Dick Bulmer’s Blacksmith Shop Opened, 1936
Up to the mid twentieth century, a large proportion of the metal goods that families used were made by a local blacksmith. Many crossroads hamlets had a blacksmith shop, and a village like Fenelon Falls would support several metal workers. Whereas today, many people go to the hardware store when they need to devise a way to do this or that, a century ago, many of those conversations would take place at the blacksmith shop, and the local blacksmith could fashion exactly what you were looking for. Some of the most common items fabricated were parts for machines or farm implements and horseshoes.
Dick Bulmer’s blacksmith shop was not just a place to get something fixed, it was one of Fenelon Falls’ most unforgettable social venues. Dick was a local legend, and people would drop by every day to visit. It was smoky, dirty and damp, being located in the livery stable that once served the McArthur House hotel. There was a trough in the corner where people peed. But none of that would dissuade the customary euchre games—often not far from where Dick was grinding or hammering away on his latest fabrication. His chums would be smoking their pipes and having a grand old time. To the old men who had spent their lives working as hard as Dick, the constant hammering would not be irritating—especially for those who were as deaf as a post. Dick would pick up the blackened cards and play a hand or two, then go right back to the forge.
Dick was perhaps the village’s most notorious prankster. Back in those days, many older residents had grown up in an era when there was no radio, let alone Netflix—they made their own entertainment. When someone new came in, Dick would act a little bit quiet, which was out of character for him. Then he would go to the window and pick up and old box, and blow off the dust. He would start telling the story about how his uncle went to war, and all they sent back was this finger. Showing it to them, he would encourage them to touch it, then just as they nervously reached out, the blackened finger would lift up—it was really his own blackened finger, projecting through a hole he cut in the bottom of the box. Some victims would literally run out the door screaming.
The only heat in the shop was the forge and a wood stove, which had benches where people would sit to warm up by the fire. Dick drove nails through the benches, so that the heads of the nails were on the surface of the bench. He took a 12 volt battery from a car, and ran the coil to all the nails, and wired it to a switch under his chair, where he had the best seat in the house for what happened next. When guests, like the local hydro crew, came in and sat down to warm up, he would flip the switch, and they would get a jolt. A natural reaction was to try to stand up by putting their hands down on the bench resulting in another zap, and if they touched each other, they might get yet another shock. As his guests were trying to sort themselves out, Dick was of course laughing oh so hard at yet another successful prank. At home he electrified a little silver book that he would leave out for an unsuspecting victim, entitled Female Sexual Behaviour. He quite enjoyed the day when he successfully pranked his minister’s wife with it.
Having started out during the Great Depression—when he might only make 25 cents a day, being a blacksmith was about the relationships he made with his visitors and customers. Before the introduction of school buses around 1950, many local high school students left their horses at his shop for the day. Garnet Graham learned about Yip Sticks from Dick—and would become as much of a Fenelon Falls icon. Long after he could have retired, Dick continued to work at the forge—for him it was more of a way of life than a way to make money. Few visitors would ever forget their visit to Dick Bulmer’s blacksmith shop.
