Thursday 20 September 2012

1883 January 16-31



Once in 1882, a reporter for the Spectator noticed the name of a watch repair shop on York street. He wondered how the name of the owner of the shop, John Swindell, would be treated in the headlines should that man abscond.
          On January 16, 1883, the reporter’s ruminations appeared somewhat prophetic as the watch repair shop made a quick, secret exit from Hamilton taking with him many of his timepieces left in his possession for repair.
          The headline read “John Swindells : Yes, Indeed He Does, and Does It Well, Too.”
          In the article, the Spec reporter recounted how, when around 9 p.m. on Monday evening, he was passing Swindell’s establishment. He saw a young girl, looking furtively up and down the street, and wrestling with the lock on the watch repair shop door.
          Fearing for his own “$500, full-jeweled, double-cased golden chronometer,” 1  the reporter kept his eye on the girl, but he soon found that she was struggling to lock, not unlock, the door.
          1 “John Swindells : Yes, Indeed He Does, and He Does It Well, Too” Spectator. January 17, 1883.
          The reporter’s investigation led to the suspicion that Mr. Swindell and his daughter had left the country, leaving a trail of creditors.
          The morning after Swindells, reported disappearance, there was a crowd besieging the watch and repair shop, demanding to know whether their timepieces had be taken off by the proprietor:
          “They thumped the door and shouted; but no Mr. Swindells appeared, and presently they became aware that sundry other swindles had appeared, and that it was a particularly cold day for them.”
          Mrs. Swindells was later interviewed at her residence, 154 John street north: “My husband left Saturday night, without telling me where he was going. I have no idea where he is or what he took with him. He left me with six small children, one of which is a cripple, and I have no means of providing for them. I didn’t think he was in the habit of drinking. I’m sure that he was a very good husband and loved his children. If I could get a small cottage, I think I could manage to keep myself and my children respectably. I’ll have to put the oldest of my children at some sort of work.”

          The Music and Drama section of the Spectator for Tuesday, January 16, 1883, contained a lengthy article about efforts to organize a new musical society in Hamilton. The Spectator reporter claimed to have been laboring “in a humble way” to have all musicians and lovers of music in the city to join together.
          A suggestion had been made that it would be a good thing to have the oratorio Messiah performed in the city on Good Friday. A meeting was called for the following Wednesday at the Wesley Church school to organize both a chorus and an orchestra under the conductorship of Mr. Fred Jenkins.
          The Spectator thought that it was time for Hamilton musicians to “bury their differences” and make the performance of the Messiah a grand success:
          “Now is the time to put forth a helping hand, and from this Messiah chorus and orchestra will grow a musical society worthy of the reputation of this city as a musical center.:
          “It had been a regretful state of affairs for musicians in Hamilton who looked longingly at the success of the philharmonic society in Toronto, but it was hoped that the meeting at the Wesley Church school room would be an auspicious beginning of better things.”
          The writer ended his piece on the necessity of a city-wide musical society with some advice for the city’s businessmen:
          “A last word to those businessmen who are well known in this city as munificent patrons of art and literature. Those gentlemen have families in which music of the highest order is enjoyed. Their sons and daughters take pride in the reputation of this community as a music-loving people. Should these gentlemen be asked to extend practical aid to the movement to establish a musical society for Hamilton, they will do themselves the justice, as patrons of all that is good in art, to help that movement so far as they think its deserves help.”

          An occasional article in the Spectator of early 1883 with the following headline :
          “The Rambler : Some of the Things He Has Seen and Heard in His Peregrinations”
          The article under that headline which appeared in the January 17, 1883 edition, included the following observation made by The Rambler:
          “I heard of an action of the part of a working man which proved him one of nature’s noblemen. Saturday night, a very small girl was going alone along James street, crying bitterly, when a young man walked up and inquired the cause of her distress. She said she had to work all week and made $1.50 and had just lost her week’s wages in the crowd. The young man, who is a shoemaker lately arrived from England, comforted the weeping child as much as he could, and placed $1 in her hand and sent her away with tears of gratitude in her eyes.”

          In the early part of 1883, there were widespread rumors that Victoria College was to be removed from the town of Cobourg and relocated to a large city, possibly Hamilton.
          The Cobourg World, in an editorial denounced Hamilton. It was an editorial that prompted the editor of the Spectator to call it: “a misstatement, which progresses through a long series of misstatements and ends in bosh.” 1
                1 “Victoria University : What a Foolish Cobourg Journal Says About Its Removal” Spectator January 17, 1883.
          A portion of the Cobourg World editorial read as follows :
          “We said enough about Hamilton when the discussion was up before. It is about the last place in the country where any sane man would select as the location of a great university. Why, you can’t get to it from any important place in the country, outside of the line of the Great Western, without changing cars. When its friends were agitating the removal thither a few years ago, a great fuss was made about where it was going to give – Dundurn Castle, no less, and hundreds of thousands of dollars. But when it came to the pinch, after its leading citizens and others had addressed meetings and set forth as best they could the advantages of the acquirement, not a dollar was forthcoming. And now the talk is about this same Dundurn Castle again – a kind of institution which, very suspiciously, they seem forever to wish somebody to take off their hands. What is the matter with it? Is it tainted with the general unhealthiness of the city itself, that they have to beg somebody to occupy it?”1

          On January 18, 1883, Larkin Hall was the scene for the first time in Hamilton of the newest fad in public entertainment, the cake walk. Run under the auspices of the B. M. E. church, the entertainment was presided over by the Rev. Mr. Roberts of that church.
          After several musical performances by a group of local singers, the side benches of the hall were removed to make room for the walkers. Two cakes were presented and the judges announced that the cakes would be given to the most graceful walkers.
          When the organ struck up the popular tune, “The Girl I Left Behind,” six couples began to walk around the room :
          “W. H. Pearman swinging his shoulders and turning out his toes. His idea of graceful walking seemed to catch one of the onlookers who called out, ‘Peraman grabs the buns.’ ” 2
          After eight laps around the hall, three couples were asked to sit down while the remaining entrants circled the room a few more times. The winners were James Talbot and his partner Miss Wilson. The cake-walking lasted until 10 o’clock, “after which there was a general bun feed.” 2
  2  “Walking for the Cake : Two Cake Walks in Larkin Hall.” Spectator. January 18, 1883.

          When a good-looking man with a full red beard came to Hamilton in January, 1883, he introduced himself as Detective Wilson, of Rochester, New York. Claiming to be searching for a criminal wanted in that city, he enlisted the assistance of the local police:
          “Detective Wilson was accorded the courtesies of the profession and the chief of police pledged himself to assist in the search. The chief gave Mr. Wilson a note introducing himself to the detectives of Hamilton and others to assist him in the search.” 3
          3 “Charley Campbell : He Claims to be a Rochester Detective But Gets Pinched”  Spectator. January 18, 1883.
          It was later learned that Detective Wilson was actually Charley Campbell, a well-known local thief. Detective Doyle, who had thought that the “detective” was a bone fide officer of the law, arrested Campbell at the corner of James and Rebecca streets.
          At first, the arrested man put up quite a struggle, but when he got to the station greatly amusing.
          Charley Campbell was raised in Hamilton, “but early in his life, he distinguished himself as a very bad boy, and he did not show much improvement as he grew older.” 3

                The Grand Opera House was closed to the public on Thursday, January 19, 1883, and no theatrical performances were given:
          “The guests did not air out of pasteboard goblets, and eat imaginary viands from empty plates. There was plenty to eat, in great variety, magnificently prepared and handsomely served, and there was plenty to drink too. It was a supper given to the orchestra and stage hands by the management of the Opera House.” 4
          4 “A Real Supper : Served on the Stage of the Grand Opera House” Spectator. January 19, 1883.
A large table had been set up in the orchestra pit, and when everyone was comfortably seated and beginning their meals :
“The curtain was suddenly raised, which brought the festive party in full view of a small and select party of ladies and gentlemen in the auditorium. The stage hands had set a handsome drawing room scene for the occasion and when the curtain went up, the scene was an extremely pleasing one.” 4
The evening’s entertainment included some songs by Mr. Armstrong, a recital of the story of Molly Moldoon by Mr. Nelligan, and Messrs. Joe Webber and William McLeod doing the Happy Hottentot tumbling act :
“Then everybody sang, and everybody made speeches, fired off villainous puns, and put in a jolly good time.” 4

At noon, January 22, 1883, information was sent to the police station that the body of a dead man had been found in an old, rickety frame house, No. 288 King street east, near Steven street.
The body was that of a man about thirty years old :
“The head, which was leaning towards the left side, was covered with short, curly brown hair; the eyes were closed and sunken, the lids dark, the mouth was partly open, revealing an even set of white teeth; a tinge of grey frost hung on the moustache. Under the head was a black glazed valise, in which were found an empty bottle, and a bottle of laudanum.” 5
5 “Suicide : A Dead Body Found in an Unoccupied House” Spectator. January 22, 1883.
At half past one, the body was removed from the house, which the Spectator reporter called “totally unfit for human habitation.”5
At the morgue on King William street, there was some difficulty in carrying the body “down the narrow, rickety stairs, as it was frozen stiff, and had to be carried down part of the way in an upright position.” 5
At the morgue, Rev. J. Goodman, of the Primitive Methodist church, identified the corpse as that of Samuel Bunt, a young carpenter recently arrived from England, who lived with his aunt at 81 Caroline street north:
“Bunt was an opium eater, and had fallen a victim to the habit. His relatives were much concerned at the discovery that he was addicted to the use of opium, and took several bottles from him while he was a resident of their house, and even forbade the neighboring druggist to sell him the drug.” 5
Beside the dead man, a note was found which read : “Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord; blessed be the name of the Lord; write to Mr. Mickle, Truro, England.”

On Monday, January 22, 1883, Mr. Robert Dawson, who drove a bread wagon for William lees, delivered bread to Grant’s grocery store on Jackson street east, near the Hamilton and Northwestern railway line.
When he finished the delivery, he jumped back onto the wagon, just as heard a train approaching from the south:
“He intended to wait until the train passed, but the mare through force of habit started off. He had not time to gather up the reins in time to stop her before she had reached the track. Becoming terrified by the approaching engine, the beast stopped on the track, and Dawson, realizing his perilous position, tried all means to urge her across, but she refused to budge.” 6
6 “A Close Call : Heaved from the Track by the Cowcatcher of a Locomotive” Spectator. January 23, 1883.
The train struck the end of the sleigh and the force of the impact hurled Dawson out of his seat and across the track :
“In an instant, the cowcatcher struck him and pushed him off the track. Dawson, to the great relief of the few terrified beholders, picked himself up.” 6

Charley Campbell, alias Detective Wilson of Rochester, New York, had been arrested by the Hamilton Police, but he was soon able to make his escape from his incarceration. Not only did Campbell coolly get away from the clutches of the Hamilton police, he immediately resumed his criminal ways.
Soon after walking away from police custody, he entered a confectionery store  at the corner of Pearl and Canada streets, run by Mrs. Edwards. To help identify Mrs. Edwards to the paper’s readers, the Spectator reporter noted that “her husband is well known in that portion of the city as the ‘cake man’ because he travels around from house to house peddling pastry.” 7
7 “Conductor Wilson : Another of Charley Campbell’s Games” Spectator. January 23, 1883
Charley Campbell entered the store and bargained to have two dozen cakes  delivered to an address on Jackson street west. Campbell then asked Mrs. Edwards for a loan of $1.50. The lady was too sharp for Campbell who quickly disappeared after his request was turned down.
Campbell then proceeded to a nearby livery stable, telling the livery man that he was going to Bullock’s Corners to visit his dying father. The empty rig was found at Caledonia, where Campbell had left it before embarking on a train for parts unknown.

On January 24, 1883, another column by The Rambler appeared :
“I heard a good one concerning the people who call themselves ‘Believers,’ a great many of whom were in the city last week. They registered in the Dominion hotel book in the usual way, except that after the names was the word ‘Saved.’ They seem to be exceedingly sure of their state. No one would object to them and their belief were it not that they make nuisances of themselves very often by stopping people on the street and asking them impertinent questions, such as ‘Are you saved?’ ‘How do you know you are saved?’ etc. One of them tackled a good Presbyterian minister who labors in this city while walking along the street and asked him if he was saved. ‘By the grace of God I am, my friend,’ responded the clergyman. ‘How do you know you are saved?’ queried the Believer. The reverend gentleman looked on his questioner in astonishment for a moment and answered, ‘My dear sir, you should not ask so many questions,’ and passed on.
“Some of these people created a disturbance in the waiting room at the G.T.R. station, and were ordered out. There are those who in public on Sunday night denounced the newspapers, declaring that one and all they were edited by the devil.” 8
8 “The Rambler : Some of the Things He Has Seen and Heard in his Peregrinations” Spectator. January 24, 1883.
On January 24, 1883, Harvey Colter, ferryman at the Burlington canal came to Hamilton on his first day off the job in over four years:
“Other people have had holidays, and many of them, in that time, but the ferryman is like the reporter – the enjoyment of other people makes more work for him. In all weather, and on everyday, men will come and men will go, and they must be ferried over. Now they can be ferried no longer, for the canal is frozen across.” 9
9  “At the Ferry” Spectator. January 25, 1883.
Along the canal was frozen, the ice was only thick enough to support the weight of a man, not of a team of horses and sleigh. Sleighs had to go out on the bay and around the head of the piers in order to cross the canal. The route from the Beach to the city was considerably shortened because of the frozen bay as teams could cross the ice:
“There is a beaten track from the foot of John street to Huckleberry point where the road branches out, one track leading to John Dynes’ and other striking the Beach near the bungalow.” 9

“From the smaller turret of the Canada Life Assurance company’s new building, a bright flag waved today, proclaiming that the magnificent structure was now occupied by the company for which it was built. Standing as it does on the corner of King and James streets, in the very center of our city, it is the most handsome and magnificent commercial building in the city, and a fitting home for the head offices of the greatest life assurance company in America.” 10
10 “The Canada Life : the New Head Offices of the Leading Life Association”   Spectator. January 25, 1883.
Five stories high, built of brownstone with a turreted and slated roof, the striking building was a reflection of the success of the locally-based insurance company which had risen above all other such companies in North America:
“There was much in that for a Hamiltonian to be proud of, and every citizen who looks at the great brownstone palace must feel that the place that has been reached could only have been attained by surpassing ability.” 10
The exterior stone work was mainly Connecticut brownstone, with small pillars of Canadian granulite :
“Brownstone was chosen in preference to any kind of lighter colored stone, on account of its retaining its color in the smoky atmosphere of this manufacturing city.” 10
The architectural style of the building was modern Gothic, the architect being Richard A. Waite, of Buffalo.
At the northwest corner of the building, a 125 foot high clock tower was added, to which an aspect of solidity was added by the architect’s use of projecting buttresses. The timepiece in the tower was a four-faced illuminated clock made by the Howard Clock company, of Boston, Massachusetts. The dials of the clock were seven feet in diameter:
“Away up 100 feet from the ground, the clock shines out every night, and can be seen from almost any part of the city, and from the bay.” 10
The main entrance to the interior of the building was off King street under a handsome carving, using white Bath stone. The interior arrangements were as comfortable and convenient as any office building of the day:
“The rooms in the building were considered so desirable by persons to rent them that every room in the new building, with one exception, was rented before the company occupied its new quarters.” 10
One feature of the new building was the provision, in the ceiling of each room, of a thermostat or electric fire alarm:
“It is a stopper of mercury, which melts when the temperature becomes too high; and the room in which the fire is shown on a numbered dial placed in the janitor’s room. By means of this contrivance, the room in which the fire is, can be known by simply looking at the dial.” 10
A hydraulic Otis elevator, built by the Hale Manufacturing company, of Chicago, was “a noiseless and rapid means of conveyance to the upper stories, and renders them as desirable for offices as the ground floor is.” 10
The interior decorations of the building were equal to its architectural beauty on the exterior. Rich and handsome carvings predominated. The main office was finished in carved cherry.
“I did not think anything so artistic and beautiful could be produced in Hamilton,” said Mr. A. G. Ramsay, president of the company, “but Messrs. Addison performed their contract in a manner not to be surpassed.” 10
The building was planned and the interior decorations designed by architect Richard A. Waite, of Buffalo:
“The Canada Life building is a monument to his genius as well as to the ability and energy of the great company whose home it now is.” 10
January 27, 1883 was the date when another appearance of The Rambler was made in the Spectator:
“I hear a good many complaints lately that the mayor is almost too careful of the city’s money, of which he has the disposal for charitable purposes. As dispenser of the city’s alms, the mayor has a difficult position to fill, but I think he should open his heart a little, especially during the very cold weather when poor people need extra clothes and firing” 11
                11 “The Rambler: Some of the Things He has Seen and Heard in his Peregrinations” Spectator. January 27, 1883. 
          The Spectator, on January 29, 1883, reprinted an article which had originally appeared in War Cry, the Salvation Army magazine. The article concerned the recent rough treatment received by members of the Salvation Army by some unruly Hamiltonians:
          “Saturday night the devil tried hard to break up our ranks, but he did not succeed. We are rousing up the people in this city. Praise God!
          “We mean to rouse Hamilton for Jesus. Sunday was a glorious day with us. We had a good drill at 7 p.m. I got some good ammunition for the day’s battle. We had some hard fighting, but Hallelujah! We gained the victory. Sunday night we had some very hard fighting. The devil raged. He kicked our door in and broke our windows. But, praise God, nine souls came out for a pardon, and got it. Closing another week of real victory.
          Yours in the week of real victory.
          Yours in the thick of the fight.
                             Lieut. Wiseman”

          Early on Saturday morning, January 27, 1883, the first vacation that the ferryman at the Burlington Bay Canal had received in four years came to an end.
          Between 7 and 8 o’clock that morning, the ice in both the canal and the lake disappeared:
          “It is marvelous how sudden the change took place, as a few hours previous one could cross the canal on the ice, it being six inches thick; now it looks like midsummer. People going down to the Beach on the ice should give the canal a wide berth on the bay side.” 12
12     “Burlington Canal” Spectator. January 29, 1883.

          On Monday, January 28, 1883, the long-delayed annual report of the Hamilton Police Department was presented to Hamilton City Council by Chief A. D. Stewart. The report covered twenty-eight pages of foolscap and included a dozen tables of statistics.
          The report summed up the year’s activities of the police department in considerable detail. The ever-opinionated chief also used his annual report to vent his displeasure at the accommodation for the member of his force the various stations around the city:
          “The station at city hall is very dirty; without cell accommodation and lacking in office room. The detectives require a special room for themselves, for reasons which are obvious. The station is situated directly over the furnace, and the heat is at times oppressive.
          “No. 2 station consists of a single room so small that the men cannot comfortably so much as muster there. Its cells are so damp and cold that prisoners cannot be detained in them. The walls are rapidly crumbling away, and escape would be an easy matter to any strong man.
          “No. 3 station is the best of all, but still is capable of improvement. The cells are not properly ventilated.
          “I respectfully recommend that a gas lamp be placed over the door of each station, with the words Police Station painted thereon. Strangers, lodgers and citizens generally would be benefitted by such a step, inasmuch as the police stations could be readily and easily found.
          “I have to point out that my office by reason of its location is without the privacy which I absolutely require. Being so small, it is actually unhealthy, and it cannot be reached, except through the police station or office of the police station. For this reason, many persons who desire to see me privately on official business, or impart secret information, refuse to come to my office, and much trouble and annoyance is the result. Besides, every word spoken in my office can be distinctly overheard.” 13
                13 “Stewart’s Statistics : The Annual Report of the Chief of Police for 1882”  Spectator. January 30, 1883

          “Here’s a pointer. Let every man who is about to build a house be compelled to submit his plans to the city board of health, so that the medical officer and inspector may examine them. If this was done, the plumbing of residences would not be so defective as it is now, and there would be less typhoid fever in the city.” 14
                14 “The Rambler : Some of the Things He Has Seen and Heard in his Peregrinations” Spectator. January 30, 1883.

          On January 31, 1883, a political mass meeting was held at the Academy of Music with its main purpose being the ratification of Mr. Ed. Williams as the Workingman’s candidate in the upcoming provincial election.
          On the motion of Allan Studholme, Mr. James O’Brien took the chair. Mr. O’Brien declared that neither of the main political parties truly represented the interests of the workingman. Mr. O’Brien then expressed his hope that the assembled would give the speakers a fair hearing.
          Mr. Robert Coulter was the first speaker :
          “For years past, his hearers had been accustomed to hear themselves called the horny-handed sons of toil. The press had acknowledged their power. They knew their strength and their rights, and the occasion of their meeting was to send to the governing council a representative of the workingmen of Hamilton.” 15
            15 “The Workingman’s Candidate : Political Mass Meeting at the Academy of Music”  Spectator. February 1, 1883.
          Mr. Coulter then proposed the following resolution to the meeting : “Resolved that labor and its interests should be represented in the Local Legislature by a practical workingman.” 15
                The resolution was carried unanimously in a standing vote, with much enthusiasm.
          Mr. W. P. Wilcox was the next speaker. He proposed that Edward Williams, chief engineer of the Hamilton division of the Locomotive Engineers was “a fit and proper person to be elected to the provincial legislature. Mr. Wilcox further proposed that the meeting pledge itself to use every lawful means to have Williams elected.
          Fred Walter seconded the motion of Wilcox and expressed his firm conviction in the success of the workingmen’s movement :
          “It was time they had a voice in the making of the laws by which they were governed, and he was glad to be on the platform to say that the men of his trade, the molders, were heart in hand in the movement to place one of themselves in the Legislature. Then they would have a voice in public affairs in reality and not as they had formerly been seeking a little from each party.”15
          “Fellow workingmen,” Walters went on to say, “we read in the Good Book that the heaven is the Lord’s, but the earth he gave to the children of men, and we believe it. Men are driven off the soil they would cultivate, and driven into cities. The supply and demand are corresponding, and the monopolist likes to have a large supply of labor at hand so that he can control the wages.”
          Walters went on to discuss the need of workingmen to have their welfare taken care of :
          “In my trade, you hear men talk of others being worn out, and what have they after all their years of labor?  Who has the profits of all the years of the workingman’s labor? He hasn’t it. He has not squandered it, for he never had it. We want to remedy this condition of affairs and give everyman a share in the profits arising from his labor. We are getting in the thin edge of the wedge, and the agitation will spread to every city in the country. This is the great manufacturing city, and we want a man who knows our difficulties and our troubles, a man who is with us everyday, to represent us. I trust we will have such a representative, not only in the Local House, but in the Dominion House, and also in the municipal o9ffices. (Applause) Therefore, I have great pleasure in seconding the resolution.” 15
                Mr. Williams, described in the Spectator as “a pleasant and clever-looking man,” stepped on the platform amid repeated cheers:
          “Mr. Chairman, fellow workingmen and electors of the city of Hamilton : To address such a magnificent audience as I see before me tonight would seem more befitting the leaders of the two great political parties that control our fair Dominion. When it was represented to me that the workingmen of Hamilton desired me to be their candidate at the coming election, I communed with myself and asked if they really desired that I should represent them. I was not satisfied. I asked the workingmen themselves. They replied that my honesty, character and ability in the years I had spent in this great industrial center had commended me to them. I was not yet satisfied and I consulted my family, and sought the source of all good thoughts. I have been some twenty-five years in public life, and I am not yet tainted with the ruinous principles that their success is certain to overturn society. I asked my friends : ‘Are you representatives of any socialistic order?’ They replied that they were not. “Are you in favor of communism?’ No. I asked if they represented all the trade unions of the city. They said they did not, but that if I stood for election, they hoped every workingman would take off his coat and put me in”
          After then outlining his platform, Candidate Williams finished his speech to warm applause” 15

Monday 17 September 2012

1883 January 1-15

 



During the evening hours of Thursday January 4, 1883, a major snow storm began in the Hamilton area. The snow continued to fall so heavily, and for such a long time that, soon, even skating and iceboating on the bay were no longer possible.
   The cold weather and snowstorm prevented a large attendance to gather at Professor Florestan's recitations at Larkin Hall. Those who were able to attend appreciated the professor's performance as he recited the fifth act of Racine's Phedre in French, the fifth act of Othello in English and the third act of The Lady of Lyons:
    "Prof. Florestan chose very strong and exacting pieces for his programme, but he was fully equal to them. His facial expressions and elocutionary abilities are of the highest order, and his recitations last night were magnificently finished pieces of acting."

1     "Prof. Florestan" Spectator. January 5, 1883

   Over at the Grand Opera House, the snow storm also cut into the attendance expected to witness the performance of Mr. James O’Neil : “when the weather is taken into account, an allowance should be made, but it ought to have been no excuse for the beggarly attendance last night.”2
2 “An American King” Spectator January 5, 1883.
James O’Neil was one of the most famous American actors of the day, the Spectator noting that he was “a sterling actor, producing his effects without rant” Despite the minimal audience the Spectator reporter on hand still declared the evening’s performance a success.

Over at the Spectator office, a long distance telephone conversation was carried on with Mr. Thomas H. Wadland, the former manager of the Hamilton telephone office. Mr. Wadland was superintending the construction of long distance lines in Whitby, Ontario when he decided to call his friends working at the Spectator. He promised to call the next from Cobourg, over 110 miles from Hamilton : “the wildest dreams of the Arabian Nights never anticipated such a wonderful piece of modern magic as this.”3
3      “Hello! : A Voice from Whitby” Spectator. January 5, 1883.

In Milton, final preparations were made on the evening of January 4, 1883, for the execution of Michael O’Rourke. The scaffold had been erected that day and a new rope had been made available for the upcoming task.
The executioner upon arrival in Milton went to a tavern for what the Spectator termed “a glass of grog.” Not knowing that Milton was a Scott Act town, he was refused liquor so he was away in disgust and headed straight for the jail.
   Reporter F. W. Woodell of the Spectator was granted an interview with the condemned man, which took place early in the evening in the prisoner’s cell. O’Rourke had met the reporter on a previous occasion and immediately recognized the man from the Spec when he approached his cell.
“How do you do, Mike; you don’t object to shaking hands, do you?” asked the reporter.
“Oh, no,” answered O’Rourke as he came to the door.4
4  “The Maher Murder : A Spectator Reporter Interviews the Murderer.” Spectator. January 5, 1883.
As described by Woodell, O’Rourke “was smoking a short clay pipe and took it from his mouth with a gesture as though he was tired, and put his hand through the iron bars.”
When the reporter grasped the prisoner’s hand, he noted that “his fingers were rather cold and clammy, though there was a good fire in the corridor, but his grasp was firm, and there was no more twitching of the muscles of the face or symptoms of nervous fear about him than when the reporter saw him some weeks ago.”
O’Rourke had just finished a good supper of bread and butter, tea and pie. He had been eating and sleeping well, and was unusually calm though very penitent: “his calmness is born of that unwavering faith in the consolation of religion which so many had found to be a rock of safety in the hour of trouble.”

The snow storm had continued all night, and in the morning of Friday, January 5, 1883, the first Hamilton and Dundas Street Railway car made the trip from the Valley Town to the city with considerable difficulty. The manager of that line then decided to cancel all the H. and D. Street railway service for the rest of the day.
The major lines, the Hamilton and Northern Railway and the Grand Trunk Railway, were somewhat delayed by the adverse weather condition, but traffic on the lines continued. 5

In Milton, Michael O’Rourke awoke early after, in the words of the Spectator man on scene, “sleeping as peacefully as though he was an innocent child.”
 5 “O’Rourke : The Murderer Dies Without a Struggle” Spectator January 5, 1883.
Despite what was about to happen, the condemned man was quite calm and as dawn broke, he was observed quietly smoking a clay pipe in his cell.
At exactly 8 a.m., the condemned man was led across the jail yard to the scaffold, followed by his spiritual advisor, Father O’Reilly, quietly repeating a prayer.
Among the crowd gathered to witness the execution was Hamilton Police chief A. D. Stewart who had been very instrumental in gathering sufficient evidence to convict O’Rourke of the murder charge.
After the prisoner ascended the scaffold steps with a firm step, he stood on the trap door and looked steadily at the crowd below him.
“ ‘Michael O’Rourke, have you anything to say to these people here assembled?’ asked Sheriff Clements.
“ ‘No sir, I don’t feel inclined to say anything,’ answered O’Rourke slowly, but without a tremor in his voice.”5
Lifting the prisoner’s whiskers to adjust the noose, the executioner asked O’Rourke to kneel on the trap door. After a white cap was pulled over the condemned man’s head, the executioner stepped back and placed his hand on the lever which worked the trap door.
When Father O’Reilly spoke the words, “Our Father,” the lever was pulled, and the body of O’Rourke dropped with a thud : “as he fell his legs straightened out and the body hung straight and stiff without movement, the head hanging to the right, the knot of the noose having been placed under the left ear. The cross which the priest had placed in his right hand dropped to the ground, but his rosary which he had in his left hand, still hung on the stiff fingers.”5

Jimmy Green was a familiar figure in Hamilton in 1883 : “on Saturday nights when the streets are crowded, Jimmy Green is always to be seen parading up and down the sidewalk as fast as his legs will carry him. He seems to think his mission is to walk the streets at the top of his speed.”

On the weekend after the heavy snowfall, iceboating was still taking place on the bay, although there considerable amount of snow that had fallen negatively affected the speed the iceboaters could attain. One of the iceboats named the Phantom was big enough, and had large enough sails, to take advantage of the still winds of that weekend and fly through the snowdrifts.

On Monday, January 8, 1883, the Spectator carried an article, describing in some detail the workings of the Hamilton Post Office.
The major problem faced by the post office staff was the careless manner in which many of the posted letters were addressed : “post office clerks are but human. And if a man carefully writes a letter, seals the envelope and puts a stamp on it, and then just as carefully drops it into the letter box without first having written a direction on the envelope, the clerks are not to blame if the letter does not reach its destination.”6
 6 Mail Matters : The Staff of the Hamilton Post Office” Spectator. January 8, 1883
In an interview with Postmaster H. N. Case, he was quoted as saying, “It is astonishing to see the great number of letters which are dropped into the office here, either not directed, or unstamped, or unsealed.”
Difficult to decipher addresses were a frequent but not always an insurmountable problem for Hamilton’s postal clerks in 1883 : “the directions on letters posted by foreigners or received from foreign countries are extremely puzzling in many cases. But the clerks are seldom entirely baffled. Five or six of them will hold a consultation over a puzzling letter, and the letters of a name which one man cannot decipher will often come with a flash like an inspiration to another.”

On January 11, 1883, the Spectator ran an account of the trouble the Hamilton waterworks department encountered as a result of the recent storm: “Ice blew on the shore opposite the waterworks’ filtering basin and grounded there to a depth of ten feet. When the supply of water entering the basin began to fail, a gang of twenty men was sent out with axes and other tools to cut a channel through the grounded ice.”
 Eventually, the channel had been cleared and the water began once more to filter into the basin averting the fear that Hamilton’s supply of water would be cut off.

On January 12, 1883, the Spectator followed its article on the difficulties faced by staff at the Hamilton Post Office with a comprehensive account of all the workings at the local postal department.
The reporter was of the opinion that “the general public in visiting the city post office on business have but a faint conception of the bustle and rush of business transacted in its various departments.”7
7     “Among the Mails : An Interesting Chapter Concerning the Postal Department” Spectator. January 12, 1883.
To inform the Spec’s readers about the postal service in Hamilton, the reporter was taken on a thorough tour of the office, starting at 2 a. m.
At the rear of the post office, located at 70 James street north, the reporter found the mail wagon driver busily unloading a large number of mail bags recently brought into the city on the night trains.
The bags were then quickly unlocked and the contents deposited on a large table where the letters were separated from the newspapers. Each letter was stamped on the back with the Hamilton post mark and the date of receipt, then sent along to the sorters :
“The sorting of correspondence is a matter of no small moment and receives the utmost care and attention, a simple mistake of placing a letter addressed to Toronto in the neighboring compartments for Quebec or Winnipeg might cause a great deal of trouble and possibly individual loss.”7
At 5 a.m., the street letter box collector arrives at the post office with correspondence gathered from post boxes throughout the city. This bulk of material is sorted in the same manner as the mail brought in by the night trains:
“Few people, as they receive their morning correspondence, confer a thought on the labors of weary night workers whose efforts have contributed so much to the enjoyment of the privilege, while ordinary mortals have been the happy denizens of dreamland, these workers of the night, with nimble fingers and active brains, have been contributing to the enjoyment and gratification of the waking hours of the general public.” 7
By 7 a.m., Hamilton’s full complement of 25 mail carriers would be at the post office, making the final sort of letters so that tere would be no delays on their walks:
“These hardy heroes of the storm, who have so nobly trodden from door to door, distributing their precious burden, so welcomely received and richly treasured by happy recipients, are deserving of more than a passing word of commendation”7
The postal carriers, “thanks to the bounty of a munificent government,”7 were issued a good supply of warm clothing so that the hardships of exposure to the elements would be reduced :
“Out at 8 a.m. and in at 6 p.m., for ten long hours, the weary walkers know no rest, and when home is reached, the tired limbs too gladly embrace the opportune rest to readily yield to any other call than that which bids them to the duties of the morrow.” 7
Over 50 people worked at the James Street North Post office in conditions that were considered overcrowded and somewhat unsanitary for those employees :
“It must be inferred that, where such a large number is employed, there are not unhealthy men, for the contrary is the fact, some fourteen per cent of the clerical staff being now disabled by continued illness, and whose absence must more or less disturb the convenient working of the office, but such absence, although entailing an additional amount of labor on those whose fortunate good health permits them to be on duty, is not permitted to detract from the efficient and punctual discharge of the business of the office.”

At about 7:30, Saturday evening, January 13, 1883, the members of the Salvation Army marched to the Hamilton City Hall on James Street North and gathered under the bell tower:
“Forming a circle about the Hallelujah Singer, they sang a hymn to the accompaniment of a couple of hallelujah bass drums, four hallelujah tambourines and a couple of hallelujah fifes”8
8      “A Hallelujah Band : Trials of the Salvation Army on a Street Parade” Spectator. January 15, 1883
After the hymn, Captain Freer delivered a short exhortation, the army reformed, the band struck up and off they went down King William street to return to their barracks:
“A disorderly mob of several hundred persons followed them, marching on the sidewalks and on the road, hooting, yelling and pelting the little band of soldiers with snowballs.” 8
When the Ferguson Avenue barracks were reached, there was a crush of people jammed at the door, a door only wide enough to admit one person at a time:
“The army was in the center of the crowd. The drums were banged, the soldiers hustled and pelted with snow, and their caps were pushed down over their eyes. For half an hour, the crowd surged and swayed back and forth, and not a half dozen persons got into the barracks in the meantime.” 8  
Finally, the crowd grew tired of harassing the Salvationists and gradually dispersed.