I was curious about this grave stone. It didn’t give a date of birth or death? I asked Adrienne Mason about this fellow. She is a local Historian and writes very interesting books!
She contacted a woman who knew about “Brinky”. Dr. Robertson’s daughter (no name given) said this……

“Brinck died in our house – now a vacant lot on the waterfront.
He was leaving Tofino to work in Ottawa and had packed up when he got
pneumonia. My Mother was nursing him. These were the day’s before
antibiotics. My Dad as his physician and Hilmar Wingen as the master
mechanic tried to save him by building an oxygen “mask to assist his
breathing but it did not save him. He was buried on Morpheus Island. I
believe that there is an identifiable marker there.”
Brinky was very involved into the Theater! He not only wrote and put plays on in town,but did many of the customs/backdrop etc!

UPDATE: (August 18th,2014) a friend sent me this letter from a Ron Macleod. He was a child when he met Brinky. This is what he recalled……….

“Some of my fractured remembrances of Mr. Brinkman.
He came to Tofino from Ahousat where he had been working for Mr. Gibson (senior – I forget his first name). Gibsons at the time had a store, a small sawmill and a pilchard reduction plant.
Mr. Brinkman took a job as night watchman with the Life Saving Service. He rented a house across from where the hotel now stands.*
He was loved by all in Tofino** Mr. Brinkman would write and produce skits and plays. He would organize concerts with entertainment provided by singers, dancers, actors and in 1933 it included a group of men from the Relief Camp at Long Beach. Invariably, the themes would be light-hearted, humorous – all designed to overwhelm the Depression blues. He would also produce skits for the school concerts and then serve as Director. I acted (???) in at least two of his skits. In one I had to sing “Will you come with me, my pretty maid” and it turned out to be a howler. I sang it as “Will you come wish me…)” and although there were several rehearsals he never corrected me, thinking I suppose, that it might tickle the audience’s funny bone, and so it did. I can still hear the laughter.
The marvel was his painting and sketches. He had an imagination that us boys could not grasp because his knowledge was beyond our ken. He designed, made and painted the scenery for the stage. He would make what we considered to be wild posters for the various celebrations. These brightly coloured posters were awesome to adults and children alike – the colour orange lingers in my memory as a dominant colour. The frightful, mythical gargoyles and monsters depicted left us children in a stage between disbelief and belief. What if they were real? What then? Our little minds could not come to grips with the rich flow of wonders that sprang forth from his brain. And so, we children were content to tolerate the unknown world he put before us, just happy to be in his presence. Why even my father, who had a low opinion of the English, respected and admired this chap who spoke with a strong, distinctive English accent.
Cousins Murdo, Norman and Donald, my brother Ian and I spent some happy times in his home. He was always encouraging us to work hard at school. He was especially fond of Murdo and encouraged him to borrow his books and do some serious reading. Indeed, Murdo was given first choice of Mr. Brinkman’s library and other remembrances after he died. The rest of us were allowed to pick out one remembrance token.
Mr. Brinkman started his watch at 6 PM. On a summer evening we MacLeod children would sometimes visit him at the Station and pester him with questions and beg for his stories, which were endless. He introduced us to Winnie the Pooh and many other fictional characters. For us children he was a door-opener to many fictional and real adventures and gave us a sense that there was a world beyond our cocoon called Tofino.
He had received his call to Ottawa shortly before he was stricken with a severe cold that became pneumonia and kept him bedridden and house bound for some time. I recall, in part, the day he donned warm clothing and wrapped a grey wool scarf around his neck and went up the road for a short walk. Norman, Donald and I were outside his home when he returned, guided by two young ladies (Margaret Hansen?? and her cousin Alma Hansen?? Or was it Bonnie and Gretel Arnet? – I don’t remember). Behind him was a group of children just thrilled to see him up and about. Alas! We never did see him alive again. He was too soon dead.
And bitter tears we children wept.
And today I shed tears for having forgotten so much about one who meant so much to children such as myself.

*I believe you lived there yourself for a time; also, the MacKenzies before Mr. Brinkman. And, after you the storekeeper, Ted Bell who worked for the Coop Store.
** With the exception of Major George Nicholson. I mention this because their one-on-one feud led to a boisterous Halloween night that led to Mr. Nicholson, then proprietor of the Hotel above Alex MacLeod’s home, being charged with assault for shooting at some teen age lads with a blast of bird shot from his shotgun (the only one hit was Norman Arnet whose wounds were superficial because of the range). Apparently Mr. Nicholson believed that Mr. Brinkman had encouraged the lads to pester Nicholson at Halloween with endless mischief, including tying the front doors in such a way that Mr. Nicholson could only get out through the back door. I remember it well as I was at the site when the door tying was going on but not involved in any way because I was far too young (I think I was in Donald MacLeod’s care). I forget the outcome of the Court case but I have a sense that there was an order for Nicholson to keep the peace.”

Ron Macleod 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s