The Long Run by Joan Sullivan Read Free Book Online Page B

he requested a discharge so he could return to Newfoundland. Lancaster complied but warned it “would be most reluctant to accept him back because of his alcoholism.”
    In 1959, P.J. Neary, Senior Pension Medical Examiner with the CPC, found, “He appeared to be neat in appearance but he is inclined to take an occasional drink.” Neary thought he might now be more financially responsible, but the cheques still needed to be issued care of the District Treasury Officer, as Robertson had no fixed address.
    On January 28, 1960, Robertson wrote Welfare Services, DVA. His own explanation for returning to St. John’s was that he had been kept waiting so long for the transfer to Camp Hill to come through he “got fed up.” Of his stay in Lancaster he said, “I stuck it out for one year and two weeks (not bad). I went through a very hard time of it (half nut crowd) but I took it occasionally opening up when forced to it. But rough as I was I never broke as much as a glass there and that’s honest.”
    His living conditions were not good:
    Since returning home I have had a very hectic time of it. Naturally I realize that I am on my own but I’m forced to take $60.00 boarding houses (rat traps). They promise you good food and heat and as soon as you pay your board in advance all you get it soup, soup and cold—three in a room and nails driven in the wall to hang your hat on. They are all alike. I moved and moved for a better place and ran into the same everywhere—I’m really worn out. You[‘re] treated (soldier) as if you were a civil welfare bum, they get a fairly good show we get nothing and the works and naturally I don’t stand for it. Even in the middle of the month (board in advance) I have been forced to clear out frozen to death and unnourished etc…all my clothes and laundry is outstanding. I can pick all this up if I had my cheques. At present I’m filthy, no change of anything—running on two shirts etc. and they don’t even give you a drop of hot water to wash them out…I don’t know exactly what to do. They are only a crowd of gold and grave diggers and money is their God.
    His health was about the same: a “small thin man of very poor nutrition.” He wore glasses and was very hard of hearing. He was talkative, hard to keep on track. His right leg was really hurting him, especially in the cold, and if he turned quickly he lost his balance.
    He seemed to think a new environment would be best, and again he requested admittance to Camp Hill in Halifax. And he added, “I have good real friends in Ottawa.” The DVA gave this implicit threat the credit they felt it deserved, but did pursue a spot at Camp Hill. Camp Hill again declined the request and suggested a return to Lancaster. But this was not acceptable to Robertson.
    At sixty-eight, he stood five-foot-seven, weighed 105 pounds, and had a fair complexion and grey eyes. Doctors found him difficult to assess as he was so verbose and jumped from subject to subject. Both his legs had abrasions, probably from his stumbling into objects. He said his legs ached at night “‘when the heat is turned off ’ by his boarding mistress.” He was evaluated as needing institutional care.
    He did seem to be losing capability to handle his own affairs. On July 3, 1961, CPC correspondence relates, “Mr. Robertson, who incidentally imbibes quite freely, he cashed his June pension cheque, Friday past, and for some unknown reason he either lost or mislaid $60.00 which he had set aside to pay his Board and Lodging. Mr. Robertson was asked to leave the boarding house and was successful in securing another boarding house.” Both landladies involved wanted to deal with the DVA, and Robertson asked to have the office administer his pension. His residence changed constantly, counting down a rosary of low-class, even shady, addresses: Casey Street, Barter’s Hill, a couple of different places on Colonial Street, the Cochrane Hotel. He moved so much he sometimes missed