ANTIGONISH — It’s 1944. You live in a house that’s drafty and damp. You use an outhouse, even on the coldest of nights. One of your children has just died – William. One year old. Pneumonia.
But your other children run free, playing in the tall grass with the Jones kids from next door. Some summer weekends, you pile into cars to visit friends and relatives in Tracadie.
And then a man comes calling, accompanied by a kid who’s just graduated from the university that’s right in your backyard. You don’t know it yet, but that kid is Allan J. MacEachen, and he’s going to be the deputy prime minister one day.
These two men want to talk to you and your neighbours about a new idea: a housing co-operative. Some poor mining families just built a new neighbourhood in Cape Breton and the men think you and your friends could build one, too. They organize a meeting at the St. Ninian Street school – but you don’t go. You find it hard to believe that these two men want to help you. “Why?” you think. “Why now?” After all, you – and all the others who look like you – have been living on the margins for as long as you can remember. Why would they care now?
Despite the failed meeting, the men keep coming. They help the kids with their letters and teach them how to tell time. But eventually, the visits stop.
It’s 1960. Your children – all nine of them – are either grown or nearly there. A woman from the Extension Department of StFX comes around. Her name is Marie Milner, and she’s persistent. She gathers 14 families from your neighbourhood – the end of West Street where the new highway is going to go – and from East Main, near the train station.
You form a study club and meet every two weeks to learn about co-operative housing, home construction, and how to obtain loans from the Central Mortgage and Housing Corporation. Every meeting, each member contributes a dollar to the fund, and you hold card plays and a lottery to raise a further $500. You start to dream about a house, a safe place for your children and grandchildren to grow together.
The future is bright.
A fragile beginning
This is the story of Jim Phee – but really, it’s the story of Antigonish, of our shame. It’s the story of fear and, ultimately, the story of triumph.
Jim married Mary Agnes Medley in St. Ninian’s Cathedral in October 1935. Jim’s father, Thomas, was born in Tracadie in 1865 – the same year the American Civil War ended. Mary Agnes could trace her roots back to Andrew Izzard, who’d been enslaved by Ralph Izard on The Elms, a rice plantation in rural South Carolina. He escaped in 1778 and crossed the British lines to join the nearly 100,000 other Black Loyalists who risked their lives for the prospect of a free life.
After the Revolutionary War ended in 1783, more than 3,000 of those Black Loyalists came to Nova Scotia. Andrew Izzard was one of them, eventually making his way to Guysborough with visions of the promised land – literally. The British had promised the head of each Black Loyalist family 100 acres of Nova Scotia farmland, but that never came to pass. The new settlers faced intense racism and were driven away from the coastline and into the inhospitable and uncleared hinterland.
In the 19th century, both Jim and Mary Agnes’ families had gone further in search of a better life. They came to Antigonish and struck settlements at the edges of town. Later, Jim’s parents raised 10 children on a $390 annual salary; Thomas as a teamster and Annie as a washerwoman. On the 1931 census, their house – on “Lochaber Street” – was valued at $500; other homes on streets such as Pleasant and Hawthorne were recorded as being worth $5,000 or even $8,000.
Roots and exclusion
So let’s go back to 1960. Jim and Mary Agnes are still living on Lochaber Street – really, West Street. Marie Milner shows up and her excitement is infectious, but some families remain skeptical that the housing project will ever get off the ground. By the end of 1961, their group of 14 families was down to nine, and then in early 1962, eight.
The land upon which Jim and Mary Agnes’ house sits belongs to the university, but in support of a new co-operative housing development, StFX offers another piece of property, between West and Fairview Streets (now the brick building at 42 West). The Black families were pleased with this central location and their project gathered steam – until other residents of Antigonish caught wind of the endeavour and created a petition in opposition to it.
In 1978, Joan E. MacDonald (later, Jana MacDonald) wrote her StFX senior thesis about what came to be known as the Martin Housing Development, for which she interviewed more than 30 people who’d been involved with the project. None of the opponents, however, agreed to be interviewed, even 15 years later.
The opponents’ petition claimed that having Black families build within “their” neighbourhood would lower their property values. The university then rescinded its offer of the plot of land on West Street, indicating that the site was needed for a residence for retired priests – but when the Black families found out about the petition, they were, understandably, very upset.
With support from the staff of the housing corporation, the study club looked at alternate sites: one where MacPherson Elementary was eventually built was deemed too far away from town and thus purposely segregated; and one near there was deemed too swampy.
By June of 1962, Jim Phee was the president of the housing co-operative. He, Milner and Mr. Lewis from the housing corporation reviewed a new possibility, a plot owned by Vincent J. MacDonald (V.J.) near the train station. However, due to the area’s propensity for flooding, the housing corporation wouldn’t approve loans for that site.
Dejected, three more families dropped out.
Setbacks and resistance
V.J. MacDonald, a town councillor, offered another piece of land he owned, a lane off the Post Road. But there were already (white) families living there, and they, too, protested the development. Finally, on May 27, 1963, Milner and Lewis toured another of MacDonald’s parcels of land, near Crockett Road.
This time, the housing corporation accepted the site, provided the town would extend sewer facilities to it and extend the town boundaries to include it.
Things were looking up. StFX Extension field workers, Alex A. MacDonald and Archie MacLean joined the team supporting the development, and in July of 1963, five families received a certificate of incorporation for their co-operative, under the Companies Act.
Those five families weren’t just any families, though. One family unit was, of course, Jim and Mary Agnes Phee, who had several minor children still at home. Another was their daughter, Mary Anne, who was married to Sam Gero. A third was their daughter, Ida, who was married to Junior Ash. The fourth was that of Jim and Mary Agnes’ son, Johnnie Phee, who was married to Louise Ash. (The fifth was the Pelly family, later replaced by the DeWolf(e) family, who were not Black.)
On June 15, 1963, amidst all of this action, sisters Mary Anne and Ida had married Sam and Junior in a dual wedding at St. Ninian’s, followed by a big party. The development – now being called Martin Street, chosen by Mary Agnes in homage to St. Martin de Porres, the patron saint of Black people and racial harmony – was looking increasingly like a family affair.
The next month, the title of the land was sold to the families for $500/plot. In an enormous gesture of solidarity, those titles were paid by five private citizens of Antigonish: Creighton Jewkes (of the 5c to $1); Bernard Keating (a geology professor at StFX); Edward Monahan (a philosophy professor at StFX); Noel Murphy (a doctor who lived on James Street); and Stan Doniegiewicz (a Polish anesthesiologist).
Solidarity steps in
But in the early autumn of 1963, a meeting of the housing corporation and the town planning board about the Martin Housing Development was reported on by The Casket, which once again set off a flurry of protest, this time by residents of James Street and Highland Drive. The opponents now claimed that the Town should develop some other site instead of the Martin Street one; that the new site would interfere with the water pressure on Highland Drive; and that Martin Street constituted a natural entrance to the town and shouldn’t be blocked.
Quickly, the Martin Housing Development became a political issue, as the town readied itself for an election. One slate, including a mayoral candidate, was in favour of the Martin project; another slate stood in opposition.
The slate in favour, including mayoral candidate Donald J. MacNeil, won. After another presentation by the opposing neighbours, MacNeil stated, weightily, that “there must be some reason why this piece of land [is] receiving so much attention,” leaving the whiff of racism hanging in the air.
The county health supervisor granted a temporary building permit on the condition that the town annex the property and install sewer facilities within a year of the construction of the houses. The Martin Housing Development’s supporters leaned heavily on the council; Father A.A. MacDonald threatened to take the story to the media if council didn’t approve the annexation. The motion passed – narrowly.
The councillors who voted in favour of the annexation and thus the Martin Housing Development (Mayor MacNeil plus Dr. Dunphy, V.J. MacDonald, and John H. MacDougall) faced significant social castigation after the vote.
Breaking the deadlock
More feet-dragging ensued. The town balked at the cost of installing piped sewer and water, but Father A.A. MacDonald once again found a solution palatable to all parties. A housing plan was selected – the “Type C Standard Indian Reserve House” plan (if you can even believe it was ever called such a thing). On Jan. 10, 1965, excavation began.
A building contractor would do the exterior work, but the families were responsible for completing the interiors. Archie MacLean and A.A. MacDonald rolled up their sleeves and helped the Phee, Ash, Gero, and now, DeWolf families do the job.
Again, there were delays. The town continued to hold up the installation of sewer and water. The Department of Highways dilly-dallied about improving the access road.
Finally, in the fall of 1965, a temporary sewer tank was installed and three families moved in on November 22.
The sewer and water pipes were finally put in that December, more than 25 years after Allan J. MacEachen had first knocked on the doors of Black families on West Street.
When Sam Gero died this past December, he was vaunted in Antigonish for his athleticism, his work ethic, and his commitment to community. He’d been, after all, the first Black member of the town council, serving in 1971 and 1972. Antigonishers collectively mourned a great man.
But this was the same man who local residents had actively worked to keep out of their neighbourhoods, 60 short years ago. This was a man who raised four children in a town that had tried, desperately, to keep them on the fringes, out of sight.
Those houses built in 1965?
They’re still owned by the same families who fought so hard to put them up. And in all the years it took to repay the loan to the Central Mortgage and Housing Corporation, no family missed a single payment. Ever.
