the number and personalities of the beneficiaries, it took years to wind up the proceedings. Hugh Mackay was even writing to his sister, Cairine, about the distribution of effects at Kildonan as late as 1922. All the haggling aside, the chief significance of the estate settlement is that it left Cairine Wilson a wealthy woman, who could well afford to make generous contributions to causes of her choice, the Liberal Party being one of these.
While the estate was being settled, a family crisis erupted. Although potentially very serious, it was not without its amusing and ironic overtones, although Cairine Wilson would probably have failed to recognize these at the time. As the years progressed, however, she would develop a worldly wise sense of humour that allowed her to laugh gently at the world’s flaws and people’s imperfections while at the same time maintaining an awareness of her own weaknesses and strengths. The crisis involved Angus, the revered older brother who, in her eyes, could do no wrong. Aimiable, paunchy Angus, who had a penchant for alcohol, went on a bender during a stopover in Buffalo while en route from Montreal to Arizona in January 1918. Picked up by the police, he was taken to their headquarters, where he was searched and found to have a valuable diamond brooch and diamond studs on his person. When questioned about this, he told a disconnected story about being a man of influence in Montreal and heir to a large estate. Not surprisingly, this disclosure was received with skepticism, if not incredulity, by his interrogators, who then wired the police in Montreal for information about their subject. On learning of Angus’s plight, his brother, Hugh, contacted a Colonel E.R. Carrington, in Ottawa, who instructed a Toronto detective agency to dispatch two “operatives” to Buffalo to locate Angus and report on his condition. The men left immediately for the border city where they learned that five husky policemen had been required to handle the inebriated engineer.16 Cairine Wilson, Hugh, Edward, George and Anna also paid a hurried visit to Buffalo where they saw their brother in the General Receiving Hospital and learned for the first time of the existence of his commmon-law wife, Grace. After leaving hospital, Angus appeared before a magistrate and was formally discharged. Five months later, in June, he died in Oakland, California.
Cairine received the devastating news of Angus’s death when she was pregnant with her sixth child, Anna Margaret, who would be born on 9 December 1918, following the family’s move to Ottawa. This took place in the fall of 1918 hard on the heels of the purchase of the Rockland mills by the Riordan Paper Company and the formation of a new lumber merchants’ partnership comprising Norman Wilson, Gordon C. Edwards, W. Humphry, John Cameron and E. Bremner.
The five partners carried on a wholesale lumber operation in Ottawa which, before being sold to another Ottawa lumberman Edgar Boyle, carried on the W.C. Edwards name. Although a part-owner, Norman never devoted much time to the business. On weekdays he customarily spent an hour or so at his office in the Victoria Chambers on Wellington Street and then devoted the rest of the day to other pursuits. After lunch at the nearby Rideau Club, for instance, he often spent the afternoon curling or golfing, depending on the season. Two or three times a week he drove to Cumberland to oversee operations on the Wilson family farm, which was run by a manager before it was turned over to Angus Wilson, Cairine and Norman Wilson’s son. Norman, in other words, effectively retired from active business at age forty-two.
Less than three years after the Wilsons’ move to Ottawa, their kindly benefactor and friend, W.C. Edwards died. With his death, on 17 September 1921, a central figure passed from their lives, leaving a fund of cherished memories that included frequent visits to the Wilson home with birthday and other anniversary gifts for the children. As evidence of his respect and fondness for Norman Wilson, the Senator had made Cairine Wilson’s husband an executor and beneficiary of his large estate.17 The following year his wife, Norman’s sister, Aunt Kate, died, without leaving a cent to her brother. Catherine’s will had originally provided for a legacy of five thousand dollars to her brother, but before her death, this entry was crossed out and initialled by the three executors.18 To add further insult to injury, Catherine had ensured that Norman and Cairine Wilson would never own the Edwards’ beautiful family home at 80 Sussex Street, now known as 24 Sussex Drive. In line with Catherine’s will’s instructions, Edith Wilson, her sister, was given possession of the house for one year, after which it was deeded to Catherine’s nephew, Gordon Cameron Edwards, the son of her husband’s older brother, John.
Cairine and Norman Wilson had been led to believe that they would eventually inherit the stone mansion that stands on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Ottawa River and the Gatineau hills. However, because Senator Edwards had transferred ownership of the house to his wife in 1916, the Wilsons would never occupy this celebrated landmark. Always very jealous of her energetic, able sister-in-law, Catherine had seen to it that neither Norman nor Cairine would be among her beneficiaries. Anna Loring wrote immediately to her sister when she learned of the will’s contents.
I was just sick when I read about Mrs Edwards’ will, for although I was not altogether surprised at its contents, I am naturally terribly disappointed for Norman & you. Of course, I really blame the Senator, for knowing the feelings of his wife, he ought to have guarded against this contingency. You have both been fed on promises all your lives, & it does tend to shatter your faith in human nature. I don’t wonder that Norman feels hurt & the hardest part is to keep up a bold front & face the world as if nothing had happened...19
When Anna Loring wrote this letter she was still reeling from the death of her beloved husband, Rob, who had died in Asheville, North Carolina in April. Shortly after Cairine had visited her there, Anna wrote a moving testimony of the sisters’ love for each other.
How kind everyone has been to me in this sad time, and you especially my dear sister. I can never forget it — your coming to me without a moment’s notice, & leaving all those little children behind. I did not say much but you must know how deeply I appreciated your attention. I feel too that there is a perfect understanding existing between us and that there never will be any change. Rob was so fond of you and so disappointed that you were not able to come to Asheville this winter...20
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When the Wilsons took up residence in Ottawa, it was a small, parochial capital with a population of approximately 110,000. Long gone were the days when it was a lusty, brawling lumbertown. All too visible, however, were such reminders of its lumbering heritage as the screeching sawmills and giant piles of wood that dotted the LeBreton Flats area, just west of Parliament Hill, and the hodgepodge of mills that straggled across nearby Victoria Island and the bank of the Ottawa River. Further east, the skyline was dominated by the copper-sheaved towers and turrets of the East Block and the famous Chateau Laurier Hotel, which had opened for business in 1912. Parliament Hill, far from being a scene of order and beauty, was strewn with men, building materials and equipment as work proceeded on the rebuilding of the Centre Block, razed by fire on the night of 3 February 1916.
Nineteen-eighteen was a noteworthy year not only for Cairine Wilson but also for her fellow Ottawans. That autumn the worldwide influenza epidemic swept through the city, forcing the closure of schools, churches, theatres, pool halls and laundries. At the height of the outbreak — the last week of September and the first half of October — 520 residents died of influenza and pneumonia. No sooner had the epidemic abated than news of Kaiser Wilhelm’s abdication reached the city. As soon as the power companies conveyed the glad tidings to the local citizenry by a prearranged signal, people rushed into the streets, clutching flags and noise-makers. Two days later, on the 11 November, the capital became the first city in Canada to learn of the Armistice and once again joyful crowds poured into the streets, this time to form into parades where they blew horns and surged around gaily decorated cars.21
Notwithstanding these developments, Ottawa was normally a quiet, sedate capital with the feel and atmosphere of an Ontario town. Although the Great War had resulted in an expansion of the civil service, the business of government had yet to engulf the community’s basic forest industry. Lumber magnates and their descendants were well represented in the tiny Ottawa establishment, where everybody knew everybody else and
