My all time favorite cousin died this summer. Shyrle Hacker loved nicknames and had quite a few of her own. Her dad had called her “The Turk”. Uncle Bob always called her “Sodie” and in her book,“On Stage Gypsies”, she told how she liked the nom de plume “Shanna”. Back in the old days of snail mail I never was quite sure whether she would sign her letters, Shyrle, Shyrl or Shirley and I use to chide her because she always liked our grandfather’s name, Laughlin . To get even with me she dropped the word in the title above on me (cognomination) knowing full well I would have to look it up as you just did.

Shryle was my favorite "kissen" cousin and I miss her a lot. I hope you like the article written about her in the Contra Costa Times. It really captured her essence.

This picture of Turk (far left), my sis and I was taken a few years ago when we paid a visit to a small Estrella River canyon where our moms were born.

Don Mac Gillivray and Ian Macintyre are two cousins who live in Cape Breton . I first met them at a family reunion at the Northside East Bay Firehouse a few years ago.Don and Ian collaborated this summer in order to write the fine article about the demise of the coal mining industry in Cape Breton. Like Cousins Keryn Laite, Penny Frobese, Garfield Mac Donald and others, they continue the tradition of family contributions to the Newsletter. I hope more of you will do that.

Coal Mining in Cape Breton: Struggle and Survival

What force leads a man to a life filled with danger, high on seas, or a mile underground? It’s when need is his master and poverty’s no stranger and there’s no other work to be found....song by Silly Wizard, circa 1980.

Dust in the air, all through the mine; it’s concrete on your lungs and you’re old before your time....song by Cape Breton’s miners’ choir, the Men of the Deeps, circa 1979.

The start of this millennium has probably signaled the finish of Cape Breton’s primal industry, coal mining, which has been a part of life on this island for close to three centuries. Coal mining here has had a turbulent and checkered history. Although at times, coal has caused us much hardship, havoc and heartache, it has also sustained our economy, prompted the establishment of the steel industry, built many of our towns and afforded many Cape Bretoners, miners and others, the chance to remain on this island. The mining tradition has also influenced our insularity, independence of thought and spirit, our collective and cooperative approach and in more recent times, our music and other art forms as well. It can be safely said that the mining tradition is a part of the very soul of Cape Breton.

Earlier this year, a small group of miners began a hunger strike in Prince colliery—the last operating pit in “industrial” Cape Breton—in order to force a meeting with Government officials, who announced a year ago that they would be getting out of the Cape Breton coal industry by the end of 2000. This was followed, on May 24, by a march across the Canso Causeway, by 300 miners and their families, calling on the Prime Minister to keep promises made during the past election campaign. The lobbying continued throughout the past number of months and was joined by students, firefighters, nurses, trade unionists, and the public in general. These activities have had seemingly little or no effect and as the deadline approaches the grim reality of Cape Breton without coal is beginning to set in; we are an Island very much in crisis with an industry which once employed approximately 13,000, now reduced to a paltry 1,658, for whom the spectre of unemployment looms all too close.

Coal was first mined in Cape Breton under the French regime in the 1720s. One hundred years later a firm based in London, England, the General Mining Association, began systematic expansion—fuelled in part by a lucrative monopoly, compliments of the English Crown. Industrial capitalism appeared in 1893 with the arrival of the Dominion Coal Company. By this time there were an estimated 80,000 Gaelic speakers in Cape Breton. Their parents and grandparents had departed Scotland, “the land without kindness”, to use the telling phrase of Ailean an Rids (Allan the Ridge MacDonald) in the 1800-1845 period. They provided a ready-made labour pool and many left their farms to work in the mines, from the 1890s onward. In 1968, the mines were taken over by a federal crown corporation, The Cape Breton Development Corporation (DEVCO), with the mandate of closing the mines, by 1981. The oil crisis of the mid-1970s spurred a renewed interest in coal, but this was short lived and government once more began to explore ways of getting out of the mining business. Their approach was arbitrary, insensitive and non-consultative. Thus the takeover of the Prince mine and the hunger strike.

As we write, the full impact of the imminent closure has neither been fully understood nor addressed. The main union, District 26, United Mine Workers of America, which dominated organized labour in Cape Breton for a century, was recently placed in trusteeship. Mining towns, such as Glace Bay and New Waterford, are already approaching chaos as the socioeconomic thread weakens. The current rate of unemployment on the Island is close to three times the national average and the out-migration of the youth is equally startling. The end of coal mining in Cape Breton promises to be just as painful as were the years of struggle and survival that were the hallmark of its existence. Submitted by a couple of Bill Norin’s Cape Breton cousins Donald MacGillivray (Charles Mac Gillivray, Maggie Curry, Mary Ann MacDonald, Angus MacDonald) and Ian Macintyre (Frances MacGillivray, Maggie Curry, Mary Ann MacDonald, Angus MacDonald

Shyrle Hacker: A Spirited Dancer, Teacher

Friends and family remember the 90-year-old, Walnut Creek woman as anything but typical

By Joan Morris

Contra Costa Times Staff Writer

One of Shyrle Hacker's best friends once wrote a poem about her, describing the vivacious former dancer and graceful writer as a lion and a lamb.

It was a vividly appropriate observation, says Shyrle's daughter, Diane Stevens, and a trait her mother recognized in herself. For while she could be as sweet and gentle as a lamb, she always was as tough and fearless as a lion.

Shyrle attributed the schism to her parents, two opposites who amazingly managed a marriage.

Teresa Pedlar, Shyrle's mother, was a cautious and refined woman who felt compelled to hang curtains in the isolated, ramshackle gold mining cabin where the small family lived for two years.

Shyrle's father, Elmer Pedlar, was carefree and jovial, a wanderlust who couldn't understand why anyone needed more than the open sky, the sheltering trees and the land. Before moving his family to Nevada to try his hand at gold mining, he worked as a carpenter, a brakeman on the Southern Pacific railroad, a short-order cook and a traveling salesman.

Elmer and Teresa loved each other with a passion, but their personalities often clashed. "Slowly I became aware that the conflict between my parents was unsolvable," Shyrle wrote in a book of her early life, "A Gold Miner's Daughter." "At some later time I recognized I had inherited the warring factors in each parent so that an inner truce would never be possible."

The part of Shyrle that belonged to her father led her to leave home at 18 for Hollywood and the life of a gypsy -- a dancer in a traveling show. The side that came from her mother led her to leave the spotlight for a long, happy marriage with a man who appreciated her wildness and her quietude.

Life with Shyrle was never dull.

"She wasn't the typical mom of the 1950s," Diane says. "She probably was ahead of her time."

Shyrle, born Shirley Pedlar, was an only child. An older sister, Nadine, died in infancy, and when Shirley came along, her mother doted on her.

Teresa gave her daughter dolls and toy dishes, but Shyrle preferred the playgrounds in her mind. She would sit for hours making up stories and causing her mother untold worry.

Shyrle dreamed of things such as a giant elephant that would lumber through the tall Nevada pines and, upon reaching Shyrle, open a secret door in its side and drop a ladder for the little girl. Inside was an array of push buttons and consoles -- futuristic thinking for 1916 -- that Shyrle could use to send her elephant moving or flying into adventures.

The family's time on the mountaintop was limited. Harsh winters and little gold brought them back to the Bay Area, where Shyrle's interests turned to dance. With her best friend, Eve, the girls practiced ballet routines with dreams of forming a sister act and dancing on Broadway.

In 1929, they left for Hollywood and an audition with the Fanchon and Marco touring shows. Shyrle, who was using the stage name Shanna, was one of 2,000 women who toured the country by rail and bus, performing mini-musicals and dance numbers based on themes, called "Ideas." There was the "Cinderella Jazz Idea" and the "Country Club Idea" and "Modern Minstrel Idea."

More wholesome than vaudeville, there still were risks and stereotypes to overcome. Shyrle wrote about her days as a dancer in "On Stage, Gypsies: A Memoir of a Dancer in the '30s." It is an unblinking look at what can be a harsh life of rehearsals and performances, traveling from town to town, and fighting off unwanted advances.

The glitter of show business began to tarnish right at the start. Eve learned she was pregnant shortly after leaving Oakland for the audition. Unwilling to sacrifice both their dreams, Eve had a back alley abortion. After two long years and standing on the brink of performing at New York's Roxy, Eve fell ill with venereal disease, which eventually took her life.

Through it all, Shyrle managed to hold on to the values with which she was raised. The chance to live her dream was stronger than the attraction from the wild side. She met Mike Hacker in Oakland shortly before beginning a 10-month tour. They wrote long letters, and they saw each other when they could. When Shyrle decided she'd had enough of the glaring spotlight, she came home to Mike.

Mike eventually opened Hacker Motors in Oakland. They bought a small house, started a family and Shyrle set up a dance studio in the basement.

"There were lots of little kids and elaborate dance recitals," Diane says. "The whole dancing part of her life was real important to her."

But story-telling remained her passion. She eventually gave up her dance studio and turned to writing. She worked at it on a regular schedule, secluding herself behind her closed bedroom door in the mornings, clacking away on an Underwood typewriter.

"I remember the sound of the typewriter while she was in there working," Diane says. "We knew not to interrupt her unless someone was bleeding."

Shyrle wrote several children's books, including the award-winning "Mystery of the Swan Ballet." The book, intended for middle school children, combined an old-fashioned mystery and the ballet. After close to 40 years, it remains Diane's favorite.

Shyrle had finally found an outlet for those stories she composed in her head, and she wanted to share the joy she found in writing with others. She joined the California Writers Club and founded a Diablo Valley branch.

John Plumb, a mystery writer and former Times editor, says Shyrle was the glue that held the club together for the past 43 years. She also was a faithful friend, respected editor and cherished mentor.

"Shyrle would always find something good to say about even the most amateurish effort," Plumb says, "and would then shift tactfully to ways in which the writer could improve. She also taught adult writing classes at Diablo Valley College. Her chief credo concerning creative writing was 'tell a story.'"

Plumb remembers his old friend as one of those people who made a room light up when she was there.

"She was wise, but never a know-it-all," Plumb says. "She made one feel comfortable; she listened; she had a marvelous laugh; she enjoyed life."

Diane, who along with her brother, Gary, encouraged Shyrle to write about her life, also remembers her mother's verve. She embraced what life had to offer, fitting as easily into today's computerized world as she had the vaudeville days.

"My favorite memories are of her dancing in our kitchen," Diane says. "Food would be cooking on the stove, and she'd be doing pirouettes.

"I see her digging out in the garden or with her two cats, Puff and Pepper. I have a strong memory of the elegant clothes she wore and the wonderful earrings. My friends were always amazed by her. They thought I had a very exotic mother."

Shyrle maintained her dancer's strength and physical fitness regime. Up until last year, she was still swimming and taking water aerobics classes at the YMCA three times a week. Her family and friends celebrated her 90th birthday in March.

"Shyrle's life pretty well spanned the 20th century," Plumb says. "For those fortunate enough to know her, she helped make it a wonderful era. She was part of what we are."

FAREWELL TO MY FAVORITE COGNOMINATION ARTIST

Coal Mining in Cape Breton: Struggle and Survival

Shyrle Hacker: A Spirited Dancer, Teacher

Friends and family remember the 90-year-old, Walnut Creek woman as anything but typical