It’s a wonderful photograph, black and white, two corners folded over, with creases and speckles. Three lovely young couples, dressed up for an evening out – perhaps at a dance – are caught in the glare of the flashbulb. Two of the men have cigarettes in their hands, and the bartender is busy in the background. When was it? 1940s? 1950s? I know for a fact it was at least 70 years ago, but exactly when I couldn’t say. The fellow on the right, the tall handsome one with the winsome smile, I know his name. And a bit of his story.
The photograph was loaned to us, the Society for the Preservation of Canada’s Nuclear Heritage, by Walt Woytowich. Walt’s been a friend of ours for several years now, having donated and loaned artifacts to us. The biggest is the control desk of AECL’s first digital computer. It’s an impressive and heavy piece of technology, and even more impressive is that Walt preserved it for decades, as if waiting for us. But, wonderful as the computer is, I prefer this photograph.
Let me go back a few years – it was an April 2009 Pembroke Observer article that first caught my attention, describing the 90th birthday celebrations for Rita Woollam. The photo included the line “Her first husband Stephen Whelan died in 1950 at the young age of 24, a victim of an accident at AECL Chalk River”.
For several years Michael Stephens, Jeremy Whitlock and I had discussed the accident. Our best source were two paragraphs in Wilfrid Eggleston’s 1965 classic “Canada’s Nuclear Story”, and an anecdotal recollection of Joe Briscoe’s, in Issue V of Tamarack Magazine. We wondered what became of Mr. Whelan’s family; the Observer article was the clue we needed.
Later in 2009, the Chalk River branch of the Canadian Nuclear Society had discussions with the Pembroke Campus of Algonquin College, with respect to providing awards for their Radiation Safety program. The program coordinator was Angela Woollam, so I asked her if she was related to Rita Woollam. Lo and behold, Rita was Angela’s beloved grandmother. The contact was made.
So it was that on July 6 2009, Jeremy, Michael and I drove to Rita’s house in Pembroke. We were welcomed in by her children Kathleen (daughter of Stephen), Sara and Paul. Rita’s sister Sally, with husband Alan, was also there. Soon the doorbell rang and members of Charles Weary’s family entered: daughters Donna, Gail and Barbara, and Barbara’s husband George. Last of all, James Harrington and his wife Carmel arrived. James Harrington and Charles Weary had been injured in the same accident that killed Stephen.
We talked for a couple of hours about Stephen, the accident, and the aftermath, pooling our knowledge and trading anecdotes and family lore. We gave out copies of the Pembroke Standard-Observer article from the day after the accident, and a copy of Eggleston’s book.
Stephen had been an operator, working with an evaporator to reduce the volume of liquid waste at the tail end of a plutonium separation plant. Unfortunately, the process had concentrated about 90 kg of ammonium nitrate, which detonated and killed Stephen instantly.
We had a warm and friendly discussion, and the families appreciated us taking the time to explain the accident, as best we knew. They had lived for years suspecting that Stephen’s death had been hushed up, not helped when some people mistakenly claimed that no one had ever died at Chalk River Nuclear Laboratories (CRNL). This misconception was perhaps due to the passage of time and changes in staff at the labs.
In addition, the accident took place in the era of cold war secrecy (recall that spy Alan Nunn May had worked on the Canadian wartime nuclear program, and defector Bruno Pontecorvo once lived here in Deep River). Nuclear science and technology was a highly secretive (and hence mysterious) business at the time, so it is no wonder myths arose surrounding Stephen’s death.
Work-related accidents were much more common in the 1950s than today; eleven men had died constructing Des Joachims dam in 1947, so Stephen’s death was probably seen as just one more industrial accident. The 1950 Standard-Observer article said that, despite the accident, “The plant (CRNL) is considered to have one of the finest safety records in North America, comparing favourably with the records of plants and industries not working dangerous chemicals and explosives.”
Jeremy, Michael and I left the Woollam home feeling that we had helped Stephen Whelan’s family, along with Charles Weary’s family and James Harrington, to freely discuss the accident, and to realize that this piece of history was not forgotten. Before we left, I spoke with Rita. To my dismay, she told me she had long worried that Stephen had somehow caused the accident. I emphatically reassured her that Stephen was not responsible – hearing Rita say how relieved she was made our visit so worthwhile.
And now to the photograph. The tall man is Stephen, his arm around his beloved Rita. Beside Rita is Stephen’s sister Clare, who would marry Bill Nolan, Stephen’s best man. The date? All I know is that it’s before December 13, 1950.