TOWN OF NIAGARA PEOPLE AND PASTIMES
Articles collected from August 31st, 1950 - February 22nd, 1951
Page Contents
GENERAL INFORMATION ABOUT OUR TOWN
Imagine, if you can, the Town without trees. When I was small, the trees were small with boxes about them. Wooden sidewalks, which had a playful habit of tripping you as they began to decay. Houses without paint. Roads, muddy or dusty, according to the season. Streets dark at night. Lug a lantern with you on a dark night. I have seen a row of them in Church entries while service was on. We had a daily stagecoach to St. Catharines and a Train service to the Falls and Buffalo. We did a lot of walking. We crossed the river in rowboats and the Lake in Steamers. People did not have much money to spend. Quite a lot worked on farms at 75 cents pay per day and your dinner. There was quite a bunch of fisherman and some sailors. Quite a number of men and women got employment at the Summer Homes. In the winter, there was nothing much to do except eat and sleep and shovel snow. Of course, there was skating. The skates were wooden with a steel runner and a screw that screwed into the heel of one's boot. There were sleigh ride parties and coasting down the hills. There was no hockey, but we played shinny on the ice. We had no picture houses and no radio. We played games and visited one another's homes. We ran and jumped and swam; we boys played football, not that perverted brand they call Rugby; we played a lot of games that are not even heard of now. Oh yes, we played marbles. I saw kids playing marbles alongside the Bank Building. They didn't know the first thing about the game. They threw the marbles against the wall and bounced it out. If some of the kids that I knew could come back and see them at it, they'd laugh their head off at the "sissies."
Occasionally, men got a job in the bush. I was told of one such job on the mountain back of Hamilton, which was all bush country. Their employer defaulted in paying their wages and they had to tramp all the way home. I have heard my Dad tell of their approaching a lonely farm house as night came on. Charlie Bolton volunteered to ask for something to eat. He did so in these words, as the lady of the house opened the door to his knock. "God Bless your Cow's Ma'am, Have you any water, I'm so hungry. I don't know where to sleep tonight." They were given supper and bedded down in the hay, for which they were very grateful. Jimmy Hutchison had a similar experience. Jimmy was very Scotch. He arrived at a farmhouse at the noon hour. The woman in this case had not much to give him. She made him some kind of cake cooked in a frying pan. Telling me about it, Jimmy said, "I could feel my innards for a week."
Then there is "our daily bread". We had none of the canned goods or prepared foods that now adorn our store shelves. If we bought coffee, we got the raw beans, baked them in the oven and smashed them in a bit of canvas with a hammer or an axe. In those days, most of the working men had no employment in the long winter months, hence it was necessary to make provision for the family. A great many people kept chickens, geese or ducks. There was quite a pig population, besides the many cows. I have seen hundreds of cows feeding on the two commons or roaming about the streets, cropping the grass. There was no need to worry about cutting our streets, the cattle did that. Salt pork was a common article of diet during the winter, with boiled beef once a week. The provident man had a couple of tubs of salt pork with a good big bin of potatoes, besides onions, cabbage, and squash. A big crock of butter was considered necessary too and perhaps of crock or two of eggs. Sage and catnip, parsley and summer savory were gathered, tied in bundles and hung in the kitchen to dry. Dried apples were very much in evidence and many an apple I helped my mother to peel and string up. Cooking pots were of cast iron and were easily cracked if one forgot to let them boil dry. A common article for breakfast was a good big pot full of oatmeal porridge or cornmeal mush with syrup on it. Corn bread too was common and it was good when fresh from the oven. Not much baker's bread was eaten. Homemade bread was considered more substantial. We grew hops and mother made yeast. A keg or two of salt herring was also a part of the provision. These were plain foods, but wholesome and enjoyable. Hickory nuts and walnuts were abundant and with popcorn, furnished many an evening's enjoyment.
The small houses were usually devoid of paint. Eavestroughs were of wood. There were no metal or asphalt shingles then, but good pine shingles were cheap and lasted 40 to 50 years. Most of the houses had no stone foundations. Cellars were just a hole dug out and in winter, houses were banked up with earth. Most people burnt wood although coal was very cheap, about $4.50 to $5.00 per ton. About two or three carloads would supply the needs of the Community. You could buy good hardwood for $3.00 to $3.50 per cord and when I say cord, I mean cord, 128 cubic feet. When I first went to Public School, wood was the fuel used in the good big box stoves. I remember the late John Clockenburg telling of one of his first job here, that of cutting and lugging up the stairs of a large quantity of wood for William Kirby's office in the Town Hall.
CHANGES IN OUR TOWN
GENERAL
I heard a remark made by a visitor to our Town not long ago to the effect that the Town didn't change. My remarks so far may convey the idea of change. We might profitably enlarge upon the subject. If I could take you back to my young days, I think you would agree with me that the Town has changed. Take our tree-lined streets for instance. I remember our trees as small and each tree with a box around it. As the cattle ran at large, protection from them was necessary. One evening during the late War, a man belonging to the British Columbia Regiment, then in Camp here, strolled past our home. He stopped and remarked to me that he never seen such a place with such a variety of trees. He said they had larger trees, but nothing like the variety we have. Our trees are one of the greatest beauties of the place. How drab things would be without our trees. Where are the cows and horses that roamed our Commons and streets. Yes, and the geese. The live stock only ceased to roam when Joe Mussen was Mayor, 1921 to 1923.
Where are the wooden sidewalks. How charmingly they could trip one when the nails began to let go. I think I see Joe Eares and Frank Clark, each with a wheelbarrow laden with planks, hammer and nails, going about the job of street repairs. By the way, our first concrete walks were laid out on Queen Street by John Thornton. Then in 19l0, a contract was made with Langley and Cook of Niagara Falls and a lot of our modern sidewalks were laid by them in that and the following year. And our roads were dusty and muddy, according to the time of year.
[From January 25th, 1951:]
Our Town must have been a pretty dowdy looking place when I was a boy. Of course a kid wouldn't think much about it but when I think back and compare it with its present appearance, I can see big changes in it. Wooden sidewalks, treeless streets, mud or dusty roads, unpainted, weather-beaten houses were much in evidence. Trees have been planted and have grown tall; streets are almost entirely free of dust in summer and mud in spring and fall. Means of travel were by equine express or railway. Or perhaps, if one were energetic enough, you might take "shank's mare." For there were walkers in those days. People often walked to St. Catharines or to Queenston. I myself have traveled a foot-back between here and Port Dalhousie several times. A Sunday stroll to Queenston or Virgil was quite common. A trip that we often took was "around the horn." Often of an evening, when we had nothing to do, someone would propose that we go around the horn and away we would go. This adventure was made via King, Mary, Simcoe and Queen Streets.
[From March 1st, 1951:]
Many changes have taken place in our Town. We were at one time, the only Town of any size in this part of Canada. But with the passage of time, various causes have brought about these changes. Governor Simcoe thought we were too close to Uncle Sam and he moved his capital to Muddy York, which has shed its pinfeathers and bloomed into Toronto the Good. I don't know about that good business. If you read the papers, a good many things are taking place over these, which rather indicate a smell of brimstone in the air. American commercialism has crept into its public affairs. Its sports have to be paid and its quiet Sabbaths polluted with Sunday Ball and Hockey. But we in this Town have no right to throw stones at Toronto.
[From May 15th, 1952:]
So many changes have come about in our Town in my life span, that one would think it easy to find something about which to chat and it helps when someone recalls some incident which almost always serves to bring something else to mind. In my account of a tidal wave, I gave it as I received it from my mother. I met Walter Reid however and he gave me another aspect of the occurrence that he had got from his mother, who was then a young woman living near the spot where this occurred. According to Mrs. Reid, the disturbance was caused by a waterspout, which burst on or near the beach, and she saw it happen. I don't suppose many people in Niagara ever saw a waterspout. They are very rare on the lakes, but are quite common in tropical waters. I myself once saw one off the mouth of the river and three or four miles out. Of course, I would not have known what it was, for I was quite small then, but my Dad and other Fishermen said it was a waterspout. It looked like a big spinning top. When one of them encounters a solid object, it collapses and comes down in a heap. I suppose a waterspout is caused by what is known in the west as a cyclone. It used to be the custom at sea, in sailing ship days, to carry a small cannon with which to fire at and burst a waterspout. I was thinking of what a change had come over our means and speed of travel over the briny. When my Dad came over from England in a troopship with his father's regiment, they were three months making the trip. Then you hear of people traveling to the Cape of Good Hope, making several stops on the way, in less than twenty-four hours. How times do change.
I think I see a horserace along that same street, with its accompanying smothering clouds of dust. Nor do I ever see a long procession of geese, led by an old gander, wending their way homeward along that same street as evening approached. Gone too are the raised crossings, which were a necessity for escaping the mud when wet weather, set in. Those became a menace when the automobile came on the scene. One thing they did do, though, was to prevent the speed that is now so prevalent. If you cross the street near our new Post Office, you get an idea of how the motorist of the day judges 30 miles an hour. In my humble opinion, 60 would be nearer the speed of the most of them, as soon as or until they are in the vicinity of the block between Regent and King Streets. This same state of affairs may be seen on Byron Street between Fort George and King Street, particularly along about five or six o'clock mostly any evening.
Another thing that has materially changed since my young days, is the growth of grass and woods on our streets. Perhaps most of us are unaware of the fact that there is a bylaw on the Town books, which requires the owner or occupant of a property to cut the grass and weeds in front of his place. I couldn't help noticing one particular corner on our Main Street, which was adorned by a rich crop of weeds. These have since been mowed, but the debris still adorns the spot, which is further embellished by a stop sign leaning at a tipsy angle.
Another thing that seems to have disappeared from our midst is the Coal Oil Lantern, a very necessary piece of equipment for the pedestrian on a moonless night. Speaking of sidewalks, I remember when our cement walks were being installed. What a comfort they were after stubbing one's toes over loose planks in the old boardwalks. But, alas and alack, the newness and the smoothness have gone from plenty of those same walks. They almost force one to learn and practice the goose step in order to be sure of not rather abruptly and involuntarily kowtowing, as one goes about on his lawful occasions in the course of evenings. One is apt to be made to realize what a hard, hard world we live in when suddenly brought low. It is hard to preserve one's equanimity on thus being brought down, to say nothing of guarding one's tongue on such an occasion.
Another change I have noticed is in the female of the species. When I was young, a girl, when she had come to years of discretion, adorned her person with a wide, wide, hat, a rather heavy veil and a parasol. These were used to protect her dainty complexion from the sun's rays. Her nether limbs were also shielded by a voluminous skirt. Now, it would seem that the more a female can expose to the gaze of the coarser sex, the more she enjoys it. Of course, the men don't object to such a practice, but one cannot help remarking on it.
[From December 21st, 1950:]
The last one I want to speak of was in 1929, Easter Monday, April 1st. This was a westerly gale and it blew trees out by the roots all over the place. There were twelve of these in St. Mark's Cemetery alone. I was in my yard propping up fences when one of these came down almost on top of me. Then two more about 50 feet away went over. I met Miss Annie Kennedy just outside my place. She had just come through the park where several trees had come down. As we stood chatting, we heard a crash. A huge elm tree had come down and had knocked the belfry off the Parish Hall. Then two big trees at the St. Vincent Church went out over the road and it seemed as if the world was coming up by the roots. The streets were a mess.
I wonder if you could picture our Town streets without trees. When I was small, nearly all our street trees were tiny things with boxes all around them. While these same trees in time of storm constitute a menace to life and property, yet they give our Town a beauty and a charm that is hard to beat anywhere. I remember that while the British Columbia Regiment was in Camp here, one of that Regiment came along past my home and stopped a few moments to chat. He told me that he had just been walking around admiring the trees. He said that he had never seen a Town with such a variety of trees. " We have bigger ones in British Columbia" said he, "but not such a variety."
I should say that the most of these same trees are seventy-five years old and a good many of them will need replanting very soon. I noticed while I was staying in Toronto, that the City was planting trees in the northern section of the city and that those planted were of a good size and each wired to a good substantial wooden stake. I thought that an excellent idea. I remember that once I was delving into one of the Town Minute Books and in 1883, the late Bob Reid recommended to Council that there were enough tree boxes on hand to box a double row of trees across the common to Paradise Grove. That would indicate that those trees are sixty-seven years planted. I have no definite information as to who was responsible for the street tree planting, but I have always understood that Henry Paffard had the trees in the Park planted, so I dare say he also sponsored the street trees.
In the course of time, the Town Fathers decided to install a water system, not with a view to getting pure water to drink, but for fire protection. After this was done, it was a good many years before the use of the Town water for cooking and drinking was general and, to tell the truth, it was not very palatable. People had not then discovered that the River water was not as pure as it looked. There were, however, good springs at the Dock and it was surprising how many people came from far and near to drink from those springs. One year, an international commission was busy collecting information as to the pollution of boundary waters. A young man named Avery, a son of Dr. Buell Avery, a Dentist who lived and practiced in the Eckersley house at the corner of Regent and Johnson Streets, was with the commission. One of his daily chores was to take a sample of water from each of the four springs for analysis as to their purity. This he did for three months and not once did they find any contamination. These springs were situated at Fort George, at Nelson Street, in the Fell lot on Ricardo Street, and that on Delatre Street, usually known as the Elliott Spring. I had the job of taking him to various points on the river and lake, where samples could be taken for analysis.
Then came the chlorinating of the water and this made the water anything but nice to drink. But now, with the various improvements in treating our water supply, it is quite tasteless and safe. Another change that has done much towards good health for our people is the available milk supply. I have mentioned the cattle running at large. There were some hundred odd cattle kept in the Town and these were turned out to graze on the streets and commons. Milk was sold at five cents per quart. Various causes have stopped the public grazing of cattle. The Military Authorities forbade the use of the Commons and traffic conditions would not permit their use of the streets and so, after much ill feeling on the part of cattle owners, the cows disappeared from our streets. I was a member of Council when these changes came about, so I know whereof I speak. These various changes were not popular, but typhoid fever has disappeared from our midst and the general health of the people has shown a decided improvement.
Some years ago, a man came into my office whom I had not seen in about thirty years. He was George Todd, who had been a neighbour when we were boys. He had come in on the bus from St. Catharines and he told me that he didn't know the Town when he came to it.
Only today, I was stopped on the street by some people in a car. One was a girl I knew but had not seen for a long time. She was with relatives in a car and they had been driving her around to see the Town. She told me she wouldn't have known the place. So the weight of opinion is to the effect that the Town has changed.
When my grandfather came across the same Atlantic with his Regiment in 1840, it took them three months. Now the modern liners do the trip in a little more than that many days. No so many years ago, our western provinces were an unexplored wilderness. Now they are served by railways where there was nothing but Indian trails, while air travel is a thing of everyday life. And who ever dreamed that Alberta and British Columbia would be producing oil and that Canada bids fair to outstrip the whole world in the quantity and quality of its stored up oil reserves. Some of us Oldtimers have seen some wonderful developments in our time. When I was a schoolboy, the telephone was invented. We have seen the coming of Electric Light and Power. Who among us remembers our first Electric Light system? We had no electric motors or stoves, or refrigerators. We had no hard surfaced roads. The use of tar and asphalt for roads had not been thought of. Stone-crushing machinery was unknown. Did you know that our only stone road, which began in front of our Town Hall, was all hand crushed. I was once told the name of the man who did the work in the Town, but I have forgotten it. We had no phonographs. The first of them that I remember was owned by John Brown and was the kind that used a cylinder and a huge horn. We had no radio. And how it has been improved and developed. And we had no moving pictures. The first one I ever saw was in Toronto at Exhibition time. Walter Reid and my brother Fred and I went into a little place on Yonge Street. I don't suppose it would seat over fifty or sixty people. It was silent, of course and was very flickering and hard on the eyes. Incidentally, we rode along King Street to the Exhibition on one of the old horse drawn trams behind an old grey horse and it took about an hour. I remember when we had only small trees on our streets, protected by boxes and when our Park was a wilderness of small trees, while around the park was a hedge, protected by a wire fence. One must remember that in those dear, dead days, there were herds of cattle roaming our streets. Truly, the "World Do Move", and what a different world it is. We certainly have much to be thankful for and it would do us all good to count our blessings, now that we have embarked on a New Year. We have many things that our Fathers never had or dreamed of having and we have some things that are abused. Those means of getting about are in many cases, abused by people who are careless or in a hurry to get nowhere. So many good people are being killed or maimed by these very things which we count as blessings.
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But let us go back a bit to the early days of railroading in our Town. When our railway was first planned, it was intended to enter the town by way of Paradise Grove and rails were actually laid down past the road that led across the Common. It changed our whole course of travel to the south of the Town for it dug a cutting right along the course of the old River Road and a new road across the Common from the end of Picton Street came into use. However, some difficulty arose about getting across the slip, which was then very much in use, so the Railway was temporarily laid down through the Town as it is to this day. However a long wooden trestle was constructed from Ricardo Street over the flats to the waterfront at the Steamboat Wharf. The greater part of this was earth filled before my time, but a part of the trestle over Delatre Street remained. During my boyhood, the Railway replaced this remaining part of the wooden trestle by the present iron bridge. They had a gang of men working there and used a capstan worked by a horse for hoisting the large blocks of stone. The horse was one owned by Bob Allen and Charlie Clark was the driver. We kids considered it of great importance that we should spend as much time as possible superintending the work. One day, just as a particularly large stone was being raised, a bee stung the horse, whereupon it took to its heels and raced around that blamed capstan which was quite a treat for us kids. Poor Charlie was puzzled and kept shouting at the horse to Whoa and what tickled us was the way that staid old nag got over the capstan arm without once even stumbling. The crew had to trip that stone in a hurry and it came to earth with a bang. Fortunately the men got clear and no harm was done, except to the nerves of the poor horse. When the morning train pulled out, a number of flat cars would be placed on the track above Ricardo Street. When the crew wanted a fresh carload, they would start a car with crowbars and it would roll down to where it was wanted, whereupon the hand brake would be applied to stop it in the proper place. However, they started a car one day and after it had got rolling, they found that it had no brake. If it had been allowed to continue its downward course, it probably would have gone through the Steamboat Warehouse. We quite enjoyed seeing that bunch of men running to throw planks and scantlings across the track to stop the car. Some of the lumber snapped like matches, but they finally brought it to a halt.
At the end of that period, Captain Dick approached the Town with a new proposition. He proposed to build an addition to the Hotel to cost not less than twenty-five thousand dollars and to guarantee to run the Hotel as a summer hotel for not less than twenty years, with the proviso that the Town should make him a present of the Stock which the Town held. This was agreed to and I must say that Captain Dick and his successors kept their part of the bargain. In my day, McGaw and Winnett ran the hotel as well as the Queens in Toronto. Mr. Winnett was the Niagara manager until after his partner died, when other men were put in to manage the Niagara hotel. None of them was as good and successful as Henry Winnett. When I was a boy, I often saw Mr. Winnett out fly-fishing for white bass, with Dan Sherlock rowing him. Henry would be garbed in a white suit. His face was garnished with a mustache and side-whiskers, a cigar would be firmly clamped between his lips, a smile of beatific content would further embellish his countenance. Altogether, his was the appearance of a successful and contented man, especially when the bass were biting. Many people of note stayed at this famous hostelry. I remember Sir Thomas Lipton staying there. All the yachts from the Royal Canadian Yacht Club were here. We were engaged to take a photographer out on the river to get a panoramic photo of the Hotel and the yachts anchored in front of it. We then were the proud possessors of the Steamer Abino. The event took place on a Sunday afternoon. Well, the yachts were duly anchored according to plan, but before the time arrived for the picture taking, we received an SOS to come in a hurry and rescue a fleet from dire peril. A brisk wind had sprung up from the east, the sea was getting up and every darned yacht in the fleet was pounding the bottom. We put in the afternoon towing yachts off the bottom and taking them to safe harborage up the river. And no pictures were taken.
King George and Queen Mary were housed here in 1901. Many people from the Southern States summered here. The Saturday night hops were widely known and very popular and large crowds came over from Toronto. You could buy a ticket in Toronto for five dollars that covered the steamboat fare and hotel board for the weekend. The yellow bus and the baggage wagon met all boats.
After Winnett ceased to do the managing, a succession of people ran it, but owing to changing conditions, it began to go downhill and was finally sold at auction to a syndicate who ran it one year and then scrapped the buildings. They allowed the Town taxes to get in arrears and I ultimately had the melancholy duty of selling the land for taxes. No purchaser being forthcoming, the Town had to take title to it. And so passed away one institution which was an almost invaluable asset to our Town.
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DOYLE'S HOTEL [THE MOFFATT INN]
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Let's go down to the Dock. There we find two hostelries. The brick one near the river was built by John Thornton the first for a Charles Oscar Benedict. In my early days it was known as Rousseau's, its official title being "Lake View House", that being the name painted in large letters on the river side of the building. At one time, it was kept by Martin Morrison, but my first memory is John Rousseau, who owned and ran it. He died when I was a small boy. After his death, his son Johnny became the owner, but during his lifetime, the house was rented most of the time. The first tenant of whom I have recollection was Mrs. Long, the mother of Bill Long. It was while she ran the hotel that the roof was burned, having been set afire from a spark from the locomotive. Mrs. Long moved to the White Wings on Picton Street while the roof was being restored. A third story was added at this time. I may say here that this hotel got a lot of custom from across the river, Soldiers from Fort Niagara and citizens from Youngstown. Then there were railway men, sailors and fishermen. When I mention the latter, please don't get the idea that our own fishermen spent all their time and their money in hotels. They were not saints, just people and the hotel served them as a sort of social gathering place, where they played a quiet game of cards or checkers or dominoes. Of course, we known that one can find one's self thirsty occasionally.
Speaking of fishermen, there used to be a good business in catering to the wants of sportsmen who arrived by train from Buffalo and by boat from Toronto, to pursue the finny denizens of the Lake and River. Many a weary hour I put in rowing them, sometimes from daylight to dark. We used to get a dollar and a half a day. It rather gives me the willies to hear of the greedy grasping for a 40-hour week and more pay per hour than we got per day. It seems to me there is no end to the desire for more and then some more. I am reminded of an old song whose theme was "Everybody's doing it." People nowadays don't seem to try to live within their means, but rather they demand to be given enough so they can "Keep up with the Jones's." Personally, I never knew a time when there wasn't something I would like to have, but couldn't afford. And the worst of it is that the children are being brought up with the "gimme" idea firmly fixed in their minds.
However to return to our "muttons". There were not a few that earned a stamp during the summer. I have known John Redhead to have 45 boats out at one time. Besides, Dick Taylor had 20 to 30 boats, and the Boltons and Dan Sherlock had quite a fleet. So you see, this business helped a good many families to keep the wolf from the door.
On one such occasion, I was talking to his son-in-law. We were standing on the railway crossing and Jack said, "I wonder what's keeping George," and he looked at his watch in the bright moonlight, and it was nine o'clock. Just then a rig came around the corner of Delatre Street and Jack said, "Here he comes now." But it was George. It was a black man, Alf Livingstone and a white man, both a little the worse for liquor. They drew up to the plank platform that ran along outside the sidewalk and alighted. About a hundred yards behind them came George. He drew up behind the hotel and unloaded his purchases, while the two looked on. He then drove to the stable to put up the horse, while the two onlookers adjourned to the bar, Jack going behind the bar. Presently, George entered, his light overcoat well plastered with mud. "Where did you get the mud on you George," said Jack. George was silent while he hung up his overcoat and then his coat, silent still. Then, "Those two sons of you know what, upset me in the ditch," and he took a running punch at Jim, who went reeling backwards out of the door and into the dusty road, whence he arose with haste and fled expeditiosly up the road and I heard Jim McMillan call out. "Go it, he's after you." while Alf was yelling "Hol on, Jim, I can licke the son of Belial that hit you." "I'll fix you", said George, and he emerged from the door with a beer mallet but Alf too had left.
After the Mays left, the Hank Bells came. Hank was a carefree, devil may care, sort of fellow, hail fellow well met with anyone who came along. Hank had a reprehensible habit of taking an unannounced holiday whenever he had enough cash in his pocket, much to his wife's annoyance. The first occurrence of the kind was not long after they came to Niagara. One Sunday morning, Hank announced that he was going up town to get shaved. Barbershops kept open on Sunday mornings in those days. On Tuesday night about ten o'clock, my brother Charlie and I had been over the river and had just put our boat away, when we espied a dim form coming down the railroad track. The hotel was all dark, except for a dim light in the kitchen. This was in pre-electric light nights. The man went to the hall door and finding it locked, softly knocked. We saw the light leave the kitchen and approach the hall door. We heard a female voice call out, "Who's there?" "It's me," said me brave bucko. The door opened and she said, oh so sweetly, "Well, Henry dear, did you get shaved?" Then she grabbed him. "Damn you, I'll shave you," and she proceeded to belt him hip and thigh. He being a perfect gentleman didn't resist. Well, as a matter of fact, she was bigger than he. So that was that.
After the Bells, came Pat Donelly. Pat was quite a sport and kept a game rooster and I used to see him with a leather legging on, teasing the bird so it would attack him. Then John Simpson succeeded Donelly. John was a very nice man and kept a good house. John had a brother Bill who had more nerve than a mule. For instance, the yacht Cleopatra was tied up in the slip when Bill happened along. No one was aboard and Bill spied through an open port, a ham cooking on an oil stove.
So Mr. Bill hied him to the hotel barn, where he armed himself with a hay fork with which he speared the ham from the pot and marched off in triumph with his spoils to the barn. He procured some biscuits from the kitchen, gathered his cronies from the bar and the feast was on. I could recount more of Bill's exploits, but will forbear. One day, however, Bill was enroute up Town and as he approached the American, Jim McMillan came out. It was in the Winter and Jim had a horse and cutter outside. He invited Bill to come for a ride. Now tuck yourself in well, Bill, it's pretty cold." And then he drove into the barn. Bill wasn't a bit grateful for the ride and his language was not a bit Biblical. John finally shipped Bill off to Toronto. When John left the Hotel, he lived first in the house now owned by Mrs. Steve Sherlock. Then he moved to the brick house in the hollow between Ricardo and Byron Streets. He served as Councilor for two years and was in Council when King George V and Queen Mary visited Niagara in 1901. He ran the liquor store for a time and died and was buried in St. Mark's.
Hank Bell came back for a time and was succeeded by Frank Addison in 190l. During Frank's tenancy, Johnny Rousseau, the owner died. Jay Doyle got possession under a mortgage and sold the place to Frank. Frank Addison was quite an athletic fellow and prided himself on his oarsmanship. But one Labour Day, Frank entered for the skiff races and took it for granted he'd win, of course. But the gang put up Ned O'Melia to enter and he beat Frank quite nicely. Well, you didn't dare mention boat race to Frank after than. In fact, the gang plagued the mischief out of him. The phone would ring and a voice would ask about the race, till Frank swore he'd tear the darn thing off the wall if there was any more of it. Frank hadn't a very good hold of his temper at any time. Since his day, the place has changed hands about every full of the moon. The last time I saw Johnny Rousseau was in a hotel in Toronto. He had a bundle of papers which he proceeded to show me. "Now," he said, "When you go home, you tell that darn Frank Addison that I can get tenants for my hotel without him". He had apparently had some dispute about rent. He then rented the hotel to a Toronto pair who ran the hotel in such a way that it lost its license. They, however, rented it at the end of the summer to a man named Greenwood. Poor Johnny did not live to see his hotel fall into disrepute, for he died and was buried at St. Mark's. Thus another family ended in Niagara. Addison got the hotel back from Jay Doyle who had become the owner and ultimately bought it and ran it until his death. With his passing, another old Niagara family finished with Niagara, as his family moved away.
Before we finally leave the Lake View, one or two incidents come to my mind. One day Johnny Rousseau had squired two girls across the river in a rowboat. A strong southwest breeze sprang up and poor little Johnny was having a hard time trying to make headway. Observing his plight, my Dad conveyed me to his assistance and I did the brave rescue stunt. The girls were duly grateful and Johnny rewarded me with a whole quarter. When I proudly showed it to Skip Davies who ran Redhead's boathouse, he let a whoop out of him you could have heard a mile and shouted out "By golly, Rousseau opened his heart. Nobody ever knew him to open up before." And you should have seen the girls grin, for they couldn't help hearing.
One of the later proprietors of the Lake View was Ed Sherlock. You all know Ed, and a very nice fellow he is, quiet and reserved. He used to be quite an oarsman and I remember when he went to Toronto and trimmed the elite oarsmen of that burg in skiff races. Chummy has a sense of humour too. He ran Dick Taylor's boathouse at one time. There were always boys sitting around and as it not uncommon with boys, some of them argued about their respective prowess as oarsmen. Chummy listened to them on day bragging and he remarked dryly that he could beat the three of them. They challenged him to prove it. So an impromptu match was arranged then and there. Chummy was to man one of the small skiffs and they three were to take one of the larger skiffs which would accommodate three pairs of oars and the race was to be around the black buoy and back, a distance of about two miles. I think the three boys were Jimmy Patterson, Perry Currie and Garlie Keith and they had Archie Hood in the stern to trim the boat. Chummy simply played with them and gave them the haw haw. There were a very much deflated trio and it didn't make it any better when an anchor stone was found to be attached to the stern of their boat. Of course, no stake was put up and it was just a bit of harmless fun and we all enjoyed the episode. Three of the four boys mentioned have passed away. Perry Currie was killed overseas, Garlie Keith died in the flue epidemic and Archie died long ago. Jimmy Patterson served overseas and is still with us.
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The expedition set forth, with the officer at the helm, the other officer beside him lashed by a piece of rope to a ring at the stern. After getting out on the reef where it was really rough, the men were seen by those on shore to cease rowing and to peak their oars navy fashion and presently over went the boat. Some of the men were seen to cling to the keel of the upturned craft, but they dropped off one by one and perished. The boat was picked up off Port Dalhousie with the body of the young officer still fast to the stern. The bodies of the other men washed up on the Canadian Shore and lie buried in the Fort Niagara burying ground on the bank of the river, where a slab records their fate. I remember my Father telling of John McMillan driving up to Fort Erie with a load of provisions for No. l Company at the time of the Fenian Raid in 1866. And thereby hangs a tale, told to me by Jack Nisbet, who was there, and was of the hoary age of sixteen long years. Jack, according to his tale, was placed on guard.
The night was dark as your pocket and while walking his beat, Jack got pretty nervous and presently he heard a subdued sound down at the far end of his beat. So he may be excused for lingering close to the guard tent. The Corporal came out of the tent and inquired why Jack was not walking his beat. Jack said there was something down there. So they listened and both heard the same subdued sound. The Corporal was puzzled so he turned out the guard and they, armed and ready, the Corporal guiding them with a lighted lantern, proceeded stealthily down the fatal path and found an old, peaceful cow, placidly chewing her cud and sighing audibly with contentment. Fenian Raids and soldiers meant nothing in her life. Jack told me he was a long time living that down. But the night was not over. There was more to come. Later on, Jack was on duty guarding the wagonload of provisions. As he leaned on the wheel of the wagon, his ears were listening. The night was still, when his ear caught a faint, gurgling sound, coming as it were, from the ground at his feet. Now, it would seem that part of the contents of the wagon had been unloaded and placed under the wagon for protection from the nightly dew. Among the items so unloaded were a five-gallon jug of whiskey and a two gallon one. Presently Jack felt a tug at the bottom of his trousers, and, putting down his hand to find what did it, a tin cup was placed in it, containing a wee drappie, which soon was placed where it was meant to be. Soon all was quiet along the Potomac, but when the glorious orb of morn illuminated the oriental horizon, the dews evaporated, as had the entire contents of one two-gallon jug.
John McMillan was quite an important man, as he served nine years altogether in Town Council. Dave, finding the store unprofitable, it was closed out and Dave went to Toronto where he became interested in the Cartage business. He sent over to his father for some money to put in the business. John went over one night to take him the required funds and was found dead in a hotel bedroom the next morning. Descendants of Dave still carry on the Cartage business that he founded and are located on Isabella Street. One of Dave's daughters, Mrs. Vida Carter left a sum of money to St. Mark's Church, which money helped build the stone wall, the tablet inside the main gate being unveiled by her cousin, the late W. J. McMillan, son of Jim.
Jim McMillan was a prankish fellow as was his son after him. He and Dave both adorned St. Mark's Choir when it was situated in the gallery over the main entrance. Jim ran the hotel for a long time after his father died and he tired of it and rented it to others from time to time, during which periods, he lived in a house on Lockhart Street, which has since been taken down. Among the tenants who ran the hotel was a Mr. Graves, whose son Ed went to High School when I was there and who later became Member of the Provincial Parliament for Lincoln. Ed had a very successful Real Estate business which is still carried on. Another son, Fred Graves was Sheriff of Lincoln, since retired. Another tenant was a Mr. Withers who was a tall, lanky sort of man. One of his sons had a Barbershop where Harry Steele is now located. He married Nellie Hindle. The American Hotel shared with the Lake View in the patronage of the American soldiers. Among them was Jerry O'Keefe, a little, wizened old fellow. He was the Fort Baker and the meekest, most inoffensive little man you'd meet. One night there was a free-for-all row in Withers' bar and in the heat of it, little Jerry ran up to big Withers and planted a right-hander on Wither's chin which sent him down for the count. This was such an anti-climax that the row ended then and there amid much hilarity at Withers' expense. Another who was in the hotel for a time was Richard Pick, of whom I don't remember much except that he came from Delhi.
However, Jim was running and occupying the hotel himself at the time of his death. Just one little incident about Jim before we say goodbye. He was a man who loved a joke. Who can blame him when the joke was on himself if he were just a bit annoyed. Jim had announced that he was going shooting coweens the next day. In those days, one had to load one's own shells and promised himself a good afternoon's sport on the icebanks. However, his hopeful son and a boarder named Keyes who had a planing mill across the way, had plans of their own. After Jim was snug in bed, the two busied themselves by removing the shot from the shells and replacing it with rice. Poor Jim spent a fruitless afternoon banging away at the birds which were plentiful, until he got one so close that the charge blinded it, when it occurred to him to examine his shells. When he arrived home, his son received a quite justifiable reproof couched in quite parliamentary language of course.
I seemed to have aroused some ire in the breast of a person who takes exception to some of my general comments on the trend of the times. I am sure I did not mention unions, but I have no intention of withdrawing or apologizing for what I said. I have no acquaintance with the person who has taken umbrage at my remarks. It reminds me of Pa Andrews who was my teacher at High School. He occasionally gave us boys a fatherly lecture and he often wound up his remarks with the saying "If the cap fits you, wear it." Nuff said.
I seemed to have pretty well exhausted the Hotel business and perhaps something may occur to me that might be of interest; perhaps we might discuss some of the persons and events of the Town's history. I don't think I have been very hard on anyone in these reminiscenses so far. If I have, "Let him now speak or else forever hereafter, hold his peace."
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Whatever he did, he did well. I sat with him in Council. Later on he served almost a lifetime on the School Board. While I have lost a friend, the Town has lost one of its most valuable citizens and one whom it will be hard to replace. The Waterworks grew up with him, as he went there with his father when it began in 1891 and he put in nearly sixty years in the service of his Town. He was a man of fine character and well deserved the respect of the citizens of our Town. He made a record of service to his community that should be a pattern for the youth of today. He was certainly a "leader of his people by his councils," and his name will long live with his people.
Lynch stole a boat and came across the river. He walked to Queenston and took the train to Buffalo. There he was ultimately apprehended and lodged in the guard house at Fort Porter. He became ill while so incarcerated and the Fort hospital, having lost its roof and being unusable, he was dispatched under guard to one of the City hospitals. While enroute, they got into a crowd and Mr. Lynch skedaddled and was seen no more.
Irish soldiers seem to have a habit of getting into rows. I remember another incident about the same hotel a little later on, all the dramatis personae being also from the Emerald Isle, except one, the villain of the piece being of course, Irish as Paddy's pig. It seems Kehoe, being small, Irish and dark, had a falling out with Beebe, who was tall blond and German, over, yes you've guessed it, a girl.
Those were the days when the Queen's Royal was in operation with its complement of female help and certain American soldiers were drawn there, among them our two heroes. Well, there was a fight, Kehoe getting the worst of it, which didn't suit one of his fiery temperament. It was a quiet Saturday night, with the hotel in darkness. Everything was peaceful and serene, when I returned from a trip across the river, to find several soldiers awaiting transportation. Among them was a man named Doyle who was a veteran of the Battle of Isandlwana in South Africa, he being one of ten survivors. "I belonged to the gallant Twenty fourth." He told me that after the Zulus had gone, he lay among dead men all around him. He managed finally to get up and examine some of those near him, and there were only nine besides himself left alive out of two companies of this Regiment, the 24th. I think they are now the Royal Welsh Regiment. But to get back to our story. when I landed my rowboat in front of Redhead's boathouse, I hear someone breaking sticks in a pile of brush that lay nearby. Presently, there emerged Private Kehoe with a stick the size of a baseball bat in his hand. He leaned it up against the bow of the boat and proceeded to divest himself of his coat and hat, which he laid in the boat. I asked him what he was going to do and he said, grabbing the stick, "I'll be back in a minute," and away he went on the run over the railway track. Doyle made a grab at him by missed him and at once, there broke out a bedlam of sound. The little devil had gone straight as a die to where Beebe was seated with Hank Bell and another Irish soldier named Jerry Desmond. Kehoe hit Beebe on top of the head with his club. The American soldier was wearing a French cap then which had a stiff plate in the top of it. This probably saved Beebe's life. As it was, he was half stunned and Kehoe was aiming another vicious blow at the side of his head which would probably have finished him, but Desmond grabbed the stick just in time. Kehoe was yelling at the top of his voice, almost a scream, "I'll have oor life, Beebe, I'll Kill oo", over and over. We, of course, ran over to see what was going on, but Kehoe broke away and ran back towards the boat. I went after him, as I thought he might take the boat and there he was just behind the corner of the boathouse with an oar up over his head waiting for an attack. I spoke just in time to escape a broken head. Beebe had a sore head and I never heard of any further trouble between them.
The following spring, however, I arrived back from Youngstown, in time to see the same Kehoe, threatening Charlie Ball, Sr. with a revolver. When he saw me however, he came up the beach to me to be ferried across. On the way over, he pulled the gun from his pocket and fired several times in the air. I got him landed without any misadventure. Next day, I learned that he had entered a hotel which we used to know as "The Stone Jug." There he got into an altercation and took a couple of shots. He didn't manage to hit anybody. He was overpowered and landed in the clink, whence he emerged after serving six months and was given a bad discharge and so we lose sight of the dear little snake.
I suppose no one remembers the six-day walking matches. There used to be a large building at the Dock, alongside the present basket factory. It was not occupied and had a large open floor space and these walking matches were held there, around and around the room. Seems pretty dull in these days of speed and hurry, but some enjoyed it, especially as it gave them something on which to bet. People will bet on anything. There was one chap who fancied himself as a long distance walker, by the name of Charlie Chandler, who was for many years, hostler at Doyle's Hotel. I don't remember that Charlie ever won any races or made any money, but he was always game enough to try, and, after all, that is something.
A favourite winter sport was racing up and down Queen Street with a horse and cutter. I think I see Pete Healey and Bill Long and Charlie Bufton at it. There was no money up; they just loved doing it. There was not so much of the money idea in as there is now. People can't even play a game of hockey any more without a cash consideration. I remember the late Capt. Cuddaback remarking to me one day, that it used to be that if a man had eighty to one hundred thousand dollars, he was rich. "Now," said he, "if you ain't got a million, you ain't worth a darn."
Then there was Rifle Shooting. I remember the old iron targets that were then in use. I used to go down with my father to watch No. 1 Company at practice. One day, there was a match shoot between the Niagara Company and one of the St. Catharines Companies. Of course, Niagara won. Among the Niagara men competing was Richard Wynn, commonly called Bunny. Bunny couldn't hit a flock of tame barns, but he didn't think so. There was one target that had a rivet out of its bulls-eye and they always told Bunny when he made a miss that his bullet went through the rivet hole. The old single shot Snider rifle was then used and it threw a big soft lead bullet which mad a big slash on the whitewashed surface of the iron target. Of course it was Bunny's superlative shooting that won the day, or so he was led to believe, and he was escorted home in triumph, proud as a peacock.
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Perhaps we had better reminisce a bit about Hockey, as it is about to make its bow to the people for another season. Down at the dock. There used to be a building beside the present Basket Factory, which in my time was idle and empty. We had a Curate at St. Marks named Rev. E. Stuart-Jones who was fond of manly sports and he organized a Curling Club, which flourished for some years.
In the course of time, the building was taken down and a rink was erected on part of the Town Poundyard, at the corner of King and Johnson Sts., where the Bishop store now stands. This rink was not intended to be used as a Hockey rink as hockey had not then been discovered in Niagara. However, Hockey arrived. The rink had been laid out for four rinks for Curling with a double rink in the center and a single one on each side, the sides being separated from the center by a dividing row of posts which supported the roof.
After Hockey came along, one of these divisions was removed, leaving an ice surface on which to play hockey. This surface was long enough, but only about half the width of the modern rink. Hockey was then played for fun. The boys liked it. They were not bothered about a set of rules a mile long, nor blue lines and red lines, to say nothing of goal creases and the thousand and one irksome "does" and "don'ts" that make life a burden to the player and puzzle the fans.
The boys were tough, they had to be for they played the whole hour with a break at half time and there were no spares. If you lost a man, why you just played a man short and made the best of things. And they weren't amateurs either. Nobody gave them a fake job, nor did they sign a contract.
In the days of which I write, there were seven men in a Team, Goal, Point, Coverpoint, and four Forwards, right, center, left and a rover. I remember John Campbell as point, Jack Hartley as cover and Mops Bishop, Grinny Sherlock, Joe Doritty, Dicky Reid, Pluggity Thompson among the forwards. Dicky Reid also played goal, as did my brother Fred Masters.
Along in the early 1890's there was in existence the Southern Ontario Hockey Association. The group in which Niagara played consisted of Niagara, Niagara Falls, St. Catharines and Hamilton. Niagara won out in their own group and played off with Paris, winner of another group. Paris had a wide rink and our boys lost there to the tune of 16 to 1. In the return match, on Niagara's narrow rink, our boys won by 15 to 1, losing the round by one goal. In February of 1933, I wrote a letter to Wes McKnight, which he read over the radio. Someone had been asking about the origin of the goal net and I took advantage of the inquiry to enlighten Wes and his inquirers about the matter. Here is what I told him. Perhaps I had better quote the letter in full, so here goes.
"Some of us here listened with interest to your reference to a letter from this place inquiring as to where goal nets for hockey were first used and we think we know. About the season of 1894-95, this Town had a hockey team in the Southern Ontario Hockey Association and they were the winners of a group consisting of Niagara, Niagara Falls, St. Catharines and Hamilton. In the play off with Paris, the latter place was one goal up on home and home games. There was a good deal of dissatisfaction with the goal umpires, as the open goal posts lent themselves to disputes as to whether goals were valid or not. The Niagara boys the following year conceived the idea of using a net and you will understand this when you learn that some of the boys were fishermen. The first net was part of an old seine, fastened to the goal posts, the lower edge being frozen into the ice to prevent the puck going under it. This proved so successful that the boys afterwards made a wooden frame to hold the net.
R. W. Reid was in goal for Niagara at the time and he conceived the idea of a wide bladed hockey stick and so spliced an extra piece on his stick. Dickey (as he was known afterwards, played forward very successfully and being an ingenious fellow, he spliced a piece on his stick to make it longer and may claim to have originated both the long stick now in use, and also the goalie's wide bladed stick. The rink here was taken down about 1900 or 1901 and the Town was out of Hockey for some time, but has now been playing Junior and Intermediate Hockey for several years."
Just one or two other references about those early Hockey days. The boys made their own hockey sticks. The seine net referred to above was stowed in our boathouse for years and in the group which cut the pieces out were my brother Fred Masters, Charlie Bishop, Jack Hartley and one or two more.
I remember a Club in St. Catharines called "the Owls". Now St. Catharines has always been jealous of Niagara and rivalry between the two towns has always been keen. On one occasion, when the Niagara Team entered St. Kitts to play a match, they were greeted by large signs on St. Paul Street bearing the words: "Fresh Fish and Summer Boarders." On another occasion, they invaded Beamsville and for some unknown reason, the Beamsvillains did their darndest to commit mayhem on our poor innocent boys. Our little dears had to be escorted out of town by the police. "Thim [sic] were the good old days."
I used to know the late Harry Stephens of Niagara Falls. Harry was Captain of the Falls team. He used to tell his men "Now boys, don't check em, but if you do, check em hard." The usually did just that. Harry told me the last time I met him, about going along the boards in the Niagara rink, some gentle female grabbed him by the hair and nearly pulled his scalp off. Tut, tut, girls. Naughty, naughty. Oh, well. Time marches on. Most of the boys of that day play hockey no more. Some are grandfathers, and some have gone to the great beyond, but they had a lot of fun in the days of old.
[Editor's Note: The previous article was written sometime between 1947 and 1948, month[s] unknown]
Dicky was a versatile fellow and at another time he played goal, and while playing that position, he also conceived the idea of a wide bladed goalie's stick now in common use. So you see, Niagara may well be proud of that hockey team. One must remember, too, that these fellows played sixty long minutes on the ice, with only one rest period in the middle of the game. There were then seven men on the Team, Goal, Point, Coverpoint, Three Forwards and a Rover.
It was the old Niagara Curling Club that was responsible for the building of the rink. They first used a building at the Dock as a rink, but as that was taken down, they had to have new quarters, hence the building of the rink. There are none of that Club left. The Rev. E. Stuart-Jones, then curate of St. Mark's, was the creator of the club. Among its members were Jack and Bob Bishop, Watts Lansing, Bill McClelland Sr. and Jr., Fred and Percy Best, Joe Burns, Rickydoo Robertson, Russell Wilkinson, John Carnochan, Albert Davey, Bill Donelly, Captain Geale, Bill and Colin Milloy, Sam Shearer, Joe Walker.
The rink was built to furnish four lanes or rinks, one down each side and two side by side in the centre. When it was adapted for Hockey, the dividing posts were taken out on one side, leaving quite a wide ice surface, though not as wide as the modern rinks. The spectators occupied the remaining side, that next to Johnson Street. Well, we had a series of mild winters and both Curling and Hockey died out, as it was hard to get good ice.
I was listening to neighborhood news a while ago, when the broadcaster was quoting some reminiscences about skating. He was describing the old spring skates. He didn't mention the wooden skates that antedated them. The body of these skates was made of wood, usually of hickory, with a steel blade. There was a screw sticking up from the heel end of the skate. You had to bore a hole in the centre of each heel of your boots and the skate would have to be turned around and around until the skate and the heel met. Straps for the toe and heel completed the ensemble. Some skates were made with the blade coming up in a graceful curve over the toe of the boot. These were called "turnups," and were of Dutch origin. When hockey came in, the spring skates had superceded the wooden variety, but for greater security, straps were used.
We used to have a rink and a Hockey Team. The rink was taken down years ago, and the players are "all dispersed and wandered, far away, far away." Our boys loved sport but for sport's sake, not for the money they could get out of it. I mentioned Football. We played a game that used to be called "Association," now known by the name of Soccer. I remember that one Thanksgiving Day, we gathered enough boys about the streets to make up a team and we WALKED to Virgil and played a team of farmers. They outweighed us by about fifty percent, as we were a bunch of lightweight kids. I was about the heaviest of our crowd and I wasn't any Samson. Of course, we lost and tramped home tired but not downhearted. That was all in the game.
Our old main street has seen many a bicycle race and many a trotting race, just for fun. Bill Long always had a good horse or two. Bill Donelly had some and Charlie Bufton and James, Pete and Johnny Healey. When we had a fall of snow, out would come the nice, gaily painted cutters and up and down the old street they would prance. I suppose Pete Healey was about the last of our horsemen. Pete and horse are gone and his barn is now the Scout Lodge. I wonder if the Scouts ever hear the jingle of bells or the rattle of harness or the creak of runners sliding over the snow.
I have often heard the mournful cry of a loon early in the morning, when we would be lifting nets. It is a most eerie sound. The male loon, or Northern Diver is quite a gorgeous bird, as big as a goose. The hen bird is quite dowdy beside her mate. We have caught them in ninety feet of water, so they come honestly by their name of diver.
The cheerful chatter of the coween is also a familial sound, although there are not as many of them as there used to be. Their flesh is quite fishy in taste as they feed mostly on fish when in the River. They too are able to dive to quite a depth. The eddy opposite the Queen's Royal grounds was a great gathering place for them. They used to fly up the river to the foot of the Falls in the morning and down to the Lake in the evening. They afforded good shooting when in flight, as they invariably just skimmed the surface of the water.
There were other varieties of birds, of course, but not so numerous as those I have mentioned. There were also plenty of smaller birds, plover and snipe and killdeer.
