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