1883 - May 2

The sound of gunfire had once been heard in a well-known house in Hamilton’s north end.
          The location was a notorious house of ill-fame, once kept by Jennie Shepherd and John Lewis.
          Lewis had been an employee of the Great Western Railway, but had committed suicide in that place:

”The house stands in a lonely part of the city, on the corner of Barton and Caroline streets. The room in which Lewis shot himself has been closed up, those who frequented the place declaring that it was haunted.”¹

¹ “Robbery : John Telford Loses His Money in a Notorious Brothel”

On Tuesday May 16, 1883, John Telford visited that house, which was then in possession of Kate Walters and several other ladies. Later in the evening, Telford was arrested for public intoxication. While in police custody, Telford said that he had been robbed and asked Chief Stewart to help him recover his property.

On Further investigation, it was discovered that Telford had visited the house at Barton and Caroline streets, so the police went there to question the occupants :

“Part of the $30, and other property taken from Telford was found in the house, and, this morning, the girls will be tried for being frequents of a house of ill-fame and for stealing from Telford. The party of ladies is in the cells, dancing, singing and shouting, and raising general Cain.”¹

“The Diurnal Epitome : What Goeth On In and About the City” Hamilton Spectator. May 17, 1883

-      Liberty street, for a street of its length, has probably more children playing in its dusty road than any other street in the city.

-      A horse ran away yesterday evening up James street. The owner of it was thrown out of the buggy near Herkimer street, and the horse stopped of its own accord near the top of the mountain, being out of breath.

-      The usual weekly excursion train for Manitoba left the Hamilton and Northwestern station yesterday afternoon. A great many persons went from Hamilton.

-      Two Hamilton citizens went fishing yesterday morning to the Valley Inn. While one of them was sitting on the bridge, he suddenly disappeared under the water, apparently pulled in by a fish. He got out with nothing but a severe wetting.

          On May 17, 1883,  a reporter with the Hamilton Spectator wrote an article describing his personal experiences and observations as he wandering about the city. He first referred to himself  the :
          “Scrutator
            ‘A chile’s among ye takin’ notes.
             An’ faith he’ll prent it.’ – Burns
          “A rather funny incident occurred on the Northwestern railway Tuesday evening. A train was standing at the station and another was coming down the mountain and the lamp in the semaphore at Hunter street was unlit. As I was passing along, a group of girls stood by the corner and one of them, a buxom lass, ran from the crowd and up the ladder of the semaphore until she reached the top. By the rare, pale moonlight that flooded the scene, I could see that her hair was red as fire, and it looked so uncommonly like a signal to the approaching train, that I could not help laughing. Her companions noticed it too and burst into a perfect roar of laughter which brought the girl down again, and as I walked on, I heard her expressing great indignation because her friends were calling her ‘semi.’
          “Speaking of swimming : It would not be a bad idea for the new lessee of the Ocean house to put up some bathing houses on the bayside of the Beach, so that when ladies go down, they will enjoy a dip. It is utterly impossible for ladies to bathe around here now with any degree of comfort or safety, and though a great many of them seek secluded spots on the bay shore and do it, it would be ever so much better if houses, such as they have on Coney Island were set up and bathing suits provided, so that both ladies and gentlemen could have a bath without such great inconvenience. Make a note of this, Mr. Kerney, try it and see if it won’t work to a charm.
          “It is now the time of year when the tramp, feeling the sweet influence of budding spring, goes forth unto his peregrinations and the wary the agriculturalist adds an extra lock unto his hen roost and lays in a pound or two of No. 6 shot. It is also the time when the professional poet quaffs a generous draught of sulphur and treacle, ties a strip of red flannel about his throat and sits down to write a poem on ‘The Tender Waking of the Year.’
          “Occasionally one sees some pretty good things on the streets in the evenings. Last night I was going down King street and I noticed three very fresh young men doing something that I suppose they thought was convulsively funny. Every time they would meet a girl, one of the ‘end men’ would trip the center fellow up, causing him to fall down at the girl’s feet. He would rise and apologize very politely and the trio would go on laughing loudly at their funny act as they went. Between Macnab and James streets, they met three girls before whom the little circus was done in the usual manner, but the center girl was on to the snap, as it were, and raising her dainty hoof, she gave the fallen youth a tremendous kick right on the top of his head. I was some distance away at the time, but I heard his skull crack and I laughed softly, a I thought of the crushing juvenile freshness oftimes gets.”

          On May 16, 1883, the 11:10 train from Toronto deposited a party of 35 immigrants from England at the Stuart street station. They were met by R. A. Osbourne, the Canadian agent, and escorted to the emigrant sheds, where a number of farmers were waiting:
          “The boys are from the Lord Shaftesbury home in London, England, and are a fine, healthy-looking lot. Their ages are from 14 to 18 years, and they are pretty well used to work, and are just the class of immigrants that are wanted in this country, and are just the class of immigrants that are wanted in this country. They have all been engaged, mostly as farm hands, and will be indentured for a term of years with their employers. On their arrival at the emigration office, they deposited their bags there and were drawn up in line on the sidewalk, where a kind-hearted citizen presented them each with a small, silver coin, the first Canadian money that many of had ever seen.”^2
2 “More Immigrants : A Party of Thirty-Five English Boys Arrived from London This Morning.” Hamilton Spectator. May 17, 1883

          A very interesting case at the Hamilton Police Court on May 17, 1883 was given substantial space in the next day’s Spectator :
          “With the paint all washed off their faces, which were haggard and drawn, with one exception, from their confinement in the cells; with their tawdry finery forming a sad contrast to their sunken, sickly, evil-looking faces; with their collars limp and dirty; with their whole appearance wretched, miserable and degraded-looking in the extreme, Kate Walters, her cook, and three sisters of shame who were arrested in her house the other morning, stood up in the dock at the police court yesterday afternoon and answered the charges against them.”³

³ “Those Wicked Girls” Hamilton Spectator. May 18, 1883

          After all the evidence had been resented, Kate Walters was convicted of keeping a house of ill-fame. She was given the option of a 90 dollar fine or six months in jail. Her fine was paid by her brother-in-law.
          Miss Elizabeth McKibbon, the cook, had the charges against her dismissed. Two of the inmates, Augusta Brown and Annie Lee were forced to take six months in jail because they could not pay their $20 fines.
          The third girl, Minnie Adair, who had distinguished herself in the dock by remarking, sotto voice, that all the witnesses were “ ‘stinking liars,’ and applying other complimentary epithets to them,” was able to avoid the jail term because her fine was paid by a friend.

          “The Diurnal Epitome : What Goeth On In and About the City” Spectator. May 22, 1883

-      The cold rain of yesterday led millions of sand flies to seek the protection of any sheltered spot around the bay. The sheltered sides of boats were so thickly covered that the original color of the boat could not be distinguished, while under sheets, they were piled to the depth of several inches.

-      A drunken woman staggered down Wellington street yesterday, her face cut and bleeding from a fall, her clothes tattered and wet, hatless and wretched-looking in the extreme. Such a pitiable object she was as she staggered on through the rain, with the dazed look of intoxication in her face, helpless and alone.

The Scrutator returns, and he is ticked off :

“Who is responsible for the proper lighting of Hamilton’s street lamps? That is something, I believe, no man can tell. But it ought to be settled, and at once. The negligence in doing it properly is getting to be beyond all endurance, and I am determined to push this thing and have a definite understanding about it. Both last night and the night before, it was so dark you could hardly see your hand before your face, and the rain fell so heavily and puddles of water stood all over the sidewalks. Yet, not a single street lamp was lit and the pedestrian almost had to feel his way along, and stepping in all the pools, water splashing up, wetting his trousers, his legs and making him feel generally uncomfortable. If the lamps had been lit, he would have been able to avoid this and would have had to suffer merely from the inclemency of the weather, which is bad enough, goodness knows. Coming down York street last night, I stepped off the sidewalk, and, losing my balance, fell in the mud, almost spoiling a new suit of clothes, which would not have occurred if the lamps had been lighted as they should have been. Now this sort of thing should not be; more than that it must not be. I mean what I say, as I always do, and unless this brazen negligence of some duty is not fixed instantly, I shall know the reason why”⁴

⁴ “The Scrutator Speaks : A Chiel Who’s Among Ye Takin’ Notes” Spectator may 23, 1883.

“ ‘This is Queen’s weather and no mistake,’ said one gentleman to a friend yesterday, as he gazed at the bright sky and felt the warm rays of the sun warming his back while the cooling zephyr fanned his cheek, and it was truly a delightful day. The dark clouds, which had filled the sky for several days before, disappeared during the night, and the morning sky was clear and of that deep blue so characteristic of a perfect summer day.”

“The Queen’s Birthday : Loyal Hamiltonians Enjoy a Holiday.” ⁵

The Queen’s Birthday of 1883 was celebrated by Hamiltonians by closing up their stores and other places of business. With the free time available, Hamiltonians heavily patronized the steamboats, railways, street cars and other modes of transportation to reach various pleasure resorts and spend the day in outdoor recreation:

“The Northern and Northwestern railway ran special train service to the Beach yesterday, and did a big business without any accident. The enthusiastic fishermen turned out in great numbers, but fates were against them, and their baskets came home very light indeed. The Ocean House looked almost black, instead of its usual white – cause? Myriads of sandflies stuck on the paint. The flies were so bad that one veteran fisherman reeled up his line in disgust about 1 o’clock in the afternoon and declared that he could stand it no longer. Jolly John Dynes had a good many weary and thirsty travelers call upon him, to whom he ministered as a good Samaritan.”  ⁵

Dundurn Park was the location of a large programme prepared by the St. George’s Benevolent Society. The Independent Band began a march from Gore Park in the downtown core. Playing a selection of lively airs, the band marched to Dundurn Park where it was scheduled to play throughout the rest of the day.

The principal attraction of the morning of the Queen’s Birthday at Dundurn Park was a baseball match between the Primroses and the Hop Bitters for a purse of $50. The Primroses won by a single run, 8-7.

In the afternoon, members of the St. George’s Society orchestrated a programme of games, races, a tug-of-war and a baby contest. In the evening, a fireworks display by Professor Hand thrilled the crowd, while the park’s pavilion was the location for dancing with music provided by Hurdell’s string band:

“The familiar words, ‘swing your partners,’ ‘all promenade,’ ‘Chasse round,’ accompanied the well-known music of a quadrille band were heard. The fireworks were a great success, and many expressions of admiration were heard as rockets flew up in the air, scattering their varied lights, as bombs flew off with their accustomed ‘bombiness,’ and as the various set-pieces were lighted, to blaze for a minute in colored glory and then to fade away.”⁵

Perhaps it was the Scrutator, or the future writer to be known as The Idle Spectator, but the following article has the characteristics of both :

“There is scarcely a street in this or any other city that has not some distinctive characteristic, something that sets it out distinctly from any other street, and for which it is noted. A great many are noted for their commerce of various kinds. Others for manufactures. Some for being the stronghold of good, others for being the abode of evil, but all having peculiarities of their own, either as a whole street or in sections, as, for instance, King street having a number of dry goods stores grouped together in one place, hardware stores in another, and boot and shoe stores in another. The citizen whose daily walk is up and down King street may not notice anything peculiar in that street, but a visitor, when first passing down it, cannot fail to be struck with its singular appearance. Here, almost in the center of the city, right next to the main thoroughfare and opening on the market, and in connection with another principal thoroughfare, is a street remarkable for its dingy and unbusiness-like appearance. Looking down the street from James street, one sees a lot of uneven-looking buildings, with front varying in appearance, style and distance from the street. In fact, it might easily be mistaken for an alleyway, made to accommodate King street merchants, except for its width. The peculiarity of King William street is undoubtedly its secondhand stores and pawn shops. These vary in appearance and style much as the general run of the street, some being of an high order of pawn shops, and approaching to a fair store, but on the whole they are not very pleasing to behold, and many are decidedly low and revolting to the sight. The class of goods sold and exchanged varies greatly, some dealers confining their attention to the barter of stoves and stove ware, and a good many to the sale of old articles of clothing, while some take and exchange all sorts of goods, the whole together forming a collection which for variety of style, age and appearance would far outshine Dickens’ Old Curiosity Shop. Here at the side of a door hangs a coat which has passed through the wars, and which, if it could speak, could tell a story of battle and bloodshed, of deeds of valor, of gay parades and, possibly, of defeat. Beneath this coat and intended to accompany it in a suit  is a pair of pants of much later date, cut after a late Parisian fashion, and bearing the unmistakable stamp of the dude, probably sold or pawned by some money-wanting young man to raise funds to redecorate his person in a suit of later pattern and tighter fit. Beside these hangs an infant’s robe, once white, but now of a fashionable ecru or some other late color, while on all sides hang every imaginable style and kind of garment, carrying one back in imagination to the days long gone by. In a store adjoining is a collection of books which for variety would do justice to a public library, but the covers of some have disappeared and a good deal of the reading matter too. Here on a rickety-looking shelf is piled promiscuously all manner of books. Laying on an open Bible is a copy of Voltaire; dime novels and stories of Indian battles are heaped together with the works of eminent statesmen, poets, philanthropists, churchmen and religious writers. In the eye of the tradesman, the best author is the one whose work will command the first sale and best price. It is not an unfrequent occurrence for a young student to rummage through this pile in search of some book out of which he can gratify his love for learning at a much less price than at a first-class stationery establishment. But all these men make or seem to make a living in their own style of dealing, without caring what the general appearance of the street may be, or that their goods are not as ornamental as those of other merchants, or even that some of them have to be closely watched by the police in order to prevent crooked dealings.”⁴

⁴ “And How Is Your Uncle? : The King William Street Pawnshops” Hamilton Spectator . May 29, 1883.

About 2 p.m., on a wet and windy afternoon, Wednesday, May 30, 1883, a group of Hungarian gypsies marched into downtown Hamilton, accompanied by a number of performing bears, monkeys and horses.”⁵

⁵ “A Queer Gang : A Crowd of Nomads Strike the Town – Their Adventures Here.” Hamilton Spectator. May 31, 1883.

As the gypsies passed along the street towards the Market Square, they were closely observed by interested Hamiltonians:

“From the upstairs windows of shops around, the merry faces, tinged with curiosity, of the shop girls, their heads presenting a strange admixture of variegated hair, gazed at the show. The bears danced, the monkeys grinned, the men jiggled their tambourines, and the whole party were on the active lookout for coppers.”⁵

“There were five men in the party, four women and fifteen children. The gypsies were accompanied by three horses, a pack mule, five bears and four monkeys:

“They are a most wretched-looking party. Foully-smelling rags covered their persons, their faces are black with exposure to the sun and dirt, their black eyes and white teeth gleam out vividly from their swarthy countenances. Their tents were rigged to the horses in a primitive manner, by cross poles, and, in bags that fastened across the horses’ backs. Were firmly suspended a number of youngsters. One child hung there, sound asleep. The rain poured down on its unprotected face and saturated its hair. But it slept on peacefully.”⁵

The gypsies continually asked passersby to ‘give a me soom money,’ and told all that they were ‘ver poor.’

Later in the afternoon, part of the gypsy entourage was run out of town and those who refused to go were charged with soliciting alms :

“The horses, bears and monkeys were put in a livery stable and the people in jail, but for some reason or other they were dismissed last night about seven o’clock, and departed to join their fellows, grumbling at the action of the police.” ⁵