The Fire of '58 My family and I grew up in a small community in Central Newfoundland, Cottles Island it was called back then. My father, Lloyd Philpott and my mother, Pauline Philpott (Rideout), had six children, me being the youngest girl. This story begins in the winter of 1957. At the time we were living near Grandfather Jim Philpott and other relatives. Wanting a more secluded location, my parents decided to relocate. My father figured the best time to move would be in the winter because he would be going away in the summer for work. My father and some men from the community hauled the house across the ice to our new land. By the time my father went away to work, he had already fixed up the bit of damage done to the house from the moving process. With Dad away, Mom was always very busy. But I could see she was happy in her new surroundings. Then came that fateful day of August 28, 1958. It was a very hot summer with very little rain. My oldest sister Lottie and my brother Larry had gone berry picking. They were gone for most of the day and as they were rowing back in the punt they could feel the hunger pangs! Needless to say, they weren't long lighting the fire to boil the kettle for a good cup of tea! Back then there was no such thing as us having a fancy chimney; all we could afford at the time was stovepipes. The night before we had had a big windstorm, and unbeknownst to Lottie and Larry, the pipes from the stove had come apart in the attic. Shortly after lighting the fire, Lottie and Larry heard a loud roaring sound coming from overhead. When they looked up, flames had already surrounded the pipes. Mom was outside with me tight behind her, but my baby brother Junior was still inside sleeping in his cot in the kitchen! I can still remember to this day Mom running in the house, grabbing Junior and whisking him out the door to safety. At the same time, our Grandmother Elsie Rideout and my sister Patsy were picking berries over on the hill. Suddenly when Grandmother looked up she saw black smoke coming from the direction of our home. She said to Patsy, "That's either Mr. and Mrs. Rideout's house or yours!" With her heart beating out of her chest, she and Patsy started to run in terror of what they may face when they arrived at the scene. It was from that point on that my Grandmother had heart issues. As Lottie was running down the path calling for help, my sister Evelyn was walking home from Edgar Anstey's store. As my sister Evelyn and I are both deaf, you can imagine how frightening this situation was! There was no communication with anyone, only each other. No one knew sign language, so we were completely in the dark about what was happening, as was often the case. As the sight of flames and smoke registered in Evelyn's mind, she dropped the groceries and ran as fast as she could until she got to the burning house. As she grew closer and closer to the house she breathed a sigh of relief to see that all of her family were outside and safe. My family just stood and watched in fear and shock while Mr. Wycliffe Rideout ran inside, grabbed the stove with the fire still burning and brought it clear of the house. He then started to chop down all the trees surrounding our house to lessen the risk of the fire spreading. Upon seeing the blaze, members of the community came running with buckets of water from a nearby pond. But despite their efforts our home, with everything we owned, burned to the ground. Mom was left on her own with six children; no clothes and no toys for them, only the clothes on our backs. Dad was still away working to provide for his family. To make matters worse, Mom was having some issues with her health and was supposed to have surgery, but had to postpone it because of the circumstances. We all have memories of favourite things that were lost in that fire. I with my beautiful red coat; Patsy's special dolly, Lammy Pie, that her Grandmother Elsie gave her for Christmas; Evelyn's sweet doll that Aunt Marie Philpott gave her. All these items were cherished so much because we had so little. Mom knew she had to let Dad know, so in between her grief and fear of the future, she went to Mr. Edgar Anstey's store to send a telegram to Dad's boss. With the sun streaming through the trees the foreman approached Dad. After he had told Dad his house had burned to the ground, his only question was "Did my wife or children die?" Once he was told everyone was safe, my father realized how different this could have been and fell to the ground unconscious. The next day Dad made his way home to his family. He knew they were safe, but he had to see for himself and begin to rebuild their lives with the little money they had. We lived in different homes while waiting for our new house to be built. Some of us lived with my Grandmother Elsie Rideout for a while, and the rest of the children were scattered around to relatives who cared for them. As I am deaf, I still did not understand the severity of the situation and the stress my parents must have been under. I kept telling Mom that I wanted to go HOME! After telling me time and again that the house was gone and me still persisting, she took me by the hand and led me to the ashes that were once our house. Once I saw the black grass where our house used to be, I tugged on Mom's hand. I was ready to go. It was around this time that the health issue troubling my Mother had to be resolved. With the children being looked after by relatives, she took the opportunity to go to Twillingate Hospital where they performed the surgery and gave her time to heal before coming back home to face the struggles ahead. Uncle Lloyd Rideout deserves a huge thank you from our family. He went door to door, all around the circle, fundraising to help our family who were left with nothing. Being close to winter, Dad knew he had to build a house for his family of eight, and fast! From the little money we had, he built the shell of our new home, just up the hill from the charred remains of our old house. With winter threatening to dump its first snowfall, Dad led his family to our new home. It was just a shell; windows, doors, roof and siding, but it was home. As I think back on this tragedy, I not only think of the fire and the devastation it caused, but I think of people's generosity. My Grandmother Elsie Rideout, who sheltered us when we had no place to go, Uncle Lloyd Rideout who went door to door collecting for us. I think of Aunt Geraldine Philpott and Aunt Marie Philpott who sent God only knows how many boxes of clothes from Toronto. Thank you, Vine Rideout, who selflessly gave her pretty yellow dress to Evelyn, and to people like Aunt Helen Philpott who replaced my red coat with a beautiful green coat. Ms. Ella French from Lewisporte also donated clothes to us and countless others that I may not even aware of. My mother passed away February 11, 1997, but she told that story time and again, how she never forgot the day her house burned on August 28, 1958. For the people who contributed and donated in any way, I want to say on behalf of the Philpott Family-THANK YOU! Your generosity will never be forgotten. Story written by: Joy Philpott   Submitted By: Denika Philpott