Henry (Hank) Tuero (Nov 11, 1919 — Dec 2, 2019)
WWII Royal Air Force veteran Henry “Hank” Tuero was a lifelong Kahshe Lake cottager. The family’s original 1930s cottage on North Kahshe Lake Rd is a stone’s throw from the community beach. The family still owns the cottage and it is currently in excellent hands!
Henry’s family were cigar makers. They owned and operated Tuero Cigars when smoking was in fashion many years ago. The business started in Chicago in the 1910s, but later moved to Toronto after the notorious gangster, Al Capone, wanted “his cut.” Henry’s father and uncle were unwilling to “cough it up,” so they moved north.
When making the trek to Kahshe, the car was filled with all the necessities to survive the early days of cottaging. The men brought pressed trousers, spare tires, and plenty of cigars. The ladies brought sun hats, pleated skirts, and low-heeled shoes. Back then, it was a minor miracle if the car made it to and from the cottage without a flat!
Henry served in northern England at an allied airfield where he operated the highly classified radar system. His airfield was bombed often and in typical English fashion, the boys would place bets on when the Germans would strike next. During the war, cigarettes were currency and Henry sold his cigarette rations. With the proceeds, he bought a very elegant set of dinnerware as a wedding present for a cottage bride. On a cold night in France, Henry waived-down a moving train and bartered with the engineer for a few lumps of coal in exchange for his cigarettes. He ran out of wooden furniture to burn including the cot he slept on!
What Henry enjoyed most was working on his own cottage, whether adding a deck, digging out his basement, paneling the insides, or laying down cement. No child was allowed to go to the beach unless they spent time holding a hammer! Henry would take a break from his own projects by walking up and down North Kahshe Lake Rd with his toolbox to visit family and friends to see what projects they were up to. The war generation had a strong work ethic and the smarts to fix or build anything. That legacy is alive and well in Henry’s children, grandchildren, nephews, and nieces.
The annual opening and closing of the cottage became a solemn ceremony demanding the family’s attention to witness and absorb the entire process. We took it very seriously, especially the October “draining-of-the-water” ritual. During his final days at Sunnybrook Hospital’s veterans wing, Henry insisted we turn off the water taps despite him having sold his cottage three years earlier. Henry would often comment on his longevity and was grateful for the time he was given. He was born on “Armistice Day” and fittingly passed away on the 11th minute of the 11th hour. Nothing made Henry happier than going to the cottage! Peace be with you Henry!