Growing up in the US, Bob Meza knew little of his mother’s first husband and the oddly named Canadian town where they once resided.
But he was always curious about Harry Moroz, the man who wed his mom several years before perishing in World War II, and the community ofFlin Flon, where they lived as newlyweds.
“She didn’t talk much about [Flin Flon] because I think the death of Harry always bothered her,” said Meza, a retired engineer, referring to his mother. “Whenever it was mentioned, she [just] said she lived in Flin Flon. She never said it was a mining town or anything. She never really said.”
Over the summer, Meza, now 62, decided to finally see Flin Flon for himself. So he embarked on the long trek north from his home in Santa Clarita, California.
“I’ve been wanting to come here for a long time, but it’s so far away,” he said in an interview during his brief visit.
Meza’s mother, Katherine Safian, married Harry Moroz in June 1940. Both Winnipeggers, they lived together in Flin Flon in the early ’40s.
With her angelic face and slim figure and his strong chin and boyish smile, Katherine and Harry made for an attractive couple. Their love for each other jumps off the black and white photos that chronicle their time together.
A talented hockey player in the Winnipeg suburb of Transcona, Harry played goal for the 1935 Memorial Cup champion Winnipeg Monarchs. His hockey career later brought him to Flin Flon, where he policed the crease for the Bombers in 1937-38 and 1938-39.
Beginning in 1937, Harry also worked for HBM&S, now Hudbay, in the zinc plant, tankhouse and casting plant. He left the company in August 1941 to join the Royal Canadian Air Force.
As Harry went off to serve his country in World War II, Katherine helped keep the Flin Flon economy chugging along. Starting in 1943, she worked at HBM&S in the zinc plant and as a leach plant helper, operator and tailor.
Outside of work, Katherine integrated into the community. In 1944, she entered a Flin Flon beauty pageant. A well-worn photo shows her wearing a sash bearing the name of CFAR, presumably her sponsor.
Tragically, Harry would not return home. His bomber crashed over Germany in March 1944. While there was initially hope he was still alive as a POW, time made it clear he had been killed in action. His remains were never found. He was 26.
After the war ended, Katherine lost her job at HBM&S to returning soldiers. Widowed and unemployed, she needed to chart a new course for her life.
Katherine’s brother had also served in World War II. Upon his return he moved to Los Angeles, having heard that veterans were being hired as police officers there.
Katherine, better known as Kay, followed her brother to LA. She worked in a dress store and at one point was hired to model dresses on television commercials (the commercials, like everything else on TV back then, were live).
Ready to give love another shot, she met a new man, Robert Meza. The couple married and had three children, including Bob Meza, with Katherine staying home to raise them.
Over the summer, when Meza came to Flin Flon, he discovered a scenic, welcoming community that still bore remnants of his familial history.
On Hapnot Street, he found the house in which his mother and Harry Moroz had lived. Nearby on the Cenotaph war monument, he located Harry’s name among the Flin Flon area’s war casualties.
As Meza explains, Harry is a well-known war hero. Moroz Lake, located 40 km northeast of Flin Flon, was christened in his memory. And he and lone sibling Mike, who also died in World War II, have a Transcona street named in their honour.
Much of what was known about Harry and his time with Katherine was lost when she passed away in 1993. Fortunately, she left behind clues in the form of photos of the couple and Fin Flon.
During his visit to Flin Flon, Meza presented more than 150 photos, in hard and digital form, to The Reminder to in turn give to the Flin Flon Heritage Project, an online archive of the community’s history.
“I don’t want these to get thrown in the trash when I die,” he said as he observed the snapshots of the past.
Meza’s visit north satisfied his curiosity about this out-of-the-way place called Flin Flon.
“It’s an unusual name,” he said. “I could never as a kid really associate that with a real place.”
Now he can. But many questions about his mother’s time here, and the war hero she married, will never be answered.
