"The road over here, okay the road over here cuts down. Anyway right behind. There was a Chinese bunkhouse. They were all single Chinese. There was a lot of Chinese that worked at the sawmill. They were mostly involved in shingle sawying and things like that. And they were really good at packing shingles. And they had this great bunkhouse out in front and I guess it was a one bedroom.
And they had a cook. They had their own cook. Because, you know, they were the only Chinese in Port Moody. Aside from one fellow and his grandmother who lived over where the post office used to be and that was Danny Wong. He was the only other resident who lived here as a family that I know of. The others were uh were in this bunkhouse and every Friday night they would all walk single file to catch the Pacific Stage bus into Vancouver and I always remember because everyone always had a little bundle; I guess it had to be their laundry, I'm not sure. And Sunday night they would come back again. All their meals were cooked in there by the cook. If you, at that time, people, wild animals you name it. Hey if it was wild and it moved it was shot. You could uh if you shot a raccoon you could take it down. I remember my friend used to shoot a raccoon and take it down and he'd get a dozen beer from the cook for this raccoon. I don't know if they ate it or what they. But uh anyway that was a unique building."
"Did you, did anybody ever go down there and talk to the people or did they mostly keep to themselves?"
"They kept to themselves. They kept to themselves. Maybe some of the fellows that worked in the mill. I know our neighbour, his name is Tom Jones, that's the guy you should be talking to. I think he's passed away though, last year he passed away. They lived here, the Jones family lived here forever; they knew everything. He uh, no. He would never have them up because it was them and us. It was really weird. It's funny when you look back now. But uh, there was that, I remember that building. The other building I remember, right here there was another sawmill and I don't know what is was, who owned it or what but it was called the Hindu Mill by the people of Port Moody. 'Oh ya it's just the Hindu Mill burning down', I remember it burnt down. And there were all East Indians that worked there but no matter what they were, everyone that lived in Port Moody they were Hindu. As far as I know there was only one family that lived here, and they lived probably right straight across here on the other side of the road."