How to Start a Town on an $83 Well and a Prayer: The Birth of Gull Lake, SK
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When I was reading Gull Lake Memories: A History of the Town of Gull Lake, I came across some fascinating details about our town’s first official year. It captures a side of our history that’s often forgotten—the grit, the low budgets, and the determination it took to get things started.
Stroll down Conrad Avenue or Proton Avenue today, and it’s easy to forget that Gull Lake began as a bold gamble. Before councils and bylaws, there were just two ambitious developers—Conrad and Price—who surveyed the land in 1905 and set off a literal land boom.
But drawing lines on a map is one thing; building a community is another. By February 8, 1909, the unofficial era of Gull Lake ended, and the official records began.
The Room Where It Happened
Our recorded history begins in the office of the late Joseph Hutchinson. There’s no surviving account of that first election—only the names of the men who stepped forward to lead. Hutchinson, along with Ed Busse and Arthur H. Thomas, became our first overseers.
They formed a council that operated with what the old history book politely calls “very little to go on”—and a great deal of frontier grit. They didn’t have a Town Hall or a formal budget. What they did have was a mission: turn a CPR stop into a functioning society.
Meetings were held every Wednesday evening in Hutchinson’s office because the village didn’t yet have one of its own.
The $83.91 Lifeblood
In 1909, no water meant no town. So the council’s first major project was a six‑foot‑wide well on the east side of Proton Avenue, about a block north of the C.P.R. tracks.
Louis Kindermann and Jack Harty were hired at frontier rates:
• $2.00 per foot to the waterline
• $3.00 per foot below the line
Water along the flat of 32‑Mile Creek was usually struck at about 22 feet. By March 17, Kindermann and Harty were paid $64.00 for digging, with another $19.91 for cribbing and installation—bringing the total to $83.91.
Today, that wouldn’t cover a single plumbing repair—but in 1909, it laid the foundation for a municipality.
Early Laws: No Killing, More Pool
The 1909 minutes were short and straight to the point. But the council was long on common sense, setting the tone for a civilized Gull Lake:
• Bylaw No. 7: “Slaughtering in Town Prohibited.”
• Bylaw No. 8: “On and after July 1st poolrooms will be taxed $10.00 for each table.”
In short: keep the mess out of the streets, and if you’re spending your afternoon in the pool hall, the town gets a cut to keep the lights on.
Financing on a Handshake
How did they pay for all this? By “operating off the cuff.”
At first, council resolved to borrow $200 for one year—with no mention of where it would come from or how it would be repaid. Within weeks, the amount was increased to $300, and the loan was secured from the Union Bank at Maple Creek at 8% interest.
With a total tax assessment of $68,440 and a mill rate of 15 mills, council expected to collect $1,026 for the year—and $1,026 wouldn’t keep the town afloat for five hours today.
Even staffing reflected the shoestring nature of early municipal life.
Secretary‑Treasurer Charles Chaston resigned in March, and J. Ferguson was appointed in his place at a salary of $50.00 a year. Mr. Christie was appointed the first Medical Health Officer, with no salary recorded.
The Legend of the “Perfect” Hole
The year ended with a decision to dig a second well, and the job went to Wm. “Bill” Eckerman—perhaps Saskatchewan’s most gifted digger.
Eckerman was known for sinking shafts over 200 feet deep without ever using a plumb bob. His holes were so straight and so numerous that locals joked:
“Were it possible to set end to end all the wells that Bill Eckerman dug in this district, he’d probably have emerged in Confucius’ tomb.”
A Century of Grit
On March 27, 1909, council instructed the secretary to write the Minister of Highways about improving access north of town—specifically, building a proper road across the flat and the bridge needed to cross the Swift Current River. It was ambitious, and the response was anything but quick.
The road north wasn’t built for another 20 years.
The concrete bridge came later, on what became Highway 37.
Next time you drive south of town and see the old concrete bridge—the one that once carried Highway 37 before the route was realigned—remember that the 1909 council requested that very crossing. It took decades for infrastructure to match their vision.
And for a final bit of local colour: the nominating meeting for the 1910 council was to be held in Metropolitan Hall, located above W.J. Leaf’s store—later known as Morrow’s Furniture Store. The lower floor was a restaurant run by Wilbur and Mrs. George, on the northeast corner of Proton and Third—a reminder that civic life often began above the shops and kitchens of everyday people.
Gull Lake wasn’t built by a corporation. It was built by neighbors—Hutchinson, Busse, Eckerman, and dozens more—one foot of dirt, one handshake loan, and one stubbornly straight well at a time. All on $83 and a belief that this place was worth building.
📖 Source: Gull Lake Memories: A History of the Town of Gull Lake
Published by: Gull Lake Events
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