From the archives of the Sault Ste. Marie Public Library:
Handknitted socks: they’re warm, comforting, and a sign of the many hours spent creating them, the care taken with each individual stitch. Over centuries, hand-knit socks have become a beloved staple, keeping people’s toes warm. During World War I and World War II, they also took on a more patriotic lean, as people on the home front, most of them women, knit pairs to send to those serving overseas.
In a 1915 Sault Daily Star article, the Imperial Order of the Daughters of the Empire sent out a call for handmade items to outfit the troops, adding a note that “well-knit socks [were] the most important.” The local Red Cross Society met on a regular basis at the Library Hall, providing knitting instruction. Other local organizations fundraised to buy wool, allowing more people to knit socks without paying for supplies out of pocket. Knitting machines even became a popular way to support the war effort, with one local advocate telling a crowd of local women that she could “knit seven pairs of socks in a day on a machine.”
Despite the efficiencies of a knitting machine, people continued to knit their socks the traditional way as well. In 1939, with the dawn of the Second World War, the Red Cross provided a recommended pattern for making socks to support troops serving overseas. Printed in the newspaper, the pattern also included some important tips: don’t use too coarse of yarn, make sure that there are no knots in the yarn, and wash the socks before donating them.
Coarse yarn was a concern, both for those wearing and those making the socks. At least one knitter, Ruby Hendricks from Prince Township, recalled, “Binder twine would have been easier to knit.”
In June 1940, new instructions went out for socks, this time with a shaped leg. However, along with the pattern came a warning in the Sault Daily Star: “A surprising number of socks sent out locally have been returned to be given smoother toes. No socks with even the smallest hard knobs or knots in the toes are acceptable, and the local committee hopes all knitters will cooperate in keeping the work from Sault Ste. Marie and district of a high quality.” Once again, the Red Cross held knitting instruction in person; they also offered to evaluate the work of any locals who worried their socks weren’t up to par. If there were any socks that had mistakes knitted into them, volunteers would repair them.
One Mrs. W.J. Anderson, who fixed countless socks before sending them overseas, found an error in the toes of the 1940 pattern and quickly contacted the newspaper to rectify it. She requested that a correction be printed before knitters got to that point, “since it [would] only make that many more wrong toes to be repaired by her.”
The pattern may have been corrected, but the quality control issues remained. In October 1940, there was a growing concern about the structure of the sock toes. Too many people were choosing other means of closing the knitted sock at the toe, rather than using the approved method of grafting. This led to lumpy socks that would cause blisters and discomfort if they weren’t ripped out and reknit. In fact, it had become such a problem that two ladies from the Red Cross Society took pen to paper in a novel attempt to reach people. As they wrote:
“A message to all you kind people who knit
Ungrafted toes to your socks are unfit.
Now, don’t let this news get you down in the dumps.
Other methods so often leave ridges and lumps.
This ruling’s not local—we’re not being high hat
From H.Q. comes the order; we assure you of that.
But ‘orders are orders,’ we’ve got to obey.
Sock toes MUST be grafted; they want them that way.
‘What! You still can’t do it?’ Well, try this instead:
Leave those last twenty stitches on a fairly long thread.
Bring them into the Centre, they’ll fix ‘em down there.
Now your worries are over, you can start the next pair.”
Correctly grafted toes had evidently become an issue, but it wasn’t the only thing people questioned. In 1941, at least one local knitter lamented that she couldn’t have a little more freedom with her colour choices and use up yarn she already owned. However, as the Star explained, “it’s unthinkable to have the Canadian navy climbing over Mussolini’s gunwales in different shaped socks and colours. … It may be said our troops must be smart, but this country is not on parade.” Knitters had to stick to the strict colour rules provided by the Red Cross: navy blue or grey socks for Navy members; khaki, grey, or heather socks for the Army; black or grey for the Air Force; white or grey for “bed socks” to be worn by hospital patients.
The warm socks – and other handknit comforts donated to the Red Cross to go overseas – received praise from their recipients. As one letter read, “It took the army boots to teach me how much a woollen sock can mean to a soldier. They are worth their weight in gold, I assure you. The army issues of socks is not bad but they can’t touch a pair of home-knit socks.” Another letter read, “I wish I could personally thank the person who was so kind to knit me the socks I received not long ago. They are sure a great help over here in Italy.”
One local knitter, a Mrs. R.J. West, even included poems she penned with her socks, including:
“I tried to knit these socks just right,
Not too loose, or yet too tight,
I hope they wear and have no runs,
Unless you have shot a thousand Huns.”
And:
“The girl that knit these socks for you,
Her hair is white and her eyes are blue,
She’s hoping for your sake,
Success in all you undertake,
And if perchance you should kill the boss,
Wear a crown and win a cross.”
The Sault Daily Star featured Mrs. West in an article, declaring her “a perfect example of a wartime housewife,” and applauding her work.
While it was primarily women who knit for the war effort, children also became involved. Men recovering from injury or who did not serve in the military also knit much-needed items, and the newspapers highlighted their contributions as well. One Blind River man even made headlines in the Sault Daily Star: “Rejected by Army Tom McLeod Knits. Enlisted in both wars but not strong enough; makes four pairs of socks.” The newspaper went on to detail his reasons for being honourably discharged and the members of his family members overseas before praising Tom for “really going to town with his knitting.”
Sock knitting had become an act of patriotism, a way for those at home to contribute to the war effort, and a practical way to support the troops. Locally, the Sault Ste. Marie Red Cross had a reputation for being one of the busiest branches in Ontario. By the end of 1941, locals had already knitted 7,093 pairs of socks for the organization, in addition to over a thousand sweaters, scarves, mitts, and more. The Sault Daily Star estimated that this was almost five pairs of socks for every serving member from Algoma – although they also noted that because all the knitted items were sent to Red Cross headquarters in Toronto before being distributed, they most likely didn’t reach local members of the military. A further 486 pairs of socks were given to local men directly outside of the Red Cross, meaning that Sault Ste. Marie had contributed over 7,500 pairs during the first two years of the conflict.
Across Canada, too, people knit their part in droves; during the Second World War alone, an estimated 750,000 Canadians knit over 50 million items to be sent to the military, many of them socks.
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