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kate wallace
telegraph-journal

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BAINS CORNER - Mitchell Franklin could talk to a prince or a pauper, which comes close to describing the gamut of guests he hosted over the years at Franklin Farms, his sprawling property near St. Martins.

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Kate Wallace/Telegraph-Journal

Since the 1960s thousands of people, from schoolchildren to ambassadors, have enjoyed the Franklins’ hospitality at their beautiful 750-acre farm near Tynemouth Creek. The property is being put up for sale by Mitchell Franklin’s widow, Janice.

Along with black-tie events for ambassadors, artists, politicians and celebrities, the late entrepreneur and philanthropist had invited upwards of 75,000 schoolchildren, Girl Guides, young musicians and sick kids to his rural 750-acre estate since the 1960s.

Some years, more than 3,000 children would visit. No sooner would one group leave, than they would prepare for the next.

"It was hot beds," Janice Franklin, his widow, said Friday in the wood-panelled great room of their private lodge.

One year, about 2,000 Girl Guides descended on the property.

"It was a tent city," she said.

The couple thrived on the activity and the company.

"I think it brought more to both of us than we brought to the groups," she said.

"I always said life with Mitchell, some days were pure pleasure, and some days were pure frustration, but it was never boring."

Now in her 70s, the property is too large for Mrs. Franklin to manage; she recently put the storied property up for sale.

Pam DeCourcey, the Saint John real estate agent who has listed the property for $950,000, has quickly realized how much Franklin Farms meant to generations of visitors.

"A lot of past clients have called me over the last 24 hours to share their stories," she said during a tour Friday.

While 2004 was the last year the Franklins hosted any youth groups, two years before Mr. Franklin's death, at 92, the sale of the estate marks a final chapter in a welcome that has lasted nearly five decades.

Franklin was raised in Montreal, but came to the Maritimes with his family following the Depression. He fell in love with the area near Tynemouth Creek, and used part of the fortune he made in the movies and real estate to buy the property.

Before it became a popular destination for local kids, Franklin raised Hereford cattle there.

When his banker suggested the cows were a losing concern, "Mitchell, in typical Mitchell fashion, hired an Alberta auctioneer and his team," to come to the farm and sell the herd, Mrs. Franklin said.

"After the cows were gone, he couldn't stand having all those fields and buildings being unused."

He invited orphans from Saint John out for a day in the country and a swim in the waterfall.

As the groups of young visitors grew, so, too, did the infrastructure. Franklin converted the grey barn, which loomed out of the thick fog hugging the Fundy coast Friday, to a theatre for 250.

There is also an outdoor amphitheatre, a reception building in the property's former sawmill, an activity centre, a bunkhouse, a three-storey tower overlooking a bog of wild cranberry bushes where Franklin would demonstrate his famous moose call, a tennis court and the 4,300-square-foot clubhouse he built for his wife next to the court, despite her protestations that their house was just a few steps away.

Almost every building has a kitchen, and many have taps for fountain pop.

"They were always making room for company," DeCourcey said. "There was always space and room for everyone."

That included former prime minister John Diefenbaker, or "Dief," as Franklin called him.

Diefenbaker caught his first salmon in the nearby Big Salmon River, just hours before he was to fly back to Ottawa. He ordered that a news photographer come out to get a shot of his catch for the news wires, something not easily arranged on a Sunday afternoon.

The former prime minister had donned a suit and tie and was ready to go when the photographer came bombing down Franklin Lane.

He changed back into his fishing garb, and asked Mrs. Franklin whether the brim of his hat should be up or down.

"Down," she told him. "It looks more rakish."

Her husband ended up in the shot, as Diefenbaker, who was getting on in years, couldn't lift the hefty salmon himself.

While many of the guests were VIPs, there is nothing pretentious about the place. Many of the buildings have plywood floors or ceilings and the guest house is simple, and has the feel of a camp.

"I could see a family from New Brunswick purchasing it and sharing it," DeCourcey said.

She said many of the potential buyers she alerted were astounded by the privacy of the estate - and its scope.

"It is hard for them to grasp the size."

Besides a private buyer, she could imagine it being developed as a golf course, a rural resort, a children's camp or a corporate retreat.

The jewel of the property is the Franklins' lodge, down nearly two kilometres of driveway lined with purple lupins and forest.

Franklin spent much of the last few years of his life in the great room looking out over the pond and local wildlife, including deer and ducks, otters that fish for eels in the clear water, and a cormorant who used to land on their raft.

"It was his theatre."