Dear Old Mr. Swartz

We always called Mr. and Mrs. Swartz Uncle Sam and Aunt Beckie. Mrs. Swartz was a distant relation of the McNeices. They came from New York State. Mr. Swartz was a veteran of the Civil War. He could not read or write, except to write his own name, but he could make money and count it too. He took to drinking very badly after his first wife, Beckie, died. She died of pneumonia. They lived about 16 or 18 miles north of Regina and about 4 or 5 miles west of Albert Street Road. Dr. Low from Regina attended her. He used to be so tired he would put the lines around him and go to sleep in the cutter and let the horse go on. There was no danger of the horse losing the trail because there was no other road to follow; only here and there an occasional short track turning in to some farm house, at that very few, not more perhaps than a dozen between Regina and Mr. Swartz' place. Poor old Aunt Beckie! In those days, they used to keep pneumonia patients packed with hot bran poultices; hot as could be borne. She died and was buried in the Tregarva cemetery.

After a year or so, he got a Miss Blanche to keep house for him, and did she spend his money! She was rather an attractive woman; big, fair and blue eyed. She cut quite a swath with the old codger. Had him fix up the house with carpets, drapes over all the doors, chenille drapes, new curtains and everything. Then he went east for the winter, to New York state, leaving Miss Blanche and a hired man to look after the farm; it was winter time and nothing to do but look after the stock and themselves. He returned in the spring, with a new wife; a very nice woman, a widow who had two children but who had left both children with friends in the east for a time. Mr. Swartz was quite a jolly bridegroom.''

Well, as time went on with the Swartz, he began drinking heavily, getting worse all the time. Mrs. Swartz became very ill, finally died of cancer in the Grey Nuns Hospital in Regina. They were living in Craven then, having sold the farm to one of the Russell boys. Mrs. Swartz' body was brought home to Craven for burial. She had been a good friend of mine, so we went down to stay or sit up with the remains, which was the custom in those days for friends to do. Mr. Swartz celebrated the occasion by getting drunk and proposing to every woman there; that's the truth. He even proposed to me, and when I told him I was married to George McNeice, he apologized and "proposed I'd forget he proposed to me because he wouldn't want to hurt George." Well, poor Mrs. Swartz was buried the next day in a blizzard. Interment was in the Tregarva cemetery, He kept on drinking heavily and one day while in Regina, he went to see Sadie and Bill, who were living in Regina (I believe this happened just before his second wife died), Bill got him good and drunk, which wasn't hard to do, and persuaded him to sign a check for three thousand dollars. Now, Mr. Swartz couldn't write, nothing but his name, and he was so shaky he couldn't hold a pen, so loving (?) Bill said to him, "I'll hold your hand, Dad, while you sign your name," which he did. Well, the old man drove home from Regina in the cold freezing winter weather and by the time he had a night's sleep, sobered up and remembered what he had done, got out his team and cutter, hiked off down to Lumsden and the bank and stopped payment on the check.

Well, shortly after his second wife died, he unearthed an old maid some where whom he married. She was quite a business head. She wouldn't marry him unless he first put ten thousand dollars in the bank to her credit, which he did. Then, when they were married (they were married in Regina, I believe, but am not sure), he took her to Regina and bought her a big car. The salesman gave her a few lessons and she drove it home the same afternoon. She was a good housekeeper and a very neat woman, but of course everyone thought it quite a joke he got married the third time. He was seventy-four. I do not know how old his third wife was when they were married. However, she did break up his drinking habits pretty well. She would go right in to the saloon at Craven and pull him out, take him home and put him to bed and get him sobered up.

When Mr. Swartz lived on the farm, he would have his clocks an hour and a half fast and thereby have his men out on the land at four o'clock in the morning. Up at three o'clock every morning in the summer time.

He eventually developed asthma and so did she, and finally he died. Then Sadie got everything. He had given this woman, his third wife, the ten thousand dollars, I believe, before they married, thereby keeping his bargain and I guess considered that her share of his possessions. Anyway, Sadie told my sister Ettie that she was "living life to its fullest now." This all I know about Sam Swartz and as the Scotsman would say "his ilk." So, may their souls rest in peace. I suppose their little house in Craven still sits there. Someone probably bought it by this time. There wasn't much pleasure in their life.

Go to Contents, Next or Index