MALCOLM’S MOMENTS

Left: Even after we moved south to San Bernardino, Calif., we continued to visit our old Salt Spring Island home in British Columbia, Canada, which was a marine paradise for a youngster like myself; I fished, crabbed, hiked and explored every hour of every day, it seemed. Above: That’s my Dad standing by our Buick-powered camper during our move. He’d lost the use of one eye in Alaska (far right, skiing across a frozen lake) years before, so my Mom did most of the driving. Right: The three of us, right about the time we made the move to Southern California. To get a copy of my autobiography, just visit www.themalcolmbook.com.

My Earliest Days

From Canada to California with my rugged and resourceful parents, growing up was nothing less than a grand adventure

BY MALCOLM SMITH

If you’ve read my autobiography (and you should —Ed.) you know a bit about my parents and my early years growing up in British Columbia, Canada, and, later, San Bernardino, Calif.

I was born in March of 1941, an interesting year for sure, with Hitler running rampant in Europe and the country just months from entering the war officially after Pearl Harbor. My mother nearly died from the C-section (a rare thing in ’41) that brought me into the world, with a new medical treatment called “antibiotics” saving her from the infection that followed.

I grew up on a sheep ranch on Salt Spring Island, which lies just off the eastern edge of Vancouver Island. It was a marine haven, so my early days were filled with what you’d expect — fishing, boating, hiking, hunting, sheep ranching, harvesting apples from our orchards, and dealing with the often-harsh weather. None of that bothered my parents of course, as Elizabeth and Alexander Smith were as rugged and resourceful as they come. My mom, Elizabeth Ann “Betty” Beesley, was born in Provo, Utah, in December 1907, the second youngest of nine children. She was raised with a decent amount of Mormon influence — family, church, personal responsibility, compassion for others, etc. — and had an intense desire to be educated, becoming a teacher after graduating from the University of Utah. She loved teaching.

My father, Alexander Malcolm “Sandy” Smith, was born in 1858 in Inverness, Scotland. (Yes, 1858. That’s Civil War times.) Dad was a troublemaker growing up, and at age 17 was given an ultimatum: Attend reform school or go to work for the Hudson’s Bay Company in Northern Canada’s Yukon Territory. He chose the latter, and worked the Yukon for three years, learning much about living and surviving in that beautiful but severe wilderness.

In the late 1800s he and a partner prospected for gold, which they had considerable success finding. They’d spend winters in Seattle, then head back to Alaska and the Yukon for more gold mining when the money ran out. My father spent a lot of time in Alaska, once dog-sledding the Bering Strait to Siberia to search for gold. He was arrested, briefly put in front of a firing squad, and held in jail for a year before convincing the Russians he had no knowledge of mineral deposits there. (He did.)

My father met my mother in Alaska (where she was vacationing), and just a day later they married. He was nearly 80, but in such good shape he easily passed for 50, which is about how old my 30-something mother thought he was until she learned his real age months later — about the time she found out she was pregnant with me. So my father was 80 — basically my age now — when I was born. Think of that for a moment!

Despite the risks of the rugged ocean environment, life on the island for me as a kid was all adventure, all the time. I played with Native American kids who visited, explored natural springs, dug for clams, fished like crazy, canoed, hiked, and trekked by myself to the other side of the island where some other kids lived despite the presence of cougars, which occasionally preyed on our sheep.

Even after we moved to San Bernardino post-war we’d visit Salt Spring Island and the cabin my dad had kept for us — and the adventures just kept on coming…just as they would once I dug my heels into Southern California and, eventually, got my first motorcycle. But that’s for next month! AMA