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Charles Tupper Hayward

January 2nd, 1922  - May 12th 2018

Charles Tupper Hayward 2016

Probably Thinking of Fishing

Charles Tupper Hayward

Dad after WWII

Charles Tupper Hayward Gone Fishing 

Charles Tupper Hayward Has Gone Fishing

Obit By Bruce;

CHARLES TUPPER HAYWARD Charles Tupper Hayward, aged 96, passed peacefully in the early morning, May 12, 2018, at the Deer Lodge Centre in Winnipeg. C. Tupper Hayward was born on January 2, 1922 in Edmonton Hospital. (He preferred Tupper) He served in the military during the Second World War, first in the army, then discharged and joined the Royal Can`adian Air Force seeing much action overseas. He was a hard-working person, eager to enjoy life, belonged to many groups, in the church, creative retirement and the St. James Assiniboia 55+ Senior Centre. He was predeceased by his wife June Hayward (nee Sheane), youngest son Christopher and granddaughter Kyra. He will be missed by sons, Dennis and Bruce; grandchildren, Anthony, David, Maggie, Nathanial and Rebeca; two great-grandchildren; good friend and brother-in-law James Sheane; good friend Bob Chapman and numerous nephews, nieces and extended family. The Celebration of Life and interment for Tupper will take place at 10:30 a.m. on Tuesday, May 29, 2018 at Chapel Lawn Funeral Home, 4000 Portage Ave., officiated by Sturgeon Creek Minister Deborah Murray. For those who wish to sign the online Guest Book please visit www.chapellawn.ca Chapel Lawn Funeral Home 204-885-9715 

Eulogy for Dad, by Bruce E. Hayward:

Good Day!

I am Bruce Hayward, one of three boys, middle son of June Florence Hayward, and C. Tupper Hayward. Eldest son is Dennis, and Christopher is the youngest.

I want to say a few words in memory of our father.

A bit of background; The Hayward’s have a bit of linage on the east coast of Canada going back a way to Henry Hayward, who fought for the British against the American Revolution.

Dad’s Grandpa (Silas Chapman Hayward) was a lumberman, with tracts of land, and a lumber mill in Port Elgin.  Businesses, numerous retail outlets and many luxurious homes were "lighted by electricity;" steam generated, at Hayward's Saw Mill.

Dad’s Dad, my Grandpa, (Rev. Silver Elmer Hayward) had eight brothers, and two sisters.  After he and Grandma Hayward married, they followed the ‘go west young man’ thing for that time’ and moved to Edmonton, Alberta from Port Elgin, New Brunswick.  There Grandpa farmed for a bit, and then later went to the faculty of Theology at St Stephen's College in Edmonton, Alberta graduating in April, 1927.

Dad was born January 2, 1922 in Edmonton to Rev. Silver Elmore Hayward, and Louise Hayward (nee Robinson).

Things were a tad different then. 

Dad’s life as a son of a prairie minister:

Grandpa’s first charge was Major, Saskatchewan. By Christmas 1923, Grandpa was in the manse at Gibbons, Alberta, by 1925 Fleet, Alberta, by 1926, the mission field of St. Paul des Métis, In 1928, they moved to Viewfield, in the South Eastern part of Saskatchewan. At Viewfield, Grandpa had a three point charge.

That meant service in the morning was nine miles east at Benson, and then again nine miles west at the Fairview school. Later In the evening at Viewfield. Services were done in the summer, weather permitting by car. In the winter by horse and cutter.

You get the idea…

Dad was in grades 6, 7, and 8 in Belle Plaine, a two room school. From Belle Plaine they moved to Aneroid, Saskatchewan. There when rain came, mushrooms popped up almost everywhere, so did mosquitoes.

In the fall of 1938 he worked in the harvest for three dollars per day, nothing if it rained. This was the time that Hitler was hollering loud and clear. Aneroid had an armoury, the 60th Field Artillery, horse drawn pieces.

Dad took a few boxing lessons at the armoury, the first lesson he learned was to skip with a rope.

From there, Grandpa went to Montague, P.E.I. His Mom was getting old, and he wanted a charge in the east where he was from.  Dad said they motored down.

About a month after they arrived, Canada declared war. The world changed.

During the Easter Break, he took the train and boat to Moncton N.B. to the R.C.A.F. recruiting office.

Usually the ferry took about an hour for this trip. This boat was sunk off Halifax later in the war. In Moncton the R.C.A.F. said they were only taking men with a university degree for air crew at this time, and to come back later.

Upon finishing his grade Xl exams at Montague Memorial School (P.E.I. ), he went down to the town hall where a mobile recruiting unit had a one day stand.

They were recruiting for the North Nova Scotia Highlanders, and the Ninth Search Light Battery Royal Artillery. The medical mostly consisted of seeing if you had a heart, pee in a bottle, and mostly if you had teeth. He had all three and on July 4th reported to the Armouries in Charlottetown.

On October 31, 1941, Dad got word to proceed to Sydney pending a transfer. On November 10th, he was discharged from the Army in Sydney N.S. to join the Royal Canadian Air Force.

On September 24, 1942 he was England bound.  Dad was based out of England, and later North Africa.

Dad has mentioned that Africa was hot, dry, dusty, and very dirty.  He wished his Dad could have seen the old cities. Probably the same as when Christ was on earth. Dust storms were common, and every step one took, the dust raised waist high as if they were walking through wood ashes.

Homeward bound! On October 21/44 he went aboard the Queen Mary about 5.00 p.m. The next day they set sail, arriving in New York a few days later, passing the Statue of Liberty. Right away they caught a train for Ottawa.

After a time he was screened, one of life's greatest highlights. The "Powers- That-Be" decided that officers administration college in Toronto was to be the next point of interest for this young Pilot Officer Air Gunner. This was followed by appointment to R.C.A.F. station Nova Scotia as adjutant of 116 squadron, an operational anti submarine unit.

On the morning of February 15th, 1945, Dad had just entered his office, which was part of the hanger, when there was a terrific explosion. Inside the hanger, about fifteen feet from his office was a Canso loaded with petrol and depth charges.

There were other aircraft in the hanger similarly equipped for action. Anyway, the hanger was 'no more', just fire and exploding ammo. He crawled out, well shaken, but little worse for wear. He often thought of the irony that after completing a 'tour' on Wellingtons and Halifax's over Europe, that he should come again so close to getting the "BIG CHOP" in Canada.

Dad tried university, but suffered the post operations shakes more and more, and even writing became more difficult.

He reported to D.V.A., and was sent to the Guild of all Arts. It was a branch of Christie Street Veteran's Hospital. The patients were fellows like him, suffering post operational fatigue, and skinny ex-POW'S (ex-prisoners of war).

Later, Dad bought a Hudson Terraplane car, and headed to Winnipeg to try and join the Hudson Bay Fur Trade Company. At this time there were endless thousands of ex-service men looking for openings.

He applied at Hudson Bay House to be a trainee in the Fur Trade. After a few days he was accepted, and they sent him to a Central Northern air base in Lac du Bonnet. He was flown into Little Grand Rapids on Family Lake, about fifty Portages up the Berens River.

In October 1949 just before freeze up he was posted to Maria Portage, Island Lake, Manitoba. It was a brand new post having been built during the summer of 1949.

This was not the subtle confines of a resort, but a land where a freighter canoe was used to go to the store, of dog sleds, and the fur trade.  

Dad met his wife, June Florence Sheane at Rossville, Norway House.  They were married in February of 1950, in Winnipeg at Young United Church.

After they returned to the north where Tupper was Manager of the Maria Portage sub-post for the Hudson Bay Fur Trade, located nine miles from the main Post at Garden Hill First Nations.  Island Lake is situated near the Manitoba/Ontario border, is 60 miles long and has 3400+ Islands.

The Post was a Fur Trading Post, the natives made most of their living by trapping, and there was also some extra money in the winter by commercial fishing, mostly operated through the main Post.

The furs were, in the spring, Muskrat, in the fall and early winter, Mink, Weasel and Otter, also Beaver, Fox, Lynx, Wolf, and thousands of Squirrels, fur was mostly of good quality. Dad had the challenges of the fur trade, running the post, learning Cree, Ojibwa, and some Salteaux.

They lived there on an island by themselves – Christopher reminded me that it was called Long Island. 

My earliest memories are that of riding on his shoulders, with my arms wrapped around his bristly chin.

Dad was less seen at the house than Mom, as he worked on the job twelve plus hours a day.  So for us boys it was late evening, or on the weekends, dressed to the nines going to church.

No matter how small the yard, such as at the Lipton street address, he would turn a section of it (more like a postage stamp) into a vegetable garden oasis.  He bought a clump of asparagus roots from a farmers’ market one year in a tub.

He carried the same rhubarb root from house to house, plant pots full of tomatoes, herbs and peppers started each year from seed in the house in March.  I called them plant pots, but in reality any sort of container that would do, from tin cans to cartons.

He built a row boat in the basement at our first Sherburn street address that we used for many years of vacation.  A rec room and bedroom at our other Sherburn Street address.

We were raised with church on Sunday. We were taught to respect people, give up our seat to an elderly, watch our Ps & Qs, and to mind our manners, and of course, a good work ethic.  

In the event we forgot, we were reminded….

He could pack an amazing amount of travelling into two short weeks in the summer, making sure that we learned how to fish, and of course cleaning them was part of the package. For me the same was true of hunting, using a rifle, and shotgun, and likewise to clean and dress any food that we shot.

He belonged to many groups; in the church, creative retirement, coffee talk, and the St. James/Assiniboia Senior Centre.

It took many years for Dad to mellow from the war, such a remarkable thing that he and his kind was able to do for us.

Thanks Dad, and thanks to you all for being here.


From son Bruce Edward Hayward

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