Since my memory of events of fifty years ago is not always reliable, I need to "crowd-source" a coherent story of how the mock-up of the new student residence room came to find its way to the campus centre. Anyone that has a recollection can contact me, and I'll try to put together a tale.

From another contributor:

Well there was the one that occurred when the library began demanding that you needed a UofW ID card to use the premises. One reaction was outrage but another took a different form. These protestors obviously knew about the tunnels because they entered the library through them into the basement and took the elevator up to the second floor and entered. Now the second and third floors did not have a handy button to allow you to stop there. You needed a key. But if you timed your ascent correctly you could hit the red Help button and the doors would open automatically. It was what they did and then they blocked the doors from closing and proceeded to haul books from the shelves and filled the elevator car. They were found in the morning along with a note suggesting that if the administration were worried about strangers stealing their library books out the front door maybe they were missing the point.

How has my association with Dumont Press Graphix Influenced the rest of my life ?

A difficult question. What have I done with my life, really? Sounds grim: called to account by the Ghost of Christmas Past.

I only worked for Dumont for a few weeks, building light tables. My wife, Kae, worked there for a couple of years 1978/79. She was employed at Dumont when I first met her. I was able to sympathize with Kae and the challenges she faced working there. My other association was that my shop was at first on the same floor and then below Dumont on the ground floor for nearly twenty years (1975 to 1994).

My strongest association was with the people, in the years leading up to Dumont’s founding in 1971. I knew Eddie Hale from high school in Galt and I began university at U of W in 1967, immediately meeting Ken Epps and Gary Robins. Soon I had made a large group of friends. I like to say I got mixed up with the wrong crowd, but I might have been the wrong crowd. My father was a steadfast socialist, having grown up in east London (England) amid considerable poverty during the depression. Though less vocal, my mother was too. So it was natural that I gravitated to the RSM (Radical Student Movement) and the Chevron, and generally left-wing politics.

In 1970, I was one of the group that moved to 192 Strange Street and produced the left- wing community paper On the Line until October 1970. There my path diverged: I attempted to resurrect my faltering university career in the Integrated Studies program. However by the spring of ‘71 I was playing the bass guitar with a fairly good group, Kit Carson. So university didn’t seem to matter. I also had a desire, like many others, to live in the country, which I did for a few years. But it was hard to make a living. In the end I returned to Kitchener and worked as a house painter until my brother Richard also returned with some woodworking equipment, some experience, and the hope of manufacturing small wooden products.

My son Chris was born July 30, 1975; and December 5, 1975, I rented some space from Dumont for a woodworking shop. So there I was — a parent and an entrepreneur. For a few years Richard and I joined the Dumont lunch plan, and I generally kept in touch with many people there that were old friends.

I have continued to play the viola as an amateur, and occasionally play the fiddle professionally in a ceili band.

I have maintained my interest in photography which began at the Chevron, having had a number of gallery exhibitions of photographs over the years. And I have had published two books of photos of the Region of Waterloo: Evolving Urban Landscapes (Fountain Street Press, 2016) and Through a Changing Landscape (WLU Press, 2022). The theme of my photography has been urban spaces and the buildings which frame them.

As time has permitted, I have been involved in municipal affairs, and to a lesser degree in provincial politics. Since 2006, I’ve served on the Waterloo Municipal Heritage committee. My passion for many years has been urban planning for people, rather than for profit.

As I look back to those days, I realize that life was fluid and constantly changing. The places that I lived and the people that I lived with now seem as though they were in flux, so I can’t identify points of stability. Consequently I can only recount events from my own perspective, and will have to leave it to others to fill in the gaps or the missing chapters.

Penny and I moved to the farmhouse near Markdale in October or November 1972. We had been living in the country near Old Killaloe, but realized we were not prepared to survive the winter there. We joined a group of people who we had known from Kitchener-Waterloo except possibly Doug. I’m not sure whether he arrived before or after us.

“Markdale” was a mid to late nineteenth century house clad in asbestos panels probably over clapboard on wood or timber frame on a rubblestone foundation. It was cold and drafty, heated by a cook stove and a parlour stove, so it required considerable quantities of firewood. There were sources of firewood close at hand. The County had brushed out the road allowances and left the wood where it was cut, perhaps intending to come back for it later, or perhaps realizing the locals would clear it up pretty quickly. This yielded small to medium sized cherry which we “kiln dried” on the stove top before it made its way into the firebox. The major source though was the giant elms that had been recently killed by the dutch elm disease and were still standing in the valley toward the Rocky Saugeen. They were magnificent trees that often stood twice as high as other trees surrounding them.

Without referring to a particular incident (which I think Corli will still remember), I can say it could be hazardous felling dead trees that were 100 or 120 feet high. But the really hard work was splitting the elm with an axe. Elm has a sort of spiral interlocking grain which made it very stubborn. It seemed the side yard was always full of elm waiting to be split.

The companionship at Markdale was lively and congenial. I learned to play cribbage which I often lost, and bridge, in which I believe I held my own. There was a piano, guitars, I had my violin and viola. There was lots of music. There were frequent visitors.

By way of preamble I should state that those of my generation will remember the Cold War, and for those who don’t, I should try to explain the pervasive dread that engulfed many in the nineteen fifties and sixties. It’s really hard to conceive of now, but life on the planet could have been ended in five minutes by the push of a couple of buttons.

In 1958 I moved to Ottawa to begin grade 5. In Ottawa, being the capital of country, the threat of nuclear war was taken seriously. I can remember my teacher drawing some of the window blinds and instructing us to get underneath our desks. It was awkward. But that was it. Nothing about what to do afterwards. We carried on with our study of Christopher Columbus, or whatever it was.

The threat of Armageddon was kept alive with the Cuban missile crisis and then the life and death struggle between Communism and Capitalism in Vietnam. Some referred to it as a war, but officially it was a “conflict”.

I try to paint a picture of the political climate I faced as a young adult to explain why I, and others, felt the need to develop self reliance and resilience, and why many became part of the “back to the land” movement. There were other reasons of course, but the hope of being able to survive a nuclear war was on my mind. Many of the people associated with Dumont had a stint of living in the country and some have remained there. The possibility of nuclear war was diminished with the dissolution of the USSR in 1991.

In the nineteen sixties I became more aware of health and the environment, as did many others; thinking about food and diet, where food came from, how it was produced and so on. At Markdale we produced eggs, goats’ milk, and had a large vegetable garden. I also became a more versatile cook there, learning to make bread and yeasted confections, sponge cakes, and other dishes.

It astonishes me now to think back to 1967 when I left home and was sent forth into the world, that I had no effing idea of how to plan and prepare a meal. The general idea and expectation was that I would scrape by for a few years until I could marry someone who knew these things. Over the course of the next few years I was disabused of that notion. I certainly appreciate the time I spent in Metal Shop, but I can’t say my public school education was well rounded. Markdale was an important part of my education in food and the culinary arts.

The Memorial Collective was established August 1, 1969.  In the summer of 1969, the apartment where some of us lived had become overcrowded, and in any event, the lease was not renewed due to complaints.  More on this later.  I remember looking at a house for sale on Albert Street, but in the end it seemed a bit complicated.  And after moving, I recall Mike's generosity in treating us all to dinner at the Ali Baba Steakhouse.

It was that September that Gary and I jointly purchased a Pentax Spotmatic, a camera with which we had become familiar at the Chevron.  The images which I am about to add were taken with that camera.

John Koop  September 15, 1948 — November 18, 2018

I'm not sure when I met John Koop.  I think it must have been 1971 when we lived at 132 University.  We quickly became friends, at least partly because Koop was such an outgoing fellow. We quickly discovered we were born on the same day, and thought of ourselves as twins.  Over the years we always remembered to wish each other a Happy Birthday.

I do remember the summer of 1971.  John had purchased a used Bell telephone van (the charming olive green of course)  which needed some repairs, so he joined the 132 Auto Club in the back yard.  There were four other vehicles being worked on there, so there was plenty of help and advice. 

John decided to run for Parliament on the October 1971 election.  One room in the basement was set up as headquarters, and I recall I painted a 4 by 8 sheet of plywood as an election sign for the front yard.  It's Canada's loss that he wasn't elected.

For better or worse, I post here the link to the blogspot:  http://dumontpressgraphix.blogspot.com

There can be found some photos of the 40th reunion, among others.

I only worked briefly at Dumont, building light tables.  In those days I was a musician- I'd like to say professional, but it was not the road to riches.  In 1969 I started with pop cover band playing in bars, Then with Jim Klinck we played in a country and western band.  This was great fun playing at weddings and parties at pretty well every Legion and Rod and Gun club in the County.  In 1971 I started playing with singer songwriter Paul Woolner, Steve Naylor and Dave Papazian.  We broke up in 1974 after spending the summer in PEI.

Many aquaintances and friendships were made at the university.

And many could see that the world could be a better place.  Energy and idealism abounded.  The need for a campus daycare was obvious to Marie and Lesley and a few others who started one in the campus centre.  

In the fall of 1968, several elderly gentlemen ( they may have been members from the beginning) travelled from Chicago to the University of Waterloo to recruit new members for the Industrial Workers of the World.  It was quite an event, and many signed up.  We were educational workers.

tractor carburetor repairs.

This was near Ottawa, probably 1970

These photos were given to me by Greg Michalenko