As a young boy, I grew up in Blue Mountain, N.S., a rural inland community. A family relative in this community, Clifford Legge, was a working blacksmith. Many times, I visited him with my family. I watched in wonder at the sparks, the forming of metal, and the many shoeings. Nearby in another community, New Ross, was another blacksmith equally respected by the family, which I often visited with my family, too. As a boy of ten, I remember this blacksmith, Jack Morley, telling me that if I could lift the anvil sitting in the corner of the table, I could have a dollar. A dollar! That could buy me a lot of chocolate bars. I took a mighty strain on the anvil. It didn’t budge. No dollar. I remarked it was bolted down. “No, no”, he said, “see…”, and he promptly lifted it. Very strong and adept, he was in his movements as he blacksmithed and shod oxen. I took notice…somewhat. How could I know that someday I would be working as a traditional blacksmith in his very shop! And indirectly taught by the very blacksmith that was a family relative.

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     Let me explain. I always had a ‘knack’ for crafting, and spent much time as an early adult learning and practicing traditional skills including woodworking, leatherworking, and especially metalworking which included studying and identifying countless iron artifacts. I adored elders who were like-minded, especially those who were willing to teach me. After a stint in the forestry industry, I was employed as an ox teamster/herdsman at the Ross Farm Museum site in New Ross, wherein Jack’s shop was now located. My lunch break was a half hour longer than many of the others. I would ‘wolf-down’ my lunch, and wander down to the blacksmith shop to watch, then blacksmith, Roy Levy, perform amazing feats of metal manipulation. Occasionally, I would ask him to show me how a procedure was accomplished. He was, and is, a forthright personality ‘suffering no fools’, but he readily became a great instructor teaching me what to do. Maybe he saw a pupil worthy of his administrations. My blacksmithing knowledge ascended exponentially, surmising approximately one third of my eventual career skill and knowledge. Roy was nearing retirement, and I assumed blacksmith duties after he left. I wished I had more time with Roy, however, another blacksmith, Stephen Workman, who worked there previous to Roy, continued to teach me a few other aspects of traditional blacksmithing, especially what not to do, particularly when shoeing oxen. This blacksmith was himself taught by the very family relative I mentioned earlier, Clifford Legge.  So, I considered myself partially taught, through Stephen, by Clifford. Stephen, along with several others, over the next year or two, taught me another, surmised, one third of my know-how. Finally, the last surmised third of my expertise was gained by myself. Many times, numerous museums and historical entities would request reproductions pieces made; for example, door latches in the French style of the 1650s, or hinges in the English style of the 1820s. This sparked a renewed yearning for related erudition. Countless hours of research concerning French, English, and German styles of artifacts from the 1600s onward ensued.