1906 - Turkey at Christmas

It was a significant change in what Hamiltonians bought at the downtown market a few days before Christmas.

          Since the Hamilton market had started 99 years previously, the market square on the last market day before December 25 would be very, very crowded.

          It was the traditional place for city dwellers to meet farmers from around the city, a place where the vegetables, eggs, fruit and meat was available.

          For most of the history of the Hamilton market in the 19^th century, the meat sold by the butchers on the market would include some chicken, some duck, some pork, some veal but as Christmas approached, it was either beef or goose that attracted the most sales.

          After the turn of the century, the Christmas meat of preference was beginning to be dominated by of turkey.

          By 1906, the ascendance of turkey for Christmas dinners in Hamilton was indicated in a feature article in the Hamilton Spectator on December 22, 1906.

          The article was headlined, “Hail to the King of Christmas Mart : His Royal Highness, the Turkey Gobbler, Reigned Supreme for the Day.”

          The article described vividly how the last market day before Christmas, 1906 began:

          “Some time last night or about daylight this morning, three wagons trailed down the road from to the city. They looked like gypsy wagons with big canvas hoods, and the horses pulled heavily, as if it were an unusually large family of gypsies.

          “But in these wagons were turkeys, geese and ducks in such array that one would wonder at their destination. The three evidently belonged to one man, although on the roads approaching to the city were dozens of other wagons similarly loaded.

          “Their destination was for the big market day – the Christmas market.”

          The article went on to detail the prices for the various meats available on the market that day, prices that fluctuated reflecting demand. At the start of day, prices for all meats were comparable, but as the day went on things changed. The price of turkeys rose substantially as the supplies of turkeys left for sale decreased, while prices for other types of meat lowered as sales were slow for the beef, duck, veal, pork and chicken.

          At the end of the market day, the Spectator reporter concluded in no uncertain terms, that it was the turkey which was the favored selection for Hamilton Christmas dinners in 1906.

1907 - Spec Man Part 2

On Friday evening, May 3, 1907, the Spec Man set out again with a yellow envelope filled with four gift certificates from prominent local Hamilton merchants. This trip was towards the west end of the city.

          It had been a dismal run of wet weather for several days but the skies cleared, and when the Spec Man boarded a street car down, in his words, “he felt he had rarely been out on a finer evening.”¹

¹ “Talked With Angel and Didn’t Know It : Spec Man Walked With a Stranger Last night : Some Odd Things That Happen to the Welcome Visitor.” Hamilton Spectator May 4, 1907.

The Spec Man alighted from the Hamilton Street Railway car at the corner of King and Queen at a few minutes after 7 p.m.:

“A young fellow got off the car at the same time, and proceeded up Queen street in the direction of the mountain abreast of the Spec Man. A conversation of a desultory sort was engaged, and, strange to relate, the young man brought the talk around to the experiences of the Spec Man, and expressed the hope that the welcome visitor might some time call on him. The Spec Man did not disclose his identity, but learned that the young man lived on Murray street and, maybe, one of these days, the young man’s hopes will be realized.”¹

Walking along Queen street, the Spec Man noticed a runner pounding the streets training for some upcoming competition:

“Striding leisurely to the south, the Spec Man stopped to admire the stride of a long-distance runner who was out exercising. The young athlete was clothed in the regulation running costume and disclosed a pair of calves that would not discredit a marathon winner. A big collie dog that had been peacefully blinking on a colonial veranda – they are all colonial verandas now – took a liking to the young runner’s calves, and there was an interesting time for a few minutes, but finally the runner got away with his legs intact, and Mr. Collie went howling back to his seat on the veranda.”¹

The Spec Man admitted to his readers that he had ventured into the neighborhood he had known as a youth:

“The Spec Man is great on reminiscences. He recollected that a number of years ago – how many does not matter – he had often journeyed up Queen street on his way to the Central school. But it was not the Queen street of the old days. He was astonished at the great number of costly dwellings that had been erected, the wideness of the boulevard, the cement walks, and the general prosperity of the neighborhood. He met several acquaintances who had been out on a house-hunting expedition, but they, for the most part, were disgusted at the outrageous figures demanded for likely property. They were of the opinion that the boom would soon peter out, and before another season there would be a lot of property thrown on the market, and then would be a chance to pick up a bargain. The Spec Man hoped so too, for he has delayed too long in getting a house picked out for himself.

“While admiring the great improvements since his schooldays, he was pulled up short by roaming across a plank sidewalk. Now, who under heaven ever heard of an old plank sidewalk being in existence in a prosperous city like Hamilton, and particularly in such an important residential quarter. He had too look twice, and then stubbed his toe on a splinter before he was satisfied he was not dreaming.”¹

The Spec Man then observed two men standing in front of a brick cottage perched on an embankment:

“He recognized in one of the men Superintendent Miller, of the Hamilton Street railway. Mr. Miller laughed at the Spec Man’s query about the sidewalk. Everyone who passed up and down the street commented on the sidewalk and wondered why it was there. The residents’ memories do not know very clearly, but there is a legend that the sidewalk was one of the last of the kind laid, and that when the city wanted to replace it with a cement sidewalk, the residents petitioned against it. This yard is denied by the ward foreman, who says that there never was a petition in against the sidewalk. However, the great question that agitates the minds of the people in that block each spring is whether they will have a cement walk before the fall. So far they have waited in vain, and there is a suspicion that they have an enemy in city hall.”¹

The Spec Man decided at that point to get back to the task at hand, and so asked Mr. Miller if he had a Spectator:

“Mr. Miller regretted to report that he had no Spec in the house, He got the Spec but left it at the office. This was unfortunate for Mr. Miller, who, however, generously informed the Spec Man that his friend and neighbor, Wellington House, was a Spec subscriber and admirer.

After knocking on the door of 154 Queen street south, the Spec Man was warmly invited into the residence of Wellington House, where he was shown a copy of that day’s Spectator:

“Mrs. House was delighted to meet the Spec Man. Mrs. House thought that there was no paper like the Spec. She had read it since she was a girl, and she heard that her grandfather had been a subscriber for 85 years. She and Mr. House had taken the paper ever since they were married, and all their relatives in Jerseyville and the Baptist settlement were subscribers. Mr. House is employed at McPherson, Glassco & Company. Mrs. House drew an order for $2.50 on James Shea and expressed her thanks for the Spec Man’s kindness.¹

Turning north on Queen street, The Spec Man walked to Bold street. After walking along Bold street briefly, the Spec Man had not gone far before he saw a woman standing at a gate:

“Something prompted him to inquire if she had a Spectator in the house, and the quick reply that she had, and the eager query as to whether it was the Spec Man who asked, of course, were sufficient indications that here was another home of a Spectator reader.

“She asked the Spec Man to enter the house, and apologized for the condition it was in. Mrs. Robert Vent was housecleaning.

“A little girl was dispatched for Mr. Vent, who was across the street paying the rent, and the treasured copy of the Spectator was brought out. The Vents had been reading the Spectator ever since they could read anything, and they wouldn’t be without it. They have often talked of the Spec Man, but never dared hope that he would call at their humble home. The Spec Man assured them there was no home too small for him to pass, and, and in fact the smaller the home, the greater the chance of him calling.”

The Vents’ daughter, Little Ethel, aged eight, was chosen to make the draw from the yellow envelope. The Vents were the winners of a $2.50 order on goods available from Peebles, Hobson Company.

The Spec Man then turned onto Ray street, and knocked on the door of a cottage just south of Hunter street:

“A young woman answered the summons, and the ring in her voice showed that she had been on the watch for the Spec Man for some time. She and her husband had been talking of him at tea time. Fred Bawden is an engineer at the Ontario Tack company and is employed at nights. Just before leaving that night he had said that the Spec Man might call, but Mrs. Bawden had been reading the Spec Man’s doings very closely, and she had found he had never been in that neighborhood, and she was afraid he never would be.

“A bright, little fellow of ten seemed to be taking a great deal of interest in the Spec Man’s appearance, and the Spec Man learned that the little fellow has not seen many visitors of late, as he had been ill with measles and had just got his certificate from the doctor to go back to school.”¹

Mrs. Bawden chose one of the two remaining envelops and the prize won was a $5 order on Finch Brothers goods.

The Spec Man then proceeded west on Bold street, stopping at the door of a frame house, located just east of Locke street:

“A man answered the knock and in reply to the question as to whether he had a Spec in the house he said he had and invited the visitor inside.

“The Spec Man stepped into the hall which was dark. He noticed that the man was looking at him queerly.

“ “You’re the Spec Man all right, are you?’ he asked, and the necessary assurance was given. When the Spec Man got into the dining room, the man apologized for asking the question but said he had been hoaxed by his relatives several times on the Spec Man game, and he was a little suspicious.

“Mr. Vollick is a brick maker at Frid’s yard. This is one of the yards that are covered and in which the men can work all winter. Mr. Vollick explained that the talked of shortage in bricks was no fairy story, There was a great shortage at the present time.’¹

                Mr. Vollick then proudly introduced the Spec Man to the newest member of the Vollick household, a two month baby, “and the Spec Man was forced to admit that he had never seen such a bouncing boy of two months in all his life.”

The final prize was a $2 certificate at J. D. Climie’s establishment.

His duties for the evening completed, the Spec Man would be on his rounds the next day. He warned readers of his column not  to “leave the paper in the shop or place of business.:

The Spec Man finished article of May 4, 1907 by assuring his readers of a few things:

“The Spec Man is glad to get in personal touch with the readers of his paper, and is always willing and anxious to listen to their suggestions. The visit of the Spec Man is always an event of mutual benefit.”¹

1907 - Spec Man (Part 1)

At the time when Hamilton was served with three daily newspaper, the Hamilton Herald, the Hamilton Times and the Hamilton Spectator marketers went to great efforts to come up with innovative schemes to outsell their competitors.

          In May, 1907, the Spectator was being tirelessly promoted by an individual on the paper’s staff known only as the Spec Man.

       Spec Man would wander through various neighborhoods in the city, knock on doors randomly and ask whether the occupant had the latest edition of the Spectator on hand. If it could be shown, there were prizes to be won. 

        The prizes were gift certificates from various Hamilton businesses – the householder who properly could show the latest issue of the Spectator would pull a certificate from a yellow envelope carried by the Spec Man.

          In addition the Spec Man would interview the winners. Those interviews and descriptions of the parts of the city visited would form the basis of articles written by the representative of the Great Family Journal (the marketing nickname of the Hamilton Spectator at the time.)

          On May 4 and May 5, 1907, the Spec Man wrote up the details of his visits to neighbourhoods in the east and west ends of Hamilton as the city was comprised at the time.

          First the east end report, which began by the Spec Man describing the welcomes he had become used to receiving on his jaunts about the city:

          “The Spec Man has never had cause to complain of the reception he was accorded any place he visited, for it has at all times been of the most cordial, and it would be hard for him to imagine that he would receive other than the best of treatment wherever he went. In no place has his reception been more cordial than among the homes of the working men in the east end of the city.”¹

                ¹ “Visited the Homes of Some New Comers : Spec Man in the Far East Welcomed Heartily by New Citizens : One of Them Compares Conditions in England and Canada” Hamilton Spectator . May 4, 1907.

          As well as recounting the visits he made with people in the areas visited, the Spec Man also took pains to describe the neighbourhoods as they were in the spring of 1907.

          The following is a description of the beginnings of his evening in the east end :

          “That he might be in his chosen district in time, he boarded a Barton street car, and soon found himself at Sherman avenue, and as he walked along the street, he could not help but notice the improvement which almost each day marks. On every hand is seen evidences of building operations. In many cases these are new houses, in others enlargements or improvements, but all the time there is unquestionable indications of prosperity.

          “In a very large number of cases, the ladies are busy with their spring house cleaning, while the men devote their spare time to beautifying the yards by the making of flower beds, etc., all of which gives one an unmistakable feeling that there is contentment and happiness all about him.”¹

                The first call of the Spec Man that evening was at 71 Sherman Avenue North. Mrs. John Flewelling answered the knock on the door, said that she indeed had the evening edition of the current Spectator and produced it. She drew from the yellow envelopes a $2.50 certificate which could be used at Finch Brothers.

          Mrs. Flewelling stated that her husband, who was not at home at the moment, worked at the D. Moore foundry. The couple had moved to Hamilton seven years before from the rural community of Rymal south of the city limits on the mountain:

          “The good wife assured the Spec Man that they were much better pleased with life in the city than in the country. She said that they had taken the Great Family Journal ever since they had started housekeeping. Her father had also been a reader and admirer of the Spectator for many years.”¹

                Then it was time for the Spec Man to be off to find another home to approach:

          “Continuing his walk along Sherman avenue, the Spec Man soon found himself on Cannon street, and had not gone far before a neat little brick cottage attracted his attention and as he rang the bell at 756 he heard the voice of one of the inmates call to another, ‘Here is the Spec Man!’ and straight way the Spec Man heard sounds of merriment.”¹

                The Spec Man was at first taken aback somewhat by the laughter which greeted his ringing of the bell on the door, but soon found out the reason for it:

          “Frederick Bellamy, whose home it was answered the bell, and when the Spec Man asked the usual question: ‘Have you a copy of this evening’s Spectator?’ a queer expression passed over his face. Smilingly he assured the Spec Man that he had and invited him in. The paper was found, but not before the inmates of the house had gathered in the room. Mrs. Bellamy drew the envelope containing the $2.50 order on Stanley Mills & Co., and then the cause of all the merriment was made known, for here it was that the bogus Spec Man had been playing a joke, and, fearing that he would be caught in the act, had made his escape just in time to make way for the regular one.”¹

                In speaking with Mr. Bellamy, the Spec Man learned that he had emigrated from England to Hamilton just 7 months previously with his wife and two young children. He was employed as a cutter in the Lyons Tailoring company.

          Mr. Bellamy said that he was pleased with Canada:

          “Rents were higher than in England, but otherwise the cost of living was much the same there as here. Wages, however, were much better here than there. He assured the Spec Man that some queer ideas of Canada were entertained by many English people. Some had an idea that such a city as Hamilton would be a long, straggling place.”¹

                Mrs. Bellamy told the Spec Man that when she was preparing to come to Canada, her friends and relatives did their best to convince her to stay in England :

          “ ' For,' said she, they have an idea that when you open your door each morning, you are forced to dig your way out through ice and snow.'

          “Mr. Bellamy said he was persuaded to procure a heavy cap to protect his ears, and he was assured that in Canada he would come to have his hands, face and feet frozen.

          “Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy have been readers of the Spectator ever since coming to this country, and frequently send copies of the paper to their friends at Plymouth, that they might gain a better idea of this country, and what is going on here.”¹

The Spec Man was told by the Bellamys that they enjoyed his accounts of his travels throughout the city, and invited the Spec Man to drop by their home whenever he might return to the district.

On the move once more, the Spec Man described the route to his next place to visit:

“From Cannon street east, the Spec Man strolled into Kinrade avenue, and as he sauntered along, the spirit moved him to stop at No. 35, the home of James Bamford, another enthusiastic subscriber of the Spectaor.”¹

Mr. and Mrs. Bamford were very, very pleased that their home had been chosen by the Spec Man. Mrs. Bamford was even happier when the certificate she chose was for $5 worth of goods from the R. McKay and Co. department store.

The Bamfords, like the Bellamys, had been recent arrivals in Hamilton from England:

“Mr. Bamford expressed himself delighted in more ways than one that he made the change. Foremost among these is the health of his children, the youngest of whom they feared they would lose before coming to Hamilton.”

Mr. Bamford formerly worked as a machinist with the British Westinghouse company and came to Canada to do the same task with the Canadian division of the Westinghouse firm.

Bamford observed that the working conditions were very different in Canada than in England:

“Here the workman is treated like a man, and he takes an interest in his work that assists the foreman very materially in the amount accomplished. He expressed the opinion that it would hardly be well for some of those English foremen to have many Canadians working under them, for their chances of having their facial beauty spoiled would be very great.”

The Spec Man’s stay at the Bellamy’s home concluded in the same way as at the previous place he had visited. He was given a cordial invitation to return.

The Spec Man’s last call of the evening was on Gibson avenue, No. 181, from which the sound of a well-played piano coming out of its window attracted him.

It was the home of Mr. William Donahue, also a Westinghouse employee, but who was not at home when the Spec Man called. William’s son was the accomplished piano player, and it was the son who answered the door, and who then called out for his mother to come quickly:

“She (Mrs. Donahue) informed the visitor that she only a short time before had told her son to light up the house for the Spec Man, although she had not the slightest idea he would come.

There was only one gift certificate left, but Mrs. Donahue was pleased to receive $2 worth of goods from the James Shea shoe store. Mrs. Donahue is a reader of the Spectator of long-standing and expressed herself as being delighted with it in every way and hoped that the Spec Man might come again.”¹

And so ended the Spec Man’s work for the evening. He was already thinking of his visit for the next day – to the west end district in which he grew up.