1883 - July - 8

The excursion to Hamilton Beach organized by the Knights of Pythias for Saturday, July 19, 1883 was an immense success.
          Beautiful weather was the order of the day, adding to the enjoyment of the huge numbers of city residents who made their way to the sand strip between Lake Ontario and Burlington Bay to take in the proceedings:
          “The Knights went down in a body at 2 o’clock accompanied by the Thirteenth Battalion band. About 4 o’clock in the afternoon, they formed on the bay side, and went through their regular for about three-quarters of an hour. They drilled well, as they always do, and their neat uniforms were greeted with applause by the onlookers. The members of the Thirteenth band put up their stands immediately in front of the Ocean house and played there all afternoon. String bands for dancing to were playing all afternoon and evening in the ball rooms of both the Lakeside and the Ocean house .”^1
1 “The Knights of Pythias”  Hamilton Spectator. July 21, 1883.
          The reporter in attendance in the afternoon estimated the crowd for the event at 2,000, and noted that “fresh crowds came down by every train.”¹

                Some incidents, and the newspaper coverage, deserve to be recounted exactly as appeared originally in the press:
          “There was a great scare in a residence on George street last night. Just as an astonishing roll of thunder came, one of the ladies of the home happened to be going upstairs with a lamp in her hand. The thunder frightened her so that she shook the chimney off the lamp, and it went downstairs with a crash. Coupled with the terrific thunder, the crash of broken glass led the inmates to believe that the house had been struck. Several ladies shrieked and it is believed that two men crawled under their beds. As the house didn’t fall through, they came out and showed bravery. At the breakfast table, everyone said that they had never got such a fright in their lives. A young man who said he never heard it and had slept undisturbed had to hide his head in shame.”^2
2 “A Crash of Glass” Hamilton Spectator. July 21, 1883.
          There was a lovely, and most  newsworthy, service held on Sunday afternoon, July 20, 1883 at St. Mark’s Anglican Church, Bay and Hunter streets. It was called a “Flower Service” and among those present were more than 100 children, each carrying a bouquet of flowers.
          As described by the Spectator reporter who was invited to attend:
          “After a brief, bright service of praise, the little ones advanced to the chancel steps in order and laid their floral offering upon a tray supported by two gentlemen vested in cassocks.
          “The flowers, together with the alms, were then presented reverently to the priest, the Rev. R. G. Sutherland, M. A., who humbly presented them before the altar, on whose lowest step they were then deposited.”^3
3 “Flower Service at St. Mark’s : The Inmates of the Asylum and Home of the Friendless Cheered” Hamilton Spectator.  July 21, 1883.
          What followed at this point in the service was “a ‘chalk talk’ or blackboard address, bringing out, chiefly from the children themselves, the lessons which the flowers teach. Not a few of the parents were present, and seemed to enter heartily into the evident pleasure of the little ones.”³
                After the service, the flowers which had filled the church sanctuary with color and fragrance, were divided up with a portion going to the Hamilton Asylum for the Insane at the top of the James Mountain Road, and the other portion being taken to the more nearby Home for the Friendless, just a few blocks away at Hess and Duke streets.
          The Spectator article concluded with a brief overview of the popularity of Flower Services at the time :
          “Although this service is a novelty in Hamilton, it is by no means so in England, where not only in Anglican churches, but in those of the non-conformists, it is found to be a pleasant and useful break upon the customary exercises of the Sunday School.”³

1883 - July - 7

Sunday July 22, 1883 was a sweltering hot day in Hamilton, but nevertheless, a Spectator reporter was assigned the task of heading out York street to the cemetery.
          For sometime, there had been criticism that the solemn location had become a haven for pleasure seekers and occasional unruly elements on Sundays.
          However, it seemed that the high temperatures and humidity deterred many of those who had been causing problems:
          “For some reason, probably because of the hot weather, the attendance at the cemetery for the last few Sundays has been small, and those who do go bear a sad face and wear somber robes, telling the tale of sorrow and bereavement.”^1
1 “Cemetery and Park”   Hamilton Spectator. July 23, 1883.
          The Spectator man found the cemetery to be in a lovely condition as he walked around:
          “The last home of the departed at the present time presents a very fine appearance – the gay, blooming flowers filling the air with perfume and covering the graves with beauty.”¹
          While there were not a large number of questionable characters infesting the cemetery on that particular Sunday, the reporter found that the situation was not perfect:
          “There are a few who do not go for the purpose of visiting or decorating the graves of loved ones. A reporter saw a sight in the Church of England burying ground yesterday on the grass beneath the shade of a far spreading willow lay a young lady, charmingly attired in pink muslin and having about her an air of general gladness. She was reading some book, and from the ripple of laughter which came from the damsel, the reporter thought it must be something unusually funny. Stepping quickly up, he saw a large yellow-covered book, and at the page where the lady was reading was a picture of a clown, and over it the words, ‘Laugh and be happy.’ She was happy.”¹
                Nearby, the reporter noticed that at the pump, which supplied water for people to get water for the plants placed at the graves, a young man was washing himself:
          “His clothes were covered in mud and his face was dirty. He was bathing his head and washing a wound in his hand from which the blood flowed freely. Around him were about a dozen small boys saying, ‘why didn’t you thump him?’ The girl in the pink dress saw the man and walked away, remarking that men were awful sinners.”¹
                The last image recorded by the young man from the Spec who he saw in the cemetery was also unsettling:
          “Sitting at the side of a tombstone were four little girls reading their Sunday verses, and beside them was a quartet of boys and girls giggling and laughing at nothing.”¹
          Heading back to the downtown office at the Spectator, the reporter took a brief detour into Dundurn park where, he noted, “all looked fresh and beautiful after last night’s rain, but where there was very little bustle.”¹
                Looking around the lovely grounds near the castle, the reporter captured the following images:
          “(He noticed) two women fanning themselves beneath a tree, a man lying at his full length on the grass, having, for the sake of comfort, thrown off his coat, vest and shoes, which a little dog was endeavoring to convert into carpet rags, two men quietly smoking their pipes and two little girls swinging.”¹
                “Quiet day,” the reporter remarked to the gatekeeper when passing out of Dundurn park.
          “Yes,” the gatekeeper replied. “fewer people here today than there has been for a long time.”

1883 - July - 6

In late July 1883, a Spectator reporter went on a tour of inspection, checking out conditions at two of Hamilton’s public institutions located on Barton Street East. The jail and hospital officials were had been contacted to show him around their facilities.
          Through the kindness of Captain Henery, who supervised the 26 prisoners at the Barton Street Jail, an arrangement was made for Jailer Morrison to show the reporter through the building:
          “Mr. Morrison led the reporter first into the kitchen, where two able-bodied prisoners, arrayed in degrading prison livery, were firing up under two immense coppers – one containing potatoes and the other a mixture of oatmeal. In the morning, the prisoners are regaled with gruel; at midday, they have meat and potatoes, or bread and potatoes on alternate days; at night they have bread. There was a time when porridge was the chief diet, with trimmings of salt and a drink of water, but through the Government who raised the diet at the suggestion of Mr. Langmuir, inspector of prisons, the prisoners are allowed the solace of a potato now and then, just to remind them of outside luxuries. Spring chicken, plum pudding and strawberry pie have no meaning in the jail.”^1
1 “A Visit to the Jail : Employment Required for the Prisoners”
Hamilton Spectator. July 23, 1883.
          Out in the jail yard, the reporter recognized one of the prisoners who was in jail, convicted of selling liquor without a license:
          “It is surprising what a change the prison garb makes in a man. It seems to retain, in a concentrated form, all the vileness of former owners, which it immediately imparts to the wearer. Go down to one of the clubs or hotels and take the most fashionable dude that can be found. Bring him up to the jail, cut his hair, and put him in a jail suit, jerry hat and all, and a hardened, devil-may-care look will come over him in a short time, and anyone who does not know him would pronounce him a dangerous fellow.”¹
                Back inside the jail, the reporter recognized another one of the prisoners. It was the infamous Mr. Livingstone, the veteran drunk, who was in an apartment which housed a miscellaneous collection of paint pots, bottles of oil and brushes :
          “He laughed and nodded as the jailer passed the usual civilities. Livingstone is the jail painter, and he is scarcely ever out of a job. It is sad to think that this poor, old man has spent the best part of his life in jail because he has not the resolution, nor the will, to overcome his low habit.”¹
                In a separate part of the jail, the reporter observed the female portion of the jail population, the most of whom had been in the ranks of the drunk and dissolute on the outside:
          “It is to be regretted that no employment has been furnished for the inmates. Lolling in the window seats or walking idly in the yard does not improve morally or physically, and some means of occupying the time, which seems to hang heavily upon them, should be devised.”¹
                Before the reporter left, the jailer showed him the balls and chains which, in former times, had been used when prisoners did outside work.
          When the reporter called at the hospital, neither the resident physician, nor any of his aides, were available to take him on a tour of the facilities:
          “But, through the courtesy of a matron, a light-footed young lady, showed him over the building, pointing out such features as would prove interesting to him:
          “There were between 50 and 60 patients now in the institution. In one of the wards, eight or ten men were in bed, while one, who seemed to be suffering from general weakness, sat with his head leaning on a table. Here and there, flowers were to be seen, and the rooms were made as light and airy as possible. An apartment at the end of the male ward is set aside for the use of convalescent patients, several of whom were engaged in reading and playing draughts.”^{2
                2}“In the Hospital : A Few Remarks About the Barton Street Institution:
          Hamilton Spectator.  July 23, 1883.
                The reporter was of the opinion that Hamilton’s hospital facilities were of the highest order:
          “Everything in and around the building gives evidence of careful management. All the appliances which science has devised for the treatment of disease and for the alleviation of human suffering have been taken advantage of in furnishing the hospital. The medical attendance is the most efficient, and the matron and nurses are said to take rank with those of any similar institution in Canada. Many people are prone to look on the hospital as they look upon the workhouse – the last resort for needy people and think it is something in the nature of a disgrace to seek admission to one. This is a very fallacious view to take. Hospitals are now excellently conducted that patients admitted to them receive as good if not better treatment and attendance as they would in their own homes. ”²
          The reporter concluded his brief article by declaring that “a visit to the hospital in this city will convince anyone that it is well-equipped for the purposes for which it is intended. If there one charitable institution which requires more than another generous support at the hands of the public, it is the General Hospital”²

1883 - July - 5

On Wednesday, July 18, 1883  the city of Hamilton presented a holiday appearance in the vicinity of King and John streets as a large crowd of people lined the streets awaiting the arrival of Sir Hector Langevin, Minister of Public Works with the federal government.
          The reason for Langevin’s visit was so that he could preside over the cornerstone laying ceremony for Hamilton’s new Customs House and Post Office.
          The formal portion of the proceedings began in the nearby Wentworth County Court House where Hamilton Mayor Charles Magill introduced the distinguished visitor to a gathering of specially-invited guests:
          “(Magill) referred to Sir Hector and the manner in which he had helped bring about Confederation. There was no man in the house, with the exception of perhaps Sir George Cartier, who had rendered such efficient service to the country as had Sir Hector Langevin, and if it had not been for him, confederation would never have been brought about.”^1
1 “The New Post Office : And Customs House – Laying of the Cornerstone”
          Hamilton Spectator. July 18, 1883
          Mayor Magill was scheduled to read an address to the honored guest in which the city’s formal welcome was offered. However, before beginning, the mayor said that the event of welcoming Sir Hector Langevin was organized to be strictly non-partisan in nature.
          In referring to the building itself, part of the address read by the mayor follows:
          “ The public buildings which you are to inaugurate the construction of today have long been desired and much needed by the people of Hamilton, and it can scarcely be other than an agreeable incident in your official life that the question of their construction became ripe for approving decision during your administration of the public works department. The public buildings of the people in a very considerable measure symbolize their advancement or otherwise in the graces which adorn the human character, and it pleases us to be able to believe that in the selection of the plans of the building about to be erected, you correctly interpreted the taste of the Canadian people. The buildings will not only form the chief ornament of the city, but they will also be regarded as an honor to the country.”¹
                In response to the address, Sir Hector said, in part:
          Let me thank you again for this very cordial welcome. I can assure you it was a great pleasure to me when I came here two years ago to return to my colleagues and tell them that the growing wants of this fair city of yours required that a building should be erected here of the size and style to suit the wealth, the enterprise of the city. It had to be a beautiful one for beautiful buildings had been erected in the near neighborhood , and a fire had destroyed the building there before, and I believe on purpose, leaving that place there for us to build on it. I hope and feel sure that Hamilton people will be proud of the building when it is completed.”¹

Shortly after 11:30, the societies and bands which had been standing in Prince’s Square in front of the Court House formed in procession and, led by policemen on horseback, marched to the location of the actual cornerstone laying ceremony. A pushing crowd of men, woman and childen followed.

At the corner of King and John streets, the procession drew up, and to the music of the Independent Band, the dignitaries took their places on a temporary platform erected for the occasion.

The cornerstone, upon which lay a gavel, square and level, swung from a lofty crane over the position into which it was to be lowered.

Mayor Magill began the ceremony by declaring that it was a proud day for Hamilton:

“It was one more milestone on the road to prosperity which they had reached. In erecting buildings of the character of the one under construction, which was to be a most serviceable ornament to the city, it was usual to place the cornerstone at the northeast of the building. This was a time-honored custom which would be adhered to upon this occasion.”

In his speech, Mayor Magill went on to laud the enterprising strides which the city had made in recent years, noting Hamilton’s great natural advantages which the city possessed as a railway center. The mayor also complimented both the architect and the contractors hired for project, whom he said might be depended upon to carry out the provisions of their contracts faithfully.

The mayor then presented Sir Hector will the silver trowel and gavel. Sir Hector took off his gloves, accepted the trowel and gavel, and then placed a sealed glass jar, containing mementos of the day into the cornerstone.

After the minister laid a trowel full of mortar beneath the stone, it was lowered into place:

Tapping it three times with the gavel, Sir Hector declared the cornerstone well and truly laid amid loud applause.

After the tackle was cleared away, sir Hector stepped upon the stone and proceeded to address the crowd:

“He said that it was a great gratification to him to meet the citizens of Hamilton and lay the cornerstone of what would prove to be one of the most beautiful buildings in Canada. When he visited Hamilton two years ago, and noted the many natural advantages it possessed and the enterprise which was observable upon all sides, he said to himself ‘Hamilton is deserving of consideration at the hands of the Government.’ The honorable gentleman then alluded in flattering terms to the presence of the ladies, without whose presence nothing could be perfect. He reminded them that he was a French Canadian, representing by his nationality one million and a half of the inhabitants of Canada, who were willing to go hand and hand with Ontario in making this a great country. (Cheers) They had only to be true to themselves to affect this. From the Atlantic to the Pacific, they would find as rich a country as was to be found anywhere. As loyal subjects of the Queen, it was their duty to settle and develop this great land. They must now allow their young men and women to go away to the country to the south, which, though a great and prosperous country, was to us a foreign one.

“There were many in the gathering who thought differently to him in regard to public matters, but there would be no ill-feeling. (Cheers). They were all working for the country’s good, and if he could not say anything about the good which the National Policy had done, he could say that Providence had generously protected them, (Cheers and laughter). When they looked around men, saw intheir own city, industries springing up on all sides and the population increasing until it is numbered 40,000. These facts speak volumes. As he drove through the city that day he had pointed to a manufactory and asked what it was. The gentleman to whom he spoke said that he did not know as they sprang up so rapidly no count could be kept of them. (Cheers).”¹

In conclusion, Sir Hector let his listeners know that if they should ever visit his native province, they could be assured of a warm welcome. He felt that it would be to everyone’s mutual advantage to have no heart-burnings between Ontario and Quebec.

After Sir Hector’s speech, two brief addresses were delivered by the local members of Parliament, Mr. Kilvert and Mr. Robertson.

The speeches completed, it was time for the procession:

“About 1:15, the Thirteenth band struck up a marching tune. The grand marshal gave the order to march and the long procession of policemen, bands, societies and carriages moved towards the Crystal Palace. Four mounted policemen and the chief headed the procession and were followed by a detachment of police afoot, about 30 in number, who marched well, notwithstanding that many of them had been on night duty. The police were followed by the Thirteenth battalion band who turned out very strong and played as well as they have ever done. The fire department followed the Thirteenth band and turned out in all the strength and splendor that it could command. The double reel headed the department, followed by the new steamer, the truck and the Bay street contingent. All the vehicles were elaborately decorated with flowers and evergreens, and everything about the department showed that they take a pride in everything pertaining to it.”¹

After the fire department came the Independent Band, followed by various delegations form the national societies of the city. Bringing up the rear were carriages containing the politicians.

The procession, which at one point, stretched along King street west, from Bay to Queen streets, ended up at the Crystal Palace where a banquet was given in honor of Sir Hector Langevin:

“The palace was decorated with flags and gay bunting, and the tables ornamented beautiful flowers and crystal and silver dishes, presenting a fine appearance. In the gallery, the Thirteenth battalion band stood, and a heterogeneous crowd of spectators gazed curiously down at the lunchers, about 200 of whom were sitting at the tables.”²

² “Sir H. Langevin’s Visit : Proceedings at the Crystal Palace Banquet” Hamilton Spectator. July 19, 1883.

Mayor Magill was chairman of the banquet, and in proposing the toast to Sir Hector Langevin, the mayor said that he had known Sir Hector for many years, and had sat in parliament with him many years before. Hector Langevin, concluded the mayor, had proved himself a patriot and a man devoted to his country in its times of peril.

In his speech, Sir Hector Langevin dwelt on the need for harmony between French Canada and the rest of the country:

“Social reunions of this sort go far towards cementing good feeling between Upper and Lower Canada. We, of the Lower Provinces, speak a different language, our blood is different and so is our religion, and the differences must not divide us. There comes a day, July 1, in every year, when we forget all this, and all join together in celebrating the anniversary of the confederation. Let the Frenchman celebrate his gala day as he likes, the German his; the Scotchman and the Irishman their, but the 1^st of July is our great national holiday, and all Canadians, irrespective of origin or nationality, join in its celebration and forget the difference between them in their manners, customs, religion and politics.”²

After dwelling on some facts and figures in connection with the government’s revenues and expenditures as related to customs duties and postal services, the minister proposed a toast to Mayor Magill.

Then came a further, and extensive, series of toasts, interspersed with several more speeches and a few songs from Alderman Filgiano. The meeting was finally brought to a close with the singing of Auld Lang Syne and three cheers for the Queen.