Guest column: Darrell McBreairty - Google is God

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Months ago, when I signed a series of contracts with an E-publisher for a number of books to be published by them, I never dreamed I would be arguing with editors over the proper spelling of local place names. For most of my life, as many of you know, I have spent innumerable hours researching and documenting the history of the St. John River Valley and its people. I have also spent countless hours transcribing the hundreds of hours of taped conversations with people of the St. John River Valley I recorded over many decades, so I know the speech patterns, word pronunciations and vocabulary of these people. Try convincing an editor somewhere across the continent that what you have written as dialogue is authentic. But that is a whole different story.

DARRELL MCBREAIRTY

Often I am consulted by researchers throughout North America for information or confirmation of information they are in need of. I have a reputation for thoroughness in my research and refuse to publish anything that has not been documented properly and gone over many times to verify accuracy. In a book that I self-published years ago, I have a character mention Glasier Lake in New Brunswick. Editors at the E-publishing house I have signed contracts with insist, because Google says so, that Glasier is spelled as G-l-a-z-i-e-r. When I give them a condensed history of the naming of Glasier Lake and point out that it was named Glasier after John Glasier who lumbered there in the mid-1800s, they are not convinced because when they consult God, I mean Google, the name comes up as Glazier, so obviously, I don’t know what I am talking about.

The Dictionary of Canadian Biography Online (www.biographi.ca/009004-119.01-​e.php?&id_nbr=6126) says: “In 1852 John and Stephen Glasier obtained the J. D. Pierce, the first stern-wheeler to travel the Saint John. They had the Bonny Doon built the following year at Farmingdale, Maine. It had a very shallow draught so that it could operate on the river above Fredericton and even reach Grand Falls at favourable seasons of the year. Their depot was 75 miles above Grand Falls on the St Francis River, where nearby Glasier Lake preserves their name.”

Esther Clark Wright in her book The St. John River and Its Tributaries (Fredericton, N.B.: Self-published, 1966) states: “Years ago, I drove up the St. Francis as far as the road went, to Glasier Lake, where the "main John" and his men got out the logs they sent over the Grand Falls.”

Although I had heard that a member of the Glasier family had drowned in the lake that bears their name, I cannot, at this point, find documentation to confirm that. I should also mention that survey maps for the area where Maine, New Brunswick and Quebéc come together, list the lake as Glazier, Glacier and Glasier, but that original land grant maps housed at the Provincial Archives of New Brunswick at Fredericton, New Brunswick, confirm that Glasier is the correct spelling.

Years ago someone very new to research corrupted Ancestry.com with wrong information in regard to a branch of our family. Several people have attempted to correct this error, but Ancestry.com refuses, even when given verified documentation, to correct this misinformation. So now, everyone who consults Google is sure that William Mullins (1812-November 1886) came from Virginia instead of Eastern Canada.

My great-great-great-grandfather Electius Oakes (1792-6 September 1870), a veteran of the War of 1812, left Canaan, Maine, and sometime after marrying Henrette Marie Lavigne (5 May 1799-25 September 1888) on 17 August 1818 in Bathurst, New Brunswick, came to the Upper St. John River Valley, settling in what was known as Fall Brook, Maine, along the St. Francis River. Fall Brook, which enters the St. Francis on the American side about a mile below Glasier Lake, is named after the waterfall that descends on this brook. At one time the brook was dammed by lumbermen to hold a supply of water to facilitate the log drives sent down this brook. At one point the Oakes family moved to the American side of Glasier Lake on a brook that has two names. On the American side it is called Yankee Two Lady, and on the Canadian side, it is known as English Two Lady. In his Oak=Oaks=Oakes Family Registry compiled in the late 1800s, Henry Lebbeus Oak writes in regard to Electius Oakes: “When the line was run between the U.S. and Canada his farm proved to be on the Canadian side.” So I would be willing to bet, Electius Oakes, being such a patriotic American, was related to the two Yankee ladies the brook was named for. Google lists this brook as just Yankee Brook.

My great-grandmother, Barbara “Abbie” (Oakes) McBreairty (6 July 1857-2 May 1925), and her father, William Oakes (2 July 1831-1910) before her, grew up and lived on or near Glasier Lake for a great part of their lives.

I have a fragment of a letter my great-grandfather James McBreairty (7 June 1859-9 December 1914) wrote home to his family the winter he first stayed at the Oakes place on Glasier Lake and met my great-grandmother. They were married in 1880 and remained in Connors, New Brunswick, until their son Frank McBreairty (19 January 1883-13 April 1963) was 9 days old before moving to Allagash.

I have original letters written by John Glasier (3 September 1809-7 July 1894), known across North America as “The Main John Glasier”, to businessmen in the Upper St. John River Valley in the 1860s. They are signed as John G-l-a-s-i-e-r.

Along the Allagash River is a brook named Ben Glasier. In an article about the passing of John Glasier appearing in the 16 July 1894 edition of the Saint John Globe (archives.gnb.ca/APPS/​NewspaperVitalStats/Default.aspx?L=EN), it is noted that John Glasier was the son of Benjamin Glasier and the grandson of Benjamin Glasier and also had a brother named Benjamin Glasier. Glasier is a proper name and is the name given the lake that spans the border between Maine and New Brunswick that Google insists is spelled G-l-a-z-i-e-r, and God forbid we should try to convince anyone that Google is wrong. After all, Google is God: omnipotent and infallible.

When supplies were coming up the St. John River in the lumbering days, it was necessary to carry or portage around a rough stretch of the river. The French term portage was in common use, and, of course, the English corrupted it into pordash. In Allagash a particular part of the road going through a stretch of woods just up from the river where supplies were carried over land by our forefathers generations ago is known to this day as “the pordash.” God help the editors and the people at Google if they ever run across this bit of information. There will be a great gnashing of teeth and a pulling of hair that could possibly shut everything down for a day or two.

Editors note: Readers can find more stories and photographs from McBreairty at darrellmcbreairty.com.