Grainnet

Written by Barb Selyem. Photos by Bruce Selyem

In an area landscaped with maple trees, next to the Pioneer Elevator at Carlton, SK, there used to be a garden of pansies with white-washed rocks that spelled out “Willkommen,” “Bienvenue,” and “Welcome.”

Philippe Pajot, who managed the elevator from 1934 to 1984, had arranged the greeting as a welcome to the German, French, and English farmers who had settled in this area north of Saskatoon.

History
In its heyday, Carlton had a row of four elevators: the Saskatchewan Wheat Pool, Searle, United Grain Growers, and the Western Elevator. Pajot, who was born in Carlton in 1901, had seen all the elevators built and three of them torn down.

The one left standing, and the one Pajot was hired to manage in 1934, is the Western Elevator—built in 1922 and sold to Pioneer in 1949.

It was a 20,000-bushel wood crib elevator like others of that era. A Fairbanks Morse gas engine provided power to the bucket elevator. A manual manlift provided access to the head house. Pajot provided its character.

Robert Baynton, a Pajot family relative and friend who now owns the elevator, said, “Philippe was an awesome grain buyer. He was well-liked and respected and even 20 years after his death, he is remembered fondly.”

Childhood Memories
Pajot’s daughter, Cecile Pajot, has many wonderful memories of her “elevator” childhood.

“My dad was a great story teller and I can still see the farmers sitting on a bench along the wall while my dad sat opposite them in his captain’s chair,” Cecile said. “He could animate a story about our rooster or some old dog and keep them all mesmerized.

“There were always people in the elevator office and often trucks or wagons with horses lined down the street.”

She continues, “My favorite story is really one on me. My mom and dad were married in 1939, and for the first year (before their house was built across the street), they lived in a two-room lean-to on the side of the elevator office. A few years later, these rooms became a playhouse for my sister, Lorraine, our friend, Joyce, and me.

“For a while one summer, we could not play in our ‘elevator house’ as a crew of men had come to work there and were using that space. After they left, we found a gray box with 48 tins (flat ones like those that Aspirin used to come in) with an Arab pictured on the outside. We found ballons inside.

“That day we were dressed up in mom’s old bridesmaid dresses pretending to be part of a wedding. We blew up the ballons and hung them in the trees outside of the office as decoration for our ceremony. When we were almost finished, Lorraine was having trouble tying one closed, so we went into the office for help.

“My dad was visiting with some farmers and was unaware of our wedding preparations. We really caught heck for taking things that didn’t belong to us. He kept a stern composure while the other men in the office stifled laughs. It wasn’t until Joyce went to work in a pharmacy a few years later that we discovered those ‘balloons’ were really condoms.”

Another Memory
Remi Pajot, Cecile’s brother, shared another memory.

“Jiggermen (railroad workers) were cleaning up around the tracks in front of the Searle elevator and burning some of the long grass and weeds. A few days afterwards on a Saturday when most of the men had gone fishing or to Rosthern, my dad was working in the elevator office. He smelled smoke, but could see nothing and went back to his books. Then he smelled smoke again.

“He went outside to look for problems, and as he walked near a stack of boxcar doors, in front of the Searle elevator, his foot sunk through the grain dust that had been piled under the doors. The grain was on fire. After dislodging himself, he ran back to the office. At that time, party lines were set up so that a long ring meant an emergency. He used the phone to call for help.

“Women, children, and a few men responded. Using a tractor, they dragged the burning doors away from the elevators and across the tracks. Others formed a bucket brigade, dousing the fire with water until an old rickety firetruck arrived from Rosthern. The side of the Searle elevator was badly charred. Most felt that had Pajot not saved the day, the elevators and the town may have burned. His reward from the insurance company was a new pair of boots.”

A Manager’s Farewell
In 1982, Remi bought the elevator from Pioneer for $1, as the company was going to close it for good.

“I worked at another job and my dad kept busy with lentil storage contracts,” Remi said.

“He was 81 then, probably the oldest elevator manager in Saskatchewan. In 1984, when dad’s health began to fail, I sold the elevator to Epps Farm Service, a seed processor in Laird. By then, my dad had run that elevator for 50 years.”

After a pause, Remi continues, “The old gas engine was still powering the line shaft, but the folks at Epps were not familiar with how to operate it, so they frequently asked dad for help. He knew it so well that he could tell by the sound how it was running.

“The engine was water cooled so it needed to be drained after use or the water could freeze and crack the cylinders. Before he died in 1986, dad, who was at home, too sick to help at the elevator, was listening one day as the men tried to start the engine.

“From the sounds he could tell something was wrong and he commented, ‘If they don’t stop, they’ll ruin that engine.’ He was right. The engine, though still in place, has been silent since.”

Changing Hands
In 1986, Epps sold to Elders Grain Co., owned by a private individual from Kindersley with connections to All State Grain Co. Elders in turn sold to Robert Baynton and his wife Carla in October 1990.

“Several generations of my family have farmed near her,” Baynton said. “We bought the elevator for our own use. At the same time, we purchased the property it is on from the Canadian National Railroad.”

“Since we couldn’t use the engine, we installed an electric motor on the head shaft to power the leg.

“We still use the elevator, though we didn’t have much of a crop this year. It’s showing some wear and needs to be painted. The bins could use some work too, but maintenance is unaffordable right now. There have been times I wished I hadn’t bought it, but not too often. I’m hoping it will last a long time.”

Barbara and Bruce Selyem are directors of the Country Grain Elevator Historical Society. For more information, contact the society at 406-388-9282; e-mail: bselyem@country-grain-elevator-historical-society.org.

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