Introduction: Kelowna’s Stories

Kelowna has changed profoundly over the past few years. People arrive from far-off places knowing they want to live here. Others choose to live here though they work elsewhere. The population has mushroomed as orchards have become townhouses, and wilderness mountaintops are suddenly laced with streets that deer comfortably saunter down in the middle of the day. Motley collections of shops become smart shopping districts, world-renowned artists tell audiences that they’ve heard Kelowna is a cool place to play and the new university adds intellectual pizzazz to the sunshine.

The transformation sometimes becomes furious when parkland is challenged by development. Or when high-rise proponents argue with those who value history and want to honour the community’s roots. Or when established residential areas struggle to retain their character as densification becomes the latest mantra. For newcomer and old-timer alike, it is a challenge to know what is right, or wise, or how to best preserve that elusive quality that makes us all want to live here. For those of us who call Kelowna home, perhaps a look back will offer the insights and the context we need to make decisions about the future with confidence and wisdom.

I think part of the turmoil is caused by Kelowna no longer having a collective memory. Those choosing to move here often arrive without knowing the why or the how, the who and the when, of the city they now live in. History has a way of providing context. Why is there a sawmill on prime lakeshore land? Why is Bernard Avenue so wide and still lined with low brick buildings? Who was Bernard? Why are Okanagan Mission, Rutland and Glenmore the unique communities they are? I’m hopeful these stories of Kelowna’s past will provide some of the missing links and serve as a bridge between those who have lived here awhile and those who have recently arrived.

I’m also a great proponent of the notion that history is best told through the stories of ordinary people. While we’ve had the occasional lord and lady settle here, most of the stories in this book are about ordinary people who lived ordinary lives. Our notion of “ordinary,” however, has changed over time. Few today would think it “ordinary” to walk over mountain ranges to collect mail or buy supplies. Most of us couldn’t imagine climbing into a narrow pipe to scrape the rust off the inside as an “ordinary” job. Rowing freight from one end of the lake to the other is no longer “ordinary.” Even building our own road, in the face of government indifference, isn’t “ordinary.” In their time, those who did these truly extraordinary things were simply doing what needed to be done to get ahead. And their stories tell of the remarkable investment early settlers made in this community.

I am also abundantly aware of the pitfalls of writing a narrative history. There are many knowledgeable people in Kelowna who don’t necessarily call themselves historians but know about or were part of many of the stories in this book. I know too that some will remember things differently than I have. I apologize to those readers. Try as I did to check my facts, it was sometimes hard to find out if the Lake View Hotel had twenty-three rooms or twenty-five, or whether Bernard Lequime left Kelowna in 1901 or 1902. Or whether the date recorded was when a decision was made to build a boat or when the boat was launched. Sometimes my only source of information was the memories of other people, and they may not have remembered too well either. I hope those who disagree with how my stories unfold will be generous if they remember otherwise.

In writing this book, I’ve realized that early days are much more fun to read about than more recent times. Sometimes it is the sheer audaciousness of what was being attempted, or language that now sounds quaint, or the sense of unlimited possibility that pervaded so many early adventures. Time also changes our perceptions, and the discrimination that was once commonplace reminds us that we have, fortunately, moved on. The later chapters of this book tell of more recent years, and felt more like reportage than storytelling. Perhaps in fifty or so years, another writer will come along and find more humour and awe in today’s ordinary.

I have chosen the stories in this book not only because I think they tell of the significant events that shaped Kelowna, but because there was something a bit quirky, or unusual or funny in many of them. The choice of this story and not that was solely mine. There are many stories still left to tell, and another writer or another volume will eventually record those too. The errors in telling, if there are any, are mine.

The writing of this book has truly been a labour of love. Five generations of my family have now lived in and grown up in Kelowna and our roots are deeply embedded in the community. I have revelled in the opportunity to learn more about those who lived here before me and greatly enjoyed looking back at some of the events I’ve lived through. I hope those who pick up this history will have fun reading it—and then take a minute to consider their good fortune to live in or visit such a beautiful city… with such a colourful past.

Sharron J. Simpson Kelowna, BC 2011

A small, white, red-roofed replica of Father Pandosy’s second church stands in a cornfield just west of the restored Mission. It marks Father Pandosy’s gravesite. As the Mission site and the fence surrounding the original graveyard deteriorated, the location of the priest’s grave became a mystery. It was not until 1983, during an archaeological dig in the area, that James Baker, a professor at Okanagan College, discovered Father Pandosy’s grave. Two other priests had been buried alongside him. The grave was on land owned by the pioneer Rampone family. Two years later, the family built a replica of Father Pandosy’s sawn wood church and transferred the gravesite and half an acre of land to the Bishop of Nelson. It is visible from the surrounding roads. | Stuart Kernaghan, xyphotos.ca