A family legacy in the furniture manufacturing industry that shaped a person.
This is a deeply personal story. Not the kind you usually find on a design blog, but one I feel the need to tell.
A Table in Chesley
A family legacy in furniture is not necessarily the sort of thing that shapes a person. And yet, of course, it does, just as the town you grow up in influences you, and the house you live in, and the kind of table you eat dinner at. As a designer, I know only too well the importance a beautiful home and the rituals of life can be. In my mother’s case, it influenced not just her childhood, but her sense of place in the world and the way she interacted within it.
The relevance? My mother, Joan Taylor (née Krug), recently reached the end of her life’s journey. Gone, but not forgotten, she leaves with us many memories and stories of what it was like to grow up in a multiple-generation family-run furniture business. What follows is an inside look at the people and events behind our once-prominent family furniture firm, and how an on-display social role can shape a person.
This is mom’s story.
The House on Third Avenue
Mom was born in the upstairs bedroom in her parent’s stately Georgian home during the height of the depression. The house, designed and built by an architect from London, sat like a symbol of permanence at the top of Third Avenue looking straight down to the main street of Chesley, Ontario. Inside, it carried the elegance of another age: high ceilings and art deco details showcasing its age and inspiration.
As you walked in the door, the chime of the musical doorbell announced your arrival. From the kitchen drifted Grandma’s contented whistle weaving through the air, along with the savory aroma of roast capon, her rich herbed stuffing, and the promise of apple crisp warming in the oven. The house itself seemed alive with sensations, classical music playing from the hi-fi, or the tumbling notes of Grandpa playing a piece on the grand piano (a rare treat). The beveled edges of the glass in the French doors spread a rainbow of light on the floors, drawing your eye toward the formal living room beyond – a room as elegant as it was off-limits, where children were to be “seen and not heard”.
The home was grand and lovely with a good-sized kitchen and had an alcove off to the side for the maid’s table (we called this the breakfast nook), and a windowed sunroom where the children played. It overlooked the back yard where there was a perennial garden and a pond with Koi fish (which Grandpa housed in a barrel in the underground garage over winter). Beyond the perennial garden was a second level with grass and an apple tree, and above that was Grandpa’s rose garden. A rather large plot, he grew many varieties of roses. A guest could be sure to be welcomed by a freshly picked rose bud on their night stand upon arrival. Another was on their breakfast tray. Breakfast in bed with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee served in an individual carafe, and a slice of freshly buttered German coffee cake was a tradition for overnight guests.
The dining room was large enough to host the lively dinner parties. The formal living room with a fireplace wall at one end, a grand piano the other was where we gathered on Christmas mornings in the early years of my childhood. My grandparents entertained often in the dining room. The table was set with care. Polished sterling, buffed crystal, and perfectly placed china came together to create a layered place-setting, atop a hand-tatted lace tablecloth, arranged around a beautiful centerpiece. As kids, we delighted in the enticing bowl of sugar cubes could always be found on the tea cart – a temptation to sneak one each time we passed by. (One wonders if Grandma noticed how their numbers dwindled?) The conversation at the table was lively and fascinating. Aside from family, friends from far-flung places across the globe would visit. My grandmother, born in Japan where she spent her childhood, had maintained contacts with friends she made at the school she attended for foreign diplomats. Her parents were missionaries stationed in Tokyo in the late 1890s.
Upstairs were three bedrooms, each with its own charm. The principal bedroom, set at the front of the house, looked out over Third Avenue with a sweeping view all the way to the main street. From this spacious room, doors opened into an en-suite bath and a cozy nursery. Two additional bedrooms, the Green Room and the Blue Room, shared a generous bathroom, where black-and-white Art Deco tiles added a touch of elegance in their subtle details. The first bedroom at the top of the stairs opened onto a broad balcony, a perfect view overlooking the gardens below.
The third floor housed the maids’ quarters. There were two very large bedrooms, a living room, bathroom and storage rooms where we found many, many treasures. Exploring on the third floor as young children, we were delighted to find Grandma and Grandpa’s wedding attire one day. Grandpa had a top hat and tails on his tuxedo, with white spats; Grandma a flapper dress! A vision of our grandparents we had not anticipated!
The Factory
My mother’s father, William Peter Krug, together with his brother and cousins ran the two-family furniture manufacturing business that employed most of the town’s people either in the factory, the saw mill, or the vast woodlots they farmed to harvest lumber. He also was an eight-term mayor.
Her parents were active in the community. It was a small town where everyone knew each other either by blood or by virtue of the fact that they were employed by the Krugs’. In her own words, mom – a Krug – felt like “a big fish in a small pond”. Born during the height of the Depression, mom was the epitome of a small-town girl. A friendly, cheerful greeting to everyone was her way.
Krug Brothers and the Chesley Chair Company (aka Heirloom of Canada) were two separate businesses owned by the Krug family. Krug Brothers made the beds, dressers, dining room tables, and cabinets. The Chesley Chair Company made the dining room chairs, coffee tables, and small pieces to complete the room suites when furniture was still sold in matched sets.
As a child, during my frequent visits to my grandparents, Grandma would have a social event she needed to attend so I was Grandpa Krug’s charge for a day. I would sit in his office at work and colour for a bit and then we would wander through the factory as he checked on orders and production. The floorboards, creaky and the old boiler with its terrifying sound were enough to give a girl nightmares. Ending up in their showroom to see the latest collections, Grandpa would give me lessons on how fine furniture was made and what to look for. I recall his sitting at the head of the table after dinner one night, showing what not to do as he leaned back demonstrating how a well-made dining chair would withstand the shear pressure on the joins of a well-made chair. He referred to it as the “death of a dining chair” when stately gentlemen would lean back after a meal. Krug pieces of course, withstood the pressure, but please don’t!
You can read more of the 100+ year story of Krug Brothers and how they made furniture for a settling nation before confederation here.
The Family Name
Even pronunciation was a lesson. The family name, Krug, is pronounced “Kroog” rhyming with moog (it’s a German name.) The factory was in Chesley. Ches-lee, not Chelsea. Small distinctions, but fiercely important in a family that understood the permanence of names carved on the lintel of a factory wall.
The name carried weight but also obligation. Mom often talked about going to school as a child and the challenges she faced. The Krugs, being a large family, it wasn’t uncommon to be in a classroom with one or two of her first cousins. But with Grandpa as the mayor, and the one who ran operations at the Krug Brothers factory, at times, she found making friends difficult. “Everyone in town worked for my father,” she often said. The implication was double-edged: respect but also distance. “I always loved going to school. In those days I had very few friends because most of the kids in and out of school were factory worker’s kids and their parents encouraged them to try to be my friend, or they wanted nothing to do with me”.
“It was not unusual for me to deliberately write incorrect answers on tests at school because when I did well, some of the kids would say “Oh the teacher’s husband works for her father so the teacher has to give her good marks to protect her husband’s job opportunities,” mom wrote in her memoir. “The teachers were aware of my deliberate mistakes and would call me in after class for a ‘conversation’ every once in a while.” She was a careful child, quick to sense the dynamics of a room.
I recall as a young girl asking my grandmother (Frieda Krug, née Hauch) why we had so many people working at the house in Chesley. I visited often and loved spending time in this magical place called my grandmother’s house. The maid would braid my hair in French braids (oh how I hated that – she did not have a gentle hand and it hurt!) as I watched the gardener work outside on the grounds, the housekeeper upstairs making the beds. Grandma’s response “When you are the primary employer of most of the town’s people, you bear a responsibility to employ as many people as you can in difficult financial times”.
Out in the World
In mom’s words from her memoir notes, “It always surprises me when I find myself using methods of introducing contact with strangers which I can recall using in my childhood”. “My mother taught me to reach out, be friendly and caring and I am so glad today to feel at home with acquaintances – for as a child I learned to reach out to people I met at school who might otherwise have felt awkward or left out.”
Moving to the big city turned that upside down. In her eyes she became a small fish in a very big pond—yet it remained her nature to make eye contact and offer a smile or hello to people on the sidewalk, familiar or not … a quiet personal greeting, a small act. All of this a result of her upbringing.
Trips to the city (Toronto) brough a glimpse of another life. The Krugs had a suite at the Royal York Hotel and would come in to see family, entertain furniture industry colleagues, and exhibit at the annual Furniture Show. Mom wrote “I often think back on those times (in Chesley) and realize how my mother helped me to ‘fit in’ in the community. We used to go to Toronto to buy our clothes and she would watch us pick out dresses we liked. However, they had to be ‘Chesley dresses’ – not ‘city’ clothing. I recall that friends who visited had an only child, a little girl my age who was always so beautifully dressed. I used to pray that Easter would come late so I could wear knee socks because the little girl wore beautiful white leggings and patent leather shoes while I had horrible thick brown leggings with garters like my school mates.”
The message was, blend in, be humble and discreet about your wealth and status.
Family
Mom was one of four children – two girls, followed by two boys, but one died as an infant. Peter, born three years after my mom needed minor surgery and was taken to Sick Kids Hospital in Toronto where he needed a blood transfusion which my grandfather provided (he was type “O”, a universal donor type, but RH positive). The baby’s temperature soared and he died quickly. The next year, the importance of RH factor in blood types was discovered. Mom was three at the time and she and her sister were looked after by the housekeeper who lived with them. There was a lot of fuss going on and the housekeeper was crying. Mom didn’t really understand what was going on but her sister told her not to cry. Still, she knew it was a sad day. (She has asked that part of her ashes be buried next to her infant brother’s burial at the Krug monument in Chesley’s cemetery.)
My grandmother, Frieda Krug, was a force, and involved herself in many of the town’s activities and sat on several boards. She had been a teacher. She was clever, and had a beautiful voice, singing in several choirs. Although she was outgoing, a leader in the community, some did not appreciate Grandma’s authoritative voice and strong role on the committees she sat on. Mom was more of a shy girl like I am. I recall as a child being given the opportunity to sing a solo in her church at Chesley. The selection was a hymn I had been taught to sing in Japanese, a bit of Grandma’s heritage shared. However, I was too shy to sing loud enough for the congregation to hear me so she had to add in some stronger voices. Competing forces of my grandmother’s strong personality, and a desire to not stand out conflicted. I’m sure my mother felt the same way, although she became more outgoing in high school. Mom also loved to sing!
As a child growing up, mom had three uncles (on the Hauch side), all of them doctors. John Hauch was a ‘pills doctor’ who specialized in trying out new medications. Paul Hauch’s specialty was medical photography (radiology), Uncle Cuyler was a surgeon. During the war Paul was on the committee that organized medical units in the army and both he and Uncle Cuy were on assignment posted in Britain for most of six and a half years. As a young child, I remember coming into the kitchen to see Uncle John giving mom an injection. Frightened by needles I was leery about this, but mom explained he gave her B12 injections from time to time – nothing to worry about, but as a young mother of four she benefitted from a boost now and then. Perhaps more concerning, mom tells of the time Grandma, having just given birth, came downstairs to discover her three physician brothers huddled together while they circumcised her new baby boy on the ironing board!
A Young Adult Growing Up
Going to University in London was a great eye opener for mom. Finding herself surrounded by strangers, she did not do well in new surroundings as she was accustomed to knowing everyone on the street and she now found herself surrounded by strangers. She was not used to taking busses and living in a city where she knew no-one. After Christmas she contracted mononucleosis and had to drop out of school. The next year she moved to Toronto for university and fared somewhat better there.
While living in Toronto, Mom was introduced to my father, Alvin Taylor, when a friend invited them both to dinner at her home, along with her boyfriend, and they got along well from the start. The four of them went out to play a game the next night and it was the beginning of a relationship that lasted a lifetime.
After a brief career writing for Simpson’s advertising department she became pregnant and decided to be a stay-at-home mother and raised four children – a role she loved.
The Wedding
When they were dating, dad, the eldest of nine children had a younger sister, who wanted to give her approval of whom he married. Dad assured her that mom’s family would pass her test. Still, his family including his sister were invited to Chesley for dinner at the Krug family home. Mom and dad drove his sister and her husband to Chesley for the event. Driving past the vast factory with the name K-R-U-G Brothers engraved in the lintel, his sister could quickly see that mom’s father was not a carpenter working in a woodshop making chairs and small tables, but the COO of a major production factory. “I think she was truly stunned to see the grand home my parent’s had built, and the even larger home of my grandparents next door.” She passed the test and they were married. For 62 years!
When Joan Krug got married, it was a “society event”! Fabric was flown in from Bermuda where she had been vacationing recently. A family friend captured the photos in very early form of 3-D photography. Seeing my parents wedding in 3-D was the closest thing to being there and came as quite a surprise when we discovered them. They were colorized adding more information than typical for photos of the time.
When my parents were married, they reviewed the latest furniture catalog and selected all the furniture for their home. A gift from the Krug Brothers, and a great head-start for a newly married couple! This is the dining room suite we grew up with in my childhood home. Newer, lighter styles like this were gaining popularity for modern homes and lifestyles over the weighty heritage pieces in my grandparent’s home.
Below was Wellington Krug’s home (Grandpa’s first cousin who ran the Chesley Chair Company and made dining chairs for the Krug Brother’s dining suites) located at 159 1st Avenue South, Chesley.
Grandpa had an eye for style. When the family came to Toronto for business events, they would shop at the old Eaton’s store for clothing they wouldn’t see in their small town. Grandpa was quick to point out a dress that lacked ‘pizzazz’. Mom, lanky like her father, had an effortless elegance about her.
The Krugs had all the firsts in town: television (they got one channel), dishwasher – fully rinse and brush the dishes before you put them in), and a telephone system of sorts. The Krug Brothers ran a closed-circuit telephone system to communicate with family members and chief employees. A single digit would ring Grandpa’s office at the factory, another for each of Howard and Bruce’s houses (Grandpa’s cousins and partners) ….
The Long Fade
The Krugs held big fairs for all of the townspeople to celebrate milestones. On the occasion of their 50th anniversary, a plaque was mounted on the factory wall and all the townspeople came out to the parade that culminated in the town park for a picnic and celebration. On the 100th anniversary the fan-fare was repeated.
Mom and I beside the 50th anniversary marker.
Mom, with me sitting atop the monument the town donated to Chesley Park on the occasion of the Krug Brother’s 100th anniversary.
After just past 100 years, the factory closed down. Grandpa had died a few years earlier. His cousins who still ran the business were aging and it became too difficult to keep up with changing times. People were not buying legacy furniture as much, and were more drawn to new styles, and lower price tags. In time, its machines were sold to smaller workshops throughout the province, some going to the still running Durham Furniture. But its true legacy was never the wood, or the ledgers, or the products that passed through Sears catalogs and Eaton’s showrooms. Its true legacy was an ethic: continuity, family, craftsmanship, responsibility.
For my mother, those values were not mere abstractions. They lived in her in small gestures: in the way she insisted on setting a table properly, in the way she urged us to “hold your head high,” in the way she welcomed guests, sometimes strangers, with an ease that came from a childhood of always having someone new at the table.
A large bequest was made to the Southampton Cultural Centre and Museum which houses a large inventory of historic equipment, many file cabinets filled with financial records, annual catalogues and archived documents as well as exhibits of their early equipment and furniture. In my earlier post I tell the story of the Krug Brothers: Discover the fascinating story behind the Krug brothers and how their legacy contributed to a newly forming nation.
The Mother I Knew
Below is mom, a young mother in her family living room (I don’t recall noticing the edge band on the drapes before). The beautiful sofa and a collection of the older furniture pieces have found a new home in my sister’s home.
“My years as a stay-at-home mother were wonderful. I loved to cook and handle small children.” Mom was a terrific baker, and guests were accustomed to being sent home with a tin or two of homemade cookies after every visit. She mastered cream puffs, light flaky tea biscuits, and her pies were the best! It wasn’t uncommon to wake up in the morning to find six pies cooling, destined for the freezer or to be gifted to a neighbour. As result, I became a self-professed pastry snob!
She didn’t have dreams of having a wonderful career. In her own words, “I don’t mean that I was lazy, I just mean my dreams were of being a good wife and mother. I loved young children and watching the persons they grew into and was very fortunate that we could afford for me to stay home and raise the children.” And mom was exactly that. Down to earth, kind to a fault, generous with her love and always ready with a wonderful sense of humour and bit of a goofy side that could lighten even the heaviest moment.
As a fun-loving force of nature, I called mom
Over the years, furniture styles change, manufacturing methods evolve. Some things endure, others don’t. Family values passed on endure. Mom taught me to hold my head high, to love deeply and to be kind to others. Always.
Thank you mom! I miss you already.
