Seasons greetings from Guardians past

As The Guardian's year-long celebration of our 125th anniversary concludes, we offer the following article that appeared in the Dec. 23, 1937 Guardian, which includes some superstitions about "Christmastide" —  the days between Christmas and New Year's Day, as well as others about "Twelfth Night", which this year occurs on Saturday, Jan. 5, 2013.

Quaint superstitions surround Christmas

Christmastide arrives in an atmosphere of superstition, for it must be remembered that the introduction of Christianity was responsible for many of the commonplace superstitions of today.

The strict line of demarkation between the priesthood and the uneducated people was very pronounced, and many common superstitions of today, symbolical of religious ritual, can be traced to this fact. The explanation of the superstition connected with the ladder, is that, when placed against a wall, it forms the emblem of the Trinity, and only the priest could pas under it in the old days.

The origin of a vast number of other superstitions apparently absurd can be traced to the witch who carried on her trade or nefarious practices -- whichever term you like to use -- by scaring the people of the countryside.

For instance, she might see a woman pass a kind of hay and warn her that unless she brought an antidote at once, bad luck would befall her. Thus, the meeting with a load of hay was henceforth looked upon as unlucky. And hundreds of similar instances can be found -- superstitions utterly ridiculous with lack of tangible explanations other than the one I have given.

1937 Guardian ad

Much superstition once surrounded the mistletoe. The head of a family considered it incumbent upon him to kiss every woman in the house, the dignified wife, his cheery daughters and giggling maid-servants. Unless this custom was carried out bad luck would befall the house for twelve months. In the West of England it is urged that if the mistletoe be not burned on Twelfth Night, all unmarried couples who have kissed beneath it will be foes before the end of the year.

Holly must be brought into the house at Christmastide, but it is absolutely necessary to burn it and never throw it away in a dustbin. The origin of this superstition is that the holly berry is the food of the robin, which, in ancient days, was looked upon as a holy bird.

No Christmas evergreen should ever be allowed to remain in the house after Twelfth Night, and even at the present time a formal ceremony is carried out in some parts of England by taking down the decorations, carrying them into a garden and burning them.

If this solemn ritual be not carried out, the house will be visited by evil spirits.

A child born during Christmastide, lasting from Christmas Day until New Year's Day, will always be lucky, but it must always be pricked with a holly leaf, on the right leg if it be a boy and on the left leg if it be a girl. Should snow be on the ground at the time of tis birth, the infant should be rolled in it before it is six hours old.
This custom of rolling a newly-born child in the snow was carried out by the old midwives until quite recently, and one of these old women whispered to me that she believes in many places this risky practice is indulged in surreptitiously today.

A lover on Christmas morning should walk to the house of his betrothed and, if the snow is on the ground, throw a snowball at her window. If there be no snow, a small pebble also insured happiness and possibly marriage during the year.

There is a general superstition that if a girl sits on a table, she will never be married. But Christmas Day is an exception. If she should be desirous of attracting the attention of a man in the room on that day, she should sit on a table and thus secure his admiration. If the bait is taken, the fish will be landed before the 21st June.

Green, except for an Irish girl, is a colour considered unlucky fora bride, but anyone married on Christmas Day or Boxing Day can wear it without the slightest risk. We find several other instances where a certain action may bring bad luck during the rest of the year but good luck on Christmas Day. For instance, it is unlucky to cut your nails on Friday, but should Christmas Day fall on Friday, you should make every effort to cut at least one nail for good luck.

In the ordinary way it is considered necessary to rake out all embers from a fire grate before retiring to bed, to keep the devil from coming down the chimney; coal is repugnant to him, while, on the other hand, he enjoys the warmth of hot embers. On Christmas night, however, the Evil One dare not come down the chimney whether the embers be red or black, and you can safely leave the fire burning all night.

You will find no more superstitious men than the shepherds, and there is a tradition in Romney Marsh that at dawn on Christmas morning every sheep faces the East and bows three times.

A parson once visited an old shepherd on his sick-bed and was requested to read his favourite hymn in which the following line occurred: "The roseate hues of early dawn." The old man who could not read, had always believed these words were: "The rows of ewes at early dawn."
A common practice of the shepherd is to make a cross with his fingers on the back of fifty-two sheep on Christmas Day. This ensues fifty-two lucky weeks for the flock.

Some cottagers in Ireland live in awe of Christmas Day, for it is a custom of the head of the house to light a huge candle on Christmas Eve, and the manner in which it burns determines the fate of at least one member of the family.

This candle is placed in the window, and lighted, while the family gather round in fear and trembling lest it should flicker out after burning only a few minutes. If, however, the flame burns on, it means a lucky year for all those who are assembled in the room.

To have the good old Christmas pudding served without a sprig of holly would be unthinkable; but it is not generally known that the reason for burning spirits is not to give the pudding a special taste, but the flames drive the Evil Spirit away, leaving the holly surrounded by good luck.

The eating of a mince pie starts on Christmas Day and continues to be a dish for twenty-eight days. For every mince pie eaten in a different house, a month of good luck for the coming year is assured.

Ghost in the western parts

Here's a Halloween story from the Jan. 26, 1904 Guardian:

Ghost in the western parts

Has caused much excitement at Elmsdale

By knocking at the wall of a house --

Occupant of the house gives his very unpleasant experience.

ELMSDALE, P.E.I., Jan. 19 — There has been considerable excitement lately, at the residence of John McInnis of Miminegash Road, by the actions of an invisible being that has frequently visited his house and annoyed the family by a continual knocking on the walls and windows.

At first there was not much fear entertained by the family, as they supposed the knocking was caused by the action of the wind, or more probably by some of the neighbors' boys for a joke. But these suppositions proved to be wrong, and the excitement ran so high that Mr McInnis had serious thoughts of leaving the house.

In an interview with the correspondent, Mr McInnis stated:

The last visit "it" made us about a week ago. My brother and I determined to find out what it was. Soon after dark the knocking began as usual, so we went out, and on going around the house in opposite directions, met at the place where the knocking was still going on at a loud rate, the echoes sounding for quite a distance.

We made a careful examination of the place, but discovered nothing that would give us any clue to the strange mystery.

We told "it" to come in and knock on the table and at once the sound ceased outside and resumed operations on the table the sounds resembling that of a set of fanners at work.

Now, we said give the floor five knocks and at once five heavy knocks were heard on the floor. Different requests were made for a number of knocks on certain objects, and each request was promptly obeyed with the exact number of knocks. We then asked "it" to leave the house which it immediately did, and since that time we have not heard it.

The Guardian's Snapshots in Time supplement from Oct. 10 features this article in an item on ghost stories by Wayne Young. It is found in part 1 on page 6. View the supplement here:
http://www.theguardian.pe.ca/media/issues/flipbook/0000008217/

A tree in her throat

This story needs no historical analysis or commentary. Just read it to the end -- it's worth every word! We present-day reporters only wish for such a story to walk into our newsroom!
From The Morning Guardian, Sept. 20, 1898:

A TREE IN HER THROAT

Strange Experience of an Island Woman

Mrs. Elijah Saunders of Winsloe Describes Pulling a Lemon Tree About Six Inches Long From Her Throat a Few Days Ago.

A few days since the Guardian received from a correspondent in Winsloe the following brief but extraordinary story --

"Mrs. Elijah Saunders pulled from her throat a short time ago a small tree six inches long in a growing and healthy state, and upon examination by Dr. S. R. Jenkins was found to be a lemon tree. Mrs. Saunders was not troubled much previous to the finding with the exception of a tickling in her throat at times. Mrs. Saunders is now enjoying the best of health and is none the worse for her serious experience. The tree is now on exhibition at Mr. John Hughes, Winsloe."

The story was so singular that it was deemed prudent to make inquiries before publication. This was accordingly done, first by a conversation with Dr. S. R. Jenkins. He promptly told The Guardian that he had seen Mrs. Saunders and the tree, or plant, which she told him she had pulled out of her throat. The plant was much as had been described in the correspondence quoted above and seemed more like the growth of a young lemon or orange plant than any other that he knew of.

With this partial confirmation, The Guardian waited for any further facts that might be learned in regard to so curious an affair. It was next the good fortune of the writer to have an interview with Mr. Elijah Saunders of Winsloe, who came into The Guardian office one day when he was in town. On being asked concerning the strange affair, Mr. Saunders told the following circumstantial story:

"The story of the tree is undoubtedly true.  I did not see my wife take it out of her mouth but I have not a shadow of a doubt that she did so. She is a truthful woman always and would never make up a story like that. She had been complaining of a cough for some time, but we did not think much about it, supposing it was from a cold. I had gone to town and when I returned toward night after I had unharnessed the horse, I called to my wife who was standing in the door to bring out the pails and we would milk. She came out, bringing the pails and just as we were about to begin milking she said, I pulled a tree out of my throat just now. I thought she was joking and said so, but she assured me that she was not, but that she had kept the tree to show me when I came home. When we went in, sure enough, there was the little tree. It was about six inches long, the stem being about the size of a knitting needle. It had some leaves at the top and small, threadlike roots at the bottom. The roots were somewhat bloody, as if they had been grown fast and had been torn away. The plant was almost white, at least not so green as plants growing in the open air. I noticed that one of the leaves had been partially torn away and that, my wife said, was the effect of her first attempt to extract it. The second time she was more successful, and with a twinge of pain in her throat, it came up. I asked her what she thought it was when she found there was something there? I thought it was a toad, or something, she said.

Of course I believed her story. We told it to any persons who came in and then as there were many persons who wanted to see it and as we lived out of the way we concluded to leave the tree at my father-in-law's, Mr. John Hughes', the blacksmith's. Dr. Jenkins had suggested that we put the tree in water to see what it would come to and we did so. When I last saw it it seemed to have grown a little and had turned much darker green than it was at first."

Such is Mr. Saunders' story. He is a highly intelligent young farmer of about 30 years of age and appears a respectable and truthful man. As to the possibility of a lemon seed becoming lodged in the throat and germinating there the doctors and scientists may form their own opinion. Mr. Saunders did not know of his wife having eaten any lemons for a good while past, but said she had drunk lemonade at various times and might have harbored the seed that way.

It's Old Home Week

As The Guardian celebrates its 125th anniversary, Old Home Week is also marking a special occasion this year. The first provincial exhibitions -- held essentially on the same grounds as they are today -- began their annual appearance in 1888. And, of course, The Guardian covered the provincial exhibition, then Old Home Week, the horse races and the parade . . . well, like the dew!

The Prince Edward Island Exhibition and Races in 1892 promised a parade of prize animals; racing open to all Canada and the United States with a purse as high as $500; and 'amusements of various kinds'. Special rates by rail and steamer from all parts:

The annual provincial exhibition, open to the whole Island, will be held at Charlottetown, on TUESDAY, WEDNESDAY, THURSDAY & FRIDAY September 27th, 28th, 29th and 30th. The Grand Parade of Prize and other Animals will take place on Friday, 30th Sept., at 11 o'clock, a.m., sharp.

The provincial exhibition of 1900 filled the entire top fold of Page 1 of The Morning Guardian on Sept. 26, 1900.

Although the probabilities indicated something better, the opening day of the Exhibition was not favorable to the assembling of a large crowd. The chances are, however, that the dark and lowering clouds and the chilly air of yesterday will give place to bright sunshine and balmy breezes to-day.

At three o'clock His Honor the Lieutenant-Governor (Haszard) formally opened the Exhibition.

. . .Premier Farquharson said as a leader of the government, that the future interest of the government in exhibitions is a calamity. An exhibition is an educator. Look at the exhibit from this province and the exhibits from the other provinces and all will says (sic) that it is the best exhibition in the history of the province. 

Besides the farm exhibits, there were many other stalls and displays not evident in today's version of Old Home Week: Mink, seal, sable and lamb fur collars graced the tables at the Sentner, McLeod & Co. display, while the furs from astrikan, coon and thibet were found at clothiers Prowse Bros. Exhibition-goers were also shown the latest pianos and organs; wallpapers; sheepskin mats; letter presses; and even insects. Miss Constance Currie, in fact, earned second prize for her insects, though, The Morning Guardian neglects to report what species of critters she had in her display.

By 1905, tourism operators were beginning to consider holding a gathering called Old Home Week:

March 23, 1905: An 'Energetic committee' is struck

July 25, 1905 Old Home Week begins with a band concert in the gardens

For 125 years, The Guardian has continued its coverage of the exhibition that 'Brings the country to the city' and welcomes back 'home' Islanders and visitors in a true shared experience.

Open house in Souris

The second of The Guardian’s 125th anniversary open houses will be held Wednesday, July 18, in Souris.
The open house will be held at the new Sheltered Harbour Cafe, which is located at 41 Breakwater in Souris.
The event will run from noon until 2 p.m. and the public is welcome to attend.
Publisher Don Brander and other members of The Guardian team will be on hand to talk about the newspaper — its past, present and its future.
A display of Guardian front pages from the past will be on hand, including the first Guardian published on July 2, 1887.
Snacks and refreshments will be served.
The locations and dates for the other open houses planned across Prince Edward Island will be announced as soon as they are finalized.

Automobiles for Charlottetown

Prince Edward Island has long been accused of being slow to "get with the times" and, even when we do make a change, we do it in increments.
Just look at the Sunday shopping legislation. (First, certain kinds of businesses were allowed to open Sundays; then all operators could open the four Sundays before Christmas; next Sunday shopping was open Victoria Day to Christmas. Finally, the decision to open or close on Sundays was handed over to the business community just last year.)
The same was true for automobiles. First banned in the 1910s, by 1913 Prince Edward Island began opening up the roads to motor vehicles -- within Charlottetown and the Royalties, and only on certain days of the week:

Those residents of Charlottetown and Royalty who may have motor-cars stored away in hiding may bring them out to-day for an airing, and more than that indeed, without any fear of transgressing the law and risking a prosecution and the infliction of a heavy penalty. At the meeting of the Executive Council yesterday it was decided to allow the running of motor cars within the city and the Royalty, such use, however, to be confined, in the terms of the Act, to Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays.
This was undoubtedly the most important and most interesting subject dealt with at the meeting of the Executive, before whom it came in the form of a petition for bringing into operation the act permitting the running of motor vehicles, which was passed at the last session of the Legislature.
The petition was signed by nearly 1,700 electors of Charlottetown, and Royalty, who submitted that "whereas an act permitting the running of motor vehicles on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays was passed at the last session of the legislature, such Act to be put in force by the order of the Governor-in-Council; now we do pray that such Act be at once put in force permitting the operation of motor vehicles along Charlottetown and Royalty on the days provided in the Act."
As stated above, the Council have granted the prayer of the petitioners, and now motor vehicles may be run in the city and along the roads of the Royalty on the prescribed days mentioned.

You couldn't drive your motorcar on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, of course, because that would interfere with market traffic. 

And Sundays ... well, we all know how long it takes Islanders to be allowed to do anything but contemplate Scripture on the Christian Sabbath! 

No stopping the presses

2 July 1887 introduced Prince Edward Island to first newspaper bearing The Guardian name

The first Island Guardian (and Christian Chronicle) from July 2, 1887

By Gary MacDougall

The Guardian

It turns out that Rev. William R. Frame's hunch was a good one.

He believed Prince Edward Islanders would welcome a newspaper that was dedicated to covering important public issues in an unbiased and independent manner.

That was Frame’s promise on July 2, 1887, when he launched his paper. If longevity is any measure of success, then the fact The Guardian is still around today is proof the good reverend’s idea was a great one.

That 1887 newspaper contained a pledge of service to the public, and a desire that the newspaper would become not only a welcome visitor in every P.E.I. home, but also a “necessary” one.

“We need scarcely state that The Island Guardian will continue to discuss all public questions from a perfectly independed (sic) standpoint, and unbiased by the views of this or that political party,” the message said.

Surely Rev. Frame would be proud to know that The Guardian has consistently rolled off the presses and into the eager reach of Prince Edward Islanders since his first paper of 1887 — 125 years ago plus one day.

He would be less proud of some of the colourful language bandied about in newsrooms over the decades during times of heated debate or deadline pressure, or the flashes of anger that resulted in typewriters being thrown out windows and down stairwells.

But in spite of the odd breakdown in social graces, Frame’s founding principles are alive and well — The Guardian remains committed to covering stories and issues that are important to Islanders.

The early Guardian was extremely pro-temperance, as alcohol was seen as a great evil. Of course, that is an opinion many people hold today, as witnessed by criticism of government’s recent decision to extend the hours that alcohol can be sold.

In fact, many of the issues that are contained in today’s Guardians are similar to ones carried through the many years, issues such as education, health, transportation and job creation. For example, the fixed link debate went on for about 100 years.

The roots of The Guardian go back beyond July 2, 1887.

Early in the 1870s, a Presbyterian minister, the Rev. Stephen G. Lawson, entered the field of Prince Edward Island journalism. For a number of years he published The Presbyterian. The name of the paper was later changed to that of The Protestant Union.

In spite of the name changes, Lawson’s newspapers proved financially unsuccessful and he surrendered it to Frame, also a Presbyterian clergyman.

One of Frame’s first moves was to change the paper’s name, most likely in an attempt to broaden its appeal.

While he was keen to change the name, he was careful in doing so. For a short while he called it The Island Guardian and Christian Chronicle.

It’s quite likely he didn’t want to annoy any of his old subscribers, some of whom may have thought The Presbyterian was a fine name. It’s unlikely many of those subscribers came from Roman Catholic homes, or the homes of any other religious denomination for that matter, so making the name more inclusive was a wise business decision.

In addition to changing the name, Frame made a point of avoiding the extremes in politics that his predecessor had followed. His new direction proved to be a recipe for success and the paper’s popularity grew.

Unfortunately, Rev. Frame didn’t live to see any long-term success. He died on June 30, 1888, less than a year after the launch of his newspaper.

Upon his death, John L. MacKinnon, an experienced journalist, took charge of The Guardian as general manager and editor. A year later he turned the paper over to Benjamin D. Higgs, a brother of E.T. Higgs, who operated a prominent insurance business, Higgs and Company Ltd., for many years. 

Benjamin D. Higgs was described as a young and ardent journalist and under his management the newspaper flourished, so much so that on Jan. 27, 1891, it underwent a major change — going from a weekly to a daily publication.

An important change in leadership came in February of 1896 when J.E.B. McCready, formerly of Saint John and who had been an outstanding member of the Press Gallery at Ottawa, took editorial charge. This occurred after Higgs became ill. McCready’s efforts strengthened The Guardian as the third daily newspaper then operating in Charlottetown.

Its competitors, The Examiner and The Patriot, were partisan champions of the Conservative and Liberal causes respectively.

Following Higgs’ death, J.P. Hood acquired a controlling interest in The Guardian Company and continued it for a number of years.

Meanwhile, The Examiner was losing ground and the Conservatives, rejuvenated by a provincial election victory, were looking for stronger press support. They bought The Guardian from Mr. Hood and engaged James Robertson Burnett as editor and manager on Dec. 31, 1912.

That marked the beginning of a long association between the Burnett name and The Guardian. In fact, from December of 1912 until December of 1976, a Burnett, or in some cases five Burnetts, were working at the newspaper.

Trained as a journalist in Scotland and British Guiana, Burnett brought improved business methods to The Guardian and greatly increased its circulation. With him as associate editors were McCready and D.K. Currie.

By this time the paper was owned largely by one leading Conservative, Sir Charles Dalton, founder of the silver fox industry and later lieutenant-governor of the province.

In the early 1920s, the Dalton interests were sold to W. Chester S. McLure (then a Conservative MLA and later MP for Queens) and Lt.-Col. D.A. MacKinnon, DSO. The only other stockholder was Burnett.

The Guardian building on fire April 28, 1923.
Photo special to The Guardian, Paro Acc 2320/3057
Photographer M. Mallett Charlottetown Camera Club

On April 28, 1923, a fire destroyed The Guardian plant and building, then on the corner of Kent and Great George Streets. For some time the paper was issued from Mr. Burnett’s residence on Kent Street and printed on the press of the rival newspaper, The Patriot.

Then the Temperance Hall — a stately-old building on the corner of Prince and Grafton Streets — was acquired. The interior was completely remodeled and the paper continued to be published there until 1956, when it moved into its present location at 165 Prince Street.

In the mid to late 1940s, McLure and Col. MacKinnon sold out to Burnett and his sons, Ian, Bill, James (Lyn) and George (Chick), who were associated with him in the business. On Burnett’s death, June 12, 1952, Ian became editor and publisher, with his brothers in executive positions in other departments.

One of J.R. Burnett’s best decisions was hiring Frank Walker, who came to the newspaper after witnessing the horrors of the First World War while serving as a stretcher bearer.

9 January 1956 Guardian newspaper boys received their last copies of the paper from the old building on Saturday morning. Bill Garnhum (left) and Ronnie Shepherd (right) are seen distributing the papers to the boys. (Photo by W. Taylor)

His newspaper career spanned nearly half a century and he was particularly well known for his coverage of the P.E.I. legislature. For many years Walker was referred to as “Mr. Hansard” because of his accuracy and the objectivity of his reports.

Walker retired in October of 1969, two months short of his 76th birthday. He died in November of 1977.

The man who hired him, J.R. Burnett, was a much-loved figure in Charlottetown and very active in the community.

“In my boyhood my mother destined me for the ministry and my father for the banking profession,” Mr. Burnett recalled once in an interview. “I disappointed both by deciding upon a newspaper career and I have not lived to regret the choice.”

His fifth son, Niall, never got to join his father in the newspaper business. He was killed in 1941 while serving with the Royal Canadian Air Force in England. It must have been a worrying time for Burnett and his wife since at the time they still had three other sons active in the service and one in the reserve.

The Burnetts tried something Rev. Frame would have had a hard time imagining — dropping newspapers from the sky.

In response to the ongoing challenge of getting the same-day delivery of newspapers to western Prince County, the Burnetts tried flying them there.

A plane piloted by an ex-RCAF pilot, Paul Sharpe, “bombed” 16 post offices west of Summerside. The papers, wrapped in potato bags, were picked up and rushed to mail drivers at post offices, enabling subscribers there to read the paper early in the morning just like Charlottetown area readers.

The Burnetts relinquished their financial interests to Thomson Newspapers Ltd. in December 1953, and The Guardian became the first member of Lord Roy Thomson’s group of papers in the Atlantic provinces.

One of Burnett's sons, Ian, was publisher for a few years after the paper was sold to the Thomson chain.

Members of Premier Alex B. Campbell's cabinet meet in Charlottetown in 1971.
Photo special to The Guardian, PARO ACC #2279-1

He was succeeded by William J. Hancox, a native of Toronto who came to P.E.I. after working at a newspaper in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan.  

Hancox served as publisher from 1959 until 1979. He was a strong supporter of the arts and helped launch one of P.E.I.'s biggest annual events, the Gold Cup Parade.  He was also an enthusiastic supporter of the Gold Cup and Saucer Race.

A P.E.I. native, Stewart Vickerson,  succeeded Hancox.  He had worked his way up to the publisher's office from a very entry-level position.

Names like Burton Lewis, Wallace Ward, Pius Callaghan and Walter MacIntyre served as editors during the Thomson era.

One evening Callaghan had to order an inebriated man out of the newsroom after he arrived on the second floor of the building with his billy goat, which was wearing a straw hat.

The goat was asked to follow his master out after it relieved itself on the floor.

It was likely the first goat to visit the newsroom, but over the years a colourful collection of four and two-legged creatures has come and gone. If only the walls could talk.

The 1990s brought a flurry of ownership changes to The Guardian as the Canadian newspaper industry experienced great upheaval.

April 21, 1995 Guardian covered the bombing at the provincial legislature.

In 1996 the Thomson chain sold the newspaper to Southam. Not long later it came under the control of the Hollinger chain. At the time, Southam and Hollinger were controlled by media baron Conrad Black.

From Black, The Guardian was sold to a prominent Canadian media family, the Aspers of Winnipeg, who operated a large number of newspapers under the name Canwest.

The paper’s current owner is TC Media, which purchased The Guardian in 2002. The current publisher is Don Brander, a native of Kensington. His first job at The Guardian was delivering newspapers as a paperboy.

With rare exception, none of the ownership changes resulted in any changes in The Guardian’s editorial content or direction. That was always left in local hands. And local control over editorial decisions remains a priority of TC Media.

For that matter, most Islanders neither know nor care who owns The Guardian. After 125 years the newspaper has become an important piece of the quilt that helps keep the Island safe and snug. Today’s owners are simply the latest in a long list of caretakers.

The newspaper landscape has changed greatly in the past 125 years. The new digital world means the paper must now exist in print and in the multimedia online world.

But the more things change the more they stay the same in terms of the paper’s main tenet — to remain relevant in the hearts and minds of Islanders by covering events in a fair and accurate manner.

One thing in The Guardian’s favour is something that has been around since 1887 — the natural curiosity Islanders have towards what’s going on around them and their neighbours.

Island poet Milton Acorn said it best in his poem I, Milton Acorn: “The Island’s small...every opinion counts.”

Gary MacDougall is managing editor of The Guardian. This history was compiled from his research into newspaper archival material, with the help of the Public Archives of P.E.I. It takes many hands to produce a newspaper, just as it takes many to produce the history of one.