EPISODE 864 ELSIE FREEMAN SKEOCH — SEAMSTRESS, MOTHER, SWEATSHOP WORKER…THE PUTTING OUT SYSTEM IN 1945
alan skeoch
july 29, 2023
ELSIE LOUISA FREEMAN SKEOCH AND ARNOLD ‘RED’ SKEOCH, MARRIED IN 1937
Elsie Freeman married Arnold ‘Red’ Skeoch in 1937. After a long courtsihip. Their parents were Ontario farmers. Both became members of
the industrial working class as World War One came to its miserable end. Dad was a tire builder. Proud of it. Mom was a seamstress.
Proud of it. Both were loved by their two children, Alan and Eric Skeoch. We, Eric and I, were not huggers or kissers. We took
our parents for granted. Paricularly mom.
HOW DID MOM RAISE A FAMILY ON SWEATSOP WAGES…I DO NOT KNOW
The mystery remains. How did Elsie Freeman Skeoch raise a family on sweatshop wges. Deeper than that.
How did she do it without a shred of rancour or bitterness. How did she keep our lives free from feelings of poverty
and neglect,. Eric and I had a great life…full of laughter and completely free of envy or bitterness?
IN EPISODE 864 you are asked to read Thomas Hood’s Sonf of the Shirt. It is a miserable poem documenting the horrific
lives of the English working class seamstresses. There is one huge difference between the women described by
Hood and our mother, Elsie Freeman. There is no joy in The Song of the Shirt. Our lives as children of a
seamstress were full of joy. We laughed a lot. We did things together. We never felt deprived. As a matter of
fact we felt sorry for those around us who seemed to have little joy in their lives.
Song of the Shirt
With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread— Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch She sang the “Song of the Shirt.” “Work! work! work! While the cock is crowing aloof! And work—work—work, Till the stars shine through the roof!
Mom with dad (far right) and his brothers
Look at the big buttons on Eric’s coat which was once a woman’s coat
Dad took us to High Park on a day the horses were not running at Dufferin or Woodbine racetracks.
This is mom wit my arm around her.
ONE OCTOBER NIGHT AT 18 SYLVAN AVENUE IN 1945 OR 1946
(These images remain in my memory… Most prominent is
mom and her Sewing machine and the big cardboard box.)
I can see her now. IN my mind’s eye. It is a cold day in 1945 or 1946. She is slowly walking up Gladstone Avenue.
Coming home from the College Streetcar. Slowly, because she is carrying a large cardboard box that she got from Mr. Wallman
at his factory on Spadina. The box is heavy. Dimensions about 36” x 18* x 10”. Unmarked. Tied. Inside the box are pieces of
clothing…lots of them in bundles. When she gets the box upstairs to our flat at 18 Sylvan Avenue she undoes the string and lines up
the bundles beside the industrial sewing machine. Before that she will get our supper, often stew with rice pudding. Dad won’t be home until
much later ..a shift worker at Dunlop Tire Company. Often he stops at Woodbine track for the last race. Mom starts sewing right away. Her corner above the stairs
is dark and dreary until she lights it up. The stairs continue up to the dark attic high above…gives me nightmares. When the sewing machine begins
to hum mom presses her fingers close to the needle and begins joining piles together. Could be a dress or a shirt or a girdle. She will work on
the machine until Dad arrives and sometimes continues into the night hours after we are in ed. When all the pieces in the box are
joined mom will pack the big box, put on her coat then tell us to be good and that she will be back in an hour torso. And away she goes
with the finished things. Heavy big box in her arms. She will walk south on Gladstone. Eric and I will see her go until Gladstone dips to
College Street. We will play a bit with Tinker our cat . Dad will be smoking a White Owl Invincible while he reads the racing form. Mrs Southwick, our landlady
does not like dad smoking in the house but is intimidated by him. Mom pays rent monthly I think.
Mom says dad is always hoping to catch the brass ring on the Merry Go Round of life. That is why he gambles.
Mom has made all our clothes by cutting down old clothing. Eric’s
winter coat this year has huge coloured buttons and extra padding. Was once a woman’s coat .
We are not allowed to got out into Dufferin Park at night because big tough guys hang around there.
Toenails Simmons, for instance is a gang leader … has a ring that’s a sharpened roofing nail wrapped in white tape. This I was told by his brother.
Dad said not to worry nobody is likely to touch us and then have to face him.
Bobby Smamanus’s dad is Polish and
has made us wooden Tommy guns like the Russians used in the war. We often play guns in the park while helping Mr. Hayward, the parky,
who tries to keep the park clean. Mom will be back soon. She promised to take us to another movIe
featuring Slip Mahoney and the Bowery Boys. Satch is the funny man who Slip hits with his hat.
We still have part of the quarter of a pig that Uncle Norman gave us from the Skeoch farm near Fergus.
Good with mustard. Mom’s rice pudding was crunchy tonight…not cooked long enough.
Mom says we should be quiet as possible
as Aunt Annie is very sick in the bedroom. Later Aunt Annie called us into the room and gave me a little crockery piggy bank and Eric got
a tinware globe of the world about the size of a baseball. Mom was crying which was unusual for her.
Mom has started up the sewing machine A new bunch of women’s things. She does not ask for help. Dad gave me a sip of his beer. Yuck! But the label on the bottle
is great…horses running on a field. I will save the bottle or get another one from the park. Carefully. lest I cut myself again and need stitches at the hospital. Dad had to
lift up the bed that time as i feared the hospital and latched on to the springs under he bed. Dad lifted the whole bed as if it weighed nothing. I have a scar where the
beer bottle sliced me. When the Junction and Beanery gangs fought in the park some used token beer bottles as weapons.. Eric and I gather all kinds of stuff for our fort..sometimes lead pipes that had been gang weapons. Mom says the balloons are dirty and not to touch them.
Time for bed. I will grab Angus my stuffed wiener dog Mom made from
an old rug.
The sewing machine is still humming.
 
This is mom as a little girl in England around 1906. Granddad hand carved this oak frame . |
