By September 11, 1934, Dad’s address was a box number in Toronto. It also seems by that time, Joan had gone to stay with her grandparents, Hugh & Helen Roberton in Scotland. Here, Dad writes to his father:
“Replying to your letter received, after much delay, in Chicago” (where Dad’s sister Mamie and her husband lived) “I want to thank you for telling me about m
y wee girl’s anxiety that I should immediately make the acquaintance of Rex. Doggies have been an important factor in Joan’s life and perhaps her determination or fixity of purpose has, in part, been copied from the doggies of her acquaintance. Doggies are very persistent.
As you will see, I am now in Toronto, where I am making one more bid for the right to live before taking my place in what R. B. Bennett refers to as ‘the derelicts’. I have even stooped so low as to write to George Mathieson to see if he is in the position to arrange for me an introduction to the Eaton or Simpson companies here.
My visit to Chicago was a very enjoyable one from the point of my association with Mamie’s wee family, but I found a different Chicago from that of eight years ago. Citizenship is now a required factor in seeking employment and in other ways America has followed the Nationalistic tendencies evident in countries that are faced with economic panic. Despite the injection of alcohol into that country’s economic system, the fatty degeneration of the heart of its Capitalism continues.
And the same thing is evident here, of course. Some of the big firms are prohibiting their employees from entering any political organization, and every effort is being made to establish company unions instead of the trade unions. Both of these measures are the foreshadow of Fascism, now the only ism that can prolong Capitalism: and Fascism is the future refusing to be born.
My health has received a set-back since coming here, and I am having some trouble with a hernia that was originally caused, and is now aggravated, by coughing. So I find myself again living on ephedrine.”
“Thanks for your letter which came as negotiations were underway for an exchange of this property for a property in Calgary, the title of which will go to Mrs. Pomeroy as coverage for her investment here. The Calgary place is rented an I am hoping that it will stay rented so that Mrs. Pomeroy can in a measure be repaid for the trouble and expense that here partnership here has incurred. In the meantime, since Mrs. Pomeroy’s return from California, we have been busily engaged with the disposal and packing of household goods and effects, and at the time of writing, we are all ready to move out.
My movements from the date hereof are very uncertain, chiefly because of the complication presented by the necessity having Joan to look after, and secondly because of the fact that, after settling obligations, little or nothing will be left to move on with. If alone I would probably try to get into one of the government relief camps in another Province until I had gathered my wits sufficiently to make some definite move, although such a step might not be so simple on account of my poor physical condition.”
I was surprised to read this, as it always seemed to me that Dad hated the concept of the relief camps, seeing them not only as a source of almost slave labour but also as a strategy to disenfranchise men by having them away from their home electoral ridings and unable to cast their votes. One of the actions he talked about taking part in was organizing truck convoys to go out to the relief camps in order to bring men back to their ridings at election time.
“Your letter was kind and encouraging, and I can readily see that with Joan’s happiness in mind and welfare at stake, the most practical move would be homeward, but there still remains a reluctance to accept defeat – even at the hands of my twin foes, and there still lingers the idea that, given the opportunity of re-entering the States, I might be able to struggle along. This letter is chiefly to thank you, and notify you that my address is no longer Hatzig. For the time being General Delivery, Vancouver will get me, and unless I make a sudden desperate dive over the line, I will keep you posted as to my movements.”
Added note: Once again, I would like to thank local BC historian and writer Daphne Sleigh for forwarding this article from the Fraser Valley Record dated Thursday, March 29, 1934:
Sept 21, 1933. It seems that Hugh and Helen Roberton in Scotland had become concerned enough about Arnold and Joan’s situation that they sent a telegram proposing to have Joan come to live with them. Here is Dad's reply:
“Thank-you for your cabled offer to relieve me of the responsibility of looking after Joan under difficulties. At the present time the wee lassie’s future is a bit uncertain as indeed are the futures of so many millions of other little ones whose parents, while sound in body are still deprived of the means of life by a vicious society. After all these years of struggling with the twin Frankensteins, ill-health and economic instability, I carry a particular hatred for the society that makes ill-health an individual catastrophe instead of a social misfortune, and I find difficulty in keeping this hatred from extending to all those who are tolerant of such a system.
At present, it is uncertain how long I will be able to remain here, since it is impossible for me to meet the obligations of the partnership, either in the matter of further financing or the contribution of labour. It is my hope that, when I do leave, I will be able to realize enough out of the disposal of my few personal effects to make some arrangements about Joan.”
January 27, 1934:
“As I write this it is late afternoon, and I am seated on the front veranda enjoying the first consistent sunshine of the year. The river below is placid. Beyond, the lower part of the mountain is scarved in an opalescent ground-mist, while to the east the Cheam Peaks, grand in their robes of white, extend into an azure sky that is ever so lightly traced with ‘Sands of Dee’ pattern of fine white clouds. Not even the “Queen’s View” could beat this panoramic eye-feast that spreads before us. Thousands of acres of farm-lands extending to the south west. A mountain that seems to come near enough to cast a stone at on clear days directly south. And to the east again farm lands extending to the peaks mentioned, some thirty-five miles away. And the river – always the river.
During the past two weeks I have been laid up intermittently, with persistently recurring fevers and an unusual swelling on the neck adding to my troubles. As Mrs. Pomeroy has been in California for some time, it has been largely a matter of turning Joan over to George, who is the ‘factotum’ around here. George is ‘easy’ and Joan knows it, so frequently the recalcitrant Joan has been led before me for parental guidance. On the whole, however, she is
anything but a troublesome child, being content to amuse herself all day long with little supervision. Needless to say, we are great friends – so much so that we call each other by our first names. Nor do I frown when she occasionally calls me a stupid boy, but make allowance for the possibility of her being right. I had a fair vision of my being able to bring Joan up in a thoroughly un-orthodox way, devoid of the awe and majesty attributes required by parents hitherto, but the uncertainty of the future clouds my vision in this and other respects.
It is quite evident that it would be unwise for me to stay in this Province any longer than possible disposal arrangements would necessitate, as my physical condition was never so low....the two most sensible places for a man in my situation to go would be home or Russia – with a possible third if one had the guts. Nevertheless there is the mental urge onward, accompanied by a normal antipathy towards retrogression; onward to where and to what? Perhaps to a more devastating defeat that ever as (once again) an illegal entrant to a better clime. Well, except for the subsequent detention period and deportation proceedings, what of it? If one becomes a public charge in this fair country prior to the completion of his five years of domicile the same deportation procedure awaits him..
There is a bare possibility that I could find something to do in the high plateau regions of central or southern USA, where (once there) immigration surveillance would not be too aggressive. If so, the chance of my recuperation would be appreciably greater than it would be in Scotland of elsewhere. Therefore I am harbouring the thought of again looking for a hole in a hypothetical three-thousand-mile fence.”
Copying these passages where Dad’s spirit appears to hit an all time low, it occurs to me that he very likely also suffered from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) where lack of sunlight alters mood and causes mental depression. The West Coast was probably the last place he should have been living, especially since the damp winters would certainly have aggravated his asthma and lung condition. By April of 1934, his life in the Fraser Valley was about to change.
y wee girl’s anxiety that I should immediately make the acquaintance of Rex. Doggies have been an important factor in Joan’s life and perhaps her determination or fixity of purpose has, in part, been copied from the doggies of her acquaintance. Doggies are very persistent. 
