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“Have trowel.
Will travel.”
Allen Prebble didn’t come from here, but like Lucinda Williams’ boyfriend in her haunting song “Lake Charles,” Allen always said Dunvegan was where he felt at home. Allen was actually from Moose Creek, where he grew up on a farm with his late brother, Norman, and his sister, Ruth. But the farming life was not for Allen. He chose another path — masonry, carpentry and construction. And he showed this bent early on in life. His sister Ruth recalls that when she was about seven Allen built her a playhouse. But as those who knew Allen can appreciate, it wasn’t any old play structure. It was large enough that Allen (over five years her senior) wouldn’t hit his head on the ceiling. It also came complete with working cupboards and drawers in the play kitchen. Ruth relates proudly that the playhouse was still straight and true many years later when her children were young.
While he learned his trades in the area, his expertise was soon in demand all over the world. Allen related a story of being hired at the height of the Cold War, sworn to secrecy and sent to an undisclosed location in Colorado. There he built cement block structures from dawn to dusk. His claim to fame was that he could lay 20 rows of 200 blocks per day… straight as a die. That contract complete, Allen moved on to the Middle East where he told of it being so hot they worked under wet canvas tarps to shield them from the sun and help keep them cool. Allen’s favourite story from that period was when his crew unknowingly went to work on a religious holiday and almost touched off a full-scale riot.
In latter years, Allen returned home and adopted the lifestyle of an itinerant craftsman. Back in the late 1800s and early 1900s, itinerant workers were common in the backwoods of Glengarry. A craftsman with a particular skill would arrive in an area and move from farm to farm… plying his trade and living with the employer just long enough to complete the project. In the Dunvegan area alone, I can name at least four farmhouses (ours included) with antique pine doors that have been professionally painted to look like hardwood. My guess is that a “wood grainer” hit town around the turn of the century and was passed from household to household.
This is how Allen finished out his professional life — and it brings us to his connection with the Dunvegan area. It all began with Dean Hagopian of St. Elmo. Allen came to live at Dean and Sybil’s while he built them a “Hardy Boys” tower on the south side of their house. From there, Allen moved to Bob Linney’s place on the eastern edge of Dunvegan where he undertook major revisions to the Big Orange Garage, and added a front porch to the old log manse.
Next, Allen moved down the road to our place where he stayed off and on for nearly three years helping us create a truly unique home… complete with the fieldstone Rumford-style fireplace Terry and I had always wanted. From our household, Allen left the district to work in South Glengarry for a number of years. However, just before finally laying down his tools, he did return once again to help the Rupp’s west of Dunvegan.
Allen was a truly unique individual, in every sense of the word. His ready smile, dry sense of humour, common sense, generosity and incredible ability to solve construction challenges will be remembered fondly by all those his life touched. And while one sometimes wondered if all of Allen’s stories were 100% kosher, I’ll leave you with one that Bob Linney shared with me at Allen’s wake.
In his younger days, Allen was apparently quite the party animal… and an accomplished musician. As the story goes, one Friday or Saturday night Allen was on his way to Moose Creek to pick up his girlfriend and attend a dance where he was scheduled to play fiddle. Those were the days before railway crossings had bells, lights and drop-down barriers. And for some reason — perhaps he had the radio full blast or was distracted by some other heady experience — Allen failed to notice the train bearing down on him as he set off
across the tracks. The good news is that he made it across safely, almost. The locomotive just clipped the trunk of his car. Luckily, it didn’t set off the box of construction dynamite Allen was carrying there.
Allen Prebble passed away at the Winchester Hospital on August 5 th , 2012[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]
