From Boom to Bust in 20 Years - Sandon's history as an incorporated city
Captains of industry - Sandon's thriving commercial enterprises
Sandon, the "King of Clubs" - lodges, societies and organizations in the Silver City
Swift and Silent, The "Whispering Death" - avalanches and snow slides
Gone But Not Forgotten - Sandon's hidden cemetery
World War II - the Japanese-Canadian internment years in Sandon
Friends and Neighbours - surrounding communities in the Silvery Slocan

From the beginning, Sandon was a community that could hardly catch up with itself; organization and government were virtual afterthoughts, imposed on an existing city that had sprung up in the unlikely location of Carpenter Creek valley. In the original pell-mell rush to stake claims and build housing, no serious thought was given to the organization of streets, fire safety, sewage and waste disposal, or numerous other civic concerns. In fact, the original inhabitants simply built homes and stores wherever it suited them, and no effort was even made to stake a townsite.

It was not until the arrival of the brash, 28-year-old J.M. Harris in 1892 that serious steps were taken to lay legal claim to a townsite. Harris, recognizing the earlier settlers' oversight, simply staked his claim on the valley floor, then told the earlier arrivals to pay up or get off his land. Harris was not popular as a result, but the squatters were forced to comply, as Harris had the law on his side. As the undisputed power broker in the Sandon's boomtown economy, Harris enjoyed immense wealth, prestige and influence, as well as many of the choice building lots and largest businesses. Harris took to his role with gusto, dispensing largesse as he saw fit, including donating land on Sunnyside Hill for the new Methodist church. Despite the many examples of his public involvement, however, Harris never involved himself with local politics.

Even though no formal civic structure existed, however, Sandon's citizens were taking steps to address the many needs in their community. By 1896 a rudimentary fire department was taking shape, a schoolhouse had been built high on Sunnyside Hill, and on March 5, 1897, Harris' Sandon Waterworks and Light Company began producing hydro power for the community. Nonetheless, issues such as sanitation were still a concern, and it soon became obvious that a civic government was required to address these matters. Indeed, many Sandon residents, such as Paystreak editor R.T. Lowery, agitated strongly for incorporation as a means of accessing tax money that had previously gone straight to Victoria, never to be seen again.

On January 1, 1898 the City of Sandon was incorporated, with postmaster and prominent businessman E.R. Atherton elected as the city's first mayor. Among the first major projects undertaken by the new council were the construction of boardwalks along every street, and a means of containing Carpenter and Sandon Creeks, both of which meandered through the heart of the city. The council decided to flume the creeks, enabling them to be controlled and allowing the former creek channels to be used for building lots. The flume also provided an effective means of flushing away waste and sewage from the downtown core and the first Miners Union hospital, which opened for business in March of 1899. Although primitive by today's standards, the use of the flume for sewage disposal ended the threat of epidemics, although the city council could not suspect the havoc that the flume would eventually wreak in their city.

Two more immediate disasters were waiting in the wings, however. In June of 1899 a simmering labour dispute culminated in a lockout of the unionized miners by the mine-owners. This lock-out was to last nine long months, and by the time it ended a general malaise had seized Sandon. Much of the population had been lured away by the Klondike gold fields, and the silver market remained unstable; many of the mines could not recover from the nine-month shut-down, and closed down. Then, early in the morning on May 3, 1900, a fire started beside Spencer's Opera House, and by the time the sun had cleared Reco Mountain the next morning, the entire downtown core was gutted.

Rebuilding work began immediately, but on a much more modest and organized scale. City council, under the new mayor, H.H. Pitts, decided to transfer the city's main street from narrow Reco Avenue to the wider planked-over flume. A new, larger schoolhouse was constructed on Sunnyside Hill, too, reflecting the changing nature of the city; although the population was smaller than during the "boom" years, there were more families and children than before, when the bulk of the citizens had been young, single transient miners.

Perhaps one of the most visible changes was the construction of a large three-storey City Hall. Built at a cost of $3,195, the City Hall featured beautiful trim and woodwork inside, and held city offices, council chambers, a courtroom, jail and fire hall. Despite the council's very visible expression of faith in the city's future, however, the hard times would only continue. For the next decade, metal prices continued to decline, the population of the city continued to shrink, and many businesses closed for good. By 1910, a major forest fire had burned out most of the line on the K&S Railway and forced it into bankruptcy, as well as destroying many of the area's mining camps and mills. Rocked by these misfortunes, people continued to trickle away from Sandon, and by 1913, crippled by recession and disaster, the City of Sandon was forced into receivership.

With the outbreak of World War I, metal prices made a dramatic recovery, and prosperity returned to the city, along with an increasing population. Despite improved production from the area mines, however, the municipal government was unable to recover from the series of body blows dealt to it before the war, and in 1920 the City of Sandon was formally disincorporated. At this time, authority over municipal affairs reverted to the province, and from 1920 until 1925 the ornate City Hall was used by the provincial police constable for an office and a residence.

Meanwhile, parents in Sandon were becoming increasingly upset over the deteriorating condition of the schoolhouse on Sunnyside Hill, and were petitioning the provincial government to allow them to convert the old City Hall into a new schoolhouse. Thus, in 1925 the provincial policeman was relocated to the residence next door, the old City Hall was stripped of its finery, and it began a more prosaic period as the third Sandon schoolhouse. Abandoned in 1954, the old City Hall was almost completely demolished for its lumber over the next 30 years, before it was bought by a local family, who began an ongoing restoration project.

As with most "boomtime" communities, the rush of prospectors and miners into the Slocan was soon followed by a flood of business people, eager to make their fortunes in their own way. By mid-1897 Sandon's mines had a combined payroll of $25,000 a week, or over $1 million a week by today's standards. From the staples, such as flour, sugar and beef, to the luxuries such as whiskey and tobacco, merchants were keen to meet the demands of the miners, as well as those of the mine owners. Picks, shovels, drill steel, ore cars, horseshoes, mine rails- before long, anything that could be desired, from oysters and ladies lingerie to blacksmith's coal and dynamite was available in Sandon, often from a variety of businesses.

During the boom years, the city's business community featured 29 hotels, 28 saloons- one hotel was considered too "high class" to contain a saloon- three breweries, a bottling plant, three sawmills, three bakeries, three butchers, two newspapers, two doctors, two banks, a hydro-electric generating station, a bed and mattress factory, a sash and door factory, brickmasons, carpenters, livery stables, feed merchants, packers and freighters, saddle and harness makers, a telephone exchange and telegraph office, a post office, many restaurants, numerous clothing stores and tailors, a bookstore, tobacconists, drugstores, cobblers and shoemakers, grocers, dry goods stores, jewellers, hardware stores, bath-houses, laundries, barbers and hair-dressers, real estate agents, stock and mining brokers, investment firms, insurance agents and, of course, lawyers.

Many of the business owners became prominent townsfolk, including E.R. Atherton, Sandon's first postmaster and owner of a clothing store, who later became the city's first mayor.

Two business owners in particular stand out from the rest, however- J.M. Harris and Pat Burns. Harris, who at one point owned most of the city, owned several hotels- including two of the fanciest, the Hotel Reco and the Goodenough Hotel- real estate, investment and mining companies, office blocks, and the Sandon Waterworks and Light Company.

An empire-builder with a vision, Harris saw Sandon as "his" city, and he invested a great deal of his time and money in a variety of civic improvements, from installing street lights to supporting the city's fire department and hospital. However, Harris staked too much of his fortune on the city's future, and as Sandon declined, so did his business empire.

Burns, on the other hand, also made a fortune in Sandon, but was shrewd enough to "take the money and run". In earlier years, he had followed the CPR rails west, supplying the construction crews with beef. Following the completion of the railroad, he opened a butcher shop in Nelson in 1893, but within the year the Slocan silver rush had prompted him to open stores in Sandon, Three Forks and Kaslo. These four stores marked Burns' first venture into the retail market, a move that was to prove enormously successful. By 1897, Burns was reporting monthly profits of over $15,000 in his Sandon store alone, second only to his Rossland store, which grossed $23,000 a month. Eventually, Burns' retail holdings would grow into one of the largest meat-packing businesses in Canada, Burns Meats, which survives to this day. Burns himself became a multi-millionaire, and later was appointed to the Canadian Senate.

Of course, there were also numerous less savoury enterprises, including brothels, bootleggers and gamblers. Sandon became infamous for its "wildlife" among surrounding communities, with its card sharks, con men and bordellos. Most of the gamblers left for greener pastures after the city government outlawed gambling in 1900, but the madams and moonshiners of Lower Sandon continued to ply their trade until the Great Depression of the 1930s finally closed their doors for good.

Following the disastrous fire of 1900, a large number of Sandon's businesses disappeared, as many were not insured, and could not afford to rebuild. With the Klondike gold rush heating up, many business people took this as a signal to seek their fortunes elsewhere. However, several dozen businesses chose to stay in Sandon, due in no small part to the urging of J.M. Harris, who used his still-considerable fortune to underwrite loans for many of the business people who agreed to remain in the city. Businesses in surrounding communities thrived during the reconstruction period, as trainload after trainload of supplies were shipped to Sandon for the rebuilding effort. A smaller, more compact, but much more organized business district emerged following the fire, which featured hotels, groceries, a couple of general stores, a drug store, a newspaper, hardware stores, and many others.

The boom years were over, however, and Sandon's business district would never be the hive of activity it was in the past. Burns Meats closed its doors in the early 1900s, and the building later became the Sandon Meat Market, under different owners. J.M. Harris hung on through Sandon's periodic "mini-booms" over the next 50 years, purchasing competitor's stores and property as they closed their doors, convinced that the silver market would recover and "his" city would blossom again. In time, Harris would end his time in the valley as he had began it- owning most of Sandon. Following his death in 1953, his widow closed the Reco Hotel and sold off most of his property to lumber salvagers.

Today, all that remains of Sandon's once-thriving business district is the old Slocan Mercantile Block (now the Sandon Historical Society Museum), and reconstructions of the Burns Butcher Block, the ice cream parlour and the Atherton General Store, on the east side of the museum. Ruins of other businesses can also still be found, from the remains of the Virginia Block and the Reco Hotel to the concrete foundations and Pelton wheel from Harris' original hydro-electric plant.

The Historic Sandon Walking Tour, available at the retail counter in the museum, provides a handy reference guide to these and many other structures and ruins within the Sandon townsite.

Not surprisingly, clubs, lodges and other community organizations played an important role in Sandon's early years. As the city held such a disproportionate ratio of males to females, men were forced to rely on each other for much of their socializing and companionship. For many of the miners, this was simply a natural extension of their daily lives, as they routinely depended on each other for their safety in a dangerous job, often far from medical aid. In many respects, the Sandon branch of the Western Federation of Miners grew from this sense of common cause and deep mutual trust. As well as union activities, many social functions were organized at the WFM's Miners Union Block, which featured an gymnasium, library, stage and dance hall.

However, even before the formation of the union in December of 1898, Sandon was already a hotbed of lodges and clubs, catering to both miners and the business class.

One of the earliest of these organizations was the IOOF, which was formed December 30, 1896. The formal ceremonies marking the official opening of Silver City Lodge No. 39 did not take place until over two months later, however, on March 3, 1897, at Crawford Hall. The instituting officer was Brother Hodson, DDGS of NelsonÕs Kootenay Lodge No. 16, and the order's first officers were H. Douglas (NG), Fred Hopkins (VG), W. Furnival (RS), Bolderson (PS), and H.C. Holder (Treasurer).

Twenty-five new members were accepted into the Silver City Lodge that evening, and within a month the membership had almost doubled. Regular meetings were conducted Friday evenings at Crawford Hall, and by the time the popular lodge held its first annual ball in April of 1897, an astonishing 80 couples were in attendance.

By March of 1897, steps were being taken to organize a local branch of the Knights of Pythias, and on May 18, 1897, Sandon Lodge No. 24 was chartered, with a membership of 30. The first lodge executive included jeweller G.W. Grimmett, broker S.B. Hendee, Dr. Gomm and Byron Sharp. New members were charged a $15 initiation fee, while membership could be transferred from another lodge for only $5. Wednesday evenings at Crawford Hall were given over to regular meetings of this lodge.

A virulently pro-Protestant Irish organization that celebrated the past battles of the English monarch, William of Orange, the Orange Lodge already existed in Sandon by June of 1897. It had 40 members, and was the first Orange Lodge in the Slocan district. Brinsley Walton, manager of the Slocan Queen mine, was the first lodge secretary. The Sandon museum today holds several pieces of this lodge's regalia, including a large banner that hangs high above the main floor.

Established in July of 1897, the Sandon Club was designed to be a "gentlemen's club" for the city's upper crust, somewhere the discriminating capitalist could go to unwind, away from the riff-raff who frequented the many downtown saloons and gambling dens. Member of Parliament Hewitt Bostock was the club's patron, and presented it with a medal, to be presented as a trophy in the Sandon rink.

Occupying the entire upper floor of the Harris Block, the club featured a large billiard room with two tables, a card room, a "general lounging room", two large reading rooms "with the best papers and magazines of the English-speaking world", a writing room complete with desks and stationery, an unfurnished general-purpose room, a steward's room and a lavatory. Sofas, rockers and lounges proliferated, the walls were covered with tasteful oil paintings, and thick brocade carpets covered the floors.

Aiming to be "on a footing for dignity and comfort with any clubs in the East", the Sandon Club bragged that its quarters boasted "every comfort which good taste could suggest, or money could buy". It was, the club maintained, the classy sort of place to which "any visiting capitalist or tourist would feel it an honour to be invited".

Not surprisingly, the original officers reflected the club's aspirations to high-tone plumminess, and included the city's financial elite. The first president was Scott McDonald, and the Bank of British Columbia's manager Henry F. Mytton was vice-president. The executive committee was comprised of lawyer M.L. Grimmett, broker D.S. Wallbridge, Bank of British North America manager George Kydd, E.M. Sandilands, R.W. Thomas, John Daly, and C.D. Hunter.

Sadly, less than three years later, all these opulent furnishings were consumed in the fire of 1900.

Established in Sandon in October of 1897, this lodge called a meeting of the Princes of the Orient the following month to confer the "Oriental Degree O. of H." Exactly what the functions and objectives of this lodge were seem destined to remain shrouded in mystery, however, as nothing else is known of it. It is ironic, nevertheless, that any so-called "oriental" lodge existed in Sandon, a community that for many years was to remain openly hostile to any Chinese or Asian labourers who appeared on the scene.

Also formed in October of 1897, this group seems to have formed largely to cater to the non-dancing crowd. It advertised itself as providing "a series of high class social parties during the season, in which amusements of different kinds are furnished, to enable those who do not dance or who wish to vary the evening with other forms of social games to find entertainment".

Exactly what other forms this entertainment took is uncertain, although it appears dancing was still a mainstay for members of the Coterie- they held the Sandon Orchestra on a long-term retainer, and were known to host periodic dances. It also seems a safe assumption that the name did not reflect any geographic or family history requirements. Rather, the name seems to be taken from the Coterie's choice of venue, as regular meetings were held every second Thursday in J.M. Harris' Virginia Hall.

The Forresters began to organize in January of 1897, but the order was not officially instituted until November 29, 1897, with an initial roll call of 54. It is possible this group took longer to organize because its principle purpose more than simply a social function; primarily the organization's purpose was to provide affordable insurance for its members.

The extra time appears to have paid off, however, as over one 30-day period the following year, the Forresters wrote up $43,000 worth of insurance. Premiums were $30 per member, and the Forresters had $3,000,000 in its reserve fund to pay death claims, sickness benefits and funeral costs. It was said to be the cheapest, best and safest insurance of the day, and that every death claim was paid within two weeks of the death.

One of the longest-lasting of all of Sandon's lodges, the Freemasons held their first organizational meeting on January 5, 1899. Five months later, a charter was granted, and Alta Lodge (AF & AM) No. 29 was formally constituted on August 3, 1899. The name "Alta" was reportedly chosen for the lodge because of the high altitude of the city.

Magistrate W.H. Lilley, lawyer M.L. Grimmett, Sandon's second mayor H.H. Pitts and Thomas Brown were the first officers, and meetings were held in the Masonic Hall on the first Thursday of every month. The original Masonic Hall was located above Alexander Crawford's blacksmith shop on Sunnyside Hill, but this building was destroyed in the disastrous fire of 1900. After that, the lodge moved its hall to upstairs rooms in the Miners Union Block. Meetings of the Masonic Lodge were still being conducted in Sandon as late as 1938.

Several other clubs also existed in Sandon over the years, including the Epworth League, organized by the Methodist church, the Catholic Ladies League, the the Sandon Whist Club and the Sandon Consolidated Bachelors Association. No doubt there was no shortage of potential members for this last club, which was organized as a means of making as many of them as possible former bachelors. No record survives, however, of this club's level of success.

Soon after the first settlers arrived in Carpenter Creek valley, the hillsides rang to the sound of axes and saws as the miners began cutting timber for use in the mines or to build shacks. As the tide of hundreds turned to thousands, the virgin forest was devastated at an incredible rate.

At one point, three sawmills and a sash and door factory were kept busy, churning out lumber needs for the booming population. As Sandon mushroomed into a city, the trees shrank back, leaving vast exposed areas, and directly exposing the community to the threat of avalanches.

Above Sandon, high on the mountainsides where most of the mines were located, the risk was often greater. Numerous cookhouses, blacksmith shops and other mine buildings were swept into oblivion every winter, with the loss of many lives over the years.

Although avalanches may be triggered by loud sounds, often a slide will be caused when a layer of unstable frost crystals gives way beneath fresh snow that has fallen on top of it. These are particularly unpredictable and destructive avalanches that can sweep away thousands of tons of snow, rock and forest. Often as silent as they were deadly, these avalanches were known to the early miners and prospectors as "the whispering death", and were greatly feared for their ability to strike without warning.

While many of these avalanches struck high on the mountainsides, as the trees were cut back around the city, slides began to sweep through the few remaining trees, right into the heart of Sandon itself. Some of the most dangerous areas of the city were the upper gulch area, and along the Cody road. One winter, the slide threat was so great that the Miners Union hospital was relocated to a safer location, and a whole city block had to be evacuated, effectively cutting Sandon into two sections.

Avalanches also caused the relocation of one of Sandon's remaining original buildings, which currently houses the Tin Cup Cafe. Originally the residence of the Neil Tattrie family, it was built on the opposite side of Carpenter Creek. However, it was so close to the steep mountainside that small avalanches were soon smashing into it, wrenching and twisting the structure in the process. Around 1900, in an attempt to save the building, two trees were felled over the creek, and the entire building was pulled across to its current location on the other side. For many years the lasting damage done to this building was evident in twisted walls and floors, until 1997 when a massive restoration project was begun.

In recent years avalanches in Sandon itself have become rare, as the trees around the community have gradually grown back up. However, high above, such as on the south slope of Reco Mountain, where once camps for 13 mines clung to the steep slopes in a two-mile (3.2- kilometre) belt at the 6,500-foot (1,981-metre) elevation, the slides continue to run, unchecked and unchallenged.

A long period of clear, cold weather during January and February of 1937, during which an unusually thick layer of hoarfrost had built up on the surface of the snow. Suddenly, a fierce winter storm piled three feet of fresh snow on top of the unstable coating of frost crystals, setting the stage for a devastating avalanche.

Late one afternoon following school, Evelyn Stewart and her father George were walking to the home of Evelyn's grandparents, Con and Minnie Stewart, who lived on Cody Road in Sandon's upper gulch. Suddenly, all along Sunnyside Hill, a wall of snow came smashing down through the trees, directly toward the homes in the upper gulch. With no warning, George and Evelyn were engulfed in a cloud of flying powder snow, blinding Evelyn's father. Within seconds, two successive waves of snow had smashed into Con's house and forced George, who had been separated from his daughter, backward down the slope.

When the swirling snow cleared, the situation was grim. Con Stewart's house was buried under 25-feet (7.62 metres) of snow, and Evelyn was nowhere to be found- miraculously, three adults who had been in the house at the time had all escaped unharmed. Immediately a rescue crew set to work with shovels, axes and picks in a desperate race against time. As a tunnel was cut through the snow, the snow became more dense and packed, slowing the rescuers progress. Repeatedly they would have to stop as a fresh crew of workers would move in with axes and saws to clear away trees that had been carried along in the slide.

As men tired and slowed, more men would step in to take their place, and the feverish pace continued. Late in the afternoon, a relief party arrived from Silverton and New Denver, after walking the last nine miles (14.5 kilometres) through snow too deep for their vehicles. Johnny Harris, owner of the Sandon Waterworks and Light Co., set up flood lights and the digging continued on past midnight. Finally, shortly after daybreak, the bodies of the little girl and her dog, Rex, were discovered in the front room of Con's house. Apparently, they had just made it inside the front door as the adults were hurrying out the back, seconds before a wall of snow hit the house.

Even in a territory as used to slides as the Slocan, the tragedy was felt acutely in Sandon and neighbouring communities. Evelyn was buried shortly afterward, with mourners attending from New Denver, Silverton and Kaslo. In all the years since Evelyn Stewart's tragic death, there has never been another avalanche in the same area of Sandon's upper gulch.

Located approximately 1.7 kilometres outside Sandon, the cemetery is now hidden under the shelter of trees, on the hillside above the road into town. Plotted on early government maps, there were no known burials in the Sandon cemetery until 1898. Most of the more affluent and "respectable" citizens chose to be buried in New Denver or Kaslo's cemetery, often because their family lived there. In other cases, bodies were shipped even further afield, "back east", or even to Europe. At first, many of the miners were simply buried near where they were killed, high on the mountain slopes, in graves long since forgotten. Many of these men were killed in rockslides or avalanches, and in some cases no body was ever recovered.

A great many of the wooden grave markers in the cemetery bear the "WF of M" inscription, indicating the burial of a union member. In most cases, this was because the miner was young, with no known family, sometimes illiterate or foreign-born, and there was no one else to arrange for the funeral but the dead man's fellow miners. In cases where there was a family left behind, it was general practice for the other miners to all contribute a day's pay to the dead man's family, and for the union to offer to pay for the burial.

Miners continued to be killed on the job, or by snowslides on the way to and from work. Joseph Tresh, killed in a mining blast on October 1, 1901, lies in the cemetery, remembered simply with his name, date of death, and the "WF of M" inscription- in many cases, the age of the miner was not even certain. Alexander McFarland and Fred T. Shepherd, killed in an avalanche on their way home from the "graveyard shift" at 4:00 a.m., are buried there as well.

There were also children buried in the Sandon cemetery, often with small wooden markers that have not survived over the years. A couple still exist, although such details as names have been lost to time. Other markers do not bear the "WF of M" inscription, and may have been church burials. Records for the Sandon Cemetery are fragmented and incomplete, unfortunately. A couple of maps of the graveyard exist, although they are undated and contradictory in some instances. There do not appear to be any burials of Caucasians after 1922, however.

It remains unclear whether any Japanese-Canadian internees were ever buried in the cemetery during their time in Sandon in the 1940s. It is known that there was a Buddhist temple located in the abandoned Methodist church, and a concrete marker with a Japanese name has been located near the cemetery grounds, but no records of any internee burials have ever been found.

The cemetery lay abandoned and forgotten for many years, except for occasional visitors. Trees grew up, leaving the old graveyard hidden beneath their sheltering branches. In more recent years, members of the Sandon Historical Society have cleared the site of undergrowth and deadfall, erected an interpretive sign and sturdy new fence around the cemetery's perimeter, and repainted as many of the old grave markers as could be identified. The location of the cemetery has never been indicated, however, as some markers have been removed by souvenir-hunters in the past.

For a number of years, the old markers were dutifully moved indoors every winter to protect them from the harsher weather, then replaced in the cemetery in the spring. Recently, however, they have become too fragile to risk placing in the elements, and presently they remain in the Sandon Historical Society Museum. The long-term goal of the Society is to create replicas of as many of these markers as possible, and place them in the cemetery, while preserving the originals in the Museum.

For over a century, the Japanese have had a long and proud history in Canada. Beginning in 1877, many emigrated to the West Coast to work, and they soon came to dominate the fishing industry, with their great skill in their traditional occupation, their industrious work habits and their great determination. Before long, they also found niches in boat building, fishing canneries, logging and millwork, small fruit and vegetable farms and in a wide variety of businesses, such as restaurants, grocery stores, tailoring and dry-cleaning.

By the 1920s, there were about 15,000 people in BC of Japanese origin. At that point, about eight per cent of British Columbians were on "relief", but the Japanese seldom became public charges, and their unemployment rate stood at less than two per cent. Often, this was because they were willing to take work that others would not, but resentment of their success, as well as blatant racism, made them targets of discrimination and unfair treatment. As international tensions intensified and war with Japan loomed, rumors ran rampant, and many questioned the loyalties of Japanese-Canadians who had settled along the coast. With no proof whatsoever, some even suggested Japanese-Canadian fishermen might act as guides for submarines, or as spies for the Imperial Japanese government. Under the provisions of the War Measures Act, a law was passed requiring that all Japanese-Canadians register with the government, and receive a number and a file.

On December 7, 1941, the Imperial Japanese Navy launched a surprise attack on the US Navy base at Pearl Harbour, Hawaii. Almost immediately, panic and fear began to spread. In one of the most shameful periods of Canada's recent history, almost 22,000 Japanese-Canadian were stripped of their rights, property and possessions, and branded "enemy aliens", despite the fact that over 60 per cent of them were born in this country and were Canadian citizens.

At first, Ottawa decreed that all males of Japanese origin would be moved out of the Coastal Defense Zone and relocated to the interior "for their own protection". These men were separated from their families and sent to remote work camps to build roads. Those who protested or resisted were sent by train to a concentration camp at Angler, in Northern Ontario. This separation of families caused a great deal of suffering and hardship, and resulted in non-violent "sit down strikes" by the men. Soon, the federal government realized that these camps were not working, and the decision was made to reunite the men with their families into communities.

Approximately 12,000 Japanese-Canadians were shipped to the Slocan Valley, and were interned in a number of communities, including Greenwood, Salmo, Rosebery, New Denver, Lemon Creek, Slocan City, Kaslo and Sandon. In most of the other communities many small internment shacks were built; Sandon was chosen partly because the number of abandoned buildings that already existed meant less work to prepare the site for the internees.

At that time, Sandon had a resident population of less than 50. Many people had moved away to find work during the "Hungry Thirties", but had intended to eventually return. Because of this, many had left their homes intact and even furnished, and as a result many vacant buildings were useable with minimal work. Much of the original "wild west" flavour of the community was destroyed during these renovations, with little thought for the damage done to historic buildings.

According to a Vancouver newspaper's account at the time, "Long bars, with expensive plate-glass mirrors and scenes of Sandon's more glorious past are still intact. In the hospital, surgical instruments, sterilizers, beds and all the impedimenta of the medical profession had been untouched for years. Relics of the past in the lower and more disreputable part of town were abundant until the work gangs took over." No doubt many of these valuable heritage artifacts made their way into private collections as the work crews ranged through the old city.

The wartime BC Security Commission segregated internees along religious lines, and Sandon was designated as a Buddhist community, where 953 men, women and children were to be held. For the first time in years, the aging J.M. Harris found his city once more bustling with hundreds of people, but he soon found his 45-year-old power plant taxed to the limit. Under the direction of the Security commission, the internees completed extensive repair work on the old wood-stave penstock that carried water to the Silversmith Powerhouse, prolonging its life and indirectly ensuring its survival to the present day.

As well, a large crew of Japanese-Canadian carpenters was kept busy helping renovate the old buildings, while others were employed collecting scrap metal for the war effort. Unfortunately, the internees performed this work so industriously that a great deal of old machinery and metal artifacts were hauled away to be melted down.

Because of its remote location, no security guards were considered necessary, and only one provincial policeman was provided to keep the peace. As the internees largely regulated themselves, this Irish-Canadian officer led a quiet life in Sandon. In later years he used to joke that the nearly 1,000 Japanese-Canadians were so well behaved that he had nothing to do. "Now, if you'd locked up a thousand Irishmen up there, you'd need 2,000 cops to ride herd on them!" he would laugh.

J.M. Harris' old office block, the Virginia Block, held the Sandon offices of the BC Security Commission, as well as a 20-bed hospital with clinic, surgery and isolation ward, under the supervision of a Japanese-Canadian doctor. The top floor of the building was converted into a residence for the hospital staff, and a Japanese-Canadian dentist was brought in once a week.

Schooling for the children was provided by Catholic nuns from the Sisters of Christ the King convent. High school classes were held in the top floor of the CPR train station, and younger children were accommodated as well, including a kindergarten class of over 30 students. When not in school, the younger set kept busy on the ski jump hill, at judo and kendo clubs, or with music lessons.

Employment was scarce, but many of the adults occupied their time with wood-cutting, snow-clearing, road work, and dressmaking. Several were even employed by Harris in the Hotel Reco, as cooks, waiters and chambermaids. For many of the internees, gardening also provided a release, and stories are sometimes told of the intricate beauty of their small plots of ground. Sadly, no trace of these gardens now remain. In addition to their own gardens, the internees were aided by local Doukhobor communities, who brought in plenty of good fresh vegetables for them.

A Buddhist temple was set up in the old Methodist church next to City Hall and was used throughout the internees' time in Sandon. Several years later the abandoned building collapsed under a heavy snowload in the winter of 1946. When salvagers entered the building to investigate, there were surprised to see a statue of the Buddha still sitting there, untouched among the wreckage of the old church.

Because of its severe winters, Sandon was the first of the internment centres to close, and most of the internees were relocated to New Denver. Accustomed to coastal climates, most of the Japanese-Canadians were unprepared for the cold temperatures and heavy snowfall high in the mountains, and Sandon became known to many of them as "Camp Hell-Hole". No evidence of subversive activity by these peaceful people was ever demonstrated, and when the internees were eventually released at the end of the war, many of them remained angry and bitter about their wartime experiences. Some returned to Japan, or to the BC coast to rebuild their shattered lives. However, some stayed in the area, and there are still several Japanese-Canadian families living in New Denver and other centres in Slocan Valley.

Today, this sad chapter of Canada's past is remembered with the Nikkei Internment Memorial Centre in the old "orchard" area of New Denver. The only interpretive centre in Canada to focus exclusively on Japanese-Canadian internment history, it features a community hall, three restored original shacks, and a beautiful traditional Japanese garden created by one of the former internees. As well, the picturesque Kohan Reflection Garden facing onto Slocan Lake in New Denver honors the memory of these internees. Both sites are well worth a stop for any visitors seeking further information about this period of Canada's wartime past.

Local legend has it that "Nakusp" is a First Nations word meaning "safe". Early native inhabitants learned that once they had paddled their canoes beyond a certain point of land they were safe from the turbulent currents in Arrow Lake, and their name for the natural harbour located there was later adopted by white settlers for the name of their town.

As with most other surrounding communities, Nakusp came into being as a result of the Slocan silver rush of the 1890s. Incorporated as a community in 1892, Nakusp became an important supply and distribution point for people travelling to the Slocan silver fields by way of the Arrow Lakes. By 1895 Nakusp was the northern terminus of the Nakusp & Slocan Railway, which was leased by the Canadian Pacific Railway, and which connected to the CPR main line at Revelstoke by way of sternwheelers and barges that plied the Upper Arrow Lake.

Originally, the citizens of Nakusp hoped the town would become the smelting centre for the ores pouring out of the silver fields to the south. These dreams were dashed with the completion of the CPR's line to Slocan City in 1897, however, and by the CPR's purchase of the smelter in Trail the following year. The N&S rail line continued to connect Nakusp to Sandon, however, and was in regular use by the CPR until 1955. The old N&S rail grade survives to this day as the Galena Trail, which caters to hiking and biking enthusiasts alike.

As the importance of mining diminished, Nakusp has continued to survive on logging and agriculture, and is now the largest centre between Nelson and Revelstoke. Highways and ferries have replaced the railways and steamships that first made Nakusp a regional transportation hub, and the only traces of these early days can be found in the artifacts on display in the Nakusp museum.

Named after English financier and nobleman, the Earl of Rosebery, this small community at the mouth of Wilson Creek played a crucial role in the CPRÕs transportation link between Sandon and the outside world. Blessed with the best natural harbour on Slocan Lake, RoseberyÑ rather than the larger town of New DenverÑ became the transfer point between the CPRÕs N&S rail line and its sternwheelers and barges. From Rosebery, ore cars were transported by barge south to Slocan City, where they were transferred back onto rails for the trip to the CPRÕs Trail smelter, or south into Washington state.

During the boom years, Rosebery had a post office, hotels, several stores, and at one point the Rosebery-Surprise Mining Company had a concentrator mill located there. Today only faint traces remain of Rosebery's past. The old rail bridge still stands, although it has deteriorated greatly, and local residents still refer to the old CPR station manager's house as the "Rosebery Manor".

Today, Rosebery continues to survive because of its harbour. Where ore cars were once transferred, however, large booms are now used to transport logs to the sawmill at Slocan City. A small bedroom community of more than 100 residents, Rosebery still has two small restaurants and a provincial campground.

First named "El Dorado", the townsite of New Denver was created in 1891 to service the thousands of miners and prospectors flooding into the Slocan. Never a mining town, New Denver was still an important supply and service hub, as well as the centre for government in the region. Hotels and businesses boomed in the growing town as passengers disembarked from sternwheelers on Slocan Lake. Most would stay at least overnight before catching the CPR train to Three Forks or Sandon the following day.

More sedate than its rowdy boomtown neighbour, New Denver became home to many of Sandon's more affluent business people, who chose to raise their children well away from the "riffraff" who thronged to Sandon. As a result, many of Sandon's wealthier early pioneers were actually buried in the New Denver cemetery, rather than in the small Sandon graveyard. Although never as large as Sandon, New Denver survives today because its economy was not linked exclusively to mining, but instead diversified and survived on logging and agriculture.

Like Sandon, New Denver became a relocation centre for Japanese-Canadian internees during the Second World War. Many of the small shacks used to house these internees are still scattered throughout the village. A number of the internees and their descendants still live in New Denver. Their story is excellently portrayed at the Nikkei Internment Memorial Centre, the only facility of its kind in Canada. In addition, the Silvery Slocan Museum, located in the turn-of-the-century Bank of Montreal building on Main Street houses an excellent collection of artifacts and photos from New Denver's past.

Originally staked in 1892 by pioneer storekeeper William Hunter, Silverton was to become the second-most important mining town in the Slocan district. The same summer, prospector Mike Grady, led by a hunting party of natives, discovered rich outcroppings of galena ore in the mountains behind Hunter's townsite. With two partners, Grady returned and staked their "Echo", "Alpha" and "Standard" claims, all of which were destined to ensure the future of Hunter's town on Four Mile Creek, later renamed Silverton Creek. Many of Silverton's great mines were located on the south side of Idaho Mountain, and their workings head in the direction of Sandon. Many geologists believe that there are still great ore bodies waiting to be discovered deep in the mountains between Silverton and Sandon.

Unlike most other communities in the area, Silverton never had a railway, but instead relied on sternwheelers and barges on Slocan Lake to bring in supplies and haul ore out. In its heyday, Silverton had many hotels, stores, and other businesses. A major landmark within the village boundaries until recent years was the large concentrator mill of the Standard mine.

Today, Silverton survives as a peaceful community of approximately 300 residents. Over 40 historic homes and buildings still remain, including the Silverton Hotel, the Fingland cabin and blacksmith shop, and William Hunter's original residence. An excellent outdoor mining museum containing much of Sandon's historic mining machinery is on display year-round at the Silverton Gallery.

Like most other communities in the Silvery Slocan, Slocan City came into existence in the early 1890s. It began as a tent town for people who walked the Slocan River trail on their way to rich mines in the Sandon area. Slocan City was located at the south end of Slocan Lake and it served as a transfer point for people passing on from foot to boat.

In the early 1890s, several important mines were discovered in the area of Slocan City but the community itself did not reach full prominence until the CPR arrived there in 1897. Once the railway was complete, and steamships and barges connected it to the Sandon line, Slocan City had assured success. It rapidly became an important port and supply center, and by 1901 it had become an incorporated city. The name Slocan City was readily accepted because the term "City" distinguished it from the Slocan region.

Slocan City suffered the same setbacks as neighboring towns when mining declined, and by World War II it was virtually a ghost town. Like many other area communities, Slocan City was used as an internment centre for Japanese-Canadians during the war. In 1958 it was disincorporated, and it reverted to a village status. In recent years Slocan City, now known only as Slocan, has become an important sawmill and logging center.

The valley between Three Forks and Kaslo is known as "the Valley of the Ghosts" for the many ghost towns which remained there until the 1980s. Many of them were simply large mining camps, and stations along the K&S Railway.

The more important of these were the communities of McGuiggan, Zincton, and Whitewater (later renamed Retallack.) Whitewater and Zincton had concentrator mills, and all had post offices, hotels and stores. Whitewater was the largest community, with a peak population of close to 1,000.

The Valley of the Ghosts was devastated by several forest fires which over the years have erased most evidence of these communities. Even buildings from more recent years have almost all succumbed to the blows of salvagers. Today the only remnants of these old ghost towns are a handful of buildings located at Retallack.

Kaslo, at one time the second-largest community in the Slocan, was born on the wealth of the Sandon mines. Kaslo was the eastern terminus of the K&S Railway, the lifeline that joined Sandon and Kaslo. When trains of ore arrived at the docks, men unloaded the narrow-gauge (36-inch) cars and transferred the ore with wheelbarrows onto barges. Sternwheelers or tugboats towed the barges to the railheads at Nelson or Kuskanook, where the ore was reloaded onto standard-gauge (48-inch) railroad cars for the final journey to American smelters.

In 1893 Kaslo became the area's first incorporated city. Like New Denver, Kaslo was not a mining town and consequently was a quieter and more peaceful place than Sandon. Many of Sandon's prominent business people had homes in Kaslo so that their children would not be exposed to Sandon's rougher elements. Similarly, many of Sandon's more affluent pioneers are buried in the Kaslo cemetery.

Kaslo reached its heyday in the late 1890s, and although Sandon eventually far outstripped Kaslo in size, travel between the two communities by rail was common, and the populations of both towns remained close. Unlike Sandon, however, Kaslo had a more diversified economy and when mining began to decline, logging and agriculture were able to make up for the mining losses. During World War II, Kaslo was another internment center for Japanese-Canadian citizens.

Today Kaslo is a healthy modern community with a population of close to 1,000. The SS Moyie, last of the Kootenay Lake sternwheelers, is Kaslo's major historic landmark, and it is now a national historic site. The Langham Cultural Center also has excellent displays on Kaslo's rich history.

Located approximately four miles west of Sandon on the old CPR grade is the former community of Alamo. It began as a settlement surrounding the first concentrator mill built in the Slocan. It had a post office, hotels, stores and all the usual amenities to be found in a community of 200 or more.

In 1918 Clarence Cunningham, an inventive, generous and much-loved local mining man, purchased the Alamo, Idaho, and Queen Bess mines. He built a new concentrator mill, the finest in the country, and he became a millionaire over the next few years. Cunningham even built a beautiful mansion complete with English gardens on a bench above Alamo. The Alamo Mill was equipped to custom-mill ore that was brought in on the railway, and was constantly busy with Cunningham's own ore and that of others.

An indication of the respect Cunningham was accorded was that when most other area mines were forced to stop production during a strike, Cunningham's men refused to walk out on him. Despite all his cleverness, wealth and the devotion of his workers, however, disaster loomed for Cunningham. As the 1930s dragged on, the Great Depression caused most mining activity in the Slocan to wither. Desperately, Cunningham invested more and more of his fortune in an effort to keep his mines active. It was said that if a man came to Cunningham with a "hard luck story", he would not turn him away without a meal and a few dollars in his pocket. Sadly, Cunningham himself eventually died penniless.

Today, Alamo is a ghost town. Cunningham's great mill is a colossal ruin and the beautiful mansion is gone, victim of a fire many years ago. Several other collapsing buildings remain and the ruins are impressive. Alamo can be reached by a half-hour walk along the old rail grade from Three Forks.

For three years, from 1892 to 1895, Three Forks was the largest and most important community in the Slocan. Its name comes from its location at the junction of Kane Creek, Seaton Creek and Carpenter Creek. Originally, the CPR planned to end its Nakusp and Slocan line at Three Forks, thus avoiding the steep and dangerous grade between Three Forks and Sandon. A consortium of Kaslo businessmen and the American-owned Great Northern Railroad had other plans, however.

By 1894, the CPR tracks had reached Three Forks, but the Great Northern's K&S Railway from Kaslo had soon circumvented the CPR. By 1895, the K&S had built a line around Payne Mountain right into Sandon itself, where the richest mines of all were located. Realizing the K&S now had the upper hand, the CPR was forced to extend its line to Sandon as well, thus dooming the once-promising Three Forks.

At its peak, in the early 1890s, close to 2,000 people lived at Three Forks. With a two-stall engine roundhouse and a locomotive turntable, 15 businesses, six hotels, and many homes, the future looked bright. Soon, however, Three Forks was merely a whistle stop along the line. By 1904 the population had dropped to less than 100, and eventually the town withered and died. Today virtually no trace of Three Forks remains.

Located only 1-1/2 miles upstream from Sandon, this town was named for Henry Cody, the same prospector who discovered the Cody Caves south of Kaslo. Close to several major mines, Cody became an important center in 1896 when the K&S railway connected it by a spur from the Sandon line. The Noble Five mine built a large concentrator mill within the townsite, and at its peak there were over 200 residents, three hotels, a livery and blacksmith shop, three laundries, a dress-maker, a post office and more.

For a while it looked as though Cody might rival Sandon, but quick action by J.M. Harris in 1897 sealed Cody's fate. To protect his interests in Sandon, he constructed the Reco Trail, which connected several major mines with Sandon while bypassing Cody altogether.

After the turn of the century, Cody began to decline and by World War I only the Noble Five mill and buildings associated with it remained. The original Noble Five Mill was torn down in 1918 and was replaced by an even larger mill. The second mill burned in 1944 and a third mill owned by the Cody-Reco company was built on the same site in 1952. It operated only six months before closing permanently. Today Cody is a true ghost town. The K&S station, the remains of the Noble Five concentrator, and a few shacks still stand. Ruins of the aerial tramway are also still visible.