“The idea is a singularly happy one, forming as it does, a memorial to the late Miss Duffield, whose untiring efforts among the poor, particularly to those whose infirmities made them inmates of the hospital, were widely known and thoroughly appreciated”1
1 “Duffield Flower Mission”
Hamilton Spectator June 12, 1883
The purpose of the ladies involved in the formation of the Duffield Home Mission was to convey flowers, and in some seasons, fruit, everyday to the City Hospital to cheer the patients so confined there.
On Tuesday, June 12, 1883, the newly-constructed steps leading up the face of the escarpment from the head of Cherry street (later Ferguson Avenue South) were formally dedicated and named The Donovan Steps.
At half-past four, a large party of dignitaries assembled at the top of the steps for the official ceremony:
“Mr. John Burns occupied the chair, and in his opening remarks said that the committee of gentlemen who built these steps know that they have been a great good to the city, and especially to the locality in which they are situated. They thought it was a fitting thing that there should be a little formal opening to bring them before the public. There was also another reason why they should be publicly opened, and that was to give them a name, and the committee had chosen the name of the most promising man that the city of Hamilton had ever produced or that was sent as a representative from No. 1 Ward – the name of Ald. Donovan.”2
2 “Donovan Steps : Christening the New Mountain Steps at the Head of Cherry Street” Hamilton Spectator. June 13, 1883.
A little, girl, Miss Costello, was then called upon to christen the structure in a manner that made the some of those present wince :
“It made the economical reporter’s heart ache to see such a willful waste of wine. The ceremony was well-performed and a cheer rose as the wine ran over the steps.” 2
As the new steps lead directly from the mountain to the Corktown neighborhood, it was appropriate that the children of St. Patrick’s school were then called upon to sing “There’s a Dear Sport in Ireland.” Then followed a toast to Alderman Donovan.
In his reply to the toast, the alderman began by saying how honored he was to have the steps named after him :
“He said that 25 years ago, when he used to run around the mountain side after berries, he little thought that a flight of substantial steps, built by talented men from Mr. Miles Hunting’s firm would be called after him”2
After the christening ceremonies were completed, the crowd adjoined to Ex-Alderman Bain’s nearby residence where a pleasant time was spent.
The mayor was in attendance and he received a special presentation :
“While there Mayor Magill was present ed with a black thorn walking cane which had just been received from Ireland. Mr. Magill received it with many expressions of thanks, and in his remarks said that he would prize it most highy because of the country it came from. He was proud to have been born an Irishman, and he said that it was immigrants from the mother country which had made Canada what it is.”2
As the date, June 12, 1883 approached, there was much concern among the Hamilton members of the Knights of Pythias as to whether the weather would be favorable for their long-anticipated special day:
“ ‘What will the weather be like?’ queried dozens of the Knights. Nobody knew. The sky looked ominous. The rain fell at intervals and the knights’ hearts sank; it brightened up, and they were correspondingly filled with joy. At an early hour this morning, anxious ones were out of bed to gaze on the prospects. They looked bad. The sun was up, but the sky was filled with clouds. Gloomy thoughts came to them. “Is all our fun to be spoiled after all?’ they’d ask themselves, and an echo would answer solemnly, ‘after all,’ which was very naughty of the echo, and it should be severely reproved for thus trifling with the feelings of the tender-hearted men with the glittering helmets and bright red plumes.
“But, as the morning wore on, a change came o’er the spirit of the day’s dream. The sun came out bright and strong, the storm clouds disappeared from the surface of the clouds, and about 11 o’clock, a grand blue dome stretched overhead, flecked here and there with splashes of soft white clouds, and the hearts of the knights rose and their spirits recovered, and they congratulated themselves that they were going to have a glorious day after all.”3
3 “The Pythian Knights : Celebrate Their Great Gala Day in Hamilton”
Hamilton Spectator. June 13, 1883.
The Spectator reporter ventured out of the office and found that things were going to be fabulous for the Knights:
“The city presents a holiday appearance, gay flags float proudly in the breeze from shops around, and buntings of as many colors as human skill and ingenuity can weave, spread themselves gaudily in front of the retail shops. All together the city looks bright, cheerful and gay.”3
Throughout the morning, groups of uniformed members of the Knights of Pythias from all over Canada and from parts of the United States came to Hamilton for the big event.
The Knights of Pythias from Buffalo, New York were particularly welcomed:
“The train was 25 minutes late, and the Hamilton knights walked up and down the platform in groups of two or three waiting for it to arrive. At last, the train came slowly down the line, and the Hamilton men drew themselves up in single file, as the train came up to the platform, to welcome their brethren. The band was grouped down near the far end, and the exhilarating strains of ‘Yankee Doodle’ floated out on the morning air as the Buffalo men stepped off.”3
A procession was formed and the American guests, accompanied by those who welcomed them, marched in style to a downtown hotel:
“Crowds of people followed them. Small boys by the score gazed at the show. They ran between the knights and the bands, tripped on the sidewalks and did all in their power to raise the mischief that the heart of the average small boy so delights in”3
At one o’clock sharp, a formal procession was lined up in front of the Pythian hall on Macnab street. The processionists intended to get to the market square for a demonstration of their precision drilling abilities, but the crowds present to watch the event that there was not enough room left for the Kiights maneuver. All that could be achieved was the taking of a group photograph, after which the Knights marched away to Dundurn park for the rest of the day’s activities:
“Long before the procession reached Dundurn park, the crowd had commenced to gather, and when the bands and the gaily dressed knights reached the gate and marched along, an eager sea of expectant faces lined the paths and gazed at the show. A pretty sight the knights looked as they wound their way along, their bright plumes and glittering helmets forming a vivid contrast with the cool, green sward and waving foliage.”3
The main events of a very full series of scheduled plans for the day included a lacrosse game, a baseball game and competitive marching drills. In the evening, there were more competitive marching drills, an exhibition of Indian war dances and finally dancing under the stars:
“Dancing was kept up with great vigor to the music of Nelligan’s string band, and as the night was of a sort suitable for dancing, that proved to be the leading attraction for a large majority of the younger pleasure-seekers.”3
It had been nearly 25 years since the once unsightly space in downtown Hamilton known as the Gore had been transformed into the urban oasis known as Gore Park. The fountain, the shrubbery, lawn and flowers were lovely, but the park was surrounded by an iron fence, the gate of which was opened only on very special occasions.
Finally on June 19, 1883, Gore Park truly became a public park:
“At last, after years of talk and discussion, the Gore park has been thrown open to the public. The ‘interesting ceremony’ was performed at 10 o’clock this morning by Chief Aitchison, of the fire department, in the presence of a number of citizens. For a long time after the gates were thrown open, the passersby looked in amazement at the few who were inside enjoying the cool breeze that was borne through the spray from the fountain, and when, at last, a lad more bold than the rest, ventured in, he kept his eye upon the nearest gate, toward which he retreated as the chief drew near. A few improvements could easily be made in the park, such as placing a number of benches under the trees in the center, thus allowing persons to sit and enjoy the surrounding beauty without destroying the grass or flowers. The park will be opened at 7 o’clock every morning and close at 8 in the evening, and will be looked after by the fire department.”4
4 “The Gore Park : Formally Thrown Open for the Enjoyment of the Public”
Hamilton Spectator. June 19, 1883.
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