1905 - Cemetery

On Saturday, May 15, 1905, an article appeared in the Hamilton Spectator describing, in great detail, conditions at the Hamilton Cemetery on York street.

          The headline read “Speaking of the Dead : An Afternoon With Those Who Rest From Their Labors.” In the article, the reporter reflected on the general pride that the citizens of Hamilton felt regarding the upkeep of the cemetery.

          The cemetery grounds were kept in immaculate condition so that mourners could visit the gravesides of their departed loved ones, and in the words of the Spectator ;

“Reach out beyond time’s quickly vanishing space, and touch the loves of spirit forms in the great beyond, and, as they do, the memory of the dead makes better men and women of us all. And we like to believe in that purer spirit world, hoping our kin and friends are there : and thinking of this, we drop a tear for the dead and plant flowers on their graves.”

May was one of the liveliest months of the year at the cemetery. The workmen were beginning to clip the grass and planting fresh green sod on graves out in since the winter began.

In the spring, York street would the location of what the Spec man described as a steady procession “of mourning draped women and sable-clothed little ones” who would be carrying little spades, rakes and potted flowers to decorate the graves of loved ones.

While at the cemetery, the reporter noticed “many a sad scene – no, not sad, but tender.” The mounds would be raked very carefully “as if the noise might disturb the sleeper. The tones are hushed and softened. The mother’s voice which in the home has sometimes been irritable and harsh has become sweet and melodious and the little one who has tried her patience so, and on so many different occasions, is sweet and wonders why this change. It sees the flowers planted on the mound and sees it watered too, with tears from mother’s eyes as with drooping head she bends. It feels the mist gathered in its own bright eyes and a great, holy quiet comes over them both – mother and child. And who will dare to say that a loving husband’s, tender father’s spirit, is not hovering near them. ‘Who loves not the memory of his dead loves not his God,’ is a truism daily proven within the cemetery limits.”

The northwest section of the Hamilton Cemetery was the location of Potter’s Field, where there were no gravestones. A numbered pine board provided the only identification for most of the graves of Hamilton’s unfortunate poor. The names for the graves could only be obtained through application to the superintendent’s office.

A few of the graves in Potter’s Field did have simple name stones, such as the one which read : “Mary. Mother’s Girl. Aged 8 Years.” The reporter speculated that Mary “was taken and mother’s aching, grief-stricken heart lives in the memory of her smile, her cheerfulness, her kindly spirit and to her still, though in the spirit world, she is mother’s girl.”

There was another marker in Potter’s Field – a large, impressive stone, with only a woman’s Christian name engraved on it. The reporter again speculated that “she was polluted and thought herself despised. She loved with guilty love a soldier of the British army and followed him. In Hamilton, she died a scarlet woman. And the soldier? He had some manhood about him. Above her grave he reared the monument which bears alone her Christian name.”

Yet another grave in Potter’s Field was marked. On the surface of the soil of a recently filled-in mound, the children of the grave’s occupant had gathered little pebbles and formed letters with them on the fresh soil. The stones formed the words, “At Rest. Mother.” The reporter noted that it was “a fleeting memorial, but how much it meant to them, whose tenderest earthly friend lies buried there.”

During the spring afternoon spent at the cemetery, the reporter witnessed two burials. One, in Potter’s Field, had neither mourners nor priest in attendance. A curious group of bystanders watched while a pine shell was unloaded from the hearse and lowered into a freshly-dug grave.

When asked who was being buried, the driver of the hearse replied, “A house of refuge case. Had the hearse out and used it because it was dirty. If it had been clean, I’d have used the wagon instead.”

At the other end of the cemetery, there was another funeral in progress. This was complete with a long line of carriages, and a host of mourners. After the minister completed a beautiful graveside prayer for the dead, the old gravediggers went to work filling up a hole with earth, while many of the mourners stood around weeping.

There were many interesting grave stones in Hamilton cemetery, especially the one which marked the final resting place of Alexander Burnfield and George Knight, the engineer and the fireman of the locomotive involved in the Desjardins canal of March, 1857. The monument featured a model of the locomotive on top, while the following verse was inscribed on the side:

                   “Life’s railway’s o’er, each station’s past.

                    In death, we’re stop’d and cease to last,

                    Farewell, dear friends, and cease to weep,

                    In Christ, we’re safe, in Him we sleep.”

Two large family vaults, for the Watkins and Tuckett families were cut right into the embankment on the cemetery grounds. These embankments were actually earthworks, constructed during the time of the War of 1812, and were used as shelters from which the British sallied forth to fight at the Battle of Stoney Creek.

The Hamilton Cemetery was a popular spot, where one could visit for the purpose of prayer and meditation. It was also a spot where one could get a sense of the history of the city.

Finally, it was the final resting spot for mortals from all levels of Hamilton society, whether rich or poor, sinful or holy.

1901 - Jail

It was a foreboding sight on Barton Street East at the turn of the century. A pile of stone formed into a jail, the exterior of which was very familiar to most Hamiltonians, the interior of which was known to only a select few.

        On October 5, 1901, a reporter with Hamilton’s youngest of its three daily newspapers went to great lengths to tell the readers of his paper, the Hamilton Herald what it was like inside the Barton street Jail, or as it was also known Ogilvie’s Castle in reference to the man in charge of the facility.

        In 1901, the Hamilton Herald was barely into its twelfth year of existence, competing with its two long-established rivals, the Spectator and the Times.

        The Herald specialized in the type of first person, detailed descriptions of local, events, personalities and institutions.

        The Herald reporter started his description of what was formally known as the Wentworth County Jail by bringing his readers along with him as he entered the yard in front of the main entrance to the building:

        “Immediately a person passes through the iron gate leading to grounds, he notices that cleanliness and order prevail. Governor Ogilvie is an amateur florist and takes delight in having the grounds made attractive.

        “Within the prison precincts, also, every place is scrupulously clean; the corridors are swept daily, and scrubbed weekly.

        “There are sixty cells in the institution, but they are always full. The authorities never advertise vacancies.”

        In 1901, the jail on Barton Street was twenty-six years old, having been built by contractor John Taylor in 1875 at a cost of $70,000.

        The jail’s chief administrator in 1901 was Governor James Ogilvie. He had assumed that office in 1885, having previously been employed as station master at the Great Western Railway station on Stuart Street West.

        Ogilvie insisted upon strict order at the Barton Street and everything was done to routine and regulation including what was served at meals:

        “The food is properly prepared and a necessary quantity provided.

“Here is the bill of fare:

“Breakfast, 7:15 – Half a pound of bread, pint of skilly made of oatmeal and cornmeal; water

“Dinner, 12 – Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Friday, half a pound of bread, half-pound of potatoes, five ounces beef. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, half a pound of bread, pint of vegetable soup (three ounces of beef are put in the beef for each person, also barley, etc.)

“Supper, 5 – Same kind of diet as for breakfast.

“For people about 60 years of age, invalids and insane, what is known as hospital diet is the rule. They are also allowed butter and tea.

“The food set before them at the first meal is not always taken, but this antipathy to the diet is soon overcome, and the inmates seldom complain of the fare. They become healthy and strong upon the plain diet.

“On Sundays, supper is partaken of one hour earlier, thus enabling the prisoners – no, no, the turnkeys! – to visit the church they attend.

“Religious services are held in the building on Sundays by the rector of St. Matthew’s Church, also priests of St. Mary’s Cathedral. The Salvation Army sends representatives on Wednesday afternoon. The various religious services are appreciated by the unfortunates who make up the congregation, and they join heartily in the singing.”

The inmates at the Barton Street were expected to work, and there was no choice in what was expected from them:

“During working hours, the men are engaged in cutting wood and breaking stone. For several years, the wood dispensed for charity was cut in the jail, The women do the washing, and when there are no women, the men do the washing.

“On holidays, no work is done. At Christmas, the inmates are regaled with plum pudding, and the sheriff, being kind-hearted, thinks of those in prison and sends down some fruit.”

The routine of the prisoners as regards personal hygiene and recreation was closely defined :

“Saturday is bath day and shaving day. Each person shaves himself, and passes the razor along to the ‘next.’ When men are awaiting trial, they are not allowed to shave, for perchance it would be dangerous to let them have the use of a razor.

“In their spare time, the men play checkers using pieces of mortar or old buttons and marking out the squares on the floor with a piece of chalk. Some prefer reading, but literature is scarce. The sheriff would be pleased to acknowledge the receipt of any disused books or papers citizens may send.”

If there were any behaviour problems with a particular inmate, there were options for punishment:

“In the last annual report, there was one case of corporal punishment. Sheriff Middleton and Governor Ogilvie are strong in favour of this form of punishment. The sheriff thinks that kindness should be meted out to a certain extent, but a line must be drawn somewhere. He thinks that were the cat-o’-nine-tails used more frequently it would have a deterrent effect upon a certain class of criminals. In cases of indecent assault, the governor expressed the view that the lash was the cure.”

Fortunately, the lash was infrequently used at the jail:

“Those in jail, as a rule, are well-behaved, and apparently contented, for the time being, with their lot. In Barton Street Jail, the lights are put out at nine o’clock and peace reigns, for the prisoners sleep just as soundly as though they were in a first-class hotel.”

Young offenders drew special attention from the governor of the jail:

“The governor is always particular in looking after the conduct of youths who come under his care. They are kept from men prisoners as much as possible, and he makes a practice of advising them as to their future welfare when leaving prison.”

Contraband materials seemed to be present at the jail, despite the rules forbidding pipes or cigarettes:

“No tobacco is allowed the prisoners by the authorities. But, it is a well-known fact that many pieces of chewing tobacco are thrown over the jail wall, and these pieces are eagerly sought for.”

Finally, the routine for the reception and dismissal of inmates was closely prescribed:

“When a prisoner is taken to jail, his name is duly recorded. And, by a cleverly-arranged system in the shape of a movable calendar, the date of expiration of sentence can always be noted at a glance. This table is for the use of the governor – the prisoner never forgets.

“Before donning the prison clothing, if required, a bath is ordered. Oftentimes the clothes of a newcomer are in such condition that they have to be burned. If he has no friends to provide him with a wardrobe when he term is finished, why, of course, they are provided in some other way.”

While the Herald man might not have described absolutely everything about conditions at the Barton Street Jail, his article did clear up some of the mystery surrounding the institution for readers who would never have occasion to actually enter the jail.

1900 - March 1 Ladysmith Relieved

Full Spectator Coverage of morning events on March 1, 1900 regarding the recapture of Ladysmith, during the Boer War :

"Great Jubilation Here Over Glorious News : Since Seven O’clock the Men, Women and Children Have Done Nothing But Cheer and Yell Hurrah for Butler : Never Before Was There Such a Scene of Wild and Continued Enthusiasm – It Excelled Exciting Election Times : Salute Fired by the Fourth Field Battery on the Gore – There Will Be Another Big Celebration This Evening ”

       There was no holding the loyal citizens of this fair city on this stormy day, not even the almost impassable snow barriers being sufficient to keep them off the streets. Ladysmith had been relieved and that settled it. Nothing could prevent the people from giving vent to their unbounded enthusiasm in the ways that suited them best, and from the early hour when the first news came and was given to the public by the Spectator, on and all through the day the citizens of this loyal Canadian city have given themselves up to jubilation of the most sincere sort. It was an hour long waited for and an hour many times delayed. For 188 days the citizens had daily read of the gallant defense of Gen. White’s garrison in the surrounded city and of the apparently futile yet continuously determined attempts of Gen. Butler and his brave forces to cut their way through the massed Boer regiments which surrounded the city. No field of action in the whole South African campaign had been so closely watched as the one around Ladysmith, and in no one has the interest of Hamilton people been more deeply centred. Hamilton people put their trust early in the campaign in Butler, and though there was rejoicing when Lord Roberts effected the capture of Cronje and his host, there was in reserve a greater outburst of heartfelt enthusiasm for the relief of Ladysmith, whenever it might occur.

          The news reached Hamilton by telephone from the C. P. R. offices in Toronto at about 6:45 this morning. It was too early for many people to be on the streets, and most men who were on the streets were handling snow shovels in front of their own homes. When the message came from Toronto, the central telephone office here gave it out, in accordance with Mayor Teetzel’s arrangement, to everyone who had a whistle to blow. The Canada Coloured Cotton Company whistle and the Grand Trunk engine whistles were the first to break the stillness of the snow-laden air, and these were quickly augmented by the whistles of the engines of the T. H. & B. and the various factories. There was a suspicion at first in the minds of people that a railway accident had occurred, but quickly the good news dawned on them, and in most instances they left their snow shoveling and hurried through the big snow drifts to the centre of the city to confirm their suspicions of cause for rejoicing. From seven o’clock there was a constant stream of humanity coming up the street railway tracks to the city’s centre, from east, west, north and south and within an hour, there were more people on the streets than are usually there at midday.

          The first proof of the authenticity of the rumour that the anxious       received was from the first edition of the Spectator, which, as usual, was on the streets away ahead of the other local papers. It was just ten minutes past  seven this morning when the newsboys started out with the Spectator’s first edition announcing the war office statement of the relief of Ladysmith and the papers were bought up by the thousands. A second and third edition followed in quick order, as rapidly as the dispatches were received from the war office, and these too were eagerly scanned.

          But as a general rule the people were satisfied when they read the first dispatch. That was sufficient for a jubilation, and a jubilation it was. Flags were hauled out, and from every flagpole and in front of every business house, the union jack and multi-coloured 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 that on through the morning, the air was punctuated by the firing of guns, the ringing of bells, fireworks and smaller noises that joined in and made the occasion one never to be forgotten in the lives of those who participated in it.

          There was no system or order in the demonstration of the morning. It was simply a time where every man, woman and child felt that he and she was too happy to keep still, and the only way to find relief was by marching up and down the crowded streets, shouting if they had nothing to make  a noise with and making a noise if they had the necessary machine. Bells of all sorts were carried by the joyous ones, from the hand bell of the public school to the dinner bell  in the hands of the small boy. Everyone had a flag of some sort, and most of the paraders  wore large Ladysmith relief badges, supplied by Stanley Mills, and which were all sold out 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 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 joyful as the men.

          When the news was given out in the schools, there was great excitement and the teachers had all they could do to hold the patriotic youngsters. The head masters in the various district schools gathered the children together, and besides telling them the joyful tidings, delivered patriotic addresses. The children sang the Maple Leaf, Soldiers of the Queen and the National Anthem, and were dismissed for the day. At the Collegiate institute J. B. Turner, the assistant  principal, assembled the students in the big hall, and there were patriotic speeches and much singing of patriotic songs. The students were then dismissed. Rev. Father Holden carried out the same program in the separate schools, and in a very short time after the young folks were dismissed, they were on their way up to the centre 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 until Adam Brown made his appearance and delivered a short address. Then they dispersed all over the city, taking possession of express and caters’ sleighs and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

          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 neighbouring stores, but it was a day on which little things like that were to be forgotten. It remained for the Sons of England band, led by its bandmaster, H. A. Stares, to form the celebration of the morning 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.

          When the band serenaded Adam Brown at the post office, Mr. Brown came to the entrance and made a speech, which was enthusiastically applauded and cheered. Mr. Brown’s speech, in brief, was as follows :

          “Sons of England, Ireland and Scotland, sons of Canada, every one of you Britons to the core, I thank you for that cheer, and the Sons of England band for the compliment paid me. This is a great day for the empire and for Canada. Our country is engaged in the greatest war of the century for liberty and the right. (Cheers.) The colonies have responded splendidly to the call from the mother Queen, and among them Canada has done most nobly. All honour to her brave sons – (cheers) – the distinguished place of honour in the great charge which resulted in the surrender of Conje and his army was given by Gen. Roberts to the Royal Canadian regiment, in the daring charge they made. (Cheers.) It will live in British history forever.

          “Well done Canada! Her brave boys have covered themselves with glory. The crushing of Conje sent dismay into the enemy’s camp, and today we thank God for the success of British arms under Gen. Butler in relieving the brave White and his gallant garrison at Ladysmith. (Cheers.) The empire is one – every colony is ready at the bugle call. Were it needed to maintain the empire, Canada would send a hundred thousand men to defend it. (Cheers.) We mourn our mighty dead who have fallen, but their names will live for all time as heroes who have given their lives for Queen and country. (Cheers.) All hearts go out in sympathy for the wounded. The country will take care of them.

          “Well may we cheer today for the glorious news – Ladysmith relieved. (Cheers.) God save the Queen, the noblest woman that lives today (Cheers.) Go on shouting Canada for ever, Britain over all.” (Loud cheering.)

Mr. Lancefield proposed three cheers for Mr. Brown, which were given as only Britons can give them.

          It would be impossible to describe individually all the decorations on the various businesses and public buildings. It is enough to say that they were all generous and good looking as they were plentiful. The desire to do something was evidenced even down on the water front, where all the frozen in vessels were covered with flags and bunting. There might have been a bigger display of flags at the city hall had it not been that early in the morning an army of about 500 young men and women stormed the building, marched to the top flat, where there was a regular store house of bunting and flags ready to be put out, and devastated it, carrying off the flags as trophies, and waving them on the streets wherever they went. The invading army was led by two well-known women.

          What went on the morning continued all the afternoon, only more so, and there is every promise that tonight will see the city more wildly enthusiastic than ever. This afternoon all the factories and workshops are closed, and the city’s army of mechanics are on the streets, joining with the crowd of the morning to do honour to the occasion. Most of the stores are closed, also, it being impossible to do any business. Tonight, there is to be a programme of events. The Thirteenth regiment has ordered to parade, and with it will be the Thirteenth band. There will be a procession and Mayor Teetzel has made the request that citizens generally join in the parade, following the soldiers and the band. The members of the Fourth Field battery are also unofficially asked to parade. With the procession will be a big display of fireworks, and, in spite of the cold and snow, there promises to be the hottest sort of hot time in the old town tonight. The battalion order is as follows :

                   Order

          March 1, 1900 – The battalion will parade with great coats at the drill hall at 7:30 this evening.

                   By order,

                   W. O. TIDSWELL, Captain, Adjutant.

          To this is added the following request from the military authorities :

                   Request

          The Thirteenth regiment will leave the drill hall at 8 o’clock this evening. Societies, factory employees and citizens are requested to form up on the side streets between the drill hall and the city hall, and fall in rear of the Thirteenth battalion as they pass, so as to make the procession one worthy of the occasion. Bring your torches and fireworks

                   Route of the Procession

          The route of the procession will be : James street to Main street, Main street to Bay street to King street, King street to Wellington street, Wellington street to Main street, Main street to James street, James street to drill hall.

                   Notes

          There will be no “weather permitting” about the procession tonight. It will come off despite of the weather.

          There will be no rehearsal at St. John’s church tonight, as the Sons of England band will be in the big procession.

          There were any number of camera fiends out this morning getting snapshots of the unusual scene, and a number of them were women too.

          Mayor Teetzel wishes to return thanks to the telephone companies and to the citizens generally for the way in which they all aided in making the celebration in Hamilton a success.

          The celebration of the relief of Ladysmith will be the one occasion in the lives of many Hamilton women when they forgot, or didn’t care, for propriety, but waded through snow drifts with their skirts, just the same as their husbands and brothers.

          At the wheel and bolt works this morning, the men had a local celebration. Headed by J. Montgomery, the men of the bolt works went over to the wheel works and serenaded the men there. Afterwards the wheel works men, headed by Billie Plum, returned the compliment, and this afternoon, they are all up town joining in the general celebration.

          There was a big celebration at Waterdown this morning, a procession being formed, bells rung and whistles blown, while the local band made music to march to. This afternoon, Dr. McGregor marched into the city with fifteen mounted men from the town on the Flamboro  heights, and he promises that he and his braves will be in it when the big procession is formed tonight, with its torchlights and fireworks.

 

1905 - Shack Dwellers

        During the month of September, 1905, commuters riding the radial electric railway between Hamilton and Burlington, witnessed the construction and subsequent occupation of a peculiar little shanty.

          Located on vacant land, just twenty feet from the railway track, at a spot where the line made an abrupt curve northward from Wilson street, turning towards Barton street, the shanty was built by Joseph Smith as a residence for himself , his wife and his ten year old son, and, of course, their dogs.

          Joseph Smith’s shanty was the result of a rather desperate reaction to a situation common all over the city of Hamilton. As local industries grew larger and larger and needed more and more workers, the construction of new housing for these men and their families did not keep pace leading to an acute shortage of affordable homes for the workingmen ensued.

          The Smith shanty was ten feet by four feet, constructed with bits and pieces of lumber. Tree boughs and slabs of cast-off wood were used for roofing, while an abandoned shutter served as the domicile’s door.

          Joseph Smith had received personal permission from Sir John M. Gibson, owner of the land, to make use of the vacant lot. The location, near the present corner of Wilson street and Birch avenue, was relatively isolated as there were no streets cut through the area for some distance. Despite the isolation, the Smith family had very little privacy due to the endless inquisitive stares of the radial railway passengers as they passed the shanty at all hours of the day.

          The Spectator sent out a reporter to interview Mr. Smith and the article appeared in the September 23, 1905 edition of the paper under the headline, “Happy and Contented in Their Humble Home : The House That Smith Built to Provide a Shelter for His Small Family.”

          As the headline indicated, the reporter was amazed at the attitude of the Smith family despite their predicament, observing that they were as happy as if they had the wealth of a Rockefeller, or the influence of a rajah over his Hindoos.”

          Of a genial, talkative nature, Joseph Smith was more than willing to tell the reporter his past history and current troubles. When asked where he and his family had previously been living, Smith replied that they had been residing “at the corner of Barton and Wellington streets. We had a shop, some other people had the upstairs and some Englishman had the back. The Englishman was payin’ the rent. Unfortunately, when the Englishman got too far behind on the rent, everyone was turned out on the street. I tried and tried to get some place but we just couldn’t.”

          The reporter asked to be shown the interior of the shanty which he found surprisingly comfortable.

          Mr. Smith then shared his past personal history with the reporter : “I was born in Milton and started work at 13. I had to run away from home. My mother died, and my father married again. My stepmother had a baby while I was going to school, and I would go to school half a day, and stay home the other half to mind this kid. When the old crank at school wanted to know why I was away, I told her. But I got lickins’ fer playin’ hookey, and that was more’n I could stand.”

          When asked if he intended to spend the winter living in the shanty, Smith answered, “Maybe we’ll have to. If I can’t get another house, we will. I’ll sod the walls, and perhaps I can make it warm enough.”

          Inside the shack, which was brightened only by the light of one small window and the doorway, there was barely room enough for a person of average height to stand upright

          One chair and a small table furnished the shanty’s only room. The box stove took up much of the space, while a straw mattress on the floor was barely wide enough for one person. Two newborn black and tan pups shared the room, while outside a shepherd collie was tied up.

          Mr. Smith said that the collie was responsible for keeping away the gangs of boys who sometimes threw stones at the shack.

          As the interview was coming to a close, Joseph Smith emphatically declared that he was not at all unhappy with his housing situation:

          “We got lots of fresh air here. Why, do you know, I can eat more in one meal here than I can in three up in the city. We’re all feeling fine.”