1883 February 21-28

When the Spectator reporter was making his usual rounds in search of news for the paper, he noticed that the counter in the sheriff’s outer office was covered with books. The books were being scrutinized by an expert accountant, who, even early in his investigation, was finding the books in a most unsatisfactory condition.
          Later in the day, Mr. McNab, a brother-in-law of Sheriff McKellar, arrived from Toronto, to supervise the examination of the books :

“Mr. McNab discovered sufficient grounds for taking legal proceedings against Mr. Gibson, and swore out a warrant for his arrest, which was placed in the hands of the chief of police.”¹

¹ “Fred John Gibson : Something Crooked in the Sheriff’s Office” Spectator. February 20, 1883

Ironically, ten days previously, Deputy-Sheriff Gibson had encountered Police Chief A. D. Stewart and Detective McKenzie on the street, and, jokingly, had asked them if they were about to arrest him.

When asked by Chief Stewart why he would think such a thing, Gibson replied, somewhat seriously, “Haven’t you heard of it? Why, the sheriff is going to have me up before long for robbing him, and I want you two to serve the warrant.”¹

Gibson did not wait for a warrant to be served on him. Hearing that MacNab had undertaken legal proceedings against him, Gibson voluntarily turned himself in at No. 3 Police station.

Although his application for bail was granted, when Gibson found out that a personal surety of $2,000 was required, he agreed to be detained in custody.

Monday, February 20, 1883 was the day set aside for the official reading of the proclamation in which the date of the upcoming election was to be announced and the nomination of candidates to be completed. The proceedings were held on the steps of the Wentworth County Court House.

After the three candidates had been nominated, and duly seconded, the crowd, numbering about 200, which had gathered to witness the proclamation and nominations, then began to move into the court house where it was expected that the candidates would make speeches:

“Mr. Gibson, however, began to speak from the steps. He insisted that the boundary award and the Streams Bill were the true issues of the contest, but the crowd laughed at him. The interruptions, which had been frequent all through the speaking, now became most incessant, and Mr. Gibson’s voice was drowned in a continual storm of yells, cheers, hoots and hisses.

“Very little of Mr. Martin’s speech was audible, either, for the Williams’ party composed of hoarse-voiced youths and people, who, having no vote on election day, try to make it even by shouting on nomination day, would not listen to the arguments of Messrs. Martin and Gibson, but howled like a pack of wolves at every word said by either of them. On the other hand, when Mr. Williams was speaking, he was not once interrupted, and his opponents gave Mr. Williams a fair hearing which his supporters refused to others.

“Mr. Williams delivered a short harangue of the usual demagogic character.” ²

² The Nominations: Three Candidates Nominated to Contest the City” Spectator February 20, 1883.

A beautiful evening in Hamilton, February 19, 1883 described in the Spectator:

“Last night was one of the finest of the season. The sky was cloudless, and the light of the full moon shone on the snow. The roads in the city were in splendid condition for sleigh riding, which was indulged in by large numbers, and several sleighing parties left the city for neighboring villages. A beautiful night is, however, not the only thing requisite to make a sleighing party enjoyable. A jolly party on the way to the Brant house, Burlington, met with a slight mishap on the corner of Bay and York streets, through a badly-managed team of horses.”

In February, 1883, Mr. Thomas Burrow, of the hamlet of Woodburn in Binbrook Township, was married to a lady named King:

“There was nothing particular remarkable about the wedding, but a lot of hoodlums, who reside in the vicinity of Mr. Brown’s residence, thought they would have a little rough fun over it, so they assembled themselves together with shotguns, horns, bells and other instruments of torture, and proceeding to the home of the newly-married couple, raised a babel of noise.”³

³ “Bad Boys : Get Up a Old-Fashioned Charivari” Spectator. February 22, 1883.

When the bridegroom asked them to stop and refused their demand for $5, the men raised even more noise and began to shoot of their guns in the air and shattered much of the glass in Mr. Brown’s residence. The following day, Mr. Brown came into Hamilton to swear out a warrant for the arrest of the charivari party.

The Spectator’s coverage of the political campaign of John Gibson was very sparse and usually critical.

On Wednesday, February 21, 1883, the Grit candidate spoke at two separate meetings in Hamilton, “first, in Blaisdall’s house, corner of Locke and Pine streets. From this Mr. Gibson went to Crook’s hotel in No. 4 Ward.”⁴

⁴ “Gibson’s Meetings : Mr. Gibson’s Visit to the West End” Spectator. February 22, 1883.

The Spectator termed that Gibson’s reception at the hotel was “decidedly cool. There was by far a larger crowd in the barroom than in the billiard room.”⁴

In the aftermath of the disastrous railway collision, one of Hamilton’s most prominent photographers paid to have the following advertisement carried in the Spectator:

“Edward Mason – Mr. William Farmer, photographer, 35 King Street west, is finishing a number of excellent cabinet-sized pictures of the late Edward Mason, who was killed in the G. T. R. collision a few days ago. Those of his friends who are desirous of securing copies can obtain them at the studio.”

On Thursday evening, February 22, 1883, a public lecture was given by Mr. John E. Irvine on the Battles of the Crimean War. A Spectator reporter was among the few in attendance:

“The lecture did not contain sufficient interest to attract a large audience, therefore the capacity of the room was not taxed.” ⁵

⁵  “Scenes from the Battlefield : Painted in Words by John E. Irvine” Spectator. February 23, 1883.

As part of his address, Mr. Irvine referred to an experience he had in the County of Wentworth some years previously:

“Shortly after the murder of Joseph Pool, near Dundas, the veteran was billed to lecture in Waterdown. The weather being fine, he continued to do his travelling on foot. Chief of Police Fitzgerald of Dundas, who applied himself diligently in the work of discovering the murderer that for a time he thought of nothing else, heard that a suspicious-looking man carrying a sword was seen in the neighborhood. The chief at once concluded that this must be the murderer, ran him down, arrested and lodged him in the cells of the town hall.”⁵

After an overnight stay in the jail, the travelling lecturer was able to convince Chief Fitzgerald that he was not the murderer being sought.

Three items which appeared in the Spectator of February 23, 1883:

“Fred de Lacey – This enterprising hotel man has his premise illuminated with the electric light. It is working in first style, and has attracted large crowds of visitors. Drop in at 19 Hughson street north and see it in operation.”

          “MORE GLASS WORKS – The Edison Electric Light company will shortly establish a glass works in Hamilton for the manufacture of vacuum lamps used in the Edison system of lighting.”
          “HIS SETTLEMENT – Leo Von Wests, the traveler who was injured in the late collision and who left Hamilton Wednesday, made a settlement with the company before going away. He received $270 besides his hotel and physician’s bill, and having his horses taken care of.”

On Thursday February 23, 1883, Mr. Edward Green returned to Hamilton after an absence of eighteen months. On the evening of August 21, 1881, Edward, a factory hand at Gartshore’s foundry, hired a skiff from Like Thomson’s boat house and went for a row on the bay.

The next day the boat was found overturned and Edward Green was nowhere to be found. It was assumed that he had drowned although his body was never recovered.

After a few days, a companion told Green’s father that his son had left for Colorado, and had tried to give the impression that he had drowned.

But Green had not faked his death at all:

“Yesterday Green walked into the Spectator office and introduced himself. This was pretty conclusive proof that he was not drowned – at least not to any great extent. Green read the files of the Spectator containing the account of the search for hi, and denied the story that he ever proposed to upset his boat and go away from this neighborhood.

“He says that after leaving the boathouse, he rowed to Oaklands in company with a friend named Harry Gillen, who had a boat from Bastien’s boat house. They left their boats on the shore at Oaklands, while they went up the hill. When they returned Gillan’s boat was gone, and the oar and the seat of Green’s boat were also missing. It was blowing very hard at the time and they decided not to row back to the city.”⁶

⁶ “He Returns Again : The Wheel of Time Turn Up Edward Green in Hamilton” Spectator. February 23, 1883.

Green and his friend walked to Waterdown where they boarded a train to Toronto. At Burlington, Green disembarked in order to catch a west bound train back into Hamilton. He got confused on the platform and mistakenly boarded an eastbound train. After realizing his mistake, Green decided to just keep going east and not return to Hamilton.

From the Spectator of February 23, 1883 :

“A STUPID HOAX – Announcement was made in yesterday’s SPECTATOR that a gold-headed cane had been presented to Mr. Herbert Dixon, of the Custom House, accompanied by an address. Nothing of the sort took place. No cane was given to Mr. Dixon, no address was read to him, and he has no intention of changing his condition in life. The name signed to the pretended address is a forgery, and W. Girouard is a lad. Some stupid person probably imagined he was getting off a joke at the expense of a respectable and valued officer, who has given no occasion for anything of the sort. William McLeod, of James street, brought the matter to this office, where it was accepted in good faith. If he is wise, he will explain how he came to be employed in such an unworthy transaction”

On Thursday February 22, 1883, Fred Gibson made his first appearance in Hamilton’s police court to be formally arraigned on the charge of embezzlement in connection with his duties as Deputy-Sheriff.

Taking a seat on front of the barrister’s table, Gibson was described by the Spectator reporter as occupying himself “with as much indifference as though some one else and not he was charged with the crime of embezzlement. He only showed signs of interest when he smiled contemptuously upon Lawyer McNab, the Sheriff’s counsel. Gibson, with hands thrust in his trousers’ pockets, rambled about the court room and took liberties which prisoners are not in the habit of taking.”⁷

⁷ “The Deputy’s Deficit : Fred John Gibson Before the Police Magistrate” Spectator. February 23, 1883.

Police magistrate Cahill occupied the bench despite suffering from a seriously debilitated physical ailment. The Spectator reporter observed that the police magistrate “has not yet fully recovered from an attack of sciatica, and was unable to walk from his residence to the court.” ⁷

Very little evidence for or against the defendant was presented, although there was an outburst of temper on the part of Gibson towards the lawyer, McNab:

“McNab thought it would facilitate matters if the deposit book was produced. He insinuated that the book was in the possession of Mr. Gibson, who refused to produce it.

“Gibson, becoming excited, took a leather-covered book from his pocket a flung it across the table towards McNab saying : ‘There it is. Look at it.’

“The lawyer picked up the book and threw it back. ‘If you want to give me that book, do it decently,’ said he.

“ ‘I’m not dealing with a decent man,’ said Gibson.”⁷

The Gibson case was adjourned at an early hour to allow more detailed examination of the books and accounts.

On February 26, 1883, the following letter to the editor of the Spectator was run under the headline, “To the Workingmen of Hamilton : By One of Yourselves”

“To the editor of the Spectator:

“Beware ! Beware! Remember the dark days previous to the year 1878, when gaunt famine stared many a working mechanic and worthy laborer in the face.

“Tramp. Tramp. Tramp. Offering our willing hands, trained in cunning work, to those likely to want our services. We got the same answers everywhere. “Sorry, we can give you no employment.”

“This was the inevitable state of matters in cities, towns and villages. Hamilton was no exception to this state of matters – men out of work, factories closed down or nearly so, stores doing no business, wholesale houses ditto, bankruptcy and ruin everywhere. Workingmen preferring, in many instances, the jail on Barton street to starvation outside of it. Its tall, somber walls and battlements looked on a scene of inactivity and woe.

“The marble mill was then standing idle, its engine motionless; no smoke graced the top of its tall chimney. Now the same factory is a scene of busy industry. The largest spoke and hub works in the Dominion is located there. This factory is about to be doubled and the steam power increased.

“Abutting on this factory was the deserted Wanzer sewing machine factory, in which is placed the most wonderful machinery by Mr. Wanzer. Not only is this, but the same gentleman is now building on the site of a former quagmire, a magnificent building, which is evidently to fill the whole block, and in which hundreds of mechanics and laborers will be employed, and yet, this is not all: immediately below this factory is the Hamilton Cotton Mills, and the extensive dye works connected therewith, employing hundreds of hands and producing splendid samples of cotton goods.

“Right opposite this is Zingheim’s large cabinet works, and on Barton street, contiguous to this, there is a large new foundry in course of construction capable of making castings of the largest size.

“Fellow workmen, all this is located in a neighborhood that in 1868 contained no industry but that of breaking stones in the jail yard. But I am not by any means through.

“We will go up Wellington street, and we will there find the Meriden Britannia works – that emporium of art, where the most beautiful of domestic requisites are made to please the eye and cultivate the taste. This was a creation of the N. P, also.

“Still further on we come to the then-closed clock factory, now a scene of humming industry, a factory devoted to the correct measurement of ime so fast fleeting away from us, and soon to bring us to the end of our earthly course. May it be in peace when it comes.

“And still further on, we get to Northey’s late machine shop, now a worsted factory. Yet further up the street there is the Ontario canning factory, employing in season hundreds of hands in canning farmers’ produce, thus benefitting the country and the city. Canned goods were previously all imported.

“Close to here, on King street, is the large new brush factory. Further on King William street is the new chandelier factory and foundry of Young and Brother. Behind this, near King street, is the new stamp works of Mr. Stone, where hats are made rivaling any imported, and employing a large number of hands.

“On Hughson street is the new foundry of Mr. Williams, and on Macnab street, a new shoe factory. On Queen street, a new and extensive wire works to be further extended this spring. Then there are the rolling mills, now a busy scene of industry, which was dead in 1878.

“We have not got to the end of the budget. There are two important and extensive cotton mills, the Ontario and the Erie, employing many hundred hands, many more on the site of an extensive foundry, which died in 1878.

“Then there is the Burlington glass works in full swing, producing all kinds of first class white goods, dead in 1878.”

On Saturday evening, February 24, 1883, Mr. Stuart Cumberland, a well-known “thought reader and exposer of spiritualism” invited a number of prominent Hamiltonians to attend a private séance in the gentleman’s parlor of the Royal Hotel.

A Spectator reporter was one of the invited, and he began his account of the evening with a description of Stuart Cumberland:

“Mr. Cumberland makes a favorable impression on his appearance, and a few minutes general conversation showed him to be a refined gentleman, and of a very sociable disposition. Mr. Cumberland is a young Englishman with handsome grace, fine form, blond hair and moustache, and speaks with an English accent. On this occasion, he was attired in a neat-fitting evening dress, even to the patent leather pumps and silk tie.”⁸

⁸ “Thought Reading : Demonstrations by Mr. Stuart Cumberland” Spectator. February 26, 1883.

Beginning the demonstration, Mr. Cumberland said that he needed someone who could concentrate his mind upon one this in the room, because, as he said : ‘You can’t read the abstract thought no more than you can see into the middle of next week.’

Police Chief A. D. Stewart was elected as the first subject:

“The mind reader requested him to think of something in the room, bandaged his own eyes, and holding the subject by the left hand with an arm extended, walked him about the room at a brisk pace until he laid his hand upon a chair castor. Mr. Stewart announced that that was the subject of his sole thought”⁸

Rev. Dr. Burns, principal of the Wesleyan Ladies’ College, was chosen as the next subject. Dr. Burns tried to puzzle the thought reader by concentrating on a stud attached to Mr. Cumberland’s shirt front:

“After walking about the room, as in the first demonstration, Mr. Cumberland stood in the middle of the floor and laid the doctor’s hand on the stud. Mr. Cumberland said: ‘No matter what part of the room I led the gentleman, the thought seemed to follow, and I concluded that the object was about my person.’ ”⁸

After a few more extraordinary demonstrations of his thought-reading powers, Mr. Cumberland was interviewed by the men gathered at the Royal Hotel.

Dr. McDonald asked if Mr. Cumberland thought that every thought had an outward expression:

“ ‘The body, I think, is so closely united with the mind that the two cannot act separately,’ answered Mr. Cumberland, who added that his powers were not of a supernatural variety. Mr. Cumberland claimed he did not need to surround himself with meaningless apparatus to give his performances an air of majesty, like some of his competitors. On the contrary, he deliberately kept his performances simple.”⁸

Dr. Burns asked what utility Mr. Cumberland’s powers would have in the practical world.

Cumberland said that he felt that his powers of observation would be particularly useful in courts of law, saying

“By careful study, I think you can ascertain what is going on in a man’s mind by the expression of his face; for, instance, if a man told you a lie, he could not do so a second time without detection.”⁸

Dr. Burns then expressed the opinion that an exception to the rule would be cases involving the habitual liar. A somewhat guilty but unnamed member of the press, possibly the Spectator or the man from Times, received the following observation :

“And the expression of a correspondent demonstrated inward uneasiness.”⁸

The purpose of the demonstration at the Royal Hotel was to publicize Cumberland’s series of appearances at the Grand Opera House.

The publicity was effective as large crowds filled the theatre for his appearances, one of which received the following review in the Spectator:

“A large number of prominent citizens, including some who very seldom visit the theatre were present. Mr. Cumberland did several of the spiritualist’s best tricks, including the cabinet manifestations. The entertainment was instructive and highly amusing, and applause was frequent.”⁹

⁹ “Stuart Cumberland” Spectator. February 27, 1883.

The results of the provincial election of February 1883 were extremely favorable to the incumbent Mowat administration, both provincially and in Hamilton itself.

Despite a wicked snow storm, a large number of Grit supporters gathered at the Hamilton Central Committee rooms of the Reform Association to await the results.

When the final results were announced to the crowd, the excitement was intense:

“Mr. Gibson was lifted by four pairs of brawny arms, carried through one of the front windows, and set on his feet near the edge of the wooden awning.

“A procession of sleighs was formed. Mr. Gibson and a few friends led the procession in a hack, and there followed a long string of single and double sleighs crowded with cheering electors, most of whom held brooms which they waved aloft in triumph.”¹⁰

¹⁰  “Sustained : The Mowat Administration Again Returned to Power” Times. February 28, 1883.

At the Times building on King William street, the crowd which gathered outside the building was so thick that no vehicles of any kind could pass along :

“Thousands of eager hands were stretched for ‘extras’ which were distributed from the window s of the office. The scene from the windows was exceedingly wild and picturesque.

“All the varied faces in the crowds that filled the streets were lit up by the glow from the illuminations in front of the building, and each face was an index of the emotions which were passing in rapid succession through the heart of the man to which it belonged”¹⁰

The man who had written the Spectator extolling the industrial advances that Hamilton was enjoying because of the Tory’s National Policy, again wrote to the Spectator in the aftermath of the election in which the provincial Tories were trounced.

He wrote:

“The election is now over. The absurd position in which we have placed ourselves is apparent at a glance. We have returned to the Provincial House a free trader and an opponent of the protectionists Government at Ottawa. We have, in Hamilton, given an immense protectionist vote. As our candidate was a protectionist, as you well know, the man who would represent our interests and the interests of our employers is kept out of the Legislature. We have given the enemies of the manufacturing interests of this country a chance to say ‘Hamilton has returned a free trader.’ They will not say a majority voted for protection. You have elected a man by a minority vote of not more than a third of the available vote. I have not one word to say against him, except that his interest is not our interest. We have shown our strength, in this instance, and also, we have shown our weakness. I saw no good from it, as no good comes. Let it be a warning to us in the future.

Signed,

Mechanic.”¹¹

¹¹ “To the Workingmen of Hamilton From One of Yourselves”  Spectator. February 28, 1883. 

The winter snowfall of early 1883 was sufficient to allow coasting (tobogganing) activities to take place in the Hamilton area.

When the ‘coasters’ used the principal city streets for their fun, Police Chief A. D. Stewart had many of them summonsed because his fears that a serious accident might occur.

On February, 27, 1883, the Chief’s concerns were realized when a serious accident did happen on James street south :

“Miss Hebden, her younger sister, daughters of the late rector of the Church of the Ascension, and Miss Ailwyn, were coming down the steep incline on James street south on two hand-sleds, hitched together, and collectively named a bob, when they met a horse and cutter ascending the hill, and the crash sent the bob and its occupants with great force into the ditch. The three young ladies received several severe cuts and bruises about the face and head.”¹²

¹² “Collision : Serious Coasting Accident on James Street” Spectator. February 27, 1883.

1883 February 15 +

There was more than the usual interest in the Hamilton Police Court proceedings of February 15, 1883. The main case involved a charge of inflicting excessive punishment laid against John Ross, Head Teacher at Victoria School.

A student at that school, Charley Roe, had been severely disciplined by Ross, and the boy’s father, John Roe, had laid the charge.

As described by the Times reporter at that session of the Police Court:

“The little fellow was brought into court. He is about 9 nine years of age and a bright, intelligent-looking boy. The results of his punishment appeared on his body in the form of black and blue welts, which were so painful that the boy was not able to sit down.”^1/2

^½ “Excessive Punishment : The Head Teacher of Victoria School in the Police Court” Times. February 15, 1883.

The police magistrate was not in attendance that day, his place being filled by Alderman Carruthers.

The facts of the case, as brought out in the court, were outlined by the reporter as follows:

“Yesterday morning young Ross, with several others, was running about the classroom, making an unnecessary noise. His teacher, Miss Wylie, considered this offense heinous enough to warrant punishment, and commanded the boy to hold out his hand. The little fellow refused. Miss Wylie then sent for Mr. Ross, the Principal, who, on arriving, ordered the child to hold out his hand, but he was also disobeyed. Mr. Ross then said that he would count thirty-nine, and if at the end of that time he did not submit to be whipped by his teacher, he would be punished. The thirty-nine was counted, and the pupil remained stubborn. On this Mr. Ross caught him up, placed him across his knee and spanked him for a while with an india rubber strap about an inch broad and a quarter of an inch thick. He then stopped and asked the little fellow if he would submit to his teacher, but there being no sign of submission, the punishment was continued. Again the teacher stopped, and again the boy was obdurate. After a third vigorous application of the strap, the boy submitted to be whipped by Miss Wylie, and received two slaps on each hand.”

In his defense, Ross testified that he viewed the matter as a question of superiority between himself as principal and the child as student. If the boy had been victorious in the battle of wills, the principal said, insubordination in the school would be encouraged.

When asked by the Chief of Police if he did not feel the punishment was excessive, the principal told Chief Stewart, “Well, it was pretty severe flogging.” But the principal excused his actions to the Police Chief by pointing to the stubbornness of the boy and the necessity of compelling him to be reasonable.

The Crown Attorney at this point in the proceedings interjected that “I would be very sorry to see a boy of mine submit to reason only at the point of a birch rod.”

Dr. Woolverton testified that the boy’s wounds were severe and that, in his opinion, the punishment was excessive.

The Crown Attorney, in his summation, suggested that the principal felt that his actions in enforcing discipline were part of his duties. Therefore the Crown Attorney felt that the case had wider implications that just the specific incident.

Alderman Carruthers, who openly stated that he was opposed to corporal punishment in schools, then ruled that the punishment inflicted on Charley Roe was unnecessarily severe and found Principal Ross guilty as charged, and fined him $10 plus costs.

The principal’s defense counsel immediately let it be known that the decision would be appealed. Lawyer Burton said that, in his view, the court’s decision was made too hastily, was altogether unfair, and was a blow at the authority of teachers which ought not be tolerated.  

         On Thursday February 15, 1883, the Pacific Express, a through train from New York to Chicago, arrived in Hamilton two hours late. The train stopped briefly hook onto a pilot engine which would help it make the long grade up the escarpment behind Dundas.

Shortly after 5 p.m., the Pacific Express pulled out of the Hamilton Grand Trunk Railway yards, unaware that the day express coming from the west had just left from Dundas on the same track:

“On and on the trains rushed, rapidly nearing each other, yet hid from sight by the hills which surround this city, and around which the track winds. The passengers of the Pacific Express, all unconscious of the impending danger composed themselves for the long run between Hamilton and London, and many of them settled down for a comfortable nap. The travelers in the day express, many of whom were nearing home, were beginning to gather books and wraps together, and making preparations for leaving the cars and disembarking at Hamilton to receive the warm greetings of relatives and friends, when suddenly there was a fearful crash, and in a moment, the scene was one of indescribable confusion.

“The scene was one which calculated to strike dismay into the stoutest heart. The passengers swarmed out of the coaches of both trains, which still stood on the rails, and surrounded the ruins of the baggage and smoking cars, with which several human beings were mixed up in a manner dreadful to behold. The train hands went promptly to work to rescue the injured passengers from their terrible predicament, and worked like beavers, soon to be rewarded with success.

“To add to the horror of the situation, while the train men were working to free the unfortunate passengers, the woodwork of the car caught fire from the stove, and, for a few minutes, it looked as though the car and its occupants would be burned up. Luckily the fire was soon got out. One by one, the passengers were freed, some with bruised heads, and others with their feet crushed. Still the work at the ruins went on, and by-the-by, the train men came upon the body of a man whose face was smashed in a fearful manner. He had been killed instantly.

“The passenger whose body was found in the wreckage of the wrecked railroad car was later identified as Thomas S. Douglas, of Beauport, New York, who was headed to Guelph.”¹

^{1 “}Collision : A Fearful Catastrophe on the G. T. R.” Spectator. February 16, 1883.

The other fatality resulting from the train collision was that of Edward Mason, of Locke street, Hamilton, who was the engineer of the pilot engine which was helping the Pacific Express make it up the escarpment:

“Poor Teddy Mason! He had stuck to his engine to the last, and his poor, scalded body was found amid the debris of the locomotives, the head badly cut, and the skin peeled by the steam which had escaped from a broken pipe.”¹

The pilot engine driven by Mason, the other locomotive drawing the Pacific Express, plus the locomotive drawing the day express from the west were all badly smashed up:

“The headlights, front works and boiler caps were smashed to smithereens, and the cylinders and piston rods were broken and twisted as if they had been made of wood instead of iron and steel.” ¹

As soon as news of the wreck spread over the city, hundreds of people walked up the track to witness the scene:

“The picture was one of terrible picturesqueness. Fires burning in the snow alongside of the track gave light for the men to work by. The snorting engine that was tugging at the wrecked baggage car gave forth volumes of steam and black smoke. From the pile where the engines lay heaped up, steam was curling up in the misty moonlight, and the fires lit up the side of the mountain, with its snow-covered hillocks and dark pine trees. The glare reflected from the snow was visible for miles.”¹

The scene at the Grand Trunk Railway depot on Stuart street was one of intense activity, with hundreds of people on hand trying to learn the details of the collision:

“A look of anxiety was worn by each face until the real extent of the loss of life was made known. Diligent officials were everywhere dispatching assistance to the wreck, looking after the comfort of the wounded and other duties of like nature. The ladies’ waiting room was filled with belated travelers, whose countenances wore a frightened and excited expression. People were running up and down the platforms, dodging in and out of the offices looking after their baggage. People who had returned from the scene of the terrible destruction were surrounded by people and worried by questions. The telegraph office was crowded with men awaiting the latest from the wreck and discussing the cause of the accident.” ¹

The evening of February 16, 1883 was a most memorable one in the history of the Hamilton Salvation Army. Early in the evening, the Hamilton corps marched to the Grand Trunk Railway station to meet incoming visitors from London and Toronto. The visiting soldiers were then escorted to the barracks where a banquet was laid out on nine long tables:

“At least 600 men, women and children were endeavoring to stow away as much food as was possible. Nor did the small boy scruple to fill his pockets, much to the disgust of the unfortunate ones who happened to be a little late in arriving.”²

² “Worrying Satan : An Unusual Stir in the Salvation Army” Spectator. February 17, 1883.

After the banquet, all the Salvation Army soldiers formed in procession, and to the music of the hallelujah band, which included “bass and drums, tin whistles, fifes, tambourines and other instruments,” ² marched to the Academy of Music hall on James street north.

The proceedings of the Salvation Army attracted much interest in the city:

“Many people have been curious to know the antics of the soldiers and on this there is no doubt the reason why the hall was very well filled.”²

There were several speakers who related their experiences with the Salvation Army, including one man who ridiculed the establishment churches saying that they were too cold to reach the hearts of sinners.

The main speaker of the evening was Major Moore, of Brooklyn, New York, who began by severely criticizing the speaker who had condemned the large churches, saying that the Salvation Army does not believe in that kind of approach.

Major Moore felt that the Salvation Army was in a good position to help “save the souls of the fallen who never go to church, but who hear the soldiers sing and pray in the streets.”²

The evening concluded with the assembled sing many the times the song, “We’ll Lift Up the Banner.”

On Saturday evening, February 17, 1883, Hamilton workingmen’s candidate in the upcoming provincial election, Ed Williams, held a mass meeting at the Academy of Music, where the candidate made his position on several issues known in no uncertain terms:

“I have been accused of being a socialist and one who encourages strikes. In all the disputes between capital and labor, I have been in favor of a give and take policy. Since my coming here I have seen no socialism in the whole city of Hamilton. All we want is equal laws for rich and poor, and labor is going to make a move in that direction in Hamilton.

“I am not in favor of class representation, that is a lawyers for the lawyers, and so on, but I am positively opposed to class exclusion, and when I am elected the first workingman to the local Legislature, the death knell to class exclusion will be sounded.”³

³ “Candidate Williams : Delivers His Speech at the Academy of Music” Spectator. February 19, 1883.

Mr. Fred Walters was the next speaker, and he talked of the loyalty of the iron molders to the workingman’s candidate:

“From the standpoint of labor, Mr. Williams’ record was a good one, both here and across the sea. They all united in saying that strikes were injurious to capital and labor. The trade unions had striven to abolish strikes. There was no danger of communism making its appearance, unless there was more oppression put upon the workingmen. (Cheers) The workingmen of Hamilton are just as loyal to their rulers as are the upper classes, and have no desire to join such societies. (Cheers)” ³

Allan Studholme ended his address by urging store and saloon keepers not to oppose the workingman’s candidate, as it was from the workingman that they received their support.

Tom Brick, upon introduction, as the Spectator noted “was cheered until the voices of the boys in front of the gallery fairly cracked”³

In his forceful address he said :

“We are not satisfied with what we have; we want to see our sons grow up to better positions than we now enjoy. (Cheers) We must down these fellows; we have been keeping them up long enough. I stuck to the Liberal-Conservatives through thick and thin, and what thanks did I get for it? On election day, they come up and shake hands with me, and the next day, they didn’t know Brick from a crow. (Laughter) Let all creeds and nationalities stick together in the workingman’s party. We got the bottom knocked out of the other two parties, and they know it. (Cheers) We’ll have no more blood suckers. The Times was crying here the time of the last election about the Tories bringing over Chinese to work on the railroads. Why, gentlemen, the Times would hire a Chinaman as soon as they struck the country if they got them to work for less than a white man. (Applause) Look what they did with Jimmy Lehane; they bounced him when they got a man to do his work for a dollar a week less.”³

At that point, a disturbance broke out in the hall:

“Mr. James Lehane from a seat in the rear of the house indignantly – “That’s enough of that, Brick!”

“An agitation here commenced and cries came from the boys in the gallery of “Shut Up,’ ‘Fire him out,’ and ‘Go on, Brick,’ thus showing that Mr. Lehane’s fellow workingmen, if such these who shouted and jeered him when he objected to having his name brought up in a public meeting were, were actuated with sympathy for him, and they all united in saying that he had been shamefully used.”³

Tom Brick then resumed his address by attacking the Spectator because that while it once referred to him as ‘Tom Brick, Esquire,’ now he was nothing but ‘Tom Brick, the carter.’

Brick claimed that he could make money by making brooms than on the carters’ stand, but brooms were being made in the Central Prison.

The speaker then concluded his speech, and the evening when he turned his attention to the Grit candidate John M. Gibson:

“They say Mr. Gibson is a nice fellow, and that he is a good shot with the rifle. (Cheers) At the time of the Fenian raid, he showed that he could run as fast as any of them. (Enthusiasm) The Reformers got their men working up around Corktown trying to get the people to vote for Gibson. They’ve been promised some little government situation.”³

On February 19, 1883, an article appeared in the Spectator which dealt with rumors of a scandal at the Sherriff’s office.

Sheriff McKellar and Deputy-Sheriff Gibson had quarreled, with Gibson supposedly gaining the upper hand:

“Visitors to the sheriff’s office were greeted by the smiling countenance of the urbane Deputy-Sheriff, who looked as though no wave of trouble had ever crossed his peaceful brow.

“For a long time, there has been some dissatisfaction in the minds of some members of the legal profession in the city with the way in which the deputy-sheriff conducted the business of the sheriff’s office. He would issue proclamations and other official documents, signing them with his own name as deputy-sheriff, thus ignoring his superior officer, and in some instances, raising a doubt whether proceedings taken under  documents so signed were really legal.”⁴

^{4 “}”Gibson Must Go : The Deputy Sheriff Too Big for his Position” Spectator. February 19, 1883.

From the daily column, “Local Briefs : Fact and Fun for Everybody” of the Spectator, February 19, 1883:

“The Salvation army had knee drill in front of the city hall on Saturday evening, and after the band had struck up and marched away, another band of workers, with transparencies inscribed with gospel texts took up the position vacated by the army and preached and sang for another hour.”

A Spectator reporter started to compose some very interesting slices of life in 1883 Hamilton which eventually became stories from The Idle Spectator – this could be one of them before the pseudonym was chosen :

“On Monday morning, at a very early hour, as a Spectator compositor was going home up King street, wondering why it is that people who write long letters for publication are invariably the worst penmen in the country, he was startled at an appearance on the sidewalk before him. A figure in white approached rapidly, and with noiseless steps. The compositor’s hair didn’t rise, because he parted company with it shortly after his marriage, and his head is not now much more shaggy than a billiard ball. But he felt perturbed within. He was possessed of a desire to fly, but his feet were apparently rooted to the ground and he couldn’t budge. The ghost came nearer, and the compositor’s feet grew heavier and heavier, and although the mercury was toying with zero, he perspired freely. Presently the ghost’s noiseless progress brought him near enough for the compositor to make him out. The spook turned out to be a lad of 14, sand boots, sans socks, sans culottes, sans hat, sans everything except shirt and drawers. His eyes were wide open and fixed, , and the compositor who had seen Emma Abbot in La Sonnambula, at once tumbled to the fact that he had struck a somnambulist. The weights fell from his feet, and he collared the ex-spook and shook the somnambulism out of him. The weather was very cold, and when the sleepwalker regained his senses, he realized the fact that he was rather lightly dressed for a moonlight ramble in midwinter, and his teeth rattled like castanets. The compositor took him home, where he found that the somnambulist had walked out of the house without disturbing the family, and had half-sprung the front door behind him. The somnambulist’s name is Pearce, and he resides at 96 George street.”⁵

⁵ “A Ghost : What a Morning Paper Printer Saw at an Early Hour” Spectator February 20, 1883.