This weekend we continue our look at Newmarket’s changing demographics with a story from Herb Goodhoofd, who sent me the story of his family’s arrival in Newmarket from Holland just after the end of the war. In the coming weeks we shall publish more of the family stories that were sent to me regarding their relocation to our area. In the meantime, I hope that you find Herb’s recollections as interesting as I have. - Richard MacLeod
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Over the years, my recollections of growing up in Newmarket have become increasingly meaningful and memorable. I have maintained a strong interest in retracing my family’s footsteps from the “old country” to their new life in Canada. This is a brief sketch of my parent’s move from the Netherlands after the Second World War and our early years in Newmarket.
While every immigration story is unique, other Dutch families who settled in Newmarket, as well as immigrants from other countries, likely have similar stories to share.
Those early years in Canada were difficult for my parents, and they wondered whether they had made the right decision to move to Canada. Not only did they have to learn English and adapt to Canadian culture, but as often happens with immigrants, my father missed the “old country”. He didn’t adjust well to changes in his work environment and disagreements developed between him and family members. Thankfully, my parents’ strong faith and my mother’s positive attitude and determination saw us through.
My father grew up in Rotterdam, one of Holland's largest cities, and my mom lived in Maassluis, a small town west of Rotterdam. They met shortly after the war ended in 1945, and married in 1947. The war years in Holland were difficult, and Rotterdam was flattened by heavy bombardment. As the Canadian army had liberated Holland, Canada represented a fresh start and allowed my parents to leave the war years behind them. It also meant that my mom was able to reunite with a sister and two brothers who had immigrated to Canada 25 years earlier.
In September 1947, white handkerchiefs flutter farewell at the pier in Rotterdam my parents boarded the Tabinta, a converted troop carrier ship, bound for Montreal. A train brought them to Union Station, where they were welcomed by my aunt and uncle who lived in Ansnorveldt, a small community of Dutch farmers who had settled along Dufferin Street in the east end of the Holland Marsh.
My uncle owned a prosperous vegetable farm in the marsh and he sponsored my parents’ move to Canada, offered my dad a job and converted his garage into a living space for them. There was lots of excitement when my parents arrived in the marsh, especially as my mother was reunited with her sister and two brothers. There was much to talk about my parents' courtship and marriage, family, and friends back home, the lingering effects of the war, Dutch politics, and church matters.
Within a few weeks, however, the realities of their move to Canada would begin to set in, especially for my dad. My father was a city boy, born and raised in Rotterdam, and farm life simply didn’t agree with him. In Rotterdam, my dad held a desk job with city social services, and now in Canada, he didn’t enjoy the physical demands of farming and he felt my uncle had misrepresented life in Canada. As tensions grew, my parents thought it best to move out of the marsh.
In early 1948, my parents moved into a small cottage on the Verity farm on the southwest corner of Davis Drive and Yonge Street, then known as Bell’s Corners. I was born in January of that year in York County Hospital. After leaving the marsh, my dad had found work at the Davis Tannery in Aurora, followed by two years as custodian at St. Paul’s Anglican Church. We lived for a while on Timothy Street and then on Millard Avenue, before moving to Main Street. My brother Anthony was born in 1951.
In Holland, my mother had worked in her family’s textile store, selling linen, cloth and wool, and she knew everything about sewing and knitting. Buoyed by her friendly personality and entrepreneurial spirit, my parents started selling wool and cloth out of a panel truck purchased by my uncle. They would drive to a supplier in Toronto, and then knock on the doors of local farms and sell their goods. This led to their first store on Main Street, The Wool House, on the northwest corner of Main and Water, now home to the Fresh Tea Shop.
My mother met many of the women in town in the store. It was always a special time when my mom would take my brother and I to visit some of the women customers she had met. Our next move was up the street to 212 Main, currently home to the Hop Bop Noodle Shop. We moved into the apartment upstairs. The business would flourish and my parents got to know fellow business owners and local customers.
Around 1955, my father started a travel business in a small adjoining office at the rear of the wool shop. For minimal commissions, he began selling steamship tickets and airline tickets for the Holland-America Steamship Line and Trans-Canada Air Lines (TCA), (later to become Air Canada). He promoted his business by holding Dutch film evenings at the town hall for the Dutch immigrant community, encouraging people to visit family and friends in the old country. Over time, Globe Travel, as it became known, continued to expand. In 1958, the decision was made to close the wool shop and my mom joined my dad’s travel business.
During these early years in Newmarket, the family rift continued, and sadly, we didn’t see my aunts, uncles, or cousins in the marsh for about 10 years. This was especially difficult for my mother, who was close to her sister. Faith and church were a big part in our family’s life, and in the lives of many Dutch immigrants. Sunday observance was especially important in the Dutch Reformed faith tradition, as well as restrictions in activities such as playing cards and movies.
A Christian Reformed Church existed in the Holland Marsh, and in the mid ‘50s, a small church was established in Newmarket, now known as Bethel Christian Reformed Church on Davis Drive West. We never attended this church, however, as my dad wanted our family to attend a Canadian church. I remember Sunday School at the Free Methodist Church on Millard, now home to the Veterans Association. Over the years, we attended Grace Church, Trinity United Church and the Christian Baptist Church, eventually settling in at St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church.
My brother and I have wonderful memories of growing up in Newmarket. Main Street was our playground and we spent countless hours roaming the side streets, back alleys and banks of the Holland River that ran north, east of Main Street. We attended King George and Stuart Scott Public Schools. Who can forget sliding down the amazing fire escape tube at King George, or getting the strap for an errant snowball?
I recall fishing below the dam at Fairy Lake, selling tags on Main Street, the excitement of the Santa Claus parade and the soapbox derby, learning to skate at the town arena, watching the Smoke Rings win a hockey championship. I remember the 1957 Centennial, soaped and boarded windows on Main Street and trick or treating on Halloween, and shovelling the sidewalk at Lee’s Restaurant.
We took the bus to the CNE, watched fireworks and cheering the “burning schoolhouse” at the Fairgrounds. Who could forget the familiar sound of the Office Specialty noontime whistle, playing ball hockey on Remembrance Day and leaning on our sticks for the 11 a.m. minute of silence, the Veterans parade to the Newmarket cemetery and swimming at the newly opened Gorman Pool. The list goes on and on.
Our time in Newmarket came to an end in 1960 as TCA (Air Canada) persuaded my parents to move their travel business to Richmond Hill. The GTA was expanding rapidly northward and Richmond Hill represented a larger market with its growing population.
In our families, we were thankful that healing and reconciliation allowed us to re-connect and visit with our relatives. And my parents were able to travel and enjoy their retirement years.
Newmarket resident Richard MacLeod, the History Hound, has been a local historian for more than 40 years. He writes a weekly feature about our town's history in partnership with Newmarket Today, conducts heritage lectures and walking tours of local interest, and leads local oral history interviews.
