gentlemen and their families built some of the finest sailing ships in Canada, shipbuilders were active all around Kings County. Provincial archivists W. C. Milner wrote in 1930 that Kings County men were building ships in various ports as early as 1790. In his book on early settlers of Minas Basin, Milner said that “New England settlers” built a ship of some 40 tons at “Town Plot, Cornwallis River, about 1790.”

Milner says that this was the first ship known to be built in Kings County. If so, this would be the first of many sloops, schooners brigs, etc., to come off the ways in Kings County. From 1790 until early in the 20^th century Kings County tradesmen built hundreds, possibly even thousands of ships. Amazingly, it seems that besides the main shipbuilding centers of Canning and Kingsport, almost every port along the County’s Minas Basin and Fundy shoreline had facilities for shipbuilding.

The evidence to confirm this is found in lists of ships built in Kings County compiled by G. R. McKean in 1948. McKean accessed several sources for his compilation among them records in the Public Archives in Ottawa, the research work done by Thomas R. DeWolfe in 1866, and a compilation published in 1929 by F. W. Wallace.

One of the compilations by McKean, a list of roughly 300 smaller ships less than 500 tons, tells us “Cornwallis” was the main shipbuilding area. McKean says the reference to Cornwallis is confusing since “in earlier days (it) included all the territory later divided into Canning, Kingsport, Blomidon and Canada Creek.

What is apparent from McKean’s work is that from the very first, Planter communities on the Minas and Fundy Shore (north of the Cornwallis River) was heavily involved in shipbuilding. Scot’s Bay, Halls Harbour, the Blomidon and Pereau shore up to Kingsport, along the Habitant River – you name the port and there were shipbuilders. The Horton area, which took in Wolfville, turned out numerous ships as well. Most of the shipbuilding activity in Cornwallis and Horton persisted late into the 19^th century.

Bernice and Ron Ward have been running the general store in Centreville for nearly a quarter century, but this is only a fraction of the time the business has been open.

In fact, the general store, now in its 157^th year in Centreville, may hold the record in Kings County for consecutive years of operation. Reuben Thorpe opened the store in 1850. Some of the day books in which Thorpe kept customer accounts still are in the store, and the interior still has the original tin ceiling and other accoutrements.

The general store was operated by the Thorpe family for 90 years (until 1940) with Reuben’s son Will taking over after him. Like Parker’s store in nearby Hall’s Harbour, this could also be a record of sorts for family operation of a local business. Earl Farnsworth, the next owner, took over the store from Will Thorpe. Farnsworth purchased the store circa 1940; he operated it until Clair Spinney, who married into the Farnsworth family, took over the business in 1968. When Ron and Bernice Ward bought the store from Spinney in 1983, they were only the fourth family to own the business since it first opened.

Originally the old store was three times larger than it is today and included attached stables for horses. Harold Porter, who recently compiled a history of Centreville, says it was a combination of hardware store, clothing store, drug store, grocery and what have you – “a kind of Walmart of its day.”

Centreville was literally a one store village when the general store opened. Harold Porter believes the Acadians farmed land in the area. He writes that Centreville’s Saxon Street was originally a section of the “Old French Road, and was part of an Acadian road that passed along the length of the Annapolis Valley.”

The roads connecting with this Acadian road, which run in from various directions and converge in Centreville, may explain why Reuben Thorpe selected the site for his store. Those roads converging in Centreville, and arrival of the railway line in 1890, may also explain why in its heyday the village held blacksmith shops, a cooperage, a sawmill, tannery, apple warehouses, a tavern, and according to village lore, a brick factory.

“It was by sea that the founders of Wolfville came, and it was to the sea that for many years they looked for links with the outside world,” writes the editor of Mud Creek, the Wolfville history.

Wolfville was still looking to the sea when Charles Scott Cook was born there in the early 1880s. At the time Wolfville was one of the busiest ports along the Minas Basin. The editor of Mud Creek mentions a “shipping boom” in Wolfville in 1885, a boom that lasted well into the next century. Ships sailing out of the tiny seaport provided those links with the outside world, running to points along Minas Basin, the Bay of Fundy, and to foreign shores. Thus it isn’t surprising that like many young men of his time, Charles Scott Cook was drawn to the sea.

Documents possessed by Cook’s family indicate that he was sailing out of Wolfville as early as 1904. Those documents and various souvenirs collected by Cook on his journeys tell us he had sailed on schooners out of Wolfville as far away as Germany. There were other ports of call as well. His son Roscoe of Port Williams remembers his father talking about voyages on merchant ships to Jamaica, Barbados and Bermuda and his remark that on those voyages there “wasn’t much to eat but lots of rum and molasses.”

Cook served as first and second mate on at least four schooners out of Wolfville and also out of Canning. According to the documents Roscoe has, Cook’s last voyage took place in 1908. Cook lost an arm in a lumber mill accident in Wolfville, and this terminated his career as a seafarer.

I had the opportunity to look at Mr. Cook’s “sea chest” (actually an old tobacco tin) in which he had kept various documents attesting to his life as a seafarer. Among the documents were several “certificates of discharge.” The certificates named the schooners Cook sailed on and rated his conduct while at sea. I learned that the certificates were of vital importance if one pursued a seagoing career in the era of sailing ships.

Maritime Museum of the Atlantic curator Dan Conlin tells me the certificates were required by British and Canadian law for sailors on any vessel above a certain size. “Mariners were hired on a voyage by voyage basis and the discharge certificate proved he had completed his contract. Along with a little passport sized booklet called the ‘Discharge Book,’ they made up the sailor’s resume and would be scrutinized by all future employees.”

Conlin added that failure to obtain a certificate of discharge was an offense under maritime law. “Quitting without getting your discharge certificate was desertion, breaking a contract and a fairly serious offense. The discharge papers also regulated performance. They were usually stamped with VG for very good if you did your job. Anything less would make it hard to find work on another ship. Captains had to submit reports on all discharge papers they signed to the government.”

Charles Scott Cook’s discharge papers indicate he was a capable seaman and must have enjoyed sailing to foreign ports from Wolfville. Under “conduct” and “character,” his papers are marked with a large, bold VG.

Let’s say you’ve decided to study the history of Kings County and wanted to be thorough about it. Where would you start?

Obviously there’s no better place than the bible of local historians, Arthur Wentworth Hamilton Eaton’s 898-page history of Kings County. Other than what is in my view a flaw, that the Acadians are allotted only two chapters and the Mi’kmaq one, this is a scholarly review of Kings County through several centuries. It literally is “the bible” when it comes to county history.

After a thorough study of Eaton, what then? Well, logically, one should then read the various histories of Kings County communities. We have a plethora (I’ve been wanting to use this word for quite a while) of community histories, all well researched and well written. Histories have been written on most of the towns, villages and smaller communities of the county, and in some cases, they carry on past the point where Eaton stopped. There are more to come, by the way; a couple of community histories currently are being written.

If you want to be thoroughly versed in Kings County history, however, you should be aware of a curious fact: There are at least three books that from their titles appear to contain nothing about Kings County history; yet surprisingly, they do, and it’s interesting history, the sort of stuff you won’t find in stuffy, pedantic works.

What would you expect to learn about Kings County in Henry Youle Hind’s An Early History of Windsor, for example? Especially when its subtitle is Sketch of the Old Parish Burying Ground of Windsor.

Surprisingly, this book, which was first published in 1889, has details you won’t find in other history books about Kings County and the Acadians during and immediately after the expulsion. Hind’s book has been reprinted and is available from the West Hants Historical Society for $10.

L. S. Loomer’s history of Windsor, published 1996, provides an excellent overview of the Acadians in Kings County around the expulsion period. If you’re a Kings County history buff, this book is a must. This is primarily a book about Windsor but there are numerous references to the Acadian situation in Kings County. Loomer’s well-researched book is also available from the West Hants Historical Society.

Finally, for a book about the apple industry in Kings County and the pioneering efforts to generate electricity from Kings County waters, I recommend Harry Bruce’s superb work, The Story of R. A. Jodrey. While this is a biography, Bruce was unable to write it without including a detailed account of apple exporting, early farming and the establishment of various longstanding Valley and Kings County business firms and industries, Minas Basin Pulp and Power among them. We get tantalizing glimpses as well of men who are legendary in Kings County, such as W.H. Chase and George Chase.

You may have to search to finds this book, which was published in 1979, but it will be worth the effort. This is a book anyone interested in Kings County history should read.

Based on the travel books Ryerson Press published on mainland Nova Scotia in the early 1930s and 1940s, one can assume the apple blossom festival was making the province popular as a tourist destination.

A few years after the festival started, Ryerson released two travel books by Clara Dennis, Down in Nova Scotia, and More About Nova Scotia. These were published in 1934 and 1937, along with a later travel book about Cape Breton by Dennis (Cape Breton Over) for which I have no publication date.

In 1947, Ryerson released another travelogue on Bluenose country, To Nova Scotia by T. Morris Longstreth. This is similar in format to the Dennis travelogues in that the author visits many of the towns and villages of the province and discusses their history. It isn’t as detailed as the Dennis books and not as well written, but I found it interesting for several reasons.

First of all, for several years I’ve been searching for information about a great fire that destroyed vast tracts of forest in this region around the time of the Acadian occupation of the Valley. I first found mention of the fire in a book by Gwendolyn Vaughan Shand. In Historic Hants County Shand wrote that in 1710 the “whole forest area between the Avon and the Gaspereau River in Kings County was leveled” by a great fire. I’ve exhausted all potential sources looking for information on the fire, including historical works on the Acadian period, but have found nothing.

Longstreth also mentions a fire that destroyed vast tracts of forest in this region. However, it may not be the fire Shand refers to since Longstreth says it didn’t affect the Valley and occurred before the Acadian period. In the chapter on Kentville he writes: “Scientists say a gigantic fire once burned Nova Scotia bare …. but the (Annapolis) Valley escaped this prehistoric conflagration.”

So was there a great fire, or possibly two great conflagrations? One that devastated much of the province but spared the Valley, and another that wiped out the woodlands of Kings and Hants County. All I can say is that the research goes on.

Also interesting is Longstreth’s irreverent, disrespectful treatment of Kentville and its merchant class. First he compliments Kentville, a “town whose chief delight (in the 1930s) is to manufacture mill machinery, gas engines, woodenware, evaporated apples, and custom-made boots.”

However, Longstreth concludes his observations on the Kentville of his time with a few little digs: “Life in Kentville is the sleek life.” It is a town where “prosperity seeps from the earth and the few goblins seen on Hallowe’en all have double chins. To be a middleman in Kentville is to know the apotheosis of a quiet fatness.”