Ninety-five years ago the world was introduced to The Hardy Boys, a series of juvenile detective stories ghostwritten by prolific Canadian journalist Leslie McFarlane (1902-1977) under the pen name Franklin W. Dixon.
In the closing lines of the musical Les Misérables, Valjean, Fantine and Eponine sing one of the most remarkable lines in musical theatre.
In celebration of the Advocate’s 50th edition, we've put together 50 interesting historical tidbits about Kawartha Lakes.
Even if we aren’t Rotarians ourselves, many of us can trace some connection to the Lindsay Rotary Club, which this year marks its 100th anniversary.
A brilliant sunrise decks the skies over Lindsay one spring morning 60, 70 or 80 years ago as the rhythmic clip-clop-clip-clop of horse hooves reverberates a quiet residential avenue.
Sometime in 1948, an unidentified photographer — probably a student enrolled at Lindsay Collegiate Institute — had more than a dozen members of the Victoria County buildings staff pose on the east steps of the county courthouse (now City Hall).
Those of us attending elementary or high school in Kawartha Lakes during February of 2008 will no doubt recall the CUPE (Canadian Union of Public Employees) strike which dominated local headlines for much of that month.
She looks back at us from coins, stamps and the $20 banknote. Her portrait is displayed in schools, post offices and Legion halls across the country.
It’s mid-January, and you are cutting through the parking lot between the Shell station on Lindsay Street South and The Comfort Zone Sleep Shop.
The rituals have scarcely changed over the years. Families bundled up in scarves and mittens make their way downtown to watch a parade in which the most distinguished participant brings up the rear, serenaded by the strains of festive music.
Mid-November of 1892 saw Lindsay artist W.A. Goodwin join well-known hunter Joe Thornhill on a week-long jaunt into the wilds of Digby Township in the north end of Victoria County.
Pedestrians walking to the north end of St. Paul Street will encounter a curious-looking house set back among the trees, just as the road curves to become Denniston Street. From one angle, the home resembles a typical suburban bungalow; from another, it evokes the look of a small cottage.
Ontario’s students have returned to their classrooms this month after a long period of remote learning. As they make their way off school buses or cross the threshold of school foyers, few may pause to consider how their school got its name.
Back in the late summer of 2005, when I entered LCVI, I discovered that I had phys ed slotted into first period on my timetable. If the weather cooperated, we Grade 9 boys would often be trooped outside to run circuits on the enormous track immediately east of the Lindsay school.
The evening of June 8, 1912, saw a typical scene play out in Grass Hill, some five kilometres east of Woodville. Train No. 31, bound for Orillia, was waiting at the Grand Trunk Railway’s diminutive station to take on commuters. John Staples, then the storekeeper at Grass Hill, had disembarked after spending the day in Lindsay.
I got lost as I was looking for it — the Blakely Farm cemetery, that is. When I ought to have gone due south on Old Mill Road in the former Ops Township, I instead made a left turn and ended up cycling through some of the most spectacular scenery in this part of Kawartha Lakes.
As April showers turn to May flowers, and as we begin to unwind our garden hoses in anticipation of another season of fresh vegetables and verdant lawns rivalling that of the best-kept golf course, it’s hard to ignore water — even though we do tend to take it for granted. We know there is an elaborate labyrinth of pipes and culverts beneath our feet, and we may be vaguely aware that these are connected to imposing water towers that let us know that we have arrived in Lindsay (or Fenelon Falls, or Bobcaygeon.)
