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This Niagara of ours has much to commend it, not only to us who live here, but to all the people who come here as visitors and in fact to people everywhere. It has a charm that appeals to most people. It has been referred to by people from the old land as "a little bit of old England." Like a plant, it had to be planted and cared for. Some one must have had an idea. Of course, the Town fairly reeks of history and while some of us are fairly familiar with the main facts of that history, it does no harm to put down in black and white, some of the events of that history and to discuss them.
One must remember that in the seventeen hundreds, the Continent of North America was divided among Great Britain, France and Spain. We had had a somewhat lengthy tussle with France and Canada had come under the Union Jack, there to remain to this day. While Great Britain was busy elsewhere, the people of the Atlantic Coast to the south of Canada decided that they wanted to paddle their own canoe, so the Revolutionary War ensued.
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HISTORICAL FIRSTS IN THE TOWN OF NIAGARA
John Graves Simcoe opened the First Parliament of Upper Canada and Newark has the honour of being the Capital of what afterwards became the Province of Ontario. Here were the Courts and the Lawyers; here was the Government Land Board; here the Indian Tribes came to receive their government money. The house on King Street, now the home of Mrs. Parker, is the particular spot where this was done. It was then the home of Daniel Claus who was Superintendent of Indian Affairs.
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THE FIRST MASONIC LODGE
Here we have the first Masonic Lodge, dating from 1792 and still going strong. Many of the men who have kept Niagara on its feet have belonged to this Lodge. When I was young it did not have many members, but it has carried on and now has a large enrollment of men, many of them among our best citizens.
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Among the many firsts of which our Town can be proud was an Act to Abolish Slavery. Here was taken the first Census. When settlement first began here, we had the first Grist Mill. We had a Printing Press in 1792 and a Newspaper in 1793. When I was a Schoolboy, we had no printer in Town and there is in the Town Vault, a copy of a Voters' List printed on a little hand press by George Cork who was then Principal of our Public School. We had no paper for many years, until Pickwell Brothers came to Town and started the Niagara Times in 1894. The Pickwells were followed by Rev. J. S. Clarke, James Skelton, and Hiram Mosher, who gave it up. Later on, Harrison and Miller started the Niagara Advance. They had E. H. Brennan as their Manager and he took over and ran the paper until he was given charge of the Government Beer Warehouse when the Youngs purchased the paper and have made a good job of it.
THE MOVING OF THE CAPITAL TO YORK
FORT GEORGE AND FORT NIAGARA
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NIAGARA FIRE BRIGADE [1952]
It is true that we are blessed with wide streets, a fact that helps to keep a fire from leaping across to the opposite side of a street. Nevertheless, the Town has lost Hotels, Stores and Dwellings innumerable in its century and a half of existence since the playful bonfire, which our dear friends to the south made of our Town when we weren't quite so friendly. We then had to start from scratch, not only in building but also in organizing to fight fires. From those early days, we have had firemen and fire fighting equipment.
It would be worth while to visit the Fort George Museum and there inspect some of that old equipment. One small engine there goes back to the beginning of our rebuilding. The larger one, which we irreverently dubbed "The Mankiller", dates from 1834 and was in use from that date until the Waterworks were installed in 189l.
In those old days, the Niagara Fire Company consisted of an indeterminate number of men and was officered by a Captain and a First and a Second Lieutenant. It somewhat smacked of a military setup, but one must remember that many of the men had military connections. Another thing to remember was that water was scarce and the firemen had to depend on wells and cisterns for their meager supply of aqua pure.
Then one finds that there was no fire alarm. They had neither bell nor siren at first with which to call the men out. In fact, in l838, it was proposed to buy l2 rattles for the purpose of giving an alarm of fire, but in May, it was decided to solicit subscriptions from the citizens for funds to buy a bell. This was done and sufficient funds were subscribed to buy the bell. Negotiations were entered into with the Trustees of the Market for permission to place the bell on top of the Market Building. I should like to point out that the bell was not bought or installed by the Town Council, but by the Fire Company, a quite independent body. Nor did the Town Council control the Market or the Market House. This house, by the way, is what is now known as the "Small Hall" and is much older than the large Hall.
In l847, the Town Hall was built as the County Courthouse for the United Counties of Lincoln, Welland and Haldimand; upon the removal of the County Seat to St. Catharines, it became the Town Hall of the Town of Niagara. In those old days, men were not so grabby for dollars and up to the time of the installation of the Waterworks, men gave their services freely to the Community. They seem to have given not only their services, but supplied their own equipment. Old men and young, labourers and merchants and professional men manned the engines. Many items appear of the engines being taken to the river for practice. Small sums of money were paid for people to bring pails of water. I well remember when the big fire was raging in 1886; all the teams in Town were used to bring barrels of water from the River. This water was dumped into a large cistern that was under the sidewalk in front of the Town Hall and from thence pumped by a Fire Engine onto the fire across the street.
The men were well organized and well led. They elected their own Officers and were altogether a separate and independent body. For some years, there was another organization known as "The Hook and Ladder Company" which carried on a separate existence from 1875 to 1880, when they gave up and went out of existence.
For many years, the Chief Constable of the Town was also Fire Chief. I do know that in my time, Bob Reid did about everything but feed the baby. When the Waterworks were installed in 189l, the Fire Brigade was entirely reorganized. The Company was then called the Niagara Hose Company. The Town Council appointed the Chief and Assistant Chief. The Company was divided into Section "A" and Section "B", each section being officered by a Captain elected by and from the section to which he belonged. Hose reels were brought, one for each section and these were drawn by hand and a job it was to lug them through mud and mire whenever there was a fire. A wagon was presented to the Firemen by a summer resident and this could be drawn by a horse.
In 1939, the Centenary of the First Ringing of the Fire Bell was observed and quite a nice ceremony was held. One feature of it was the reading of extractions from the Minutes of the Fire Company wherein was recorded the various actions leading up to the buying and installing of the Bell. These were read by A. E. Masters, the secretary of the Company. I do not find in any of the minutes, any record of the Bell every being transferred to the ownership or custody of the Town Council and as far as I can determine, the Bell is still the property of the Fire Brigade. I suppose it just took place by consent and custom, and nobody has raised any objection. I might mention here that a Mr. Moncrief, a summer resident and a Buffalo man, gave the Firemen the wagon I have referred to.
Changes were occurring as times and equipment changed. With the Steam Plant at the Waterworks, a Steam Siren Whistle was installed and used, but when the Water Plant was electrified, that was done away with and an Electric Siren was procured and mounted on top of the Bell Tower, and it served until after the Second Great War. A Wartime Siren had been installed as a warning of a blackout and after the War, it was decided to keep it, as it was more powerful than the one in use. Besides that, there were two sirens on the United States side of the River, of the same tone as our small one and it was sometimes rather hard to tell which one was blowing.
In 1923, after much deliberation, it was decided to buy a fire truck and an International Chassis was bought and fitted with Bickle equipment at a total cost of $2,887.25. Then in 1929, a Pumper was installed on the truck. Then in 1942, a new Ford Chassis was purchased at a cost of $2,l00.00 and the old truck was converted into a ladder truck. In 195l, the oldest truck was finally discarded and a new truck was purchased. So now, our Firemen are "Thoroughly furnished to all good work." They have good hose, fog nozzles and everything to make their lives happy.
The Fire Hall was built in 19ll and was largely paid for by the Firemen themselves. It serves to house the trucks and equipment and to furnish a comfortable Clubhouse for the men. And now we have, added to the duties of the Firemen, the answering of calls for Public Ambulance, which is installed in the Fire Hall. All in all, the Firemen are a most useful and competent body of men.
The present Staff of Officers is composed of young men who know their business and are always ready for service of all kinds when called upon. The following is the list for 1952:
Chief
- Donald SherlockIt is nice to know that the Present Chief of the Brigade and both the Company Captains are all grandsons of Robert Reid who served so many years as Chief.
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This particular mankiller was first seen in our Town about the year 1834, so I am told, and so far has had a longer life than any of the "critters" aforementioned. Its habitat was under a grim stone building, whence it emerged only on certain occasions and never at any set time. Its appearances were, as you may imagine, accompanied by much tumult and shouting, it being a very rare specimen of its kind. It was, of course, an object of awe and veneration to a small boy, but it was never known to harm a boy. Grown men were not afraid of the mankiller, although they did not particularly like it. They bore with it however, although its activities became very boring after a time. In fact, they became quite familiar with it, yet familiarity did not bread contempt. No siree! Well, have you guessed, or do you give up? You do. Well here it is. It was "THE FIRE ENGINE". Gosh, I think I hear its laboured and methodical "chug, chug, chug, " a sinister, yet thrilling, pulsating sound as a dozen or more of men, sweating and swearing (under their breath of course) with grim determination, pumped and pumped. It was no job for a boy or even a short man and the men had to be relieved after a comparatively short spell at the brakes as its arms were called. I suppose most of us have seen railway trackmen pumping a handcar. It is pretty strenuous, but it has the advantage that one does not have to reach up very high and on the down strokes, you could put your weight into the job. The Mankiller's arms were much higher and if you had to pump the darn thing from about waist high to well over your head, you'd find it pretty enervating. I like that word, don't you? If you don't happen to know what it means, get out your dictionary, or if you want to be practical, get a good heavy stick of wood and see how long you can move it up and down at some length, without getting a kink in your back.
But, alas and alack, there was not always enough water available to satisfy the rapacious appetite of the Mankiller. The poor beast was wont to beat an inglorious retreat to its lair, not to emerge again until dragged forth by grim men, men whose motto it was "When Duty Calls, We Fly To Save." Now don't get excited, they didn't have flying machines in those days. I have watched them many a time and oft, and the only thing I ever saw fly was the mud from their boots as they went plod, plod, plod, along a muddy road. Say, those expeditions were a sight to behold - long ropes with grips for the hands - all the men (and some boys, of course) leading, the Mankiller following behind. What a sight that was. Gordon Sinclair is always bellyaching about some of the wealthy burgs around Toronto having no paid Fire Brigades. We didn't have one either, but we did have and still have men who had an interest in their Community and who gave their services gladly.
There was one occasion, I am sorry to say, when the Mankiller was a failure, a complete flop. I suppose you have heard of "the big fire," I say big, for it was big for a small town. Six buildings were destroyed right on Queen Street, across from the Town Hall. That was in 1886. The buildings occupied the site of Daley's Store, the Imperial Bank building, and Dealy's drug store. Beginning where Daley's store now stands, there was a three store (not story) building occupied by the Misses Petley, Milliners; Robert Fuller, Furniture; and Paddy Lynch, Harness Shop. Then came a little place called "the Hole in the Wall" where an old clock tinker, whose name I do not recall, but who was commonly called "Clickety Clock," plied his trade. Then came the Lewis Ross Barber Shop, next the Ross residence where the Ross girls did Dressmaking, next William Senior, Stationer and lastly, Fred Best's Butcher shop.
They were all frame buildings and all were completely demolished. There was a large cistern under the sidewalk in front of the Town Hall and here the Mankiller was placed, and while the men laboured manfully and persistently, the water did not flow, and so, slowly and sadly, the Mankiller was withdrawn from the scene. A telegram was dispatched to the Falls and presently a special train arrived with a Steam Fire Engine. This was quickly put to work and all available teams were put to work hauling water in barrels from the River at the foot of King St. to the cistern. What a hustle and bustle there was, horses dashing, water splashing, men shouting. It was not long after that, that the fire was finally quenched, in time to save the rest of the stores. After things had quieted down, an inspection was made of the Mankiller and it was found that someone had inadvertently put a large wooden plug in the suction hose of the Mankiller. Hence, its impotence. Enough said about that.
The Mankiller was perhaps at its best when the Lakeview House was set on fire, by a spark from Mrs. H. Long's Railway Locomotive. I remember being on Paffard's corner (now Field's) when Bill Murray's team came galloping up King St., with Bill standing up in the wagon, lashing his horses and yelling at the top of his voice, "Mrs. Long's house is on fire. Mrs. Long's house is on fire." Wow, did we move. You could have drunk tea off our coattails. Yeah, boys wore coats then. We scurried down the railway tracks to the Wharf and arrived at the scene of the fire ahead of the Mankiller and its attendant neophytes. The roof of the Hotel was blazing merrily. But did the old Mankiller do itself proud. Panting after its fast run, it was firmly planted on the wharf, where a convenient hole was found through which the suction hose was threaded. Soon a bountiful supply of the "aqua pure" of the noble Niagara was coursing through the innards of Mr. Mankiller and, all too soon for our goggling eyes, the flames, the tumult, and the shouting died out. The Captains and the Kings departed as did the Mankiller to their accustomed haunts and once more all was peaceful and serene.
However, there was still a wee bit of enjoyment for the kids. The southeasterly wind carried blazing shingles for quite a distance and started two other fires. One of these was in the roof of the kitchen of Charlie Bolton's new house on King St., which was not then quite finished. This fire was quickly put out, the only damage being a small hole burned in the roof.
The other fire was in the roof of the large building at the Steel Works, which stood along Ball St. at Delatre. There was a catwalk along the ridge of the building and on it were placed water barrels at intervals, but of course there was no water in the barrels when it was wanted, the building not having been in use for some years. Harry Wilson managed to get up on the roof and finding no water to use on the fire which was only a small one yet, Harry peeled off his coat and he plied it manfully. I think I see him flailing away for dear life. Yes, and by gum, he put the fire out and descended from his lofty perch "pride in his port, defiance in his eye." But alas poor Harry, his good gold watch was in the pocket of his coat. The scene can better be imagined then described.
The Mankiller prowls no more. It now reposes within the confines of Fort George and it doesn't look so impressive in its present surroundings. It served its purpose and now dwells in an aura of innocuous desuetude. So let us say R.I.P. to an old and tired friend and servant, the Mankiller.
Outwardly, the old school looks much the same, except for the fire escape and the lack of a fence about the grounds. Also, there is somewhat fresh paint in evidence. Although I have not been inside the school of late, I do know that it has been considerably altered and I suppose, for the better.
I entered the school, a meek little youngster, about May St, l878 and was put in charge of Miss Belle Flannigan, in the upstairs room on the side next to the Common. My teacher was a tall, handsome woman with charming manners and a rather authoritative air. She was a good teacher, a fine singer and was at that time, the leading soprano in St. Mark's Church Choir, which was then located in the end gallery of the Church. Much to our sorrow, she gave up teaching to marry John Carnochan not so long afterwards.
At the time of my entry into the school, Miss Janet Carnochan was the principal and her room was at the end, away from the common downstairs. The other teacher was Miss Gussy Winterbottom, a dear, fussy lady, who took her job very seriously, much more so than we took her when we got to know her. The three rooms were heated by a big iron box stove in each room. Each was fired with cordwood, cut once. There was no caretaker and two pupils in each room would be delegated to remain after school to sweep and dust and the first arrivals in the morning were expected to light fires. Now, weren't they the good old days?
That mid-summer, Miss Carnochan moved over to the High School as assistant to Mr. Andrews and was succeeded by George Cork. He came with the reputation of being "cross", what used to be the criterion by which we measured teachers. Well, we shall see.
At this time, there was a Roman Catholic School in the Church grounds on Davy Street near Byron St.. We kids from the dock used to travel to school along a lane that then ran along the church fence between where I now live and the churchyard. One of our favorite pastimes was to pepper the "Protestant Pups," with stones, which always seemed to be handy.
After Mr. Cork came on the scene, the separate school was closed and the pupils came to our school where they could be distinguished from us because they all said "haich". With their coming, a fourth teacher was necessary and the extra room was opened and used. This room was upstairs above the principal's room and was furnished with the old-fashioned long pine desks and benches, all guiltless of paint or varnish. Miss Bella Blain taught this room and it being the junior room, I was shifted from Miss Flannigan's room into this one.
Some happenings while I was a disciple of Miss Blain call for mention. In those days, lead pencils were a rarity and scribblers were non-existent. Harry Doritty, who was in my class, had a lead pencil and the lead pencil disappeared. Complaint was made to Miss Blain and by her to Mr. Cork. A serious crime had been committed and the perpetrator must be found. So, after noon recess, we were paraded in dress order on the floor in two ranks and diligent search was made of our persons and garments, the girls by Miss Blain and the boys by Mr. Cork. No pencil was found and the mystery grew deeper with every passing moment. Further search of the premises must be made and the pencil just simply must be found. So we poor shaking suspected culprits were left standing with bated breath (whatever that means) while the sleuth (Mr. Cork) went about the task with a look of grim determination on his fevered brow.
Bravely he neared the back seat on the boys' side. Now the occupants of that seat were large healthy boys who only came to school during the winter because it was not comfortable outdoors and one of the innocent pastimes of boys of their mature years was chewing tobacco. While there was gum to be had in those days, gum was too sissified for big boys. Of course, if you chew tobacco, there had to be a receptacle provided in which to expectorate. School boards do not seem to have been considerate of the comfort of pupils in those days. So, some expedient had to be devised to overcome the lack. But, let us not anticipate. We left Mr. Cork about to prosecute his search. The desks had no liftable tops, just an opening at intervals into which one could put apple cores and other undesirable debris which would otherwise litter up the floor and vex the tidy minds of the boys. Here we go with Daddy Cork. He stoops over the fatal desk, boldly thrusts an arm within, quickly withdraws it and to our horror and his perfectly excusable disgust, his coat sleeve is covered to the elbow with horrid slimy TOBACCO JUICE. Only capital letters could do justice to the scene that followed. Nothing daunted but with disgust writ large of his speaking countenance, grimly he grasped the fatal desk, tilted it up and out flowed a cascade of accumulated moisture and the "PENCIL" in the midst thereof. Let us draw the curtain over the scene.
The scene shifts. Again the back row appears. The Freel boys used to bring apples to school in their bags and one day John complained to Miss Blain that someone was stealing his apples. I was sorry about this because quite often they used to treat me to a nice juicy apple. Miss Blain was a bit shortsighted but she told John to hang his bag on the wall where it would be in plain sight, which John did. But 'twas all in vain. While everybody was busy, Dick Taylor crawled under the desks. He procured the apples from their nook, returned by the same route to the back seat haven and was only noticed when he bobbed up in his seat. On being noticed by Miss Blain, he blandly explained that he was on the floor looking for his pencil. By the time school was out, apples, cores, seeds and all had been consumed utterly. Not a trace was left. On the loss being eventually discovered, John directed suspicion towards the back seat whereat its occupants were virtuously indignant.
That evening, John was waylaid in the vicinity of the High School and given a mauling. Nothing serious, of course, but John had purchased some groceries before the encounter, and a pocketful of tea, sugar and rice, etc. indiscriminately mixed is not conducive to peace of mind when one arrives home to deliver the contents of ones overcoat pockets. Next morning, four of the boys were summoned before the head for summary punishment. To the amazement of his fellow culprits, Bill Keith volunteered to take the first licking, which licking was well and truly applied to Bill's leg with the pants tightly drawn and with all the might of the master's good right arm. Not only did William not flinch under the punishment, he actually had the temerity to slide down the banisters and laugh, actually laugh at the master. He was of course, peremptorily recalled and given a second, yes, and even a third dose and departed grinning. By this time, poor Mr. Cork had lost some of his enthusiasm and the rest, Dick Taylor, Charlie Clockenburg and George Matthews escaped lightly. Of course, an inquiry by the dauntless three was made and it was disclosed that William was the proud wearer of four pairs of pants for the occasion. Those people are all gone, so there is no harm in mentioning their names, the culprits I mean.
In due course, I was promoted back to the tender mercies of Miss Flannigan but shortly afterwards, she resigned to get married and her classes were broken up and although I was not in her senior class, I was again promoted to Miss Winterbottom's room downstairs. After this, rooms were exchanged, the principal taking the room of Miss Flannigan, and the junior class taking Mr. Cork's former room. Miss Winterbottom was a most conscientious and painstaking teacher, so much so that we were usually kept with our noses in our books until half an hour after the other rooms were dismissed.
One day, Miss Winterbottom was out of the room and we heard her making an appointment with Mr. Cork to go over the register with him at four o'clock. There was a clock in the room placed in one of the windows. So with dire threats as to what would happen in anybody gave him away, Fred Bolton, who was always full of "Old Nick" marched over and put the clock ahead. When the dear lady returned presently, the clock registered four o'clock, so we were dismissed and no fire alarm could have emptied a room faster. Gussy reached home at half past three. Nobody ever appealed, so I suppose the poor old clock got the blame.
Gussy had a short bench, just long enough for two. She had this placed near the door and out from the wall far enough so you couldn't rest your weary back against the said wall. For punishment, she used to stand one on the darned old bench till your legs would just about break. I had an hour of it once. One day she had two girls on it, my sister and Em Elliott, when Fred Bolton kicked the bench out from under them. Between trying to sympathize with the girls and to catch Fred, poor Gussy had a trying time. Fred danced a jig on top of the stove, and managed to get to the corner where his coat was hanging, grabbed it and beat teacher to the door. Florrie Wares tried to hold the door but he gave her a rude buffet that upset her equilibrium and departed in haste for parts unknown, from whence he failed to return until the storm had ceased.
There were two others in the room in my time who caused much annoyance. These were Clary Walsh and Will McMillan, desk mates. They would loosen the screws in their desk and would move it just enough so that it would creak, creak, creak until the long-suffering teacher would be distracted. She would get someone to tighten up the darn thing, but it would soon let loose again. Finally, she passed the pair up to Mr. Cork to get rid of them. They were always mischievous but did not dare go quite so far with Mr. Cork.
Another boy, who was a thorn in the flesh, was George Mellett. Hardly a day went by without George getting a strapping. Daddy Cork was pretty severe and sometimes would punish without much investigation. I remember however, being called up to his desk and lectured for something at the same time as a girl named Louie Young. At the end of the lecture, he said he would leave it to the room to say whether I should be strapped or not. Upon the question being put, the response was a chorus of "Nos," whereupon I was dismissed. Louie then got her lecture and the same question was put with the result being a response of decided "Yesses" much to Louie's disgust.
One day, Mr. Cork had occasion to descend to Miss Winterbottom's room just beneath us and while teacher was out, most of the scholars were having a whale of a time playing tag and other games about the floor. In the midst of the fun, the whole darn ceiling of the room below went down with a loud noise. Instantly, nobody moved. Everybody was engrossed in his book. Mr. Cork stood in the doorway and surveyed the scene and for once he was speechless. He looked like a dusty miller, white from head to foot. Nobody was injured and nobody was punished. I fancy the dear old man was just stumped when he looked at that peaceful bunch of lambs so deeply interested in education.
Many teachers and a multitude of scholars have taught or been taught in this old school and soon it will resound no more to happy-voiced or cries of woe. And so the story goes.
It seems but a day or two ago that I first entered the portals of the Niagara High School to write the Entrance Examination. I had not yet attained to the eminence of the Senior Fourth under Daddy Cork, when he urged me to try the examination for the experience which I would gain, but not with the expectation of passing at that time.Being afflicted with an inordinate degree of shyness, I was against the idea. But after I got home, I was practically told to try and had perforce to call on Andrews at his home to procure an application blank. Off I went the next morning in fear and trembling to undergo the frightful ordeal.
I well remember the kindly smile of Miss Carnochan when she looked over my shoulder and patted me reassuringly on the back. To be sure, I must have looked innocent and childish, for I was not yet eleven years old. However, I passed with a substantial margin of marks over the required number and entered upon some five years of high school life in that seat of learning, years upon which I look back with much pleasure and satisfaction.
Andrews was a fine man to know, although we kids never fully appreciated his many fine points until years had taught us a little more wisdom than we were possessed of at that period of our lives. Miss Carnochan was a dear lady, shrewd, clever, patient, yet with a firmness of character that stood out in all her many spheres of activity. These two good people were the staff of the school during the whole of my time there. Teachers in those days were not birds of passage as so many of our modern teachers have proved to be. They stayed put and merged themselves into the community as integral parts of the same.
Miss Carnochan was an active and interested adherent of St. Andrew's Church, taught Sunday school, was an extremely interested member of the Bible Society, President and Secretary of the Public Library Board for many years. She also found or made time to put Niagara on the map historically, writing many historical sketches, besides her History of Niagara, which is known far and wide. She was such an outstanding person that one finds it hard to find words to do her justice.
Albert Andrews, too, was a useful citizen, besides being a fine scholar and teacher. He was a fine penman, notwithstanding his physical handicap of having only one arm and no thumb on his only hand. He was just brimming over with his love for music and I think I see him now, beating time with hand and foot and head.
He sang in the Methodist choir, taught in the Sunday school and was Superintendent for some years. Besides being a fine teacher, he was a man, kind and fatherly. Many a talk he gave us boys in his kindly way. He never was a nagger or a scold and he often wound up his talks with us with the words "a word to the wise is sufficient." or "If the shoe fits you, wear it." So much for the teachers.
The school itself was not an old building when I attended it. It only had two rooms, the larger one presided over by Mr. Andrews and the smaller by Miss Carnochan. The big room was heated by a small glebe stove, which frequently went out; the other room sported a wood burning box stove. Plenty of cold days there were when an overcoat was a necessity. We were not sent home because it was a bit chilly for the little dears. I think we must have been made of tougher fiber than the pampered pets of today. There were no cloakrooms and no running water and no indoor toilets. We managed somehow to struggle along without much repining and as far as I can see, the old school didn't do a bad job for its scholars and for its community. It turned out Lawyers, Clergymen, Doctors, Engineers, and Merchants in quite a good a proportion, as do the modern schools.
One must remember that there was not the compulsion to attend school until a stated age is reached. Not many attended High School at all and most of those who did attend only did so for a year or two. So I really think that no apologies are needed in behalf of the old school.
I was a Member of the High School Board for seven years and was Chairman in 1908, in which year the school held its Centennial. During the summer of that year, a reunion of former pupils was held, one of the results of which was that the ex-pupils raised the money to build the gymnasium, it being intended as a memorial to Miss Carnochan. Since my day, the school was enlarged by the addition of another room and later by an addition connecting the school with the gymnasium, which has also been used as a classroom.
May I remark here that the Gymnasium was not built at the expense of the taxpayers, but with money raised and donated by ex-pupils. Where the gymnasium now stands, there used to be a barn, or rather a drive shed and many an hour we boys spent playing tag over the beams. We had ropes rigged up for swinging from one beam to another. Jimmy Hiscott used to drive a sorrel horse hitched to a buggy and the boys, for fun, would pelt chips at the horse's ribs to see him kick the dashboard of the buggy. Once in a while, someone would light on the horse's back when swinging over. It was fun for the boys, but I'm afraid it spoiled the horse.
There was usually a supply of cordwood stored in the shed. We used to play marbles on the earth floor of the shed. We had one boy who never obeyed the rules of any game he was in so he was not in the marble game. One day he made himself a nuisance by either kicking the marbles or grabbing them and running. That was not to be put up with so the gang hanged George. No, he didn't die. You see he wore a long woolen muffler that was made for the purpose. Well, there was George, dangling with his toes just touching the ground and he soon repented of his sins and promised to be good and so secured his release. George had not yet learned his lesson so he was again caught, laid in a manger and about half a cord of wood laid on top of the manger.
When School was called, Mr. George was left to ruminate on his fate and about half an hour later, in he came, plentifully adorned with dirt and chips. He spun his woeful yarn about his adventure, he being of course, very much put upon by his cruel tormentors. The rest of us received a very dignified reproof from Pa Andrews and so much indignation was aroused in the breasts of George's family that the eldest boy in the gang had to leave school. I must confess, however, that Omar shed no bitter tears at leaving. Like plenty of boys of today, he only went to school because he had to.
When I first went to school, shinny was the game the boys played. So I just had to get a shinny. My dad had a good heavy cane with a crook on it so it became my shinny. Any stick with a crook on the ground and (no, not on the upper end), served as a shinny. We hadn't any set rules and any number could play, but you had to stay on your own side or you got a whack in the shins, hence the name. We placed two stones at either end of the ground for a goal and we used a black rubber ball somewhat larger than a golf ball. One day, Sawbill Geddes arrived with a new shinny while we were playing. It was really a sapling tree with a root on the end of it. Someone yelled, "Here comes Sawbill with a new shinny." Sawbill with the air of conscious pride, addressed (is that the term?) the ball and said, "Lets see how she goes." He gave the ball a lusty whack and the ball caught Barney Rowland in the mouth and down he went, lips bleeding and his front teeth loose. It was all in the game.
Then we used to play "Duck on the Rock." The rock was a large flat stone and each player had a smaller flat stone. Whoever was "it" had his stone on the rock and the rest kicked or slung his duck in an effort to knock the duck off the rock. It was a rough game but we liked it.
Then, we had a ball game that we called "One, two, three, one", where the players worked in from fielding, all the way to pitching. We only had one base. We thought nothing of trotting two to four times around the old mile track on the common and in the winter, there were always plenty of ponds on the common for skating or sliding.
Any boy or girl who attended the old school received a good grounding in all the subjects that made for success in life and those who went in for one of the professions, got a good start towards the higher branches of learning. The last two winters that I attended the school, I studied shorthand and bookkeeping under Mr. Andrews, besides Arithmetic, Algebra and Geometry.
But now, government has decreed that our school must go. I must say that I, as one of those who treasure fond memories of the old school, have a feeling of keen loss at the passing of that venerable institution. I should like to close this article by quoting from memory, one of the old songs that we learned from Mr. Andrews. It is called the "Parting Song."
One more song and then we'll sever
One more clasp of hands and then
We must part perhaps forever
Though we hope to meet again.
Life's great school is now before us
Though our training here may end,
May the same kind love be o'er us
Wheresoe'er our ways may bend.
Sweet the memories that linger
Round that dear familiar place,
Memories of song and singer,
Thoughts that time can not efface.
Faithful friends and dear companions
Those we've known and loved so well.
Now has come the hour of parting,
Now we bid you all "farewell."
I suppose the best of our playing days are those of our school period. As small boys, we played horse, we played tag, we ran and jumped, played leapfrog, etc. One of the games the boys played a lot was pull-away, Pom-pom-pull-away. This game consisted of running across the schoolyard from fence to fence in a crowd. Whoever was "it" was stationed in the middle of the yard and he had to catch someone on the run, who when caught, would at once become "it". You were not supposed to trip anybody, but as in hockey, accidents will happen. This game gave us plenty of good exercise in running and dodging.
At High School, we had different games. We played Shinny, Duck on the Rock, Foot Ball, the real Football then called "Association", now "Soccer". We also played some Baseball and Cricket. We used to run around the old mile track on the Common. We also had a game we called "Sheep Pen Down." I suppose every kid knows "I Spy". Well this game was a variation of that ancient game. The way it was played was this - we had a stick, any kind of piece of wood, about as long as a baseball bat. Some boy would throw this stick as fast and as far as he could, and whoever was "it" would have to run after it and bring it "home," and stand it against home, a wall or a fence or a tree. Then he would have to find one of the hidden kids, who had the interval during which the stick was being retrieved in which to hide. Any boy who could beat "it" home, could knock the stick down and yell "Sheep Pen Down," when the poor "it" would have to do it all over again. If and when he spied someone and beat him home, then the spied one would be "it". We played Beam Tag in the barn at High School, where we had Trapezes rigged up. At both schools, but more particularly at Public School, we played marbles in season. For some reason unknown to us, Daddy Cork at the Public School used to confiscate the marbles and dump them in the coal stove. Sometimes, they were retrieved from the ashes in a damaged condition, but still usable.
I don't believe the present day kids know how to play marbles. I have seen them throwing marbles against the brick wall of the Bank building and watching where they light. And they think they are playing marbles. Our games were really games. We had varieties of alleys with which to shoot. They were considerably larger than marbles and were either multicoloured glass or agate. We never used marbles to shoot with, but at. The commonest game we played was in a square ring about a foot square, formed by a stick or a finger from a line drawn about six feet from the ring which was called the "taw". You were not allowed to throw an alley. You had to shoot. A lot of the interest in the game was in being the first to yell out a certain term. For instance, if your opponent was shooting first, you could yell out, "knuckle down," when he would have to place his knuckles in or on the ground when shooting, which would not give him as much power in his shot. If he, however, beat you to it and yelled "anys at you", he could lift his shooting hand off the ground and shoot his hand forward, thus getting much more power in his shot. If he missed the marbles in the ring and his alley went beyond the ring, you couldn't shoot at his alley. If his alley stayed in the ring, you could shoot at it and if you knocked it out of the ring, it became yours. Any marbles you knocked out of the ring also became yours.
It was quite permissible to try to rattle your opponent by yelling opprobrious epithets at him while he is about to shoot. I leave the meaning of the aforementioned phraseology to your own imagination, unless you have a dictionary handy. I might say that each player put a marble in the ring, sometimes two, or if more than two were playing, usually one each. If you lost your alley, you might buy it back for so many marbles. If it were a particularly desirable one, often the victor preferred to keep it, which he was quite entitled to do. Another game was called "Big Ring". In this, you drew a ring about six feet in diameter. The marbles were placed in or near the center, and you could shoot from any point in the perimeter of the circle. In this game, if a marble were hit but not knocked out of the ring, you could get at it from the nearest point if you wished.
Then we had a game called "Follow the Leader." This you played with alleys only, each hit winning a marble. We sometimes played this all the way home from school, or to school.
Well, that's all for now, except to say that when some villain grabbed your marbles and ran, that was called "Fobbling." We enjoyed marbles, perhaps more than the kids will enjoy being kidded.
[Editor's Note: The previous three articles, School Days, Goodbye - High School, and Playing, were written between 1947 and 1948, month[s] unknown]
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Between Prideaux Street and Front Street there was a hill, and you will notice that the land on each side of the street is quite high. This hill was removed when the Railway filled up their trestle from Ricardo to the Dock. The Railway built the brick sewer that I have referred to and a few years ago, a Railway Engineer was here to inspect the stone culverts at the Wilderness and at Prideaux Street. There was really not much use of building sewers before we had Waterworks, consequently people had to depend on outdoor toilets, but since the coming of the Waterworks, quite a bit of sewage construction has been done.
Sewage for the schools was one of the problems facing our Town Fathers and the Military Authorities also became very much interested and they have done quite a bit, which also benefits the Town at large. The westerly and southerly parts of the Town will have to be taken care of in that respect and a proper settling basin will have to be constructed, which cannot be done for five cents.
I anticipate that the Chautauqua territory will be taken into the Town before long, as that is its logical destiny. We are hooked up now for water and electric lights and certainly in a business way, it is an integral part of the Town. In this connection, not many will now remember that we got our first electric light from Chautauqua, before we installed the Heisler System, which preceded our being served by the Hydro.
We don't see any wooden sidewalks any more. Of course, in the early days of our Town, lumber was cheap and so was labour and while the wooden walks were a great improvement over walking in the mud or dust of the roads, they left something to be desired in the way of comfort in walking. The four by four scantlings upon which they were laid had a pernicious habit of rotting. Planks would come loose and many a heartfelt imprecation I have heard uttered with deep feeling when an unwary pedestrian tripped, an occurrence which was detrimental to ones shins and clothing, to say nothing of one's feelings. The cost of lumber was soaring and the quality obtainable was deteriorating and concrete began to be used.I remember, however, two or three old men who used to be employed to look about for necessary repairs. They would be furnished with a wheelbarrow, with a supply of planks cut to the required length and a supply of the old-fashioned square iron nails, and a heavy hammer and they leisurely perambulated about the streets. Time didn't mean much to them and their pay pretty well corresponded with their pace, so everything was lovely.
It seems to me that John Thornton laid our first concrete walk on Queen Street. I well remember the first wholesale effort at laying permanent walks. A contract was entered into with Langley and Cook of Niagara Falls and most of our walks were done in 1910 and 1911. I must say that the quality of the walks laid down in 1911 was much better than those done the previous year. Bob Reid was overseer the second year, a professional engineer was boss the first year. Since that time, a block here and there has been done and we get good value for our money, but many of the first walks laid are sadly in need of repair or replacement.
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