The cacophony which started at 7 a.m. and
spread all across the length and breadth of Hamilton, announced the surprising
news that victory at Ladysmith had been achieved. The news had hopefully, if
nervously, been expected for quite some time, and preparations had been put in place
to celebrate the relief of Ladysmith if and when it happened.
The newspapers already had their ‘extras’
more or less ready to go, leaving enough space for the absolute latest
announcements. One store in particular, the Stanley Mills & Company store
was prepared – it had a large supply of commemorative badges ready to sell.
By mid-morning, the downtown streets were
packed with celebrants, most of whom made their way to the core by foot from neighborhoods
all across the community. The heavy snow, including deep, deep snowdrifts on
the roads and sidewalks did not impede those wanting to join in the big
celebration :
“There was no system or order in the
demonstration of the morning. It was simply a time when every man, woman and
child felt that he or she was too happy to keep still, and the only way in
which to find relief was by marching up and down the crowded streets, shouting
if they had nothing to make a noise with, and making noise if they happened to
have the necessary machine. Bells of all sorts were carried by the joyous ones,
from the hand bell of the public school to the dinner bells in the hands of a
small boy. Everyone had a flag of some sort, and most of the paraders wore
large Ladysmith relief badges, which were supplied by Stanley Mills and which
were all sold out long before the noon hour, though the supply on hand was
enormous. Though the streets were almost impassable on account of the heavy
snow, the people didn’t seem to know it, and with heads up and eyes front, they
stumbled along through the drifts and over slippery places with an abandon that
was positively enjoyable, especially in the case of the women, who were just as
numerous and joyous as the men.”1
1 Spectator. March 1, 1900.
The noise of the early morning celebrations
not only continued but intensified as the morning progressed. At the same time,
the decorations which had been assembled in anticipation of good news from
Ladysmith were brought out and put in place:
“Flags were hauled out, and from every
flagpole, and in front of every business house, the union jack and
multi-colored bunting was rapidly displayed. Acting on Mayor Teetzel’s
suggestion, the fire alarm bell was started ringing at an early hour, and the
big bell in the city hall tower followed. It was Ald. Hill, chairman of the
markets committee, who hauled up Mayor Teetzel’s new Ladysmith flag to the top
of the city hall flagstaff, and it was the same gentleman, assisted by
Detective Donald Campbell, who struck the first blow on the big bell. From then
on, all through the morning, the air was punctuated by the firing of guns, the
ringing of balls and the blowing of steam whistles. And this says nothing about
the fish horn, the bugle, fireworks and other smaller noises that joined in and
made the occasion one never to be forgotten in the lives of those who
participated in it.”1
Mayor Teetzel (image courtesy Local History and Archives, Hamilton Public Library)
The pupils of all Hamilton schools were able
to make it downtown to participate in the spontaneous demonstrations:
“In a very short time after the young folks
were dismissed, they were on their way up to the center of the city in
procession, carrying flags, shouting and singing the right sort of music to
march by on such a happy occasion. The young women of the Collegiate were as
enthusiastic as the young men, and a small army of them marched to the Post
Office early in the morning, where they sang and cheered till Adam Brown made
his appearance and delivered a short address. Then they dispersed all over the
city”2
Soldiers in uniform and a band also in
uniform were quick to join the festivities downtown:
“Under Capt. Tidswell, the Fourth Field
battery assembled at 9:30, and, with two guns, marched to King street east and,
in front of the Waldorf hotel, and alongside Sir. John A. Macdonald’s monument,
fired a salute. The shock of the firing guns cracked some glass in the
neighboring stores, but it was a day on which little things like that were to
be forgotten, and remained for the Sons of England band, led by bandmaster H.A.
Stares, to form the celebration into something like order. The band, of its own
option, paraded at an early hour and marched around the Gore playing patriotic
airs. It serenaded the newspaper offices, Adam Brown and Mayor Teetzel, and
then went back to the band room, where the members had refreshments and
listened to patriotic addresses. While the band was on the streets, it was
followed by the crowd, and several thousand people – men, women and children –
joined in the airs played – Soldiers of the Queen, the Maple Leaf, the British
Grenadiers and the National Anthem. It was a great day for the band, and the
bandsmen didn’t seem to mind a bit that there was no money in it for them. They
were out because they were sons of England.”1
In the Hamilton Times of March 1, 1900, the
Tea Table Gossip column included the following:
“One of the first flags up was the new
‘Ladysmith’ flag presented by Mayor Teetzel to the city, and floated proudly
from the top of the City Hall tower.
“A number of large manufacturing firms gave
their men a holiday, and these, with flags, joined in the processions, of which
there were several, some of them numbering hundreds of men and boys.
“During the morning, Lieut. Miller, in
command of No. 4 Field Battery, had the guns of the battery brought up to the
east end of the Gore, where a royal salute was fired, a large crowd of people
joining in the demonstration there with flags waving, horns blowing and the
clanging of big bells still heard.
“At eleven o’clock, there was not a fish horn
to be bought in any of the uptown stores.
“Ladysmith badges and souvenirs sold like hot
cross buns on Good Friday.
“Arrangements have been made for late street
cars this evening in case citizens will be out celebrating the relief of
Ladysmith. Cars will leave the New Royal Hotel at 12 o’clock.
“The concussion caused by firing the salute
by the Field Battery detachment broke a $63 plate glass window at Morrow the
photographers, and also broke ten panes of glass in the skylight of the
operating room.
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