When the newspapers reported the death of Margaret Chappelle, one of her Grovenor neighbours called her “that crazy cat lady.”
It was certainly true that Chappelle enjoyed the company of animals. A childless widow with no immediate relatives, her 1.2 hectare property at 14625 Stony Plain Road was a refuge for stray cats.
That meant that there was some cleaning to do after her death, and one July morning in 1992 a worker came across a box of personal papers hidden under a pile of rubbish. The contents included a hand-written will: $25,000 set aside for a friend, an astonishing $3.7 million allocated to create a legacy for the Edmonton SPCA.
Not bad for a crazy cat lady.
She was born Margaret Ayling in 1915, the only child of deeply religious parents who viewed the practice of modern medicine as a terrible sin. By nature, she was a rebellious child. In her teens, true to her character, she fell in love with a doctor, Gerald Chappelle. Her parents never forgave her.
The marriage lasted 52 years, until Gerald’s death in 1988. They were a rich but frugal couple, living privately in their Grovenor acreage and spending summers at their cabin by Lake Wabamun.
This life of seclusion was interrupted in October 1965, when City Council made Margaret Chappelle so mad she became famous.
The Journal was not shy about reporting what happened: “West Edmonton’s women are on the warpath,” recounted an excited correspondent. “Mrs. G. F. Chappelle of Stony Plain Road” and her “band of housewives” seemed ready to do just about anything to stop construction of a freeway through the MacKinnon Ravine.
The city’s plan was called METS – Metro Edmonton Transportation System – and it consisted of a network of roads converging in the river valley, giving suburban drivers easy access to the downtown core. In 1955, construction crews paved through the Groat Ravine. The MacKinnon, Mill and Quesnell Ravines were about to suffer the same fate.
“We’ll protest next week and probably do something more drastic like sitting in the trees and blocking the roads,” Chappelle told the newspaper reporter. The Journal noted that civil disobedience was already underway: “Reports indicate that youngsters in the (Grovenor) area are already causing havoc for the contractors. Numerous stakes have been moved from their positions and truck drivers have been harassed by BB guns.”
A few days later, an effigy of the city’s chief engineer was found hanging from the 142nd Street Bridge. Chappelle and her merry band spent their days in lying in front of bulldozers, buying time and recruiting allies.
The struggle continued for two decades. Crews cut all the trees in the base of the ravine and sculpted the land to make it suitable for a roadway, but the order to start paving never came. Finally, in 1983, public pressure forced Council abandoned plans to build the MacKinnon Freeway.
Long before then, Chappelle had retreated into her beloved obscurity. She gradually became more and more reclusive until her death in 1992.
The bequest to the SPCA made her famous again, but she probably would not have been pleased with the way the agency chose to settle her estate. Often Chappelle had told friends she wanted her acreage converted into a park with a studio for young artist, but she did not make that wish clear in her will. The Grovenor Community League tried to raise funds to purchase the land, only to learn it had already been sold to a developer.
Seven houses are now located on the land that was Chappelle’s refuge from the world.
Perhaps you have wondered: what was this Grovenor housewife doing in all those hours she spent by herself?
On Nov. 14, 2003, the Journal reported: “More than a decade after her death, Margaret Chappelle’s career as a painter is about to take off.”
Her canvasses depict a variety of subjects: small churches, mountain landscapes, even a few reclining nudes. She experimented wildly, but her best works reflect the tradition established by the Group of Seven.
An initial auction of some of her paintings fetched $76,000 for the SPCA, now called the Edmonton Humane Society. The Smithsonian Institute in Washington is one of the museums displaying her work.
However, the cat lady’s greatest artistic accomplishment was preserving the MacKinnon Ravine, which has become a haven for hikers, bikers, joggers and skiers – but not drivers.
It was certainly true that Chappelle enjoyed the company of animals. A childless widow with no immediate relatives, her 1.2 hectare property at 14625 Stony Plain Road was a refuge for stray cats.
That meant that there was some cleaning to do after her death, and one July morning in 1992 a worker came across a box of personal papers hidden under a pile of rubbish. The contents included a hand-written will: $25,000 set aside for a friend, an astonishing $3.7 million allocated to create a legacy for the Edmonton SPCA.
Not bad for a crazy cat lady.
She was born Margaret Ayling in 1915, the only child of deeply religious parents who viewed the practice of modern medicine as a terrible sin. By nature, she was a rebellious child. In her teens, true to her character, she fell in love with a doctor, Gerald Chappelle. Her parents never forgave her.
The marriage lasted 52 years, until Gerald’s death in 1988. They were a rich but frugal couple, living privately in their Grovenor acreage and spending summers at their cabin by Lake Wabamun.
This life of seclusion was interrupted in October 1965, when City Council made Margaret Chappelle so mad she became famous.
The Journal was not shy about reporting what happened: “West Edmonton’s women are on the warpath,” recounted an excited correspondent. “Mrs. G. F. Chappelle of Stony Plain Road” and her “band of housewives” seemed ready to do just about anything to stop construction of a freeway through the MacKinnon Ravine.
The city’s plan was called METS – Metro Edmonton Transportation System – and it consisted of a network of roads converging in the river valley, giving suburban drivers easy access to the downtown core. In 1955, construction crews paved through the Groat Ravine. The MacKinnon, Mill and Quesnell Ravines were about to suffer the same fate.
“We’ll protest next week and probably do something more drastic like sitting in the trees and blocking the roads,” Chappelle told the newspaper reporter. The Journal noted that civil disobedience was already underway: “Reports indicate that youngsters in the (Grovenor) area are already causing havoc for the contractors. Numerous stakes have been moved from their positions and truck drivers have been harassed by BB guns.”
A few days later, an effigy of the city’s chief engineer was found hanging from the 142nd Street Bridge. Chappelle and her merry band spent their days in lying in front of bulldozers, buying time and recruiting allies.
The struggle continued for two decades. Crews cut all the trees in the base of the ravine and sculpted the land to make it suitable for a roadway, but the order to start paving never came. Finally, in 1983, public pressure forced Council abandoned plans to build the MacKinnon Freeway.
Long before then, Chappelle had retreated into her beloved obscurity. She gradually became more and more reclusive until her death in 1992.
The bequest to the SPCA made her famous again, but she probably would not have been pleased with the way the agency chose to settle her estate. Often Chappelle had told friends she wanted her acreage converted into a park with a studio for young artist, but she did not make that wish clear in her will. The Grovenor Community League tried to raise funds to purchase the land, only to learn it had already been sold to a developer.
Seven houses are now located on the land that was Chappelle’s refuge from the world.
Perhaps you have wondered: what was this Grovenor housewife doing in all those hours she spent by herself?
On Nov. 14, 2003, the Journal reported: “More than a decade after her death, Margaret Chappelle’s career as a painter is about to take off.”
Her canvasses depict a variety of subjects: small churches, mountain landscapes, even a few reclining nudes. She experimented wildly, but her best works reflect the tradition established by the Group of Seven.
An initial auction of some of her paintings fetched $76,000 for the SPCA, now called the Edmonton Humane Society. The Smithsonian Institute in Washington is one of the museums displaying her work.
However, the cat lady’s greatest artistic accomplishment was preserving the MacKinnon Ravine, which has become a haven for hikers, bikers, joggers and skiers – but not drivers.