For 125 years, Sunset Terrace in Yarmouth, NS has been like an extended family home for many seniors
Five years ago, Robert White was living in an apartment, yet he yearned to be relieved from making meals, doing laundry and housework. At age 89, he was not as spry as he’d been in the past and being deaf complicated things. He also dreamed of living in a place that was homier.
Serendipity stepped in; Robert heard that men could apply to live at Sunset Terrace, a local boarding home for seniors in Yarmouth, NS. For the previous 121 years, only women had been allowed to live there, but things were about to change. Before long Robert had an interview with the matron and the president of the Old Lady’s Home Society. Result? Accepted!
Robert remembers moving in—October 15, 2011—the day he went from living by himself in an apartment to living with 15 women. “They used to call it the Old Ladies Home. I was the first man they allowed to live here,” Robert says with a grin.
A man about town
Today, Robert is 93 and more active than ever. He often walks from Sunset Terrace south to Forest Street (1.4 kilometres) or even to Emin’s Meat Market (1.8 kilometres)—and back. He uses a rolling walker with hand brakes and a seat, which allows him to take a break here and there. “I call it my Cadillac.” If he’s not up for the trek, he strolls two blocks over to the Main Street Ultramar for a chinwag with staff and customers.
Robert’s a well-known fixture in Yarmouth, having worked at the Grand Hotel from 1947 to 1985.
“My mother worked there as a dishwasher for 48 years. I went in to help her one day and Mr. Kenney (a shareholder) spotted me. He told me to go out front and be a bellhop—so I did,” he says.
A famous guest
Robert’s first task on day one was to deliver a tray and the Halifax paper to a gentleman in a posh suite overlooking Yarmouth Harbour. “He called me ‘Sir’ and asked me to put the tray on the desk and to bring him the paper,” Robert recalls, “Then he gave me a $10 bill. In 1947, I could have stretched that all the way down to South End!”
The guest was Izaak Walton Killam—financier and philanthropist—born and raised in Yarmouth and a frequent visitor. Killam’s two sisters lived in Massachusetts, and also visited regularly. They always sought Robert out. “One of the sisters once asked me to take her beautiful Chrysler and park it out back. I had never drove a car in my life but I did it. Man, I felt like a chauffeur for a while that day!”
In 1966, when the original Grand Hotel was demolished to make way for a new hotel, Robert received a surprise on Christmas Eve. The sisters had arranged for him to receive 40 shares in the new Grand—20 each for his wife Mildred (whom he had met when she also worked at the hotel) and him. “Imagine that.”
Back in the day
Robert’s memories go even further back. When he was shorter than a broomstick he sold postcards for five cents each to passengers on the SS Evangeline that sailed between Yarmouth and Boston. “I used to get them from old man MacKinlay, and for every one I sold, I gave him three cents and kept two cents. But I made more money from picking up 50 cent pieces that people threw from the boat to us kids on the wharf.” After pausing for a breath, he continues: “Here, though, I don’t have to work. I just tease the girls.”
“Here” means Sunset Terrace, a grand old dame in her own right. Conceived in 1880 by a group of women called “The Old Ladies Philanthropic Home Circle,” the group met for several years with the purpose of finding ways and means to build an old ladies home. Their dream was realized when an elegant three-story Victorian home called Sunset Terrace opened on October 21, 1890 under the auspices of the Old Ladies Home Society—125 years later, it’s still providing a service to seniors.
Not a nursing home
Barbara Rodney, current president of the society says the home has “maintained the reputation of an affordable, comfortable living space for its residents, offering home-cooked meals and a sociable atmosphere in a residential setting.” The 12-person board of directors meets four times a year; an endowment fund covers both planned and unforeseen maintenance and upkeep and the treasurer is diligent about maintaining the capital and only using what is necessary.
The by-laws were changed and voted on in 2011 to admit men. “The change has worked out well,” Barbara says.
Sunset Terrace is a boarding home and not a nursing home. Residents (originally called “inmates”) must be well enough to care for themselves with assistance from family or outside services such as the VON or homecare services. Each person has their own room with a toilet and sink; full bathrooms are stationed on each floor. “Everyone is expected to come down to the dining room for meals, although residents may have meals taken to their rooms if they are ill,” she adds.
The rate for a room is $990 a month with a $10 charge added for laundry services. For seniors living on modest incomes and who find it increasingly difficult to care for their homes or apartments, this has been a godsend. But it’s not only a place to stay; it’s more like having a large extended family.
People care—deeply. When Robert first arrived, he was deaf as a stone. Believing that he was missing a lot, the matron, Beverlee Jacquard, raised the question, “Why don’t we try to raise money so he can get a hearing aid?” Staff, residents and board members staged a bake sale and yard sale, raising around $2,000. Robert’s daughter topped the fund up so he could get a hearing aid for his right ear (his left one was too far gone). “What a difference it’s made in his life,” Beverlee says.
Beverlee loves her job, but please don’t call her “matron;” she’ll just roll her eyes. The energetic head of the house explains that there are 21 rooms, the mix between women and men is currently 15-6, and there’s always a waiting list.
She adds, “It’s different now that we have men.” Occasionally there’s a bit of competition and drama when it comes to attracting the opposite sex. Some women have been known to go out and buy new outfits and get their hair done more often than usual. “For sure you won’t catch any one of the women wearing curlers in the dining room any more,” Beverlee says.
Celebrating “home”
This past year there was a public celebration of the 125th anniversary of the home. The staff discovered lots of artifacts in the attic that they put out on display—everything from ancient irons and a porcelain urinal, to a stretcher made of canvas, and a wooden ice-cream churn.
Old photos also garnered a lot of attention, along with a ledger that recorded the first resident, Mrs. Ellen Pitman.
“Lots of people joined us for the 125th celebration. We had wine, punch, sandwiches and sweets. Two of the women had an open house in their rooms and invited people in,” the house mother-manager says. “The weather co-operated and it was just a great day.”
Hilda Gloade loved the celebrations. She moved into the home on August 14, 2014. She knew about Sunset Terrace because her sister-in-law, Madeline Moulaison, had been living there for a few years. “I felt at home here from the very first day,” Hilda says.
Residents furnish their own rooms and decorate them as they wish, with whatever personal belongings they want. The first thing Hilda chose to bring was photographs. She points to one taken after she married Samuel Gloade. “I was 18 years old. It was October the first. But I don’t remember the year,” she says with a chuckle.
During their married life the Gloades lived over Emin’s Meat Store in the South End, and operated Sam’s Taxi. “We had three cars, and I helped out with the driving” she says, recalling a trip to Cape Forchu in a snowstorm (a half hour away) to pick a customer who wanted to go to church in Yarmouth. “No other cars dared to be on the roads,” she said. “Driving was fun.”
They shut down the taxi business when Samuel got ill with cancer. He died at age 36, and, after his death, Hilda went to work at Dominion Textile, locally referred to as “the mill.” Her intention was to work there for a few months while she and daughter Debbie got their lives back on track. Hilda became a cloth inspector, examining 500-yard rolls of cloth, and her time there stretched to 21 years.
Hilda looks around her room, pausing to comment about a few things such a large crystal horse. “I don’t even like horses,” she says with a smile, “But my aunt bought me that for Christmas many years ago. She was 104. I like it because it reminds me of her.”
Turning to her left, the senior’s gaze settles on a brightly clad ceramic lady holding a bouquet of ceramic flowers. “I had bought one like this at a yard sale once but somehow I broke it, so my daughter Debbie found one to replace it one Christmas. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She spends her lunch hour with me every day.”
Hilda has a TV in her room; she’s been hooked on wrestling since being introduced to a live wrestling match while on a trip to Halifax many moons ago. “I watch in on Channel 48, sometimes as late as midnight,” she says, eyes dancing, suggesting a bit of mischief.
Someone knocks on the door and walks in. It’s her sister-in-law, Madeline. “My daughter has some knitting books. Are you interested?”
“No, not now,” Hilda says, “but I’ll come see how you are getting along with the puzzle before lunch.”
Madeline loves doing puzzles, the more challenging the better. Several of the residents try their hand at it, usually during the winter, but there’s always one on the go in the living room. During the summer, activities range from attending events in town to taking part in the annual excursion to a summer camp hosted by Beverlee’s sister, Karen Atkinson, at her cottage in Summerville, about 15 kilometres out of town.
As the anniversary year wraps up, the residents are looking forward to another Christmas together. Mind you, they’ve already had one mock-up Christmas. Sometime every fall, Beverlee dresses up like Santa, her sister Linda Muise dresses up like Mrs. Claus and even niece Brooke Lambert gets in on the act as an angel. “We have a Christmas tree, hand out candy, and watch a movie called The Christmas Shoes. It’s a way to break up the onset of monotony that tends to set in during the fall after an active summer,” says the 55-year-old.
On the actual day of Christmas, Beverlee insists that the staff not show up until 2pm. Meanwhile, she and her two sons and grandson (Joel and Shawn Jacquard and Riley Challoner) come in early, help the residents distribute and receive their presents, then they dish out a traditional Christmas dinner. The first year, Mary Durkee stood up and said, “I want to thank you and your family for taking your day off and doing this for us. It’s an honour and a privilege.”
Boss-lady smiles at the memory. “There are never two days the same. Working here can be both exhausting and exhilarating. For sure it’s never boring!” In spite of the work and responsibility, it’s the most fulfilling job she’s ever had. “People watch out for each other. And since I lost my parents,” Beverlee says, “Sunset Terrace means family to me. I have lots of moms and dads to talk to.”