New ground broken in Thomson mystery
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Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 04/12/2010 (5744 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.
Northern Light
The Enduring Mystery of Tom Thomson and the Woman Who Loved Him
By Roy MacGregor
Random House Canada, 358 pages, $35
ICONIC Canadian painter Tom Thomson died in 1917 on Canoe Lake in Algonquin Park. His sudden death — officially ruled an accidental drowning after a cursory inquest and a hasty burial — has long been a source of mystery and myth.
Even after decades of speculation, and numerous books, plays, films and songs, this intriguing investigation by veteran Ontario journalist and author Roy MacGregor manages to break new ground.
MacGregor cracks open the Thomson story by focusing on Winnifred Trainor, the woman said to be engaged to Thomson at the time of his death. She kept several of his oil sketches — worth probably $20 million on today’s market — until she died, wrapped in newspaper and stored in a six-quart basket.
Part history, part true-crime investigation and part memoir, Northern Light is both scrupulously even-handed and deeply personal. MacGregor grew up in Huntsville, just outside Algonquin Park, and is actually connected to Trainor, whose sister married his great-uncle.
As a kid, MacGregor knew Trainor as an eccentric and formidable spinster, and admits to nervously following his friends when they played “nicky-nicky-nine-doors” by knocking on her door and running like hell.
MacGregor atones for his boyhood tricks with an empathetic portrayal of a woman who was, as he says, “a widow before she even married.”
MacGregor, who explored the Thomson mystery in his novel Canoe Lake (first published in 1980 under the title Shorelines), keeps the narrative moving while patiently sifting through a forest of contradictory evidence.
Much of the Thomson story relies on oral history, and MacGregor has a shrewd understanding of the way talk works in a small town. He weighs gossip and tall tales, including the boast of one old-timer who claimed to have Thomson’s shin bone stashed in his woodshed. He cuts through protective lies — many of the townspeople had a Victorian horror of scandal — and convenient, self-serving fibs.
He gives plausible reasons why some local men dismissed Thomson as a bum, a womanizer and an indifferent outdoorsman, while others — in particular, Group of Seven patron James MacCallum — put forward an image of Thomson as pure and solitary, at one with the nature he painted.
It’s clear that the enigma of Tom Thomson has been keeping MacGregor company for decades. Some of his interviews go back to the early 1970s, while some of the material, in particular the CSI-type forensic research, is very recent. In the last chapter, MacGregor carefully sets out his beliefs about what happened that day on the lake, while admitting that “the reality remains, at this time, beyond grasp.”
Even if MacGregor doesn’t have the final word on Canada’s famous painter, he has crafted a beautifully realized picture of a time and place. And by shining a light on Winnie Trainor, who was so often dismissed as an odd, embittered old maid, he has revealed a remarkable woman. Thomson’s premature death may be the book’s hook, but Trainor’s long life is its heart.
Alison Gillmor writes on visual art and pop culture for the Free Press.
Studying at the University of Winnipeg and later Toronto’s York University, Alison Gillmor planned to become an art historian. She ended up catching the journalism bug when she started as visual arts reviewer at the Winnipeg Free Press in 1992.
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