I'd almost forgotten about this...
So I had a surprisingly good day today at the Fort. It was my last day - which is always bittersweet - but the last two years I've worked this final day haven't been nearly so good... because it's Free Admission Day. And it's a bit of a zoo at the park. Today, we topped last year's attendance by over a thousand people, weighing in at over 11,000 visitors, all told, I believe. That's a LOT of people. BUT several factors combined to make this stressful day less... stressful.
For instance, the train was down. Now, if you know the layout of Fort Edmonton, you know that 1846, the era in which I work, is the furthest point from the entrance, but is easily accesible by train... when it's working. So normally - what happened last year for me - the train brings waves and waves of people all day, ferrying them straight from the front. Today, though, they really had to walk to get all the way there, so it built slowly, and was steadily busy without giant groups of people coming in all at once.
Second of all, the Sun & Moon dancers were there. They set up several large tipis outside of the fort walls and were doing traditional Cree and Métis dances all day, with drummers and singers. They were awesome and very friendly. I went out to watch (and do crowd control) a few times, and even got to participate in a circle dance. We just held hands and stepped around the circle to a drumbeat, but it symbolizes friendship and was a surprising workout, and it was really fun.
Thirdly, I found a really great location. One of the big things is to watch all of the different rooms with portable artifacts, because while like 98% of people who attend on Free Admission Day genuinely want to experience the park (and not have to pay the admission fee, granted), there are always a certain number of people in that rather large crowd (odds are) that are there to steal things. :P So I ended up in the Rowand Daughter outfit on the second floor of Rowand. I sat just barely on the balcony on a small bench, so I had a clear view of the hallway and the rooms to the right. I was also perfectly framed by the doorway, with the sun to my back (not in my face). I sat at perfect eye-level with most children - who often stopped to ask me about my sock knitting - and I wasn't bombarded with people from all directions. Sometimes there were log jams as people wanted to come in from both directions at once, but I had a surprising number of really good conversations. Also, because there were three of us in the house for most of the day (I had my choice of fake husbands!), we had no problem getting away for water or bathroom breaks, which is always an issue on busy days.
We also were very well-fed: an amazing potluck breakfast in the morning which was so notoriously spectacular in our era that several other supervisors crashed our party with food too to participate (I made scones and home-made honey butter with cinnamon), and we were provided with pretty decent free pizza for lunch for working such a tough shift. :) It's nice to be appreciated.
So, all in all, a pretty good last day. Some of my coworkers I will never see in costume again, some will be moved to other streets (maybe I'll be in a different time period next year!), and so on. It was a good season, and I wish everyone luck!
On a final note, as we cleaned out our changerooms for the last time, I ran across a fake letter I'd written during a penmanship program. We often write joke letters during this program to read during Gentlemen's Tea (when business is discussed), often from our Chief Factor, John Rowand (my character Nancy's father), who, we claim, is now away at Norway House for the summer (because Will, the man who played Rowand for the last many years, has been moved to another street). Anyway, another note of explanation: it makes reference to a fictional figure named Kentworth, which is the fake name of one of the guys we were a bit annoyed with that day for requesting off a special event day in which we were already short so he could get paid to bagpipe somewhere else. He also occasionally plays Reverend Rundle, the most literate of all of our characters. This man is often also the only interpreter who remembers to bring a timepiece to work. Fort Good Hope is the WORST fort in the West to be stationed in. The Sandwich Islands are the contemporary to 1846 term for the Hawaiian Islands. ANYWAY, it reads thusly:
John Edward Harriott
Chief Trader
Edmonton House
Dear Mr. Harriott:
I write this letter to inform you of a task I would have you perform. It has come to Governor Simpson's attentio that a certain Mr. John Kentworth, a half-literate Orkneyman with pretentions of being a clerk, has been stealing goods from the trade store. Nothing extravagant, but a serious problem nonetheless: an extra length of tartan cloth here, a ration of tea and coffee there, and of course carrots of tobacco have all gone missing under his watch.
I would have you inform him that effective immediately he is to be stationed at Fort Good Hope - where all the men of his sort are to be sent. We don't want to wast any more of the company's resources on theiving ilk like him, so there i sno sense in paying to have him sent all the way back to Orkney.
Furthermore, Governor Simpson bids me to order you to a different task. It has been brought to his attention that when Kentworth was at the Chief Factor's meeting at Norway House, taking down the minutes of the meetings, he was wearing an unusually fine pocket watch exactly matching the description of the Governor's own watch that went missing precisely as he passed through Edmonton House last season upon his return with me from the Sandwich Islands. Simpson thus bids me to tell you to confiscate this watch and sent it on to his address in Montreal. If Kentworth simply has good taste and it is not the said stolen watch, it is an object much too fine for Kentworth's destination regardless and could be considered partway compensation for the aforementioned gooods stolen from the trade store.
I trust you will read this letter in full to Mr. Kentworth, Ted, and see him on the most delapitated boat possible to Fort Good Hope as soon as weather permits.
Sincerely,
John Rowand
So remember next time you see one of us interpreters solemnly writing a letter in a magnificent suit or dress with a fine metal quill and ink - history may not be as serious as we would have you think at first glace.
In conclusion: I'M GETTING ON A PLANE TO FRANCE TOMORROW, YOU GUYS.
For instance, the train was down. Now, if you know the layout of Fort Edmonton, you know that 1846, the era in which I work, is the furthest point from the entrance, but is easily accesible by train... when it's working. So normally - what happened last year for me - the train brings waves and waves of people all day, ferrying them straight from the front. Today, though, they really had to walk to get all the way there, so it built slowly, and was steadily busy without giant groups of people coming in all at once.
Second of all, the Sun & Moon dancers were there. They set up several large tipis outside of the fort walls and were doing traditional Cree and Métis dances all day, with drummers and singers. They were awesome and very friendly. I went out to watch (and do crowd control) a few times, and even got to participate in a circle dance. We just held hands and stepped around the circle to a drumbeat, but it symbolizes friendship and was a surprising workout, and it was really fun.
Thirdly, I found a really great location. One of the big things is to watch all of the different rooms with portable artifacts, because while like 98% of people who attend on Free Admission Day genuinely want to experience the park (and not have to pay the admission fee, granted), there are always a certain number of people in that rather large crowd (odds are) that are there to steal things. :P So I ended up in the Rowand Daughter outfit on the second floor of Rowand. I sat just barely on the balcony on a small bench, so I had a clear view of the hallway and the rooms to the right. I was also perfectly framed by the doorway, with the sun to my back (not in my face). I sat at perfect eye-level with most children - who often stopped to ask me about my sock knitting - and I wasn't bombarded with people from all directions. Sometimes there were log jams as people wanted to come in from both directions at once, but I had a surprising number of really good conversations. Also, because there were three of us in the house for most of the day (I had my choice of fake husbands!), we had no problem getting away for water or bathroom breaks, which is always an issue on busy days.
We also were very well-fed: an amazing potluck breakfast in the morning which was so notoriously spectacular in our era that several other supervisors crashed our party with food too to participate (I made scones and home-made honey butter with cinnamon), and we were provided with pretty decent free pizza for lunch for working such a tough shift. :) It's nice to be appreciated.
So, all in all, a pretty good last day. Some of my coworkers I will never see in costume again, some will be moved to other streets (maybe I'll be in a different time period next year!), and so on. It was a good season, and I wish everyone luck!
On a final note, as we cleaned out our changerooms for the last time, I ran across a fake letter I'd written during a penmanship program. We often write joke letters during this program to read during Gentlemen's Tea (when business is discussed), often from our Chief Factor, John Rowand (my character Nancy's father), who, we claim, is now away at Norway House for the summer (because Will, the man who played Rowand for the last many years, has been moved to another street). Anyway, another note of explanation: it makes reference to a fictional figure named Kentworth, which is the fake name of one of the guys we were a bit annoyed with that day for requesting off a special event day in which we were already short so he could get paid to bagpipe somewhere else. He also occasionally plays Reverend Rundle, the most literate of all of our characters. This man is often also the only interpreter who remembers to bring a timepiece to work. Fort Good Hope is the WORST fort in the West to be stationed in. The Sandwich Islands are the contemporary to 1846 term for the Hawaiian Islands. ANYWAY, it reads thusly:
John Edward Harriott
Chief Trader
Edmonton House
Dear Mr. Harriott:
I write this letter to inform you of a task I would have you perform. It has come to Governor Simpson's attentio that a certain Mr. John Kentworth, a half-literate Orkneyman with pretentions of being a clerk, has been stealing goods from the trade store. Nothing extravagant, but a serious problem nonetheless: an extra length of tartan cloth here, a ration of tea and coffee there, and of course carrots of tobacco have all gone missing under his watch.
I would have you inform him that effective immediately he is to be stationed at Fort Good Hope - where all the men of his sort are to be sent. We don't want to wast any more of the company's resources on theiving ilk like him, so there i sno sense in paying to have him sent all the way back to Orkney.
Furthermore, Governor Simpson bids me to order you to a different task. It has been brought to his attention that when Kentworth was at the Chief Factor's meeting at Norway House, taking down the minutes of the meetings, he was wearing an unusually fine pocket watch exactly matching the description of the Governor's own watch that went missing precisely as he passed through Edmonton House last season upon his return with me from the Sandwich Islands. Simpson thus bids me to tell you to confiscate this watch and sent it on to his address in Montreal. If Kentworth simply has good taste and it is not the said stolen watch, it is an object much too fine for Kentworth's destination regardless and could be considered partway compensation for the aforementioned gooods stolen from the trade store.
I trust you will read this letter in full to Mr. Kentworth, Ted, and see him on the most delapitated boat possible to Fort Good Hope as soon as weather permits.
Sincerely,
John Rowand
So remember next time you see one of us interpreters solemnly writing a letter in a magnificent suit or dress with a fine metal quill and ink - history may not be as serious as we would have you think at first glace.
In conclusion: I'M GETTING ON A PLANE TO FRANCE TOMORROW, YOU GUYS.