Ernie Phair and the Sharp family

A close reading of the dedication in The Night in Tilly Field may have left you wondering how my uncle, Ernie Phair, came to have a different last name from his brother Alvin Sharp. And so, here is that story.

Thomas and Nettie Sharp on their wedding day, December 22, 1908

Ernest George Sharp was born on March 28, 1913, the younger brother of Marguerite Etoile Sharp (born in 1909) and Alvin Kay Sharp (born in 1911.) Two weeks later, his mother (my grandmother) Nettie Sharp died.

My grandfather, Thomas Sharp, was left with two small children and a new baby to care for. Thomas was a carpenter and a blacksmith, who had shops in Hensall and later Seaforth, Ontario. However, when winter came, he would travel north to more lucrative work in the lumber camps, where he would live from November until April, leaving the children with Nettie.

Until Thomas remarried—three years later after Nettie’s death—his siblings looked after Marguerite and Alvin, while Thomas travelled for work; and the baby, Ernie, was placed in the care of the welcoming Phair family in Watford, Ontario, who had no children.

By 1917, Thomas Sharp had remarried and moved away from Watford with his new wife and his two older children. They eventually settled in Seaforth, where two more children were added to the family. In those days, the travel between Watford and Seaforth was difficult, and so the Phairs and the Sharps lost contact, and young Ernie grew up not even knowing he had any siblings.

Lieutenant Ernie Phair somewhere in England, Spring/Summer 1944

Still, while Ernie was raised by the Phairs, his father never allowed him to be formally adopted, so, when he signed up for the army in 1940, he discovered his true birth name and took his wife Donalda and their daughter Ann to reconnect with his siblings and their families—the Sharps and the Dolmages—not long before he headed off to war.

My Mother kept a picture of Ernie in our living room. All she knew about Ernie dying in the war was that it had happened near Caen. Neither she nor Ernie’s family knew any details.

When news came that Ernie had been declared missing, his army pay was cut off, and Mutual Life would not pay his life insurance policy, and Donalda and Ann had to stay with our family in Kitchener for several weeks. It wasn’t until a year later, when the POWs were released and came home to confirm that Ernie had indeed been killed in battle, that his back pay was released to his family.

The key

I interviewed Murray Reid in August of 2004, at his home in Wheatley, Ontario. It was Bert Hearnden who had told me the story about the Key. Three of them—the Guy from Calgary, Bert Hearnden, and Murray—had just crossed the French border in a car they had liberated from a German officer. There, they were stopped by French police, who commanded them to get out of the vehicle. They were forced to leave on foot, but Murray kept the key; and Bert told me how much they’d laughed when they looked back from several hundred yards down the road and saw the Gendarmes trying to figure out how to start the car.

Murray Reid showing me the key from the German bucket car he still kept in his attic.

An anonymous note arrives

In November of 2003, I posted an ad in the Canadian Legion News, looking for WW II soldiers who had served with Ernie Phair. Among the replies I received was this anonymous note.


Remembrance Day, 2011

I later learned that it had been sent by the wife of John MacLean on his behalf. In the ad, I had included my e-mail address——which might explain his willingness to share what he did.

Included with this note was a newspaper article documenting his experience at Tilly, but that too had been stripped of any information that might identify the source!

An old-time fiddler

John directed his family to get in touch with me after he passed away, which is how I learned all this and how I obtained the pictures of him during the war and as a veteran.

My meeting with Bert Hearnden

This picture was taken when I interviewed Bert Hearnden at his home in Winnipeg. He was charming and warm and had clear memories of his time in France. Unfortunately, recalling the night of August 2, when Ernie was killed and Bert was taken prisoner, he was in tears and called it the “worst night of my life.”

Bert Hearden and Jim Dolmage, April 2004.