Raoul St. Jean knows a thing or two about Legal.
"I was born a mile out, but I went to school in Legal and I've been here all my life," says the 86-year-old. He's also lived in the same house on Legal Ave. since 1949.
"This house is more than 100 years old," he says of his little white bungalow, and was once the town's first bank.
From this home, he's watched as Legal's main street changed from dirt and buggies to asphalt and Buicks. He's served the town for 48 years as (at various times) fire chief, garbage man, councillor, dog-catcher, one-man public works department and cop, giving out $5 speeding tickets in the latter role during the 1950s.
He's seen the town roughly quadruple in population, and watched his eight kids grow up and have kids of their own.
He now has 99 members of his extended family living within 30 miles of town, and has no plans to leave anytime soon.
"Why should I move away?" he asks.
"I like it here."
St. Jean is one of the many long-time Legal residents who will be coming together to celebrate the town's centennial next week.
Mayor Ken Baril says the party runs from Sept. 5 to 7, and includes a watermelon-eating contest, skydivers and a concert by singer Aaron Lines.
The history of Legal is one of hospitality and generosity, say historians – a history of a tight-knit farming community that, to this day, bands together.
"Years ago, farmers used to go out and help each other out when they needed a hand," Baril says.
"I think that mentality still exists."
Two men in a hole
Local historian Ernest Chauvet guides a tour group through Legal on a warm summer's eve. A lifelong Legal resident, he's led a 17-year effort to immortalize the town's history in the form of roughly 42 large murals.
This one here across from the fire hall depicts the town's founders, Chauvet tells the crowd – Théodore Gelot and EugÈne Ménard.
"You know those big Cen-Alta (Oilfield Trucking) trucks?" he says, as one rumbles past. Gelot's descendants founded the company, he notes.
Although the Village of Legal officially formed on Feb. 20, 1914, the town's origins date back to Nov. 29, 1894 – the day Gelot and Ménard applied to homestead in the region.
Gelot and Ménard were part of the surge of French settlers in the late 1800s that created St. Albert and Morinville, say local historians, writing in the town's official history book (Vision, Courage, Heritage).
The Durham Report had advised the federal government to make western Canada Anglophone and Protestant through assimilation, Chauvet says. Bishop Vital-Justin Grandin asked Father Jean-Baptiste Morin to find colonists to maintain a Catholic presence there. With posters, letters and word of mouth, Morin eventually brought some 2,460 people to the Edmonton region.
Gelot and Ménard, both Frenchmen, were friends working on a vineyard in California when they saw one of Morin's recruitment pamphlets. Drawn by the promise of cheap land (and possible relief for Ménard's hay fever), the two headed north and set up shop near Manawan Lake.
One of the rules for homesteading was that you had to live on and farm your land for a few years before it became yours, Chauvet says. Gelot and Ménard did that by building a joint home right on their shared property line.
To build it, they dug down four feet, built four feet above ground with wood logs, and slapped on a mud roof, creating a shack the size of two car parking stalls.
They soon became renowned for their hospitality, greeting and housing many of the first settlers that came to this region, Chauvet says.
"That spirit of hospitality still exists."
Gelot got married around 1907 to Henriette Michaud, who arrived in Legal disguised as a nun, Chauvet says.
She was a Quebecer, and the federal government wouldn't subsidize emigrants from Quebec unless they were of a religious order (as nuns and priests were valued medics and teachers), Chauvet explains. Michaud put on a nun's habit to get the subsidy and ditched it almost immediately upon arrival in Alberta. (She was still an active member of the church afterwards.)
While the Gelots went on to become respected members of Legal and lived well into the 1950s, historians say Ménard was far less fortunate.
Marrying Elisabeth Bouchard in 1902, Ménard had two children, both of which were dead along with his wife by 1909. After striking gold in the Yukon, he returned to Legal to regale his friends with tales of the Klondike before his death in 1924.
Building up, burning down
The Village of Legal had just 315 residents in 1914, the province reports. Historians say the parish and village took its name from Bishop Emile Legal, a Frenchman who often spoke with the town's many French immigrants.
"The town was basically a farm," Chauvet says, much of which was owned by the Préfontaine family. It got a rail line by 1912, a telephone office in 1915, and a grain elevator in 1917. The Grey Nuns arrived to teach by 1920.
Legal looked much different than it is today, St. Jean says. There were wooden sidewalks, mostly dirt roads (Legal Ave. was gravelled), horses and wagons, and a slew of farm equipment shops.
"We had Allis Chalmers, we had John Deere, Massey-Harris," he says, citing names familiar to any tractor enthusiast.
There was also a milk-delivery service run by the Préfontaine family.
Lucienne Montpetit (née Préfontaine), 80, says her father's 25-cow dairy was right next to the town's hotel (which still stands today). They started selling milk locally in 1930.
"Our dad insisted that we sang when we milked the cows," she says, which led many in town to call her and her sisters "the singing milkmaids."
"At six o'clock in the morning, we had to start singing, 'You are my sun-shine!' Oh, brother! And we didn't know why." Decades later, she would learn that music reputably makes cows produce more milk.
Residents would set out bottles along with a ticket if they wanted milk, and she and her sisters would fill the bottles from a big jug in a white, horse-drawn cart.
"Johnny (the horse) knew exactly where to stop from one house to the other," she recalls.
One of the most prominent buildings in town was the church. Built around 1900 as a tiny log cabin, it got upgraded to a much bigger structure with a tall steeple in 1912.
That church burned down on Jan. 15, 1947.
The fire started one night in a nearby garage, St. Jean recalls. Sparks spread to the church's roof, setting the whole place ablaze.
A big crowd gathered, and churchgoers scrambled to salvage what they could.
"All we had for fire protection then was a soda and water extinguisher on two wheels," St. Jean says, so there was no hope of saving the church.
But the community soon bounced back due in no small part to a very active priest.
The fireball priest
Local historians note that Georges Henri Primeau was assistant priest of the church at the time of the fire.
Described as a shy, tall, dark, young man of action by local historians, Primeau was a respected community leader renowned for his ability to rally people to a cause.
Chauvet says he was very much a man of the people, very down to earth and willing to get his hands dirty to help his community.
"He's be out there unloading the lumber, pounding the nails."
You simply could not say no when he asked for help, he continues.
"It was the values behind (him) that he followed up with his example that people bought into."
Primeau helped the village bring in a converted airplane hangar to replace the church, Chauvet says.
Montpetit recalls how at about 2:30 p.m. one day during the hangar's construction Primeau walked into her home and said to her mom, "Hey there, Mrs. Préfontaine, There's 10 men there, they need a lunch by 3 o'clock. Sandwiches or cookies, coffee. Okay, Bye!" And so her mom got cracking.
"He was that type of a priest," she says.
"He could tell anyone to do anything, and people were only too happy to do it."
The hangar wasn't up for more than a few months before it burned down in 1949, Chauvet says. The community rallied again and built the current St. Emile Church out of flame-proof brick in 1950.
Primeau became priest of St. Emile Church in 1958, report local historians. Wanting to build off the town's annual St. Jean Baptiste Day picnic, he proposed and organized the first Fête au Village in 1964, complete with its now-famous demolition derby.
Seeing a need for more recreational facilities in town, Primeau helped organize local sports teams, weaving courses, the town's first library and more.
He also spearheaded the creation of Citadel Park in 1964. Long-time residents might remember how the park originally had large, wooden walls that made it look like an old fort.
Primeau left town in 1966 to become the priest in Morinville – a community in which he also had great influence. He died in 1989.
Primeau's energy and activism earned him the nickname of "Alberta's Fireball Priest" from Alberta Highway and Transportation Minister Gordon Taylor, local historians note.
Many community elders now praise Primeau for the spirit of co-operation he brought to town, Chauvet says.
"Lots of the spirit of Legal, I would say, is thanks to Father Primeau."
Together into tomorrow
Legal continued its slow growth over the next few decades. It got an arena in 1967, paved roads in 1976, and town status in 1998. It had 1,225 residents as of 2011, the province reports.
The town's still growing by about a house or two a year, St. Jean says.
"We're progressing slowly," he says, but he's not sure what the future holds for the town.
Chauvet hopes that Legal will become a cultural community in 2114, one with sculptures, gardens and public art – "a town where all the members of the community take pride in having that kind of beauty."
Legal is still a place where everyone looks out for everyone else's kids, Baril says. People might leave town for work or school, but they come back to raise their kids and pass on the values of togetherness they learned growing up.
"I really hope that sense of community will still be there 100 years from now."
