a happy life in the colonies. He opened his first farm school almost twenty-five years ago in 1912 near Perth, in Western Australia, and it has been so successful that the Fairbridge Society now wants to set up farm schools in every man-hungry corner of the Empire.[7] He sat back in his chair and beamed at the children. Puzzled stares looked back at him.
One of the boys stood up, “What do you mean hungry men? We don’t want to go to Canada if there’s no food.” He held a deep mistrust of these adults. Were these Fairbridge people going to send him across the ocean to starve?
“My son, I said ‘man-hungry.’ What I meant by that is that Britain’s colonies are vast, and there is so much land that it needs many men to fill them up. I meant that the land is hungry to have you bright little British boys, and you girls too, over there to take advantage of all that it can offer. Both Australia and Canada have a bounty of beautiful farmland just waiting to be cultivated. And at your Canadian farm school, you will be taught all you need to know to survive in your new homeland.” The man sat back and smiled again at the children. The children stared back, quiet, for a moment.
He continued, telling the children that the first group of children had been sent over to the Canadian farm school two years ago, in September 1935. “You are the fourth group of fortunate children to go to this wonderful Fairbridge farm school. There are ninety-eight children there now, and, with your group, that will make a total of 126 children.”
He smiled again and told them that he wished that he could have been so lucky. “Your new home is on a beautiful island on the very west coast of Canada. That part of Canada will remind you of England and you will not be homesick at all. There are several attractive cottages set up for you to live in and each cottage houses twelve to fourteen children. There are separate cottages for the boys and for the girls, and in each cottage you have your very own special cottage mother to look after you. Kingsley Fairbridge wanted the farm schools set up as cottages because he thought it would be more like a real home, rather than everyone staying in a huge dormitory such as the one at the Middlemore Home. The Prince of Wales thinks your farm school is a grand idea too, so he gave some of his very own money and encouraged others to give as well to ensure your school had enough money to get started. Your new farm school’s official name is the Prince of Wales Fairbridge Farm School, therefore you can see it is a special place.” He finished his speech by telling the children that they will be doing their duty to their country and their King.
The children struggled to understand all that they had been told. Marjorie puzzled over what had been said about the Fairbridge man taking children from the crowded cites of England. London seemed crowded, as did Birmingham, and even Newcastle, but her Whitley Bay was not crowded, except maybe on a beautiful sunny day when everyone headed down to the beach. Why did they have to take her and Kenny away? Marjorie wanted to say that if everything was so beautiful in Canada, then you big people should go and live there. Why did she have to go? She was just a kid. She would rather stay with her mum. She tried to tell them, but her voice was stuck.
“Why couldn’t we bring my sisters?” asked Kenny.
“If Canada has so much space, why don’t you move there? And why couldn’t we bring my whole family? I already have a mum, and I don’t want a new mum.” Marjorie surprised herself with this outburst, tears were close, but the talk of new mums upset her, especially since she had a perfectly good one already.
“Now that’s a good question. But, you see, your farm school is designed just for children.” He cleared his throat as he answered, and, turning to the whole group, told them that Kingsley Fairbridge was a visionary, a man who saw that the colonies needed farmers. “You cannot be farmers without training and Fairbridge felt that properly trained children would make the best farmers. Fairbridge knew that full-grown unemployed men and women failed when taken out as labour to the colonies.”[8] He finished by saying that Kingsley Fairbridge set up the farm school system for lucky boys and girls just like you.
“Well, I want to be a nurse when I grow up, not a farmer!” a little girl shouted out.
Someone chuckled, then turned to the little girl and told her that she would likely be a farmer’s wife when she grows up. “You will see, once you get there, you will become used to the farming life and because you will grow up farming, you will understand it and come to love it. I bet each young girl here will find herself a handsome farmer to marry when she gets older, how would you like that?”
Displeasure quickly filtered through the girls, and Marjorie was about to complain when a bell rang, announcing tea time. With no more time for questions, it was suggested that they should just enjoy their meal, and, since every little detail of their journey had been arranged, they need not worry about a thing. The children stood up, but were first directed over to a spot for a group photograph, before being taken to the other room for tea. The man with the camera took a few more photos while they ate. It was all a little overwhelming: the special tea, the flashes from the camera, the happy adults. The children had no choice but to do as they were told.
The September 1937 group of children were photographed at a final farewell tea party given for the children at the Fairbridge Hostel in Kensington, London, on September 9, 1937. Kenny is sitting on the floor in the front row, second boy from right, with Marjorie behind him to the left, her hand on his shoulder.
University of Liverpool Archives, Special Collections Branch, Fairbridge Archives, D296.F4.
The next morning the children were hurried through breakfast. There was much to do before leaving for Liverpool. First on the list was for everyone to pack a suitcase,[9] according to a checklist set up to make sure that each child had all the necessary items for the journey (see Appendix A). Then they needed to take the bus back to Canada House and have a final visit with a Canadian doctor.
“Okay, now. What is your name?” Marjorie did not realize at first that she was being addressed. “Child, your name please,” she repeated.
Marjorie pointed to herself, “Me?” she asked as she choked out a whisper. The woman nodded. “My name is Marjorie.”
“Well, Marjorie. Come along with me. Let’s get your suitcase packed.”
“My very own suitcase?”
“Yes, now, let me see. What size would you be? Stand up here and let me take some measurements.” Marjorie relaxed with her soothing gentle voice. Soon the suitcase snapped shut. She told Marjorie that she was all set and she should take her case and line it up with all the rest. Marjorie looked down at the case. Her case! It had her name on it and everything. She wondered, would she get to keep this suitcase for her very own or would she have to give it back after she got to Canada?
The twenty-eight children were marched out to board the bus back to Canada House. One by one they went in for their final shots and inspections. The first boy walked in boldly enough, but soon his howls created a panic. He came out a short while later, red-faced.
The suitcase belonging to Kenny, Marjorie’s brother, was stored in the attic at a former Fairbridge house until 2006. The tattered labels show the departure port of Canadian Pier Head, Liverpool; the steamship, Duchess of Atholl, date of departure, September 10, 1937, landing port, Montreal; and the final destination, Cowichan, British Columbia.
Photo by Patricia Skidmore.
“Gor’ blimey, they jabbed
