13. Life in the Wilderness

 "This is the Bush, and I Love It.”

Nan and Richard Morenus on their island on Abram Lake in northern Ontario, c1945. Source

 

"Our first sight of the island was a teardrop of green against the turquoise of the water. As we neared it we saw it was peopled with stately red pine, balsam and cedar. And, as if acting sentinel on the point, stood a pair of towering Norways, regal in their majesty. The cabin, about 100 feet inland from shore, nestled in a protecting stand of birch. We suddenly felt very small and humble in this overwhelming greatness of the wilderness." So writes Richard Morenus about his arrival with Nan on the island they bought in 1940 near Sioux Lookout, Ontario. [Source: "From Broadway to Bush," Maclean's, September 1, 1946.]

 

Richard's map of the island for his book Crazy White Man, 1952.

When Nan and Richard first arrived in the northern Ontario bush in May 1941, they had only superficial knowledge of how to survive in the wilderness. They knew how to do the basics, like how to build a campfire, catch fish, and paddle a canoe. Nan had read books by Kathrene Pinkerton, including Wilderness Wife (1939) and Woodcraft for Women (1916), and had even begun corresponding with the author. But the Morenuses soon came to realize how unprepared they were for life in the woods.

Nan and Richard's cabin as it looks today (2020) on Winoga Island. Photo courtesy of Kim Clark and Richard Mansfield, current owners of the property.

Lots of Work to Do

A shirtless Richard cutting firewood in this illustration by William Lacky from his book Crazy White Man (1952), an account of six years on the island. Because he left Nan out of his book, this shows him with a man – possibly Indigenous – instead of Nan. Their dog Nik is on the left.

Their first task was to repair the cabin. The log walls were solid and in good condition, but after years of freezes and thaws, the windows needed new casements and screens, the doors needed to be refitted, and the roof, which leaked in at least a dozen places, had to be fixed. Blankets had to be mended and mattresses patched. Firewood had to be sawed, split and piled before winter.

By October of 1941, they had things in pretty good shape. According to Richard's description in his 1952 book Crazy White Man, their 18' x 20' cabin was partitioned into three sections: a kitchen-dining-office-living space; a bedroom with closet; and a food storage-wash room. "There was a cookstove and table at the kitchen end of the room," Richard writes. "Pots and pans were suspended Dutch-fashion from the logs behind the stove." At the other end of the room were bookshelves and a table they used as a desk. Homemade rag rugs covered the floor. 

Keeping Up Appearances

"Up to our arrival the hardest work Nan had done was to hold a script in soft, well-manicured hands and stand before a microphone, or swelter under the blaze of klieg lights before a camera," Richard writes in "From Broadway to Bush." But by that October sore and painful blisters had developed into work-toughened calluses.

"Remember those commercials I used to do where I told the ladies their hands could have a different look in just 12 days?" Richard quotes Nan as saying. "Look what a couple of months this bush beauty treatment has done to mine." He asked her if she missed New York. "This isn’t half as bad as trying to get a part on Broadway, or auditioning for a new radio show," Nan replied. "That’s work. This is the bush, and I love it. This is fun. Now come on, we’ll just have time to get in the last of that red pine we sawed up. That mallard I shot’s in the oven. We’re having it for supper, and can you get that on 6th Avenue?"

Ninety-four-year-old Dorothy Maskerine, a friend of Nan's, told me in a phone call on June 18, 2021 that Nan "always kept herself immaculate." She was attractive - "a real lady," Dorothy said. Her hair, nails, and make-up were always perfectly done. Her clothing was of good quality. Dorothy particularly remembers Nan's rust-coloured suede slacks. It's hard to imagine how Nan managed to maintain these high standards in a bush camp. 

Mosquitoes and Black Flies

In 1927, Theodor Geisel (aka Dr. Seuss) launched a 17-year-long ad campaign for FLIT, and insect repellent that used mineral oil to kill flies and mosquitoes. DDT was added to the mix after 1944. Mandeville Special Collections Library at the University of California, San Diego. Source

During their first summer on the island and every summer after that, Nan and Richard were plagued by insects. "There are mosquitoes in maddening swarms, black flies that gouge out bits of flesh as they bite, and tiny 'no-see-ums' - those infinitesimally small gnats that turn skin to a solidly itching surface," Richard writes in Crazy White Man. "These insects drive animals - moose, bear, deer - from the woods to stand neck-deep in water to rid their fur of the biting, stinging insects." They had brought with them a collection of lotions and pastes - pennyroyal, oil of cedar, wintergreen and citronella, but found that these were not much help. "Those northern mosquitoes and flies went for the repellent like a hungry bear for a berry patch," Richard lamented.

Nan Embraces the Wilderness

 

Photo of Nan in her article for Maclean's magazine entitled "The Woman's Bushed," August 14, 1947.

Nan knew how to catch fish and she soon learned a number of new outdoor skills. "One day Nan came back from a snowshoe hike with a strange Indian in tow," Richard recalls in his Maclean's article. "She pointed to a chair by the stove and pushed cup after cup of steaming tea at him. I’d never thought her ability as an actress would be of value in the bush, but by pantomime and sign she cajoled him into showing her how to set a snare. From that time on her snare line augmented our venison fare with delicious rabbit potpie, and stew. That was the winter we learned to make bannock and to bake bread." 

 

Within a year, Nan could hunt her own deer and skin it herself. She could repair her snowshoes, weaving a new babiche [strings] from deer hide.

 

Source

 

"When will we go back?" Richard asked Nan. She said: "My moccasins are soft on my feet when I walk in the woods. I’d miss my canoe. My dog team would be lonesome if I should leave them. I have more freedom than anyone else in the world. And where else is there anything so beautiful. Go back? Go back to what? I have nothing to go back to. I’m where I belong now. I’m home!" 

After only five months, however, Nan and Richard did close up their tourist camp on Winoga Island and leave northern Ontario. They did not return to New York City, but instead moved to Chicago where Richard had been offered a job as the radio director for an advertising agency. Nan was not happy with the move. 

"The five months we spent in Canada put her right back on her feet and when we packed up to leave in October she had never felt better in her life," Richard wrote to his friend Herman Stern on February 12, 1942. "Now, the city is beginning its insidious work, and something has to be done about it. My only interest in life is to see that she has the comfort and happiness that is most certainly due her. ... She has to get live somewhere where she can see the sky and see things living and growing, and a chance to get out in the open. If I could find the right spot where she could have these things, I'd take her there tomorrow, however much my present income would have to be cut in order to accomplish it." Richard was hoping that Stern could help him find a position in a small town, perhaps at Stern's own radio station in Valley City, North Dakota.

Nan and Richard ended up moving back to Winoga Island, but happiness did not return with them.

 

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