James Oliver Curwood, Disciple of the Wilds

by Hobart Donald Swiggett

As they talked, Miss Greenwood told Jim that she had read of his expeditions into the far North and she appeared to be genuinely interested in his travels and in his work. It was then that he decided that he should become better acquainted with the young lady. As time passed by Jim Curwood found himself thinking a lot of this new and very interesting personality. As a matter of fact he was beginning to believe that she would make an ideal companion for him on the many trails of the wild on which he planned to travel. Her eyes were like shining stars that sparkled both day and night, and her personality was pleasing.

Then it dawned upon the thirty-three year old writer that he must be falling madly in love with Miss Greenwood. Of this he was convinced after meeting her again. Their interests were mutual. She too loved the wilderness country and all of God’s wonderful Nature. She loved to hear the murmurs of the streams, the chirping of the birds and the chattering of the squirrels just as he did. This interest which she expressed and showed in his work set Jim Curwood to thinking very seriously.

It was not very long before Jim and Ethel Greenwood were married. The ceremony took place in the old home on John Street, at six o’clock in the morning. It was quiet and simple. By seven of the same morning the bride and groom were on board a train headed for the wilderness and God’s Country.

Jim and his wife were as happy as any couple could ever hope to be. Together they fought and loved the wilds. Side by side they worked and built their cabin deep within the heart of the forests surrounding Hudson’s Bay. That autumn Jim began cutting his supply of wood for the winter and storing up provisions. Even though they worked hard in preparation for the long, hard and cold winter, they were gloriously happy.

Fall soon came and with it the turning of the leaves, the strangely different sounds of the rivers and the mating calls of the wild. Still Jim Curwood worked frantically for the oncoming of winter, for he knew what winters in the north were like, and he did not intend being caught shorthanded. Cord-wood was cut and still more provisions were added to their mounting larder. The cabin was made more secure and warm. The cold months were but a short way off, for the leaves were rapidly beginning to fall.

Already the bears had gone into hibernation. The chattering squirrels were providing themselves with their winter’s supply of nuts and the birds had all returned to the south with the exception of the few families which always remained behind.

It was during this long winter that Jim began work on his third novel, “Steele of the Royal Mounted.” What with his regular routine work and with his writing added, James Oliver Curwood had a rather full and busy winter. His writing took nearly three quarters of his day. The rest of the time was given over to his wife, some reading and other activities.

“I had found a wife who was proud of the work by which I earned my living, who looked fearlessly into the future with me, splendidly caring for my little daughters; a mother who later gave me my son, James, the last blessing to our family, now almost ready to go to college.” Indeed he was happy and content.

As the snows blew and the winds howled about the tiny cabin far off in the Canadian wilds, Jim’s log fire would burn cheerfully as he and his wife would sit in front of it and read or talk. Darkness would arrive around three in the afternoon and sometimes before that.

Jim Curwood continued work on his new novel up until the beginning of spring. It was then that he proudly announced to his wife that “Steele of the Royal Mounted” was completed. Not only was he happy over the completion of the book, but because of his wife’s happiness. He was happy, also, over the joy and love Ethel had for his two daughters. She cared for them and loved them just as if they were of her own flesh and blood. They were a part of Jim and that in itself explains her new-found happiness. Jim once said that the winter spent in the cabin around Hudson’s Bay was one of the most supreme winters of their lives.