Maryboro Lodge Personality: Dick Bulmer

Richard Dick Bulmer, shoeing a horse, August 1971, age 77

Dick Bulmer was a local legend. He was among the last traditional blacksmiths in Victoria County. He made his living fabricating whatever people needed. Many of his older customers wanted parts for old farm equipment—threshing machines, combines, hay rakes, and so on. They would come in and bring or describe what they needed, and Dick would sketch a picture on the back of an old envelope. Once they figured it out together, he would get to work at the forge. Some of the newer customers wanted beautiful handmade decorative rings for their docks. But his shop was so much more than just a useful manufactory.

Dick Bulmer’s blacksmith shop was smoky, dirty and damp, being located in the old livery stable that once served the McArthur House hotel (Now the Fenelon Falls Brewing Company and Waterbridge Cafe). But just about everyone in Fenelon Falls visited Dick’s blacksmith shop at one time or another.  Much of the time, there was a card game or two at the table set up in the shop, not too far from the forge. Dick would be grinding away on his latest smithing project.

Dick Bulmer's Blacksmith shop. Dick Grinding beside Euchre

Dick was perhaps best remembered as a jokester or trickster. Sometimes, 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 an 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. If someone was running out the door screaming, it might well be the latest victim of the dead finger in the box trick.

He had plenty of other pranks. While hammering at the anvil, he would scream, drop his hammer and turn around, making it look like he had driven a nail through his finger. He electrified a bench so that he could flip a switch under his chair and give unsuspecting visitors a jolt. For 55 years, there never was a dull moment at Dick Bulmer’s blacksmith shop, as he thought of one way or another to get a rise out of the people who visited. He retired in 1976.