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One of my early recollections is of being conveyed in one of Tommy Elliott's rowboats from his boathouse at the foot of King Street to Paradise Grove where St. Mark's Annual Sunday School Picnic was held. I was only a small shaver then, and to me the ride and the arduous climb up the high bank at the north end of the grove were an adventure. I came to know this spot very well in later years. The Canada Southern Railway held it under many years from the Dominion Government. A spur from the railway into it conveyed many picnic parties to its precincts, mostly from Buffalo. We kids used to take a rowboat there and sometimes made from five to ten dollars in a day taking people for boat rides on the river. In later years, when we owned the Steamer Abino, we had a temporary wharf at the foot of the steps from which we carried passengers to and from town.
I remember Mr. Quinn, who used to take the old-time "tintypes", and a lot of picnickers had their mugs taken. Occasionally some frisky individual could not resist the impulse to give the old gentleman a boost from behind when his head was concealed and his rear exposure just waiting to be boosted. It was fun for the picnicker, but most annoying for the dignified old gentleman.
There was another old gentleman named Wells, who had a merry-go-round near the riverbank for a season or two. He was a typical old Santa Claus in appearance, with a long white beard, snowy hair, a stout build and a deep rumbling voice. While he looked as old as the hills, he was frankly in the market for a wife. There were certain attributes which the said wife would have to have, however; she had to be a "wedda," she must be young and she must have money. History doesn't relate whether he was successful or not, as he removed himself and his instrument elsewhere.
Half a dozen men plied between the grove and town with buses, among them Jim Brady, Jim Cumpson, Tommy May, Mike Greene, Jim Humphries and others. Those vehicles were not quite so sumptuous as the modern ones, but they were sufficient for the needs of that day.
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HALF-MOON BATTERY AND NAVY HALL BARRACKS
This grove is wholly within the boundaries of the Town. Beyond it, there used to be a row of summer cottages, known as Warren's Cottages. These were all torn down years ago. On the first point below the grove, there was a battery at one time, known as "the Half-Moon Battery". It is most regrettable that the Park's Commission removed every trace of this ancient fortification when they thoroughly altered the face of the landscape in and about the old fort. This battery was crescent shaped, and at one time had an underground chamber, some of the planks of which used to be visible from the water.
At, or rather below, the next point down was the old Ferry. There was a small wharf there at which the ferry used to land and across the road was the Ferry House, formerly Ralf Clench's refinery. This house formerly stood close to the river, as did the "Red Barracks" just below it. This at one time housed a guard. It was and still is not Navy Hall, but is dubbed "Navy Hall Barracks" on some old maps. This building was of modern frame construction and was rebuilt by John Carnochan and James Doritty not so many years ago.
The real Navy Hall buildings were of logs, with deep window seats. The late Mrs. Bixby of St. Catharines was a Clench, a sister of my mother's first husband Richard Clench and of Johnson Clench, the late County Clerk. She told me this story of Navy Hall, which she had from an aunt, a Mrs. Bullock, with whom Mrs. Bixby lived with for a time, as a girl. Mrs. Bullock lived in Detroit when it was captured by General Brock in l8l2 and they were brought to Fort George and housed in Navy Hall. Mrs. Bullock, then a small girl, was sitting in a window seat when a drunken Indian came along and was about to strike her with his tomahawk. Someone saw him and took him away.
Anyone, who saw the present building before it was cased in stone, would see at once that this could not be the original Navy Hall. I had several discussions with Miss Carnochan on this matter, and she finally agreed with me. I had the advantage of knowing and talking with old people, well acquainted with waterfront matters.
The stone in St. Mark's graveyard known as "Brock's Stone" was taken from the river where it had rolled, by my father, Jack Rayner and Dan Sherlock, being employed by William Kirby to do the work. I have forgotten whose team they had. The Customs House, which stood beside the Barracks, has also been moved and cased in stone. It certainly does not look as it did when I was a kid. There used to be a road down the bank, just below the point, which was used whenever there was a passable ice-jam. These seem to have been common in my younger days. When an ice-jam occurred, Ned Thompson, the Customs officer, would forsake his office in the Steamship Warehouse, and take up his quarter in the old Customs Building.
This building does not seem to have been sold, there being no such transfer on record, but it was occupied by an old sailor named Mike Collins. Mike was a short, bow-legged man, his face adorned by the usual sailor's beard and the beard in turn often decorated by tobacco juice. Mike's wife died, and he loudly lamented her loss. This didn't prevent his marrying Abby Moran not so long afterwards. Now Abby was a neighbour of ours. She was small and Irish, only had one eye, a waspish tongue and a fiery temper. We knew her pretty well, and
I dare say our pranks did nothing to improve that same temper.
One summer day, after she married Mike, a lot of us kids were playing ball near Fort George, close to where the trading post now stands, when we beheld poor old Mike in full flight up the stony hill, and in hot pursuit was Abby, brandishing a rolling pin and breathing threats and slaughter at Mike. However, Mike had the heels of her and escaped across the common. It wasn't long till Abby was back home next door to us. Of course, she carried all the lares and penates of which she was capable, among other things, an extra large wooden washtub. One day as we were playing nearby, down the street came Mike. He espied the tub, seized upon it with great glee, placed it on his head upside down and set off down the street, homeward bound. All we could see as he departed was the tub bottom surmounting a pair of stumpy legs. He hadn't got far, when out came Abby. "Where's my tub," she cried. Almost at once, she spied the tub, and took off at a top speed, bare-footed. She pounced on the tub, floored poor Mike, and marched home in triumph, leaving Mike rubbing himself ruefully and glaring after his loving spouse.
This property was next occupied by the Cross family, who lived there until the old folks died, when the property was disposed of. Its last owner was Mr. Harris Price, the present owner of King's Landing, next door. It was acquired by the Park's Commission and the Barracks was moved to its original site, dressed up in a stone overcoat, capped with a copper roof, surrounded by a flower garden, and converted into a museum of antiques.
One must remember that this portion of the waterfront, from the Old Ferry to the slip, was transformed from a marsh to an embankment by the Erie and Niagara Railway. They graded their right of way from the switch at the beginning of the Grove Siding, through the Grove, making a cutting from where the road through the Grove runs, down to the River front, the earth removed from the cutting being used to build a raised embankment from the foot of the hill at the old Ferry point ending at the slip. This embankment was protected by a row of oak piles, driven a foot apart. Inside the piles, rough stones were piled, making what is known as "Rip-rap".
The late J. J. Wright of Toronto, bought the balance of this Meneilley property including the three-cornered lot across Ricardo St. Mr. Wright was Manager of the Toronto Electric Light Co., and had a steam yacht called the Electra, which he used to travel between Niagara and Toronto. For several summers, his family spent their holidays in a large tent on the premises before the house was built. Mr. Wright was quite an amateur organist, and installed a pipe organ for his own use. He had a wharf or pier at which to land his yacht.
I remember that one day, John Redhead and Harry Wilson were rowing up stream manfully on their way to run a sturgeon line. They forgot the darned pier and plunked bow on into it. I don't suppose they were a bit pleased, for they were rudely placed on their backs with their pedal digits raised to the heavens. As to their language, well, we better not say too much. The skiff proved to be in need of immediate repairs, so they perforce returned to the boathouse, mad, sad, and oh so wet.
The Municipal Waterworks Plant was built in l89l, with Mr. James Brown as Engineer. This was a steam plant and served the requirements of the community for many years, until the coming of the Hydro era. There was a tall, brick chimney built by John Thornton the second. The first light system was installed in l893. This was a 700-volt system, known as the Heisler system. This was one of the first incandescent lamp systems, and the Councilors of the day debated long and earnestly before deciding the matter. J. W. McMillan was the engineer in charge of the plant, with Lorenzo Bissell as his fireman. Later on, Mr. McMillan gave up the position and Mr. Brown was in charge of both plants until his retirement in l923. Mr. Brown served a long time as a marine engineer on lake boats before taking the town job. For most of his time in the town employ, he was assisted by his son John, who succeeded him on his retirement. Both of these men have given the Town of Niagara good service, both being competent engineers and reliable citizens. John is now Superintendent of the Water Utility. In l927, the present Hydro substation was built on the Ricardo St. end of the property, and the equipment moved out of Waterworks precincts.
In l904, the Dominion Government built a lighthouse on the street and opposite the Waterworks Building. This is one of a pair, the other being at the far side of the slip, they being line on the direct course towards the eastern gap at Toronto, both showing red light on the lake side only.
The adjoining lot, now the site of Shepherd's Boatworks, belonged to the Milloy family in my early days. I remember posting up a notice of the foreclosure of a mortgage on this property when I was Division Court Bailiff in the early days of 1898. It then came into the possession of E. J. McIntyre. A wharf was built just below the line of Collingwood St., which was the landing place of the Steamer Turbinia when she was running opposition to the Navigation Company's Steamers.
There was an old steamboat called the Gordon Jerry, which used to call here for fruit. She used to call also, at what was known as the "Township Wharf", about half way to Queenston. She also conveyed an odoriferous cargo of manure from Toronto for S. W. Marchmont, who had a large clientele among the farmers of the neighbourhood. He owned a smaller boat called the "Maybird" which was towed behind the Jerry. One night, the Maybird went adrift from the Township Wharf, and was picked up by the Fort Niagara Lifesaving Crew and made fast to their wharf. Next day, a lovely warm southwest wind sprang up and the crew sent over a pathetic and urgent message to us to come over and tow the darned thing away. Their poor, weak stomachs couldn't stand the sweet scent and the numerous insects emanating from the ship. So we got up steam and did as requested. Then we had quite a time collecting our tow bill from the ship owner.
Mr. McIntyre later became interested in a projected Electric Railway between Niagara and St. Catharines, and the property was put into the pool. The project fell through and the lot was then owned by the Wilson Lumber people in St. Catharines. It was returned to the McIntyre family by way of a mortgage and finally sold to Shepherd's Boats.
There used to be a large pond on this lot, deep enough to cut ice from it in winter, and it afforded a dandy place to skate. No one even thought then of making an artificial pond. There always seemed to be plenty of natural ones. One now misses the cheerful frog chorus that nightly arose from this spot. Like all such ponds, it was the abode of frogs, many large and small. The big ones we used to call "mogogs", and they had a deep resonant tone of their own.
The large room in the Waterworks building was empty for a year or two until the electric plant was installed therein and one night a dance was held there. Apparently some of the dancers, strange to relate, had something in their tea. It was related of one portly gentleman, an ex-Mayor at that, who was winding his way homeward, and the frogs were singing cheerily.
In the midst of the preponderant chorus of "knee deep, knee deep", a deeper voice came in, "kerunk, kerunk, kerunk." The gentleman halted, shook his cane towards the voice, and announced, "You're a liar, I'm not drunk". He then went his devious way homeward, up the street pursued by the triumphant "kerunk, kerunk, kerunk" of Mr. Mogog. Pond and frogs have gone, Mr. Shepherd having ruthlessly filled in this delightful abode of the frogs, to say nothing of the dear little mosquitoes. Now this lot has a fine residence, a large boat works and there are to be several cottages erected on it.
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Remembering that all of this low-lying ground was a marsh, you will realize that the slip did not grow of itself. As I remember the slip, it was timbered with square pine logs all around it, kept in place by oak piles. The timbers were spiked together by three-quarter inch drift belts.
The only part not so timbered was the end next to Ricardo Street where were the heavy oak-timbered ways, whereon ships were built and launched in the days of the Niagara Harbour and Dock Company. This Company was given a Crown Grant of the entire waterfront from King Street to Collingwood Street. Their grant was bounded also by Ricardo Street from King St. to a stone at the corner of the Morrison property at Wellington St. There it crossed Ricardo, and followed the brow of the hill to Collingwood St. With the lapse of time, this Company folded up after building many ships. The last of their ships of which I have any memory was the Steamer City of Toronto, of Niagara owned by the Milloys and sailed by Captain W. A. Milloy, son of Capt. Duncan Milloy, the first of the family of whom we have any record. They used to lay the Steamer City up in the slip during the winter. She was usually tied up just in the rear of the warehouse, where there was a wharf and her boats and furnishing were stored in the warehouse.
I have heard my father speak of the winters when the Chief Justice Robinson plied all winter between Niagara and Toronto and of her running up on a slip ice to break it so as to make her entrance. The City of Toronto was built to replace the Zimmerman, which ship had been burned at the wharf with the loss of the life of Pat Lawless in August of 1863, whose red stone monument may be seen just across the street from my house. The City of Toronto was a very neat ship with a walking-beam engine and two stacks side by side. Her paddle boxes were quite high and she used to make just as good time across the lake as the Cayuga makes now.
When I was quite small there was another steamer plying the same route, the Southern Belle, a steel steamer very much like the Chicora only smaller. This boat, formerly called the Rothesay Castle, had been aground and sustained some damage and on being repaired and refitted, her owners deemed it wise to change her name, as prospective passengers did not like to sail on a ship that had been in trouble. About 1877, she was taken off this route and placed on the Hamilton-Toronto run where she continued in use until the Macassa and Modjeska replaced her. Then the Chicora and the Rothesay came on and there was a three-way rivalry for several years. We three kids each adopted one of these boats, mine being the City, Charlie's the Rothesay and Fred's the Chicora and many a childish argument we had as to the relative merits of our boats.
Rousseau's wharf was built in front of Rousseau's Hotel, the Lake View House at this time, to accommodate the Rothesay. After several years of this, the Rothesay was withdrawn, leaving the City and the Chicora to battle for the mastery. The Milloys and their steamer fell on some financial hard times and the boat came into possession of a Captain Daggett who ran her for one year, 1883. By a curious coincidence, she burned outside Muirs' Drydock in Port Dalhousie on the 31st of October, about 9 o'clock, while her insurance policy expired at l2. So passed a fine ship. So the Chicora was left alone in the field. At one time, during the rivalry between these two ships, one could buy a ticket to Toronto for 25 cents. Then came a period of prosperity for the Niagara Navigation Company, owners of the Chicora. In 1888, they brought out the Cibola, which boat was burned at Lewiston Dock in July of 1905. The Chippewa was built in 1892 at Hamilton and was ultimately scrapped by the same firm that built her. I remember seeing the poor old Cibola coming drifting down the river, a sorry wreck, still smoking and a bunch of us rowed out to her and rode on her to the river shore above Youngstown where she was towed and hoved along shore by the Ongiara. That night, four of us fishermen were engaged by John McKeown, her mate, to pump as much water out as we could to keep her from sinking. John got Harry Wilson to make him a galvanized iron pump about eight feet long. Harry was then in the store where the Hydro is now. We rowed along side the Cibola in one of the fish boats and shoved the pump into one of the deadeyes in her side, just above the water line and there we pumped two and two about, until about 8 o'clock in the morning. I suppose there was a certain amount of risk in our position as she might have rolled over on us. However, the Ongiara arrived and rigged a steam siphon and blew her as dry as possible and she was towed by a tug to Toronto. The last time I saw her was at Bertram's in Toronto, where her hull lay stripped alongside the new Corona, which was built there. The Cibola's machinery, including the paddlewheels and the whistle, was installed in the Corona.
The Cayuga was built about 1906, and is now the only boat left of the fleet. The Corona was scrapped at Buffalo, and the Chippewa at Hamilton. While the hull of the Chicora is now a coal barge plying into Toronto from U.S. ports. For a couple of years, 1907 and 1908, I think the Steamer Turbinia was on the run in opposition using the McIntyre wharf as a landing place. Now let us get back to the wharf.
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This part of the Town was formerly a marsh and was outside the original town site. It was largely within the area granted by the Crown to the Niagara Harbour and Dock Company, which area was bounded as follows - beginning at the waters edge at the foot of King Street and proceeding along the southeasterly limit of King St. to Ricardo St.; thence along Ricardo St., one thousand feet to a stone (which is at the corner of the Morrison property at Wellington St.), thence across to the southwest side of Ricardo St. and following the brow of the hill to Collingwood St. and along Collingwood St., to the river and along the river shore to the place of beginning.
In this territory, about a mile in length was found a great deal of the enterprise of the Town in its early days. Here were two refineries or rectifiers, a brewery, two shipyards, a car factory (railway), an axe factory, coal yards, lumber and planing mills, a pop factory, a soap and candle factory, a barrel factory, an apple evaporator, a tannery, a slaughter house, a lime kiln, a brick yard, a willow basket business, etc. As well, there were hotels and dwelling houses, wherein were housed the men who were the bone and sinew of this industrial district. Most of these buildings have long since vanished and it is about them I write.
Beginning at the southerly end of the district, at a point once known as "The Old Ferry," where the old river road left the Town, stood three buildings between the road and the river. The first of which was Ralfe Clench's refinery, next the "Red Barracks", and then the Customs house. At the building of the railway embankment, all three were moved back out of the way, Clench's house being later known as "the Ferry House," and the barracks being dubbed by some as Navy Hall. This so-called Navy Hall was occupied by a frontier guard and stood on posts seven feet high. The guard kept a boat under the building and a gun was mounted beside it. A supply of wood was kept under it. The late John Abbot told me that he had seen farmers delivering wood there. Nearby was the wharf known as "King's" Landing.
I remember the Ferry House with a huge willow tree in front of it and a large barn tucked comfortable against its west end. Here for a long time, was the landing for the river ferry, the last people to operate the ferry from this point being the Bolton Brothers, John and Charles. I remember seeing a sign on the gate reading "Ferry removed to Milloy's Wharf," and signed "Bolton Bros." A two-plank sidewalk was laid from the ferry up "the Stony Hill" and in a direct line across the common to the corner of Wellington and Picton Sts. House, tree, barn and sidewalk have all disappeared.
The Red Barracks, after being moved, stood west of the Clench house, and a little further along the road was a small house which was at one time, the home of Ned Bolton, father of John and Charles. This house was later the scene of two tragedies, the former of those being the accidental poisoning to death of Mara Murphy and two sons. The latter tragedy was the burning of the house and the death of its occupants, an old couple named Harvey who were said to be addicted to smoking in bed.
Next we come to the scene of the activities of the Harbour and Dock Company. Beginning at the westerly corner of Nelson and Ricardo Sts. was a series of buildings, the machine shops, foundry and office of the shipyard. The shops have gone, but the foundry remains although the roof has now fallen in. The office is now the home of W. H. Ball. The Brick Mill, as it came to be called later, has since housed a number of industries: a lumber mill by W. A. Milloy, a feed-cutting business by J. W. McMillan and John Caughill, an engine works managed by E. R. Lundy, a garage and repair shop by John Miller, and later by A. R. Inskoop. It was also used by the Polish Army as a barracks in 1917 to 1918.
On what is now Nelson St. on the southeast side of the slip, stood a long frame building, probably woodworking, as some ships were launched sideways from this position. Some parts of the old launching cradle still remain in the southerly arm of the slip.
After the winding up of the affairs of the Harbour and Dock Company, a large part of the area west of the slip was taken over by the railway, which was built in the 1850's. It was originally planned for the railway to enter the Town by way of the Oak Grove and the waterfront. A deep cutting was made, beginning at the present road, through the woods, and ending at the foot of the hill at the old ferry. From this point a raised embankment was constructed, protected by a row of oak piles and a stone rip-rap. The present railway line was intended to be temporary and was carried on a long wooden trestle from Ricardo St. to the Wharf. The embankment, which replaced the trestle, was made from earth taken from King St. above Ricardo St.
I have been able to trace seven buildings on the lot bounded by Melville St., Ricardo St. and the slip as follows: one on the corner of Melville and Ricardo Sts., used as a stable; next stood one on Ricardo, nearly opposite the office, a brass foundry; then about 100 feet from Ricardo St. was a large two-story frame building with a bell tower on top and a tall brick chimney beside it. This chimney is said to have been built by John Thornton, the first, my wife's grandfather, who laid all the bricks himself, completing the whole chimney in three weeks. This building was taken down by the Milloys and the timbers used in repairing the adjacent wharf. The bell tower was placed at the top of the hill and is used as a summer house.
Near the angle of the two arms of the slip was a long, frame building of one story, once marked "rough framing". It had double doors the whole length of it on its landward side. Part of it was used for a long time as an icehouse by the McClellands and at other times W. A. Milloy had a coal business in it, as did later, George W. Miles. It was also the first building occupied by the Delhi Canning Co., managed by W. H. Whitside. Near this building and parallel with it was another whose use I do not know.
Then there were two large two-story frame buildings with their front ends on Ricardo St., one of which still remains and these were known as "painting and finishing shops." A railway siding led from them to the turntable siding of the railway. The one, which has been removed, was not used in my time, except that the lower floor was a curling rink and the upper, the scene of many walking matches, which were much in vogue in the 70's and 80's.
The remaining building was the home of "The Niagara Oak Leather and Tanning Co." a great sign to that effect adorning the whole riverside of the roof. A row of odoriferous tan vats stood in between the two buildings. The chief man in this business was the late John Blake and later a Mr. Merritt. The building was next used as a lumber and planing mill by a Mr. Keyes, while the upper story was used for a time as an apple evaporator, first by a Mr. Cox and later by J. J. Devos. The writer had the pleasure of running a peeling machine for Mr. Devos at the huge salary of seven cents per hour and at the age of seventeen at that. The next use of the building was by the Delhi Canning Co., managed by Mr. Whitside, this firm being afterwards taken over by the Dominion Canners and managed by John A. Black.
After the building of their new factory, the building lay idle for a time and during the First World War was occupied by the Third Battalion of the Polish Army. Its last and present use was and is as a basket factory. In this connection, I should like to say that I remember the first telephone in the Town. It connected the tannery with the house and Bank of the Mr. Merritt already mentioned. Mr. Merritt lived in the house now owned and occupied by Mr. Walter Reid at the corner of King and Front Streets. Just along Front St., at about the spot where the house of Mrs. Jean McFarlane now stands, was a building. Part of this building was a stable and the part next to the street housed a Bank, where the Bank of Upper Canada was situated formerly and which was managed by Thomas McCormack. From the Bank, the telephone wire first rested on the roof of the Martin Doolan house, then occupied by Mrs. Martin Morrison as a boarding house. Among her boarders was the late James B. Secord and an odd character, one Tom Carey, commonly called "Tom Go Slow". The wire's next resting-place was the highest building of the Steel Works, then the Railway Engine house, the American Hotel and the Tannery. Bank, Steel Works, and Tannery and telephone have long since departed, but for years the telephone wire lingered, a roosting place for birds and a target for small boys' stones.
The next area we come to is that bounded by Melville, Ricardo, Ball and Delatre Sts. Here were many buildings, most of them gone, a few still remaining. On Delatre St. near Melville, was a rather large dwelling, in which at one time my family lived and in which my sister, Mrs. Archer was born. This house was moved to its present site on Melville St. by the Martin Morrisons and is now owned and occupied by Mrs. Stephen Sherlock.
On the adjacent corner was a small frame dwelling, later used as a barn and still later burned. On the present site of the Sherlock house on Melville St., was a house owned by a Mr. Needham and on the corner of Ricardo was a tavern or boarding house, its first known keeper being Macanally, later by Mrs. Mellen usually called Aunty, then by Mrs. Morrison, Bill Dolson and then Mrs. Mary Sherlock, now deceased.
Next on Ricardo St. were two small houses owned by James Young, in one of which they had a candy shop. The smaller of the two shops was later used by Mr. W. H. Quinn as a photograph gallery. His family still owns the property. Then on the site of the Kennedy house, was a double dwelling, long since gone. Here the late John Abbott was born and here my half-sister Fanny Clench was born. Next, just past the spring, was the home of Judy Raynor, a soldier's widow. Next was the home of Mrs. Wilson from the north of Ireland, but who prided herself on being Scotch. She had a wee candy shop and kept chickens, which might be seen wandering about her shop floor or roosting overhead in her kitchen.
Then came the McBrides. Jack was a painter and had numerous progeny who were the bane of Mrs. Wilson's life as were the Turners on the corner. Bill Turner was a mason and also did not believe in race suicide. Around the corner on Ball St. was a roughcast house not occupied in my time. Near the foot of the hill, was the home of James and Mary O'Brien. James was better known as Jimmy Tay.
All these houses from Young's to O'Brien's have been taken down except for Mrs. Wilson's, which now forms the front part of the Kennedy house, having been purchased and moved by George Goff to its present site.
In the area too was a brewery, at the spring, operated by a Mr. Hemphill who lived in the corner house where Turners afterward lived. The malt house stood on posts over the spring and is the only one of the brewery buildings left. It was bought by James Kennedy and moved to the foot of the hill where Mr. Kennedy had his carpenter shop. After his death, William Black bought the building and moved it across the street. He converted it into a dwelling and it is now owned by Curtis Gordon. According to Mr. Kennedy, a whole row of small houses stood along Delatre Street, all of which were disposed of by Mr. Kennedy for the Bank of Upper Canada. Near the Kennedy house on Delatre Street, there was also a three-tenement house.
One of the old plans shows a lime kiln in the center of what is now Ricardo St., then called Clement St., just below Melville, the operator being T. Racey. The house next to the railway, known as Spadina Cottage was once a photograph gallery or as we called it, a "likeness house."
On King St. was a long, low building which was used by the Royal Engineers as a carpenter shop. At the foot of the hill is the Elliott House, for over 100 years, a hotel or boarding house. Across King St. in the Queen's Royal grounds, were two other hotels or taverns. Before the building of the railway, the main road from the wharf was along Lockhart St. This street ran between the Elliott house and the river, through the grounds past the two hotels referred to and up the hill to the end of Regent St. The two hotels stood on the landward side of the road. In the middle of the end of King Street was a blockhouse, sometimes referred to as the Blue Barracks.
In the basement of the house facing Lockhart St. and the river and now owned by the Wright family of Toronto, there was once a soap and candle factory run by S. H. Follett, this business making use of the water from the spring near by. In two frame buildings facing the spring and Delatre St., there was a pop factory run by J. J. Devoe, who then lived in the house at the corner of King and Front Sts. On the next lot southerly stood a small house, once the home of McNamara, the first gillnet fisherman. The late Thomas Burk had a coal and lumber business here, and after his death, the property was purchased by John Bolton. The McNamara house, then occupied by Abbie Moran was torn down and the present house built.
In the flats between the Railway and Delatre St., was a group of large buildings known as the Steel Works. These appear to have been bought by the Town from the Harbour and Dock Co., and given to the Steel Works. These works were operated in my time by a man named Kent. Debentures were issued by the Town to the tune of $50,000 to help Mr. Kent. The business folded up and Mr. Kent went west and for many years thereafter, the Town was paying off those blessed debentures.
The late Senator Plumb seems to have been in charge of the buildings and he had a man named John Alford as caretaker. John Redhead used one of the buildings as a boat building shop for a long period. Finally, the property was purchased by John H. Lewis and D. B. MacDougal. Mr. Lewis bought McDougal's share and wrecked the whole outfit in 1898 and 1899. The only building remaining in existence is the office building which I purchased from Mr. Lewis for $100.00 for my mother and moved it across Delatre St., to the corner of Ball St., where it is now occupied by my niece with her husband and family, as a dwelling. Near at hand, the late Mr. Henry Ellison had a barrel factory that was burned in 1904. Then came the Railway Engine House, from which a siding led to the turntable. Then there was the Railway Watertank and Pumphouse. W. H. J. Evans' coal sheds were along the siding between the engine house and the turntable.
Then along the waterfront, were boathouses belonging to John Redhead and R. W. M. Taylor. Then there was Rousseau's wharf in front of the Lake View House. This wharf was built when there was a keen rivalry between the Steamers, City of Toronto, Rothesay and the Chicora some time in the 1870's. After this rivalry had ceased, the Rothesay having been taken elsewhere and the City of Toronto having gone up in flames at Port Dalhousie, this wharf was only used occasionally for the odd cargo of lumber coming in or the occasional load of barreled apples going out in the fall.
This wharf was finally removed by David Dick, who purchased the property from J. J. Doyle and a sand bin was erected where the Dick fleet of sandsuckers unloaded sand from the river mouth, the sand being mostly used in the building of the Queenston Hydro Plant. All these buildings have been removed as has also the Railway Station and Freighthouse, which stood facing the Milloy Wharf, now the Canada Steamships' Lines Wharf.
About on the site of the Fog Station, there was at one time, a shipyard owned by a man named Fairchild. One old map shows a pond where the American Hotel now stands, there being a bridge over the pond leading to the wharf. The Hotel then stood on the corner of Melville and Delatre Streets. Near it and fronting on Delatre St. were two small dwellings that were destroyed by fire. Near the Hotel as it now stands, were two dwellings, one of them at one time occupied by the Moody family who made willow baskets and who planted the many willow trees found in the vicinity. This family removed to Toronto and are still in business on Yonge St. The site of these two dwellings was purchased by the Canning Co., who built a large tenement house in the rear, to house their help in the canning season. The tenement and the dwellings were taken down when the cannery was moved to its present location and several cottages now occupy the site.
I should like to mention here that the first coal bin of which I have any knowledge of, stood beside the railway tracks facing the slip and held two carloads of coal. As nearly everybody burned wood in those days, not much coal was needed to supply the Town. Mr. Geddes, the railway agent ran the coal business and after him, W. H. J. Evans entered the coal business and moved to the site mentioned elsewhere.
The only businesses now remaining in this once busy section of the Town are the fishermen, the two hotels, the basket factory, Shepherd's Boat Works and the Steamboat Wharf.
The chief factors in the making and unmaking of this section of the Town appear to have been: the coming and going of the Harbour and Dock Co., the building of the Railway, the building of the Welland Canal, the removal of the County Seat, and the general change in population and transportation.
It will be seen from this paper, haphazard though it is that this quiet little nook along the waterfront has made a large contribution to the business life of the Town. Through this district passed the great quantities of freight which were portaged past the Falls. In this spot was centered the interest of the pioneer business men whose names are mostly forgotten - Zimmerman, Thompson, Nash, Melville, Short, Heron, Milloy, Lockhart and many others. They were neither saints nor heroes, neither were they wizards of finance, but they were men of push and initiative who played a major part in the business life of the Town of Niagara in general and of the Dock in particular.
The Railway, for many years, had a plank platform that ran from the westerly end of Rousseau's wharf to the end of the Station building. The space between this platform and the wharf was not filled in, but the two were connected by three plank walks. Later on, the Railway filled the space in. The wharf was destroyed a few years ago by an ice jam, and rebuilt as it is at present. The Town had to contribute to the tune of over one thousand dollars to this rebuilding in order to keep the service in operation. I remember the old wharf being filled with baskets of fruit from end to end in the height of the peach season. There were no trucks in those days and all the kids used often to get a job carrying fruit baskets aboard. We were paid a nickel or two and sometimes a ride across the Lake and back.
I should like to mention here the names of men who sailed the Steamers of the N. N. Co. out of here as I remember them. I spent upwards of 45 years along the waterfront and so knew them all by sight. I shall take the boats as they came on the route.
The first of the Chicora's masters that I remember was Capt. McCorkadale, followed by McGiffin who became Fleet Commander later on; then Harvey Solmes who had sailed the Empress of India out of Port Dalhousie; then Jimmy Harbottle from the Ongiara. Harbottle died and was succeeded by Bob Clapp who had been a mate; then Charlie Smith; then Billy Malcolm and last of all, Tommy Allen.
The Cibola's masters were McCorkadale, McGiffin and Solmes. The Chippewa's were McGiffin, Solmes, Smith and Malcolm. Captains Clapp and Solmes died in the same summer, whereupon McGiffin finished the season in the Chippewa and Smith in the Corona. The Corona was sailed by Solmes, Clapp, Smith, Malcolm, King and Henry Bongard, her last. King left to become Examiner of Masters and Mates, and Bongard finished up his career as Master of the Kingston. The Cayuga was first sailed by McGiffin, who died in mid-season and was succeeded temporarily by Billy Malcolm. The next year, Smith, being the senior was given the Cayuga and stayed with her until he retired a few years ago, since which time, she has had Capt. Strachan, then Capt. Webster and now Strachan. Of all these sailors, four died in the sailing season and as far as I know, only the last two are still in service, Webster in the Kingston and Strachan in the Cayuga.
The Rousseau wharf was last used regularly by a steamer called the Argyle, running in opposition to the C. S. L. This boat was formerly the Empress of India, and only lasted one season. Her masters found it hard to make a landing at this wharf when coming downstream. Two different men tried the job, Denny Enright and Jimmy McSherry. Captain Enright said to me one day, "You'd have to have a hinge in the middle of her." Neither of them was a river man, and so did not understand the vagaries of currents and eddies. This wharf, after Johnny Rousseau's death, became the property of Johnson Doyle, a mortgage transaction. He later sold it and the lot at the rear of the hotel to Davy Dick, who did away with the wharf and built a sand bin. This was embellished with a couple of handsome steam shovels. Here Dick's fleet of sandsuckers unloaded sand from the river mouth, most of the sand and gravel used in the construction of the Queenston Hydro Plant being conveyed from here by the M. C. Railroad. The sand bin was later removed and the site sold to the present owner, George Allen.
I should like here to reminisce about the Boathouses, or Boat Liveries, as they would be called now. There have been several of these. The first one I remember was that of Tommy Elliott at the foot of King Street and the Queen's Royal always had boats for the Boarders' use. Mr. Elliott had other interests, of course, as he did a bit of dragnet fishing and ran his hotel. This place has been in business for well over a hundred years.
I think that John Redhead was about the first who went into the boat business in a wholesale way. Mr. Redhead came here as a young man and had a job in connection with the Steel Works. I remember the first boat he built. It wasn't too good a model but he later improved very much and built a good many on order. He kept a lot for himself and had at one time, between 45 and 50 boats on hire. He was a finished workman and his new boats were beautiful sights. His first boathouse was at the foot of King Street, opposite Elliott's place. Then he built another just below Rousseau's wharf, this location being much more convenient to the boats and trains. For a long time, Skip Davies ran the house at the wharf for him and Jud Taylor ran the other.
Also, for some years, he had a third Boathouse at Chautauqua. I have known him to have 45 boats out on a holiday for a day's fishing. As the business gradually declined, he closed out all but the business at the wharf. At times, there were a dozen to two dozen of us who rowed fishing parties from these and other boathouses. We used to get a dollar and a quarter, sometimes a dollar and a half for a day's work, sometimes from daylight to dark, and sometimes if fishing was good, we might get a tip.
Dick Taylor was one of the regulars at this work and he later went into business for himself. His first boathouse was below Redhead's and he afterwards moved up between the two wharves. He later had the lease of Lakeside Park at Port Dalhousie. Then the Boltons had a boathouse at the foot of King St., theirs being along King St. behind Redhead's. Then after Jack and Charlie separated, Jack had a boathouse and a row of bathing houses on his beach above his residence, while his brother Charlie and Dan Sherlock ran the boathouse at the Queen's Royal.
All of these businesses have gone into the limbo of forgotten things. But while they lasted, many people got a good deal of pleasure out of a quiet evening spent on our beautiful old river. Now, very few of our young people learn how to row a boat, that is, to do so artistically. We took a great deal of pleasure in our rowing and many races were the result of the spirit of competition and the desire to excel. I wonder how many of the town boys could now row a heavy fish boat with its nets and fish from the Eight Mile Creek to the beach, as hard as one could dig in, in a race with two other boats and never shed a drop of sweat. We did it.
[From October 28, 1954]Before the settlement began on our side of the river, Lewiston was probably the most important shipping point on the river. From here, the goods were carried by horse or often drawn vehicles to a point above the Falls. When, however, our side of the river began to be peopled, nearly all the trans-shipping business shifted to our side and important wharves and landing places came into being.
At Queenston, there has since that time, always been a wharf or two there, at one time covering a mile in length. As you probably know, there is still a wharf there, which is the southern terminus of the Steamboat run to and from Toronto. Between Queenston and Niagara, there have been several wharves in my time, most of them destroyed by ice jams. I remember Mr. D. Rumsey of Buffalo built a fine private landing just below Queenston and it was just nicely finished in l909, when along came the ice and wiped it out.
About halfway down to Niagara, the fruit growers built a wharf for the shipment of fruit at what was called Fields' Bend. For some years, the River Road section shipped most of the fruit from this point.
I remember the old Gordon Jerry landing there. Sometimes she brought a fragrant cargo of manure for the farmers. I remember an old barge thus laden that she left there and in the night, it got adrift. The Fort Niagara Lifesaving crew spied it, floating by in the night and they towed it to their wharf at Fort Niagara. The next day was a hot one with a stiff southwest wind blowing and they sent over prayer to us, for goodness sake, come and take it away. So we got up steam on the Abino and went to their relief. Between smell and flies, life had become not worth saving for that life-saving outfit. We tied the truant barge and its fetid cargo to the wharf at the Waterworks. This wharf came into being as the result of a movement to get opposition to the Navigation Company. A railway was planned between here and St. Catharines, but it did not materialize. The Steamer Turbinia used the landing place during the time when she plied between here and Toronto. The 1909 ice jam shoved this wharf bodily up onto the bank and that was the last of it.
As far as I can learn, the first wharf at Niagara was at the old Ferry, where the Parks Commission built a new one a few years ago. One must remember that from this place down, there was then nothing but a marsh, consequently there was only this one spot readily accessible to traffic from the roadway. There was a small wharf still there when I was a boy and it was the landing place for the Ferry across the river. The last people to use it were the Bolton Brothers, John and Charles and they moved the Ferry to the mouth of the slip above the Steamboat wharf, where the Ferry now lands.
In 1831, the Niagara Harbour and Dock Company came into being. They secured a grant of all the territory between Ricardo Street and the river, and between King St. and Collingwood St. They built a wharf on the site of the present wharf and began to make a slip and fill in the marsh. An old map shows a hotel on the corner of Delatre and Melville Sts. and a bridge over a pond at the site of the present American Hotel. This wharf property in my early days was owned and used by the Milloy family for their own steamer, City of Toronto. Later on, a wharf was built in front of the Lake View House to accommodate rival steamers. It was long known as Rousseau's Wharf. It was used at various times for many different purposes, including the reception of lumber cargoes. It was finally acquired by David Dick and was removed and replaced by a large sand bin.
At the same time as the building of Rousseau's Wharf, one was built at the Queen's Royal Hotel. It was a narrow one, reaching out beyond the sand bar with a tee across the outer end and was used mostly by yachts.
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For the benefit of the mere landsman I should like to explain these terms. So then, a scow is flat-bottomed, square at both ends and the bottom rounded up at both ends. These were very common in my early days. In fact, I learned to row in one, first with one oar and then with a pair. A mackinaw is flat-bottomed, its bottom straight or only slightly curved, with square stern and sharp bow. They were sometimes called "flatfoot" or "smoothing iron."
A skiff is sharp at both ends, its bottom rounded, while a squarestern is like a skiff, except that its stern is square. All of these boats were equipped with oars, made either of white ash or pine. Mackinaws usually had a centerboard box, and a wooden centerboard made in two pieces. The other boats were finally equipped with iron centerboards, which swung from a bolt placed near the forward end of the box. I think we had the first iron centerboard in my dad's old boat "The Shamrock."
Most of the larger boats were rigged with foresail and mainsail. These were spritesails, the foresail a little the larger, and the mainsail equipped with a boom. Rudders were made of wood, either oak or pine. Centerboard boxes were placed two-thirds forwards of the boat's center and one-third aft. Sailing races were common in those days and my dad was in demand as a skipper, he being an old schooner man.
Among the fishermen I first knew were: the Ball brothers, Charlie and Albert; the Allen brothers, Bob and Dick, the Bolton brothers, Jack and Charlie and their father Ned, Dan Sherlock, the Bobbies, Reid and Taylor, Ned Wootten, the Jack Raynors, father and son, also Big Jim Cantwell, Uncles Johnny and Alec Keith. Bill Thornton fished with Jack Bolton for a long time. They were brothers-in-law. Bill Kenally, Jimmy Tay, Bill Keith, Ned O'Melia also fished with Jack at different times. Bill Campbell fished with Bob Allen for a time after Dick quit the fishing. Nobody was paid wages; everybody fished on shares. A later crop was composed of such men as John and Wingy Mills, Patsy Moran, Frank Clench, Fred Perrott, Charlie Currie, Dick Taylor, Tooty Sherwood, Bart Currie and his three sons, Bart, Frank and Perry, Juby Cullen, Greasy Keith and his son Ed, George Nash usually called "Kanaky", Berry Patterson, Eddy O'Melia, Ed Sherlock, John Bolton Jr., Charlie Bishop, Eddie and Pudge O'Melia.
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A gillnet crew usually was two men. The boat took a quarter of the catch, the net a quarter and the men the balance between them equally. My dad's first partner that I remember was my Uncle Johnny Keith; then he had Bill Campbell for a time and then my brother Charlie and I were his crew. I was ten and he was eight and the gang called us "the Skeeter Crew." After Charlie and I were on our own, we were called "the Stormy Petrels." Jack Bolton had another name for us, "the Norwegians". For a long time, fishermen had to depend on peddlers to dispose of their catch and many a morning we got up long before the peep of dawn in order to have the fish ashore so the peddler could get an early start to market. In the summer, we shipped to Toronto by boat. In later years, Buffalo was our best market and we had local buyers, such as Ned Patterson and Bob Bishop. The latter outlasted the other buyers and for a long time, he owned much of the net equipment, not all of it of course.
There were three different kinds of commercial fishing: gill nets, dragnets and nightlines. These last were used for Sturgeon. These fish were very numerous at one time and not worth much money. I remember seeing 25 big ones laid out on the beach, caught by Uncle John Alford in a drag net. He sold them for 25 cents each and was glad to get that much for them. The first night-line that Charlie and I fished on our own on the reef at the river mouth was quite successful No one else was fishing night lines as there was no market for sturgeon, but we had a peddler from St. Kitts and he paid us two cents a pound dressed. Spawns were thrown away as there was no sale for them. Later on gill nets were used and I remember Berry Patterson and Bill Ball coming in with a boatload of 67 large ones, the biggest haul made here.
In the month of June, on a quiet night, sturgeon could be heard as they jumped and fell back into the water. I remember two occasions when sturgeon jumped into a boat. My father and his partner had one do that up the river, but it lit across the centerboard box and slid on out again. Uncle John Alford had one jump in and he brought it home in triumph. I saw a man named Lyons who was spending the summer here catch a large sturgeon with his walking cane. This was on the shore about where the foghorn now is. The fish was lying in the water with its head near shore, when Mr. Lyons came along. He saw the fish and hooked his cane into its gill and yanked it out onto the shore. Charlie Ball, Sr. dressed it for him and it weighed 37 lbs. dressed. When a sturgeon is dressed with head, tail, fins and entrails removed, it loses about one-half; you see it was no mean feat to hawk out some 75 pounds of live fish with a light cane.
Sturgeon have become very scarce now, and are worth a lot of real money when one is landed. Fishermen here blame the use of pound nets for the killing off of this valuable fish. I remember measuring one that I caught; it was 6 ft. 5 inches in length and 36 inches around the middle. We seldom weighed them undressed, so I do not know what it weighed.
As this is not written for fishermen, my readers will not mind if I say a little about gillnets. They got their name from the fact that the nets are set along the lake bottom and are like a fence. The innocent fish, swimming along the bottom, comes in contact with the net and as his head enters the mesh, the thread gets behind his gills and he is caught. The thread from which the net is made must be fine so as to be hard for the fish to see and is mostly linen, although a good deal of Sea Island cotton is now used. The netting is seamed or hung on heavy cotton twine. The lower or lead line, is weighted with lead sinkers strung on the line before the net is seamed to it and placed at intervals, usually opposite the corks on the other line. We used to use corks that were about two and a half inches long and either inch and a quarter, or inch and a half, in diameter. We used to burn a hole through them with a hot iron and many a time, that modern song "Smoke gets in your eyes" would have been most appropriate. Now, cedar, glass or tin is used as they do better in deep water.
When I was small, they used to set most of their nets out of boxes and this practice is still followed to a great extent on the other lakes. But in our neighborhood, most of the nets are set from reels mounted on davits that are attached to the stern of a boat. Nets, which are lifted and set back wet, are set from boxes.
Seines or dragnets are different from gillnets. They are made from cotton twine, not thread and are seamed on rope. At each end of a seine is a stock called a "brail", about four feet long. The center or bag of the net is some ten or twelve feet deep. This type of net is put out in a semi-circle and is attached to the shore by long ropes, the one at the beginning of the drag being called the land line, the other the sea line.
[From February 18th, 1954]Many of these men belonged to our Fire Brigade, which you must admit is a very useful body. At one time, an entire section of the Brigade was composed of Fishermen. The men that I shall mention have all been for a longer or shorter time, Fishermen. I cannot pretend to give a complete list. Those whom I remember as being Firemen were Bob and Walter Reid, John and Will Mills, Will Keith, Frank Clench, Patsy Moran, Will Cullen, Ted Bissell, Will Ball, John Ball, Will Taylor, Fred Masters, Art Masters, John Raynor, Charlie Currie, Joe Sherwood, Ned O'Melia, Bob Patterson, Fred Perrott. Some of these I mention here have proved their usefulness in other fields than that of Fire protection. Most of the older people will remember Bob Reid for his long service as Chief Constable as well as Fire Chief. Walter Reid put in eleven years in Town Council as well as serving at elections and in other ways. Will Ball was caretaker of the Fire Hall for many years. Art Masters served a long time on the Board of Education and brother Fred Masters was a prominent Mason. Charlie Currie was Assessor for years as was Art Masters. We mustn't forget Ed Sherlock, who was Chief Constable and later served seven years in Council. Dick Allen became a successful merchant besides his long term of usefulness in the Town Band. Bob Allen drove the stage between Niagara and St. Catharines for years. Joseph Masters, my father, served twenty-five years on the Public School Board and had the Long Service Medal for the Militia. John Raynor, Sr., was a County Constable for years, besides his long service in the Militia. Eddie O'Melia was overseas in the First Great War and was in the Customs Service, being retired when they closed the office here. My brother Charlie Masters, became a Clergyman while as for myself, why I just served the public for a matter of forty years in various capacities.
I have written thus just to point out to the readers of this great family journal that the fishermen were not so bad after all. And don't forget that our Savior didn't think so badly of the fishermen in his day, for when He wanted men, of course He first of all went to the ranks of the Fishermen. I wonder how many of you have read "The Big Fisherman," by Lloyd C. Douglas. It is a most readable book about St. Peter and worth anybody's while to read and digest. My own experience of the fishermen has been that they were neither better nor worse than the usual run of people, just folks. I found them neighbourly and helpful to one another. So, friends, when you think of those who ply the piscatorial calling or trade for a livelihood, please be a bit sympathetic towards them.
Our local fishermen had no income or work during the winter season and that brings us to another subject that is very much in the news and that is unemployment. It seems to me that people have lost any feeling of contentment or of an earnest effort to live within their means. Instead of doing without something that they cannot afford, about the first thing thought of is to begin a campaign for more money, even to expect some Government Agency or other to come across with help. What has become of our spirit of British Independence? In our own Town, in my younger days, there was always a time of the year when there was unemployment. Fishermen, farm workers, carpenters, masons and many others had a substantial part of each year in which they had no income. I am thinking of one man in particular who never had anything but seasonal employment as a farm worker, yet he raised an unusually large family and none of them died from malnutrition. Another that I knew of who was a working carpenter, also raised a large family and without crying for help. I am not altogether blaming union labour for this eternal demand for higher wages and shorter hours, but men are not equally able or proficient in mostly any line of work but if they belong to a Union they must get Union pay whether they are worth it or not. Probably we can discuss this further in a later article.
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Tommy Elliott had the next ground, beginning his haul about where the sign is on the Bolton Beach and hauling in at the foot of King Street. The last time I saw him in his right mind, he was standing looking sadly at the wire fence Jack Bolton had put up and which put an end to his hauling. Soon after that, his mind went and he had to be sent away. Elliott also had a ground beyond Fort Mississaugua, hauling out at Hooley's Hollow, where a roadway led from the common to the beach. After Tommy went away, Mrs. Elliott had such men as Bob Reid Sr., Joe Eares, Bill Campbell and Jimmy Hutchison working for her, yes, and Tom Daley.
Tom was quite a card. He was blind of one eye, usually wore a small Scotch tam with one tail, a red kerchief around his neck, chewed tobacco and held conversations with himself. For instance, he fell into the river one day, crawled out, shook himself and remarked "Never mind Tom, it was only Daley got wet." If you asked him how he got to town, his reply would be "I took a tie ticket." He hailed from some place called "Tall Pines." I never knew its location.
Joe Eares was an old soldier who lived where the Bradley home is on Ricardo St. He was Joe Bradley's grandfather. He was famous for his strawberries. He grew the finest berries I ever saw or tasted. He got his original plants from England and no one could beg, borrow or buy a plant from him and he used to peddle his berries at the wharf, fifteen cents for a quart or two for a quarter.
Bob Reid, the progenitor of the numerous Reid family, lived in a house that used to stand on Prideaux Street, near where Mrs. Rigg now lives. That house is now the residence of Mrs. H. H. Harris, on Simcoe Street, it having been moved there by Charlie Currie.
Bill Campbell was a blacksmith by trade, having served his time as an apprentice at Platt's wagon shop on Johnson Street. Bill however, did quite a lot of fishing with Big Jim Cantwell, Tom Elliott, Bob Allen and my father.
Jimmy Hutchison was very Scotch. He was a short, dumpy man, a ship carpenter by trade. He worked at a shipyard that was situated about where the fog station now is. Jimmy never wore an overcoat. He wore rope slippers that he made himself and canvas pants, also home made. It was quite common to see his pants with a fresh new front to one leg and a new back portion to the other leg. With his rope slippers and canvas pants and a big straw hat tied down over his lugs and a stout cane in his fist, he was a sight for sore eyes.
There used to be a regulation requiring gillnet fishermen to keep a half mile from a hauling ground during the hauling season. This was not always strictly observed and one day we had some net set within the limit of the Elliott ground at Fort Mississaugua as did Jack Bolton. While we were busy lifting our net, the gang (Elliott's) sent Jimmy out with his scow to lift Bolton's net and while he was busy, Jack and his helper appeared on the scene and got pretty close to Jimmy before he saw them. He got rattled and dumped the net he had lifted overboard in a heap. He was too late to escape and was captured by the irate Bolton crew. They took away his oars, made his scow fast to their boat and kept him prisoner while they untangled the mess he had made of their net. All of this delighted the shore gang and when Jimmy's scow was left adrift minus oars, they went out and rescued him, expressing much sympathy, of course.
Jimmy boarded at Elliott's for a long time and he took a great dislike to the fishery overseer from Hamilton who used to put up at Elliott's on his official visits to the Town. Elliott's used to own the lot at the southerly end of Gate Street, now the home of Mr. Cipryk and they had a garden there that Jimmy used to work for them. One day on his way home down the hill, he met the overseer. At the sight of the man he hated, he went for him, bowled him over and if you could have seen a stout man rolling down the hill with Jimmy prodding at him with his garden fork, it would have given you a thrill. No serious harm was done however, but Jimmy left his boarding house and moved to Kennedy's. Jimmy said afterwards, "I hana ma Heelan dirrrk wi me, or I'd a fenished im."
The next ground was held by Albert Davey, who had a shanty at Kennedy's Hollow at the end of Queen Street. From here to the Four, each crew consisted of five men. The boats used were mackinaws and four of the men went around on the haul, three of them rowing, the fourth seeing that the net and its buoys and ropes went over the stern in orderly fashion. The fifth man stayed ashore and looked after the landline. On reaching shore, one of the crew would go to the help of the land line man, two manned the sea line, while the fifth man stood by to clear the net if it got fast.
Wooden windlasses were used to drag the net in and a colored wooden buoy was attached to the center of the net so that one end would not be brought in faster than the other would. As no fishing was done on Sunday, it was usual for the crew to leave one man in charge of the shanty while the rest went home.
The next ground was at the One Mile Creek, at the mouth of the small pond and was that of Big Jim Cantwell, his shanty being just about where F. A. Gaby built his house. One must remember that this piece of ground has lost some fifty feet of ground since that time from erosion by the lake water.
About the first house built there was the Warren one, which stands on the south side of the road, just over the creek. The whole of the grounds was surrounded by an eight foot board fence. The original road ran from the end of Queen Street, along the lake bank and over a bridge near the waterfront. A wharf was built just to the east of the creek entrance and the entrance to the pond was twice dredged. As there were no protecting piers, this dredging proved to be a waste of money. One man named Philip Smith of Buffalo lost his life while working at the wharf building.
On the wharf was a pump plant to supply water to the hotel. This hotel, first called Hotel Chautauqua, later Hotel Strathcona, was a large frame building and stood about astride of the present Niagara Boulevards and about midway between Kennedy's Hollow and the creek. It burned down one midsummer day, being utterly destroyed in about twenty minutes. Fortunately, it was mid-afternoon and nearly all of the guests were out, so no lives were lost, but all the belongings of the guests and staff were lost.
There was also a small hotel or boarding house near the westerly limit of the Park, called the Lakeside. This place was managed for years by Mrs. Duckworth and was ultimately taken down. If you look at a map of the Park, you will see that all the streets radiate from a central point. At this point or hub, was a large open air theatre where religious gatherings were held and where weekly concerts were given among the artists being Bill Ramsay and his wife, Tommy Baker and Alf Sturrock.
A railway siding was laid down, the present John Street siding being the beginning of it. A train made regular trips between the steamboat wharf and a platform in the grounds. This carried on until the movement collapsed financially. The unsold part of the property came into the possession of Colonel Mitchell and later that of Haley and Wetherald, who formed the Mississaugua Beach Land Co. and it was this firm that laid out the subdivision in the Town part of the property. They sold off the waterfront lots and then fell into a spell of bad luck and lost the most of the unsold land, the Town then selling the Town lots for unpaid taxes.
There was an electric light plant in the grounds when it was a growing concern, the late James Longhurst being the engineer. The large fence, the road, bridge, wharf, hotels, light plant, pump plant, amphitheater, and railway siding have long since vanished like "the baseless fabric of a vision, leaving not a wrack behind."
The next fishing ground was at the Two Mile Creek, where Jack Bolton had his shanty, just where the rifle butts are, except that it was on the sand. At one time, the Two Mile Pond was much bigger than it is now. Now here I want to mention an event unique in the annals of the fishing industry. It was in April of l854, and men were on the beach between the Two and the Lake, engaged in dragging for whitefish. It was a fine calm day, when a huge wave swept in from the Lake. It was described by men who mentioned the matter as a tidal wave. Men, nets and all were swept into the Pond. When the wave subsided and nets and gear were salvaged from the Pond, two bodies were found tangled in the nets and ropes: one of them an elderly man named James Forster, the other William Keith, aged 14, a brother of my mother. No one apparently knew the boy was there until his body was found. Jack Bolton had a big mackinaw called "Rough and Ready", which he used for dragging and also sometimes in gillnet fishing.
The next ground extended from the Two to a peculiar looking tree, commonly called the "Pepperidge Tree," and was that of the Ball Brothers, Charlie and Albert, along with my father and my uncle, Johnnie Keith. They were the partners and they had Charlie's son Bill as their helper, a post that I was sometimes called upon to fill. Bill Ball married Minnie Patterson and they left a large family, three of them still living in Town. Charlie Ball was usually referred to as "The Captain." He was a nice, quiet, steady man and he and his wife Maria were my godparents. Albert was a most worthy man, clean living, and a most exemplary character. At one time, he taught Sunday school in the Methodist Church. He and his wife Fanny raised a large family, four sons, all of whom were also fishermen, and six daughters. Only one of the daughters is still living, Mrs. Jim Laughton, but all the boys are still alive, one in Buffalo, the rest here. The boys were all decent fellows and all had nicknames; John being dubbed "Kelow," Bill being usually known as "Taffy," Charlie as "Finnigan" or "the laughing McGee" and Ed as "Buckley." A very nice family.
Big Jim Cantwell had the next ground, extending to the end of the woods, where it adjoined the ground of Bob Allen. Bob had an old "Likeness Car" which he used as a shanty. Between Bob's ground and the Four Mile Point, there were two other grounds, held by Ned Wootten and by Dick Allen.
I remember a man named Green, of New York State, introduced a new fish into Lake Ontario, which were called shad. They were small and bony and multiplied so rapidly that they became a nuisance. They seemed to die by the thousands and were washed up on the shores, creating a stench. After they came, the shore fishing for whitefish died out and has never been revived, except on a small scale in the river.
In all my time along the waterfront, there never has been a fisherman drowned except two from Youngstown. In 1894, Eddy Welsh and Albert Phillips were drowned when their sailboat was swamped as they were beating out into the Lake to set their nets. This happened off Mississaugua Point with a fresh north wind blowing. The third man in the boat, George Phillips, who couldn't swim, stuck to the boat and was washed ashore alive.
I think we have covered the waterfront pretty well. Perhaps at some future time, we may have more to remember, so we say, "So Long For Now."
[From July 1st, 1947]When I was a youth, there was quite a fleet of fishing boats, usually equipped with a pair of sprit sails, a centerboard, a rudder, and plenty of good ash oars and the crew usually was two men. We had no motors and when there was no wind, a white ash breeze was our motor and many a weary mile we toiled. Quite a number of our boats were built by Harry Hodgson in Toronto and good ones they were. There was the Volunteer, owned by Wingy Mills and Greasy Keith; the Bessie, owned by Windy Jim McMillan and fished by Frank Clench and Fred Perrott; the Juanita, owned by Charlie and Albert Ball; the Natalie, owned by Jack Bolton; the Ella, owned by the Masters Brothers. These were all Hodgson Boats. Then there was the J.C. Rykert, built by Jack Redhead for Bob Bishop and fished by Jesse Mills and Patsy Moran. Then there was the Ida, owned by Bishop and fished by Bill Ball and Ned O'Melia. There was a skiff owned and fished by Berry Patterson and Kelow Ball and a skiff, the Dolly, owned and fished by the Jack Raynors, father and son, the latter usually known as Nig. Big Jim (James Cantwell) had a boat called the Katie. There were others from time to time and many a race was run and rivalry at times was keen.
Jack Bolton had a boarder, Ted Corlett, a musician who used to spend his summers in Niagara. Ted was fond of boats and sailing and was free with his dollars when it came to having a race. In order to help Bolton out, he bought him an extra large set of sails and Jack thus became "cock of the walk" and he didn't forget to rub it in. The rest of us didn't have the money to spare, to rival his big sails for the sake of winning a race or two, and it certainly irked us to have Jack parading his Natalie with a superior air.
Well, one day Bob Bishop and Jack got into an argument as to the relative merits of the Natalie and the Rykert, and both got so worked up that they finally bet each other twenty-five dollars on a race to be arranged between the two boats. The two craft were pretty evenly matched as to size, but there was no comparison between the sail spread, so most of us were dubious about the outcome of such a race. However, wily Bob Bishop had something up his sleeve. He quietly slipped off to Toronto and invested his coin of the realm in a set of two sails and a good big jib, the whole thing rather out measuring the sail spread of the Natalie.
The day of the race was set and much depended on the type of wind the clerk of the weather would dish up. We all, at our end of the beach, helped to rig up the new sails. We had to fit out taller masts and a bowsprit, but nobody minded a little extra work in a good cause. The day looked forward to, arrived and the weatherman was good to us for once. A nice day it was, with a good fresh breeze, just enough so both boats could carry all sail. Jesse Mills was at the rudder, he being the man who usually handled the Rykert. I had the job of handling the Jib. Of course Mr. Bolton handled his own boat and he was no slouch at the job either. The course was from the wharf around a buoy outside Mississaugua Point, then around the spar buoy on the American side, then back to a buoy at the place of starting and twice over the course. The boats were pretty even to the first buoy, but when we squared away for the Yankee side and our big jib got a chance to draw, the old Rykert just romped away. Did we grin? Well, you bet we did. We trimmed poor old Jack to a frazzle. Well, that was that.
As time went on, Ted Corlett used to put up a ten dollar prize for a Saturday afternoon race from the Queen's Royal, around the bell buoy and back, but as most of us were not much interested in following Jack Bolton around, we didn't bother about these races. But one afternoon, Jim McMillan came to me and said that there were to be three prizes that day, so he proposed that we take his Bessie and borrow Ball's big sails and get a piece of the money. So we set about it. I sailed the boat, and Jim and Taffy Bill Ball handled the sails. The wind was northeast and rather light. At first, we had a little of the best of it, two boats dropping out and leaving three in the race, the third being a little sloop from Youngstown sailed by Will King. After we got out into the Lake, the Natalie was too good for us and when we arrived at the bell buoy, which we had to pass to leeward, we were about 50 yards behind. Now usually in rounding a buoy to leeward, you stand past it far enough so that you can come about and be sure of clearing the buoy to windward. Now I figured that Jack would do just that, but I also figured that with an easterly wind, such as was then blowing, there would be a current running out past the buoy. So I told my crew to stand by to go about as soon as we cleared the buoy. I was relying on the current to give us the necessary clearance. Well, it worked and we were 40 or 50 yards ahead instead of trailing.
Of course, we knew that he would catch us again, as he had the heels of us, but it was fun just the same. Well, up he came and when he would luff to go to windward to get past, I would also luff, which was the right procedure and after several attempts to weather us, he got mad and pulled up his helm and away to leeward to get past.
However, this jockeying on our part gave the third boat a chance to catch up and when we arrived at the home buoy, we were just one, two, three rounding the buoy as close as we could possibly be. While we were the last, we didn't mind. It turned out that there was only one prize after all and we certainly enjoyed annoying the skipper of the Natalie. All in good fun, of course. He had the satisfaction of getting his ten spot and we had showed him that he wasn't the only one who could sail a boat.
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The building and renting of rowboats was quite an important item of business in those days. At one time, there were six boat liveries, as they would be called now. Dick Taylor had one between the two steamboat wharves, John Redhead had one below Rousseau's wharf and one at the foot of King St. John Bolton had one on his part of the beach, while his brother Charlie shared with him in one at the foot of King St. Charlie Bolton and Dan Sherlock had the boathouse at the Queen's Royal Hotel grounds. John Redhead built his own boats, besides building boats for others and had at one time as many as forty-five boats in use. Skip Davies ran his house at the Dock for many years and Jud Taylor ran the one at King St. Redhead was a very fine workman and his boats, when new and freshly varnished and trimmed in black walnut or cherry, were a sight for sore eyes. With changes in travel and changes in forms of pleasure, these businesses gradually petered out, so that now very few people in these parts can row a boat and very few ever even think of having a quiet evening on the water.
Now as for rowing races, I should like to comment on a few of the races I have seen and a few I took part in. The first race I remember having seen and that from a distance, was that rowed on the river by the famous Ned Hanlan against an opponent whose name I have forgotten. I can remember the crowd on the old Steamer Southern Belle, and the old craft listed over so that she was in danger of upsetting. Most of the good oarsmen here were fishermen or had been fishermen at some time and a holiday was not considered complete without rowing races.
These races were not rowed in racing shells but in light skiffs and as these were not of one pattern or size, quite often the boat itself was a deciding factor in victory or defeat. Among Redhead's boats, he had built four boats with a sliding seat. These were about 18 feet long and about four feet beam. They were light built and shallow and easy to row and quite a number of races were rowed in them. One race I remember stands out in my memory, between John Addison and Jess Harrison. There was keen rivalry between these two and they practiced assiduously. John was a husky big fellow and should have been an easy victor, for Jess was a thin, swarthy man, much lighter than John was. However, weight is sometimes a handicap rather than an advantage in rowing.
Ned Hanlan was a comparatively small man and defeated plenty of men much larger than him. It proved so between Jess and John. The distance was about two miles and there was not much to choose between the two men at any time, Jess managing to come in first by a small margin and he admitted that a little more would have finished him, as he was pretty well tuckered out.
Among Redhead's skiffs were two identical ones numbered respectively "One" and "Two". Number One was a little the better of the pair and usually came in ahead in a double-scull race, for which they were much in demand. For a number of years, two men seemed to stand out in the singles ranks: Jack Wagner of Youngstown and Will Keith of Niagara, a cousin of mine. One Fourth of July, there was to be a Sporting Event at Youngstown, rowing races to be among the attractions. Some considerable time before the event, Jack Wagner bespoke No. One from Mr. Redhead for the double scull event, his partner to be his brother Charlie.
On the great day, we were not worrying much about racing. The only Niagara men who thought of entering were Berry Patterson and Wingy Mills, who borrowed a new, light skiff that we owned and wended their way over to Uncle Sam's to take part in the double scull event. Several of us were sitting in Redhead's boathouse, among those present being Bob Reid, Sr., whose son was then the Chief Constable. Bob was always a bit of an agitator and he started to needle my cousin and me to take a boat and go over and clean up "them Damn Yankees". We didn't rise to the bait, but we tried to put Bob off by saying that there was no suitable boat available. While we were still discussing the matter, Skiff No. Two was brought in by people who had her out fishing. So Bob then accused us of being yellow and he being a persistent cuss, Bill finally said to me, "Will we give her a go?" Well, we had never rowed together but we were both feeling pretty fit, so I agreed to go and away we went.
When Jack Wagner saw us arriving, he set off to get a more substantial partner in the person of his fishing partner, Bob Varsteenburg, but Kelsey (as he was usually called) wasn't having any and the other Niagara pair backed out, so it was Keith and Masters against the Wagner Brothers.
The course was from Youngstown wharf, across the river and around a boat anchored opposite the old Ferry wharf, then across to the American side, around a buoy opposite where the St. Vincent Orphanage is now located, and up river to the place of beginning. We were started with our sterns against the wharf and when we got the word go, we dug in and away we went. The Wagners got a little the best of the start and led us by about a boat length to the first mark, but we turned the buoy much shorter than they did and so got the lead and although they dug in, we managed to get a respectable lead before reaching the second mark. The Wagners lived in a house along the riverbank close by and their families were out there rooting for them at the top of their voices. Well, the boys put on a spurt, but Bill said to me, "We've got them, they're done." We won without much more trouble and poor Charlie Wagner just about wept.
Well, after a while, the single scull race was called and the contestants were Keith and Wagner, but here Cousin Willie got a stitch in his side and was beaten. For quite a while afterwards, there was a difference of opinion as to which was the better of the two but it never seemed to be possible to get them together again. My cousin and I rowed several times together afterwards, sometimes we won and sometimes we didn't.
I remember one race on our side that had a funny incident right at the start. Two huskies who had been fishermen, but had not been doing much rowing for some time, were young Jack Raynor and Dick Wootten. Always at the start of those races, everybody would dig in to get a position of vantage and when Jack and Dick were just getting under way, they both missed a stroke and went over backwards, much to our delight and that of the onlookers. They got up right away, but being short of wind, they pumped themselves out in short order and were easily beaten
I rowed in one race with Charlie Ball as my partner, but we were beaten by C. Sherlock and my brother Fred. I also had my brother Fred as partner, which race we lost as one of our rivals held onto our boat at the turn in order to let the third team get away from us.
Just one more and then I must close. One summer Chummie Sherlock was running Dick Taylor's boathouse. Now Chummie was a darned good oarsman himself. There were several kids about who fancied themselves as junior oarsmen and they were gabbing about it one day in the boathouse and Chummie, who loved a joke in his quiet way, told them he could beat three of them at once. So it was arranged that they were to row around the black buoy and back. There was no wager or prize involved, just a race for fun. It seems to me that the boys were Garlie Keith, Perry Currie and Jimmie Patterson. They had another kid in the stern to trim the boat. Chummie just kept enough ahead of them to keep them digging and once in a while, he would tell them to come on. He had a good grin over the whole thing as he had attached a small anchor stone to their boat and if you ever tried to tow an anchor with a rowboat, you can imagine the job the kids and their three pairs of oars had. Of course, it was all good fun and the boys had a good workout that didn't do them any harm.
[From October 7th, 1954:]
Besides sailing, there was a lot of rowing. We used to have rowing races quite often. Jack Redhead began boat building. His first boathouse was at the foot of King Street. He built a great many boats, among them four with sliding seats for racing. I remember a race between Jesse Harrison and Dick Wootten from the wharf, around the black buoy and winding up at the foot of King Street. The distance would be about two miles and it was a very close, keenly contested race all the way, and Harrison won by a small margin. I remember the two men very well and they were about as unlike as you make them. Harrison was a dark, thin-faced fellow and about as fat as a lath, while Wootten was a stoutly built young man and you would have picked him to win easily.
I was once in a double scull race with my cousin Bill Keith as my partner and our chief opponents were the same Dick Wootten and Johnny Raynor. We started at the wharf, around the buoy opposite the Queen's Royal Hotel and back. Usually in those races you dug in to get a lead from the start. Our rivals missed a stroke right at the start and both landed on their backs and we got a good lead, which they failed to overcome.
PEOPLE OF THE WATERFRONT
RESCUE OF A PARTY OF YOUNG PEOPLE
It really was a pleasure to be one of the crowd at the Waterfront. While there was plenty of friendly rivalry, it was all taken in good part. There was plenty of playing pranks on one another, but no harm was done. There is one thing about most people about the water in whatever capacity; one learns to take things calmly and always to look forward with the hope and prospect of better days to come.
