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.
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.
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