He sits on a small chair and looks out over the Richelieu River, almost too glistening in this strange, slow summer. He waits patiently for it to take a bite at the end of his fishing rod. “Sometimes we catch perch, sometimes eels, carp, catfish,” says André Jacques, 78 years old. “But I put all the fish back in the water. »
Instead of staying within the four walls of his apartment, the now retired horse breeder comes here every day. This is the old powder magazine wharf, this is where the dynamite was loaded onto the boats. The factory remained in existence until its closure was announced in 1998.
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On the right we see the schooner intended for the transport of dynamite, docked at the wooden quay in Saint-Basile-le-Grand. The photo dates from the late 1960s and was made available with the kind permission of the Society of History and Genealogy of Beloeil-Mont-Saint-Hilaire, Gilles Plante Collection.
Photo: Radio-Canada / Historical and Genealogical Society of Beloeil-Mont-Saint-Hilaire
Behind the wharf is the vast wasteland where the future Northvolt battery factory will be built, the result of the largest manufacturing investment in Quebec’s history, according to Premier Legault.
We are located in McMasterville, which takes its name from William McMaster, president of Canadian Explosives Limited from 1910 to 1925.
Each era has its own industrial challenges. If dynamite had its heyday, today the battery is at the center of the climate fight for all-electric transport. The question is whether summer will stay in its bed and not melt our winters. On the Richelieu at the beginning of October we sunbathe in our swimsuits on the deck of the motorboats, the children play in the water. Is this normal, doctor?
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Wakeboard on the Richelieu river in Saint-Basile-le-Grand.
Photo: Radio-Canada / Ivanoh Demers
In 1870, dynamite was manufactured at the same site using the latest technology available at the time. The most dangerous jobs paid 40 cents a day. The aim was to use the explosives to develop a new means of transport: the train. They were needed to build railways in inhospitable terrain. In short, we blow up the obstacles so that the train can continue its journey.
On the eve of World War II, Hamilton Powder was successful. Dynamite made on the banks of the Richelieu is in great demand. We even have to bring in experienced workers from the Nobel factory in Scotland. With Northvolt, the region will not see the first contingent of immigrants.
In Notebook No. 26 of the Beloeil-Mont-Saint-Hilaire Historical Society, published in June 1988, one Pierre Lambert writes: “The community benefited increasingly significantly from the powder valuation of the Hamilton buildings, which reached $78,000 in 1907. “.
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Photograph of the factory taken in 1918 by Wm. Notman & Son. It is from the collection of the McCord Stuart Museum.
Photo: Courtesy
Lambert reports that in a letter written only in English to the municipality, the company’s managers claimed they were paying too much in taxes and asked for exemptions. They highlight the significant amounts paid to the community’s residents as salaries and for the purchase of goods. The township agreed and Hamilton Powder paid $100 in taxes annually for more than ten years.
More than a century later, the rhetoric is similar, but the numbers are more impressive. The Trudeau and Legault governments announced $7.3 billion in investments to lure the Swedish company to Quebec.
Construction of the factory is expected to create 3,000 jobs.
Time seems to have stood still in the pretty little church in Saint-Basile-le-Grand, a neighboring community to McMasterville, where most of Northvolt’s systems will be built. The church has not changed since it was built in 1876, emphasizes Richard Pelletier, a retiree who has headed the Saint-Basile Historical Society since 2006.
He points to the wooden slatted vaults. Anyone who knows the history of the area by heart is looking forward to the new chapter to come.
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Historian Richard Pelletier in the church of Saint-Basile-le-Grand.
Photo: Radio-Canada / Ivanoh Demers
Nothing is ever perfect, but we’ve been there. It became increasingly difficult to support the city with citizen taxes alone. There are limits to what people can pay.
Mr. Pelletier settled in Saint-Basile-le-Grand at the beginning of his career. He then worked for Canadian National and, like all employees, benefited from a free train ticket. A luxury for the time.
The history buff also explains that Saint-Basile exists thanks to the train. Until the railway was built, everything took place near the river. The people here are isolated. They don’t even have a church. The introduction of Canada’s first public railway in 1836, built by the Champlain and Saint-Laurent Railway Company between Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu and La Prairie, changed everything.
The same line was crucial in choosing the location where Northvolt was able to establish itself today.
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A cyclist crosses the railway line that leads to Saint-Basile-le-Grand.
Photo: Radio-Canada / Ivanoh Demers
At the time, the line connected Montreal with the Hudson River Valley in the United States. The company was financed by Montreal merchants, including John Molson. The trains run on wooden rails.
Despite the arrival of the railway, explains Mr Pelletier, Saint-Basile-le-Grand remained sparsely populated and mainly an agricultural area until the suburbs were developed. There was a population boom in the 1960s. The mayor at the time, Jean-Charles Michaud, even predicted that six to seven churches would have to be built to accommodate the newcomers, says Mr. Pelletier with a smile.
Apparently there were no churches built. The quiet revolution is here. Nevertheless, we learn in the rectory that more than 200 people still attend mass every week in the stone church, which is celebrated by a newly minted priest from the Congo.
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Members of the Saint-Basile-le-Grand hiking club.
Photo: Radio-Canada / Ivanoh Demers
Saint-Basile-le-Grand still has the feel of a peaceful town. In the large gallery of the old blacksmith’s house next to the church, members of the hiking club relax and drink coffee, which is sold for $2 by the coffee machine repairman who has set up shop in the listed house. He bought a few chairs and tables to provide a meeting place for his neighbors.
We have nothing in Saint-Basile. No restaurant, no café, explains Paule Saint-Laurent, a Canadian army pensioner, desperately sitting on her rocking chair. I hope that with the arrival of the factory we will have our little cafe. “I would also like there to be a giant tiger or a Rossy that opens up,” she adds.
In McMasterville, Raymond Perron, 87, waits patiently for his card partner, whom he met while line dancing, to pick him up at the retirement home next to the future Northvolt field. They will play Canasta. Gripette, Perron confesses to me with a laugh that his partner is a sore loser, but if we put the deck away she’ll get thin again.
The construction of the battery factory fascinates Raymond Perron. I have always loved building. When it starts, I pull my chair to the sidelines and watch them at work.
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(Left to right) David Grégoire and Noah Daigle near the land where the factory will be built.
Photo: Radio-Canada / Ivanoh Demers
Opposite the dormitory, on the edge of the quay, two young 18-year-old CEGEP students enjoy the peaceful view of the river and the unexpected mildness of this October day worthy of July. Sitting on the suitcase in their car, Noah Daigle and David Grégoire are far less enthusiastic about the prospect of action in this quiet corner of the country.
Noah says: There are already enough people everywhere who can work. How do you find your employees? His friend David mentions the already heavy traffic on the 116 and adds: The environment is being scrapped.
Let’s bet they don’t put their chairs next to Mr. Perron’s chairs when there’s construction going on?