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
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.
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