Autobiography – Pt 2 – Louis Cotterchio
In the summer of 1946, I officially started my work in Algonquin Park at the Highland Inn as a porter responsible for two bellhops at the lodge. We had many high profile guests, and I can recall the day that Mr John Labatt came to stay with his large limousine, and he had several trunks that had to be carried up to his apartment. They were very heavy and cumbersome and we might have uttered a complaint or two as we lugged them all by hand up two flights of stairs.
My brother Joe had been working at the Highland Inn for several years as a truck driver delivering goods to the lodge from Huntsville. He worked for them almost every day during the summer season, and I can remember once when he was not available and Mr Norman Paget asked me if I could help. My task was to take the truck to Huntsville for a load of goods and pick up four small piglets at the Huntsville Trading Store. At this time, I had never before driven such a large truck, but he gave me a crash course on the basics and I took off with Mr. Paget’s secretary and the woman who looked after the store at Highland Inn. We arrived safely in town where I picked up my cargo and the four pigs which I loaded in the back in their crate. We stopped at my father’s home to pick up some clothes and I checked my load – the pigs were fine. We headed back to the Inn in the late afternoon and when we finally got to the West park gate, we stopped again to check the load – still, the pigs were fine. The last leg of our trip, was the final climb up Smoke Lake Hill, which was very steep then, and I was forced to gear down as we climbed it very slowly.
When we finally arrived at Highland Inn, Mr Norm Paget was at the unloading platform waiting for us. I lifted the rear tailgates after he asked if we had gotten his pigs. I said yes, they were in fine shape. But when I opened the rear of the truck, I could not see any pigs in the crate. I said, “that’s funny, the pigs aren’t here.” Mr Paget said “I don’t see anything funny about that, where are they?” After a discussion, we decided they must have jumped off the truck on Smoke Lake Hill. We immediately drove towards Smoke Lake, and about halfway there we met Sandy Hegert who was going towards Whitney with the mail. He said he saw two small pigs halfway up Smoke Lake Hill and tried to catch them, but they ran off into the thick bush and he gave up the chase. We continued on to the hill and spent one hour looking for them but all we could see were their tracks along the side of the road. We never did find them – they probably succumbed to the bears and wolves which were plentiful at that time. Since then I have called that section of road, Pig Hill, and sometimes I like to imagine that there are families of wild pigs still roaming in the surrounding forest today.
Huntsville and Area Historical Society 