Place of the Woods photographs by Garry Ross, 1988. Studio photographs by Donna Hagerman, 1991.
George de Pape: Place of the Woods
Tony Wilson
George de Pape, aka Sammy Sammy, was born in Nanoose Bay B.C. on April 24th, 1908. Nanoose Bay is a small village just south of Parksville on Vancouver Island. His father Clement and mother Marie had both emigrated from Belgium. George, the youngest of four, had a brother Gaston and sisters Rose Marie and Annie. The family were homesteaders and moved frequently. In quick succession they lived in Skidegate and Prince Rupert, B.C and Scappoose, Oregon before putting down roots on Denman Island B.C. It was here that George received his only formal education in a one-room schoolhouse where he completed grade five. The family survived by hunting, farming and clearing land and selling the trees to be milled. Like most pioneer families the de Papes were very poor. George didn’t own a pair of shoes until he started school.
After several years on Denman Island the family moved near Pigeon Lake, Alberta in 1921. Clement then uprooted the family to Hornby Island in 1925 but George stayed behind and worked as a ranch hand. It was here while out looking for stray cattle that he came upon a beautiful redhead named Anastasia. After a blissful night together he received a letter from his father demanding that he come to Hornby immediately to help on the family farm. George was heartbroken and made plans to meet up in a year, but alas he would never see Anastasia again. This meeting became part of Sammy’s lore and he spent many nights in his later years recounting that story in great detail. It became the centrepiece of the ghost show that he presented at his place on Hornby in the ‘60s and ‘70s. It also accounted for his attraction to redheads for the rest of his life.
George worked with his brother Gaston clearing land on Hornby and Buckley Bay, then headed back to Alberta to meet up with his beloved Anastasia. Having no luck in finding her, he travelled the rails and worked odd jobs and stayed with an uncle. It was during this time that he met his future wife Tatiana, who was born in Harbin, China. They were married November 23rd, 1929, at Tatiana’s family home near Lacombe, Alberta.
The newlyweds then moved to Hornby Island, first living on George’s father’s property before finding a place of their own. George and Tatiana had 16 children together—daughters June, Loretta, Marie, Annette, Carolyn and Arlene and sons George, Ray, Larry, Danny, Boris, Bobby Andre, Jerry and Billy. One child died at birth in Haney B.C. and was never given a name. June died shortly after birth and George contracted polio and spent his life in a hospital. Ray, Larry and Danny died in logging accidents.
George and Tatiana raised the family for the most part on Hornby Island. George supported the family by logging and milling the wood and selling the lumber. Once a week the C.P. ferry would arrive at Ford’s Cove on the island and bring supplies and buy lumber and vegetables to sell in Vancouver. Raw logs were boomed and shipped to various locations. The boat was really the lifeline for Hornby Islanders as there were no other ferries and people rowed to Comox as the other option for shopping. Tatiana was left to watch the children and deal with the livestock, which consisted of horses, cows, ducks and chickens. Once the ‘40s hit, the boys were getting older and were put to work on the family logging camp and sawmill. As they got older George gave them their own ten-acre pieces and the boys all had their own farms.
In the early ‘50s George and what family were still living at home moved to Ruskin B.C., about 15 miles downriver from Mission. The reasoning was partly to have closer access to their son George who was in Vancouver General Hospital. George Jr. lay paralyzed for 24 years before dying at age 46. After living in the Cariboo country for a few years, the family moved back to Hornby in 1958. Shortly after they relocated here, Tatiana announced she was leaving to go live in Vancouver. George was shocked and never really got over this event. He had a nervous breakdown, sold his belongings and went on a long bender. Eventually he got his shit together, went back to Hornby and started up again, fixing up his house and getting a sawmill going.
At this point in time George’s artistic side started showing itself. He started writing poetry on plywood and made sculptures for his ghost show. The show was done with ropes and a tape recorder with the stories pre-recorded and ghosts being lowered from the trees. There would always be music after the shows, with George playing the accordion with any musicians who happened to be living on the property. George was not the most popular person on the island and he claimed to me he was taken to a nuthouse as he called it, but after a couple weeks they sent him home. Shortly after this in 1977 his house burnt down. Many in the community showed up and helped build him another one.
It was one year later, in the Fall of 1978, that I arrived at Place of the Woods as Sammy’s property was called. I went to visit a friend I grew up with in Ottawa, who lived in one of the three rental cabins. I passed by the broken windmill and past the chimney, the only thing left from his house that had burnt down a few years previously. I made my way to his present house and inquired about my friend and was given instructions and headed off in that direction. Sammy called out to me, “If you stay the night it will cost you a dollar.” I said I didn’t know what I would be doing but would happily pay him in the morning.
That evening as four of us sat around chewing the fat, all of a sudden the door flew open and there’s Sammy with a rifle bellowing “Who’s got my money!” Well, to say the least I was scared, never having been threatened with a gun before. Sammy railed on and finally left. Later I learnt that one of the fellows there had bought one of his fiddles and stole the money back.
The next morning I sheepishly handed over my dollar and said I would be staying for a month and paid my rent in advance. That first winter was a serious culture shock. Having spent my first 18 years living in cities, I now found myself sharing a funky cabin with no water or electricity and doing my business in an outdoor outhouse. We lived on oysters, clams, bannock and rice and read by oil lamp until our eyes got tired. Sammy treated me with distrust at first but soon we became friendly. In time we started playing music together. Sammy played violin and accordion even though he was missing half of the index finger on his left hand. I couldn’t play very well but knew a few guitar chords and Sammy taught me old songs like Red Wing, polkas and some of the tunes he had written about Hornby. The following summer we would entertain audiences after his ghost shows and we became friends.
Sammy took me under his wing and taught me about living off the land. One day he announced that today I would be felling my first tree. He grabbed his chain saw and took me out to the woods to a large maple tree. I had never held a chain saw before, let alone fallen a tree. He started it up, handed me the saw and showed me where to make the undercut and where to cut on the other side of the tree. The tree fell, making a loud cracking sound, and I jumped back in fear. Sammy was laughing but was happy as the tree fell exactly where he wanted it to. To this day I’m not comfortable felling trees.
We planted a garden together and he showed me how to grow vegetables.
One day he thought we should get some chickens and we ordered two dozen from Jim and Pam Gorden. The birds arrived in a small metal cage. Sammy told me to grab one, but every time I reached in the hens would peck at me. Finally, exasperated, he grabbed one and put its head between his legs, cut the end of its feathers so it couldn’t fly and tossed in into the coop. I took care of the birds and Sammy told me to break up oyster shells so the eggshells would be strong. We sold the eggs for $1.25 a dozen to the co-op store.
My parents came to visit once and as I was introducing them my mother ran up and gave Sammy a big hug. This seemed a bit strange to me but I found out my mom had been phoning Sammy for a couple years to keep tabs on me. There was very little work on Hornby in those days and I had the urge to travel a lot. I hitchhiked and jumped freights around the country, working odd jobs here and there, but always came back to Hornby and was welcomed by Sammy.
Over the years many eccentric folks passed though Place of the Woods. Buckskin would come visit, usually so drunk he would fall out of his van as he tried to make his way to the house. Sammy and I would have to go get him and carry him in the house. Gimlet arrived at the property in a station wagon and a trailer so full of stuff he couldn’t pick up a hitchhiker. A total pack rat, he waited on Sammy hand and foot and only required a meagre amount of food to survive. When Sammy pined for a wife, Gimlet would answer, “Why do you need a wife when you have me here?” Then there was the guy who thought the army was coming to Hornby to imprison us and chased me with an axe when I petted his dog. The girl who would be hanging out but at any moment would start burning her hair. I could go on and on. Sammy treated them all as he would like to be treated himself and even though some were downright crazy he was always very tolerant. This might have been because he was also outcast by many on Hornby. During my years there Sammy wasn’t drinking often but he would go on periodic benders with some of his island friends. These would be 24-hour marathons and it was best to stay away unless you wanted to join the fun, which I rarely did. Sammy was a great storyteller and even though I heard some of the stories many times I was always entertained. As his good friend Wayne Ngan said, Sammy stories were 70 percent true and 30 percent embellishments.
Late in his life Sammy submitted an ad to the Vancouver Sun looking for female companionship. The lady came from a wealthy family from Point Grey in Vancouver. They had a nice wedding and a big party at an upscale restaurant and Sammy and his new bride went to Richmond where they were staying. Sammy’s good friend Jimmy McCloud went and picked them up and noticed things had obviously not gone well the night before. Sammy’s lady friend turned out to be bald and Sammy apparently was unable to perform. This most unusual union came to an end a month later as she fled Hornby.
After I left Sammy’s place, of course I saw much less of him. I would bring my young daughters to visit the candyman as they referred to him because he always had jellybeans for them. Sammy passed away November 30th, 1988, and was buried at Mountain View cemetery in Vancouver.
I still live on Hornby almost 40 years later and have been a professional musician for 30 years. It all started for me at Place of the Woods.
Tony Wilson is a Vancouver based guitarist, composer and author who lives on Hornby Island. In his 30 years as a professional musician he has performed in Eastern and Western Europe, the U.S., Costa Rica and Canada. He has released 8 CDs documenting his own compositions, many to be found on the Drip Audio record label as well as appearing on 50 others. Tony has been commissioned to compose for numerous Vancouver ensembles, including Turning Point and the Hard Rubber Orchestra. In 2014 he published a semi-autobiographical novella titled A Day’s Life, a story chronicling a day in the life of a homeless, addicted busker in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. A CD of the same name was released the following year.