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British Columbia history that informs readers while entertaining them.

British Columbia’s Greatest Artist Emily Carr Could Be Difficult

(First of 2 Parts)

“Emily Carr was a woman to be reckoned with, not the sweet, deeply religious type that turned the other cheek, but a determined, opinionated woman who would stand for no nonsense.”

The man behind these rather strong words about British Columbia’s foremost artist Emily Carr was the late Richard V. Nicholles of Port Alberni.

Forty-five years ago, then 75, Nicholles could boast of a long and varied career along the British Columbia coast—as well as being Emikly’s nephew. Seventy years after her death, Emily Carr has achieved international acclaim for her distinctive paintings of our rain forests and of a First nations culture that seemed for a time to be on its way to extinction.

When I interviewed Mr. Nicholles in 1975, memories of ‘Aunt Milly’ were as vivid as when he was a youngster.

It was because of his conclusion that many of the stories written about the enigmatic Emily Carr were becoming more and more inaccurate that he chose to speak of his aunt and of the pioneer Carr family.

He began with an explanation: “Just possibly I can put the record straight on some of the statements that have been published by ‘I knew her when…’ types who obviously did not know her ‘when’ or at any other time…

“I am so tired of hearing about ‘poor ‘Miss Carr’ and welcome the chance to tell you about the real Emily Carr. I admired her and I loved her. Had she been the woman I have read so much about I would never have felt toward her as I did.”

That said, he settled back and began his story: “Most of the family history was told me by my mother: family things that went back to the 1840s when Grandfather Richard Carr left England to see the world.

“In fact, the ‘saga’ of Richad Carr would make a pretty good story in itself: the family’s trip from California to England in 1861, and the return to Victoria in1863…

“As to Aunt Milly, well, as I remember her first, she had just come back from Europe. I was very small. She started an art class in the woodshed of the old home on Goverment Street [by Beacon Hill Park inVictoria’s James Bay district]. I remember going to a couple of classes there, but it’s hazy now. But I do remember some of the things she showed us there.

“She was a natural teacher. You took an interest in her whether you liked it or not—it was just automatic,.

“But as I grew up, I was away a good deal, she was away; for a time, she lived in Vancouver. I remember going to her studio, just where the Vancouver Club is now, down on Hastings near Georgia. Then she had an apartment near Granville and Broadway. I went up there—it was the first time I ever knew she smoked.

“After lunch we went and sat in the living room and when I sat down, she said, ‘I’ve always had a smoke after lunch. Would you like one?’ So we sat and smoked. I was about 14. I’d been up the Skeena River and I’d just come back; this was 1911.

“Aunt Milly was always kind and good as far as I was concerned, and I got along well with her. But there used to be a family ritual: you started with the oldest and went along to the youngest, kissed them all hello, kissed them all goodbye, and one day she just stuck out her hand and said, ‘Oh, Dick, let’s just shake hands. I think it’s much nicer, don’t you?’

“Well, I could have kissed her—and cheerfully—because I didn’t enjoy kissing the old girls (my other aunts, Edith and Alice). They were very, very straight, the two oldest ones, and very, very religous. Mother was the only one that married.

“Aunt Emily was always Milly to me; I never knew her name actually was Emily until I was grown-up. She was always Milly. Edith was Dede, my mother, Clara, was Tallie, Elizabeth was Betty (or Lizzie to her older friends) and Alice…I guess she was the only one who escaped [a nickname].

“Aunt Milly was very eccentric in a great number of ways. She didn’t have any use for men and when I, my wife and baby daughter went over to the old home for lunch one time, she came and looked at the baby, turned to my wife and said, ‘Well, my dear, you’ve got a very nice baby. Now take my advice and don’t have any more—the next one might be a boy.’

“I really don’t know what soured her against men.

But Mother told me that, when Emiloy went to Enland, somebody followed her from Victoria and wanted to marry her, but she sent him home. Then, when she came back, somebody followed her out from England, and she sent him home.

“Yes, she was attractive, but I don’t know…maybe her father, being so strict, had something to do with that. She just didn’t have any use for men.

“When my mother was in her 20s, a coloured messenger boy appeared with a card from my father, which read, ‘I’ve seen your father and have permission to call. So hide the best silver and I’ll be over about 8 o’clock.’

“And that’s about all she ever told me of their courtship. If it had been Emily, she probably would have said, ‘Well, if it’s silver yiou want…’ and given a quarter and sent him on his way!”

(To be continued)

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