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THE ICE BRIDGE AND ICE JAM OF 1909
But we were talking about ice bridges, two of which I should like to reminisce about. My notebook contains various items of information about the Ice Bridge and Ice Jam of 1909, as well as the Ice Bridge of 1937.
Wednesday April 7th, 1909 - The worst gale of wind in 40 or 50 years blew today, tearing down fences, trees, signs, damaging roofs all over the country. As we stood in the door of our boathouse at the slip, we saw big sign on the lot where Shepherd's boats are now blow clean across the river and light close to the American shore. A few minutes later, it picked the roof off a boathouse belonging to Bert St. John and carried it well out into the river. Boards blew off the roof of a large building next door to us and flung them like straws away over our heads into the river. I have never seen anything like it.
Thursday April 8th - The gale of yesterday brought down the ice from Lake Erie and the River blocked about 12:30 p.m. in the afternoon. I fixed the time as I was on my way home to dinner up the railroad track and was watching the slowly moving mass of ice, when it ceased to move."
Good Friday, April 9th - "Ice bridge moved in the night and jammed tighter than ever, piling up in great masses. Shoved wharf back about two feet."
Easter Sunday, April 11th - "Some people walked over the ice. Great damage from ice and water at and above Lewiston and Queenston. Electric light out off here as Ontario Power Company's plant was put out of business. Connection made with Electric Development Plant in time for Church services."
Tuesday, April 13th - Town in darkness tonight. Blew hard from south today.
Friday, April 26th - Ice moved tonight about two hundred or 300 yards. Piled McIntyre's wharf up on the bank and shoved Wright's wharf off its piles. Ice was piled up 30 feet high, just above mouth of the slip. This was quite a sight and there were photos taken of it. It was also a rather gruesome sight to stand on the wharf and see the relentless force of the river, when the great mass of ice in the center of the river moved slowly and inexorably, turning up mud and stones from the bottom. When you realize that there is a depth of from 60 to 90 feet in the river channel opposite the Town and that the ice was packed right to the bottom, it certainly was impressive. We must remember that all the water from the whole chain of lakes must find an outlet through our river. McIntyre's wharf stood about midway of the land now occupied by Shepherd's boat works. It was never rebuilt after the ice jam; nor was Wright's which was just below the point above the Waterworks. The property is that now owned by the Harris Prices.
Sunday, April 18th - Alarm came from Jackson's about l p.m. that ice was moving and doing a great deal of damage. Did not move down here at all.
Monday, April 19th - Ice jam broke away from old break at the Half-Moon Battery and moved down to the mouth. Jam stopped opposite wharf, the lower portion grounding on the bar, the upper end being opposite beach and Fort Wharf.
Tuesday, April 20th - Opening in jam filled in during night. Water in slip rising all day. Fish boats were all taken to foot of King Street. A current like a mill race close in on beach, breaking through at Rousseau's wharf. Moved everything out of our boathouses. Water in slip up to the sidewalk near the Lakeview. After supper, we floated the Viola from where she was on a framework on the slip bank over to the street fence, near the brick mill.
Tuesday April 20th - Opening between the jams filled in during the night. Water in the slip rising all day. We moved everything valuable out of the shanty on the Beach and took them over to Fred's house. Took one boat down to the foot of King Street where most of the boats have been since Saturday. The current is running like a millrace close in on the beach, breaking through at Rousseau's Wharf. Water in slip came up to sidewalk near Lake View House towards night. In the afternoon, we moved our nets from the Shanty at the Slip and took them over to the Brick Mill. After supper, we floated the Viola off the bank and tied her to a tree at Ricardo St. near Ball's.
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, April 21st, 22nd and 23rd - Water slowly receding. My wife and family had moved out and gone up to her father's. We were living in the house below the railway trestle and there was a danger of the water breaking through. A channel began to appear on the American side near the Fort wharf and a hole appeared opposite the slip. Ice gradually settling down. American engineers began blasting with dynamite and worked nearly all day. About the only apparent result was the breaking of all the windows in the Life Saving Station. Mr. Joseph Houghton was Sexton of St. Marks and was digging a grave for Stephen Callory. On the 24th, the engineers put all their dynamite into one mighty blast about 4 o'clock. The grave caved in on Mr. Houghton and his son had to dig him out. Opening were reported in the ice all the way up the river, becoming hourly larger and larger.
Saturday April 24th - Blasting nearly all day. About 4 p.m., large concluding blast set off. Made a big noise and shook things, loosening some pieces of ice. Opening in ice reported all the way up the River. Channel near Fort Niagara much wider. Opening in front of slip much larger.
Sunday, April 25th - A channel in front of Fort Niagara now nearly half the width of the river. During the night, the earth in front of the Navigation Co.'s storehouse caved in and some of the foundation of the building fell into the hole. Mr. George Nash, who was living in the rooms upstairs, moved out during the night and into the Rousseau cottage in the rear of the Lakeview. The wharf settled down about half its length and had to be rebuilt. The water was now down to its old level. Throngs of people visited the Town during the week. Blood curdling tales of immense damage were appearing in the papers. The railroad crew were responsible for much of this as they pulled the legs of the reporters who met the train each morning at the Falls. During Saturday night and Sunday, a stiff breeze blew from the Northwest and quite a lot of ice broke away in the mouth of the River. The first boat in some time crossed between the Town and the Fort today.
Monday, April 26th - Harbour mouth clear. Balance of ice jam near the Town moved out quietly and on the Tuesday and Wednesday, large pieces of ice were passing down the river.
Thursday, April 29th - Blowing hard from the East with heavy snow, it was raw and cold. Thus passed away the worst ice jam of modern times. The ice that winter was quite heavy in Lake Erie and a spell of warm weather had softened it so that when it was broken up by the southwest gale, it was like wet snow and quite sticky. I took a motor boat party sight seeing after the river was clear and it was a sight to see where the ice had planed off the banks, clearing them of trees and shrubs. There are still parts of the banks on the various points comparatively bare of vegetation from this great upheaval. As to what combination of circumstances had brought about this very unusual ice jam, I might point out that a spell of mild weather had softened the ice that filled the lower end of Lake Erie. The ice was turned into a sticky mass and the ensuing gale from the southwest, mild and spring-like, drove it into the river where its very softness caused it to adhere to any object with which it came in contact, thus gradually narrowing the channel until a passage was impossible.
Thursday April 29th - Blowing hard from the east with heavy snow. Raw and cold.
THE ICE JAM OF 1937
[From April 15th, 1954:]
In my last article, I had something to say about the weather. It is always a fruitful topic of discussion. Well a few days ago a friend and I were commenting on the same subject and he made a remark to me about ice cutting. It is just as well that artificial means have been devised to keep our meats and other perishable foods from spoiling.
When I was a much younger man, a good many of us used to get some employment cutting ice for the Butchers and other Merchants. In fact, many of the larger homes had private icehouses. I can remember a whole row of such houses that were on Market Street at the rear of the stores. Best, Bishop, Crysler, and Longhurst were there. For a long time, McClellands used the old Centre House at the Jim Elliott corner, Queen and Victoria Streets. Then, after the old Centre House was torn down, they used a building near the slip, later on building an icehouse on the lot in rear of their store, where Harry Lee now has his house.
The American Hotel had an icehouse of its own and I remember helping to fill it twice in one year. It just happened that the second of those years had an early freeze up and we cut the ice on the slip before Christmas. Some winters, one could get two or more crops off the slip. Another place that furnished a good ice crop was at the foot of King Street, inside the sand bar. One could get good ice there some winters from 10 to 15 inches thick.
My job was always sawing. I have to smile sometimes at the hardship some of our modern day sissies have to endure when they are asked to work five or six hours a day. We worked from seven to twelve and from one to six o'clock. If you have ever enjoyed the extreme pleasure of pulling a six foot crosscut saw up and down for ten long weary hours a day, you would appreciate the soft snap that most modern workers have. And we got one dollar and fifty cents per day. When I think of it, I fancy I can feel that old crick in my poor aching back.
There was a large pond near the Waterworks known as Best's Pond that had enough depth of water for ice cutting. This Pond was the scene of many a Skating Party. Then the Two and Four Mile Pond rendered a similar service. There used to be a large pond on the Mississaugua Common and one on the other Common near the Headquarters Compound. These ponds are all pretty well dried up. The last few years have been too mild to form much ice anywhere in our neighbourhood. Our climate seems to have changed, but I would not like to say that the change is permanent.
I remember that the first year of the Polish Army Camp, in the winter of 1917 and 1918, the slip and river were blocked with ice in the first week in December 1917. We had been engaged to transport six hundred of their men to Fort Niagara as they had not room to house them here, but the very day that they were to move, Old Man Winter intervened and they had to march the men around by the Bridges. Don't worry about spring being late. I have dodged cakes of ice in the River on the fifth of June.
STORMS: 1886 - 1888 - 1929
[From December 4th, 1950]In my time, there have been some that were damaging to property of one kind or another. In 1886, early in April, there was a northeast blow. The water was at a high level and many of the boathouses on the beach were either destroyed or damaged. The cellar of the Lakeview Hotel was flooded and there was two feet of water over the flats. We went home to dinner that day in a boat, something I have never seen before or since. I can understand there being so much damage done at the Hamilton beaches where an easterly storm is more or less bottlenecked, causing the seas to strike the shore with a fury that land lubbers cannot understand.
Then in 1888, in February, we had a gale from the westward that caused a lot of damage about us. Fruit trees were blown down, barns unroofed and various other items of injury done. There was a fog bell tower on Fort Mississaugua point. Ned Wootten was the operator and he was out of a job as the Tower and bell went down the bank and it was never replaced. At Fort Niagara, the flagstaff in the Fort enclosure was blown down and was not replaced until comparatively recently. Sidewalks were blown away and plenty of other damage done. The Stage from Lewiston to Youngstown was blown over, and Captain A. L. Myer who was a passenger, suffered a broken arm. That was the blow that blew down the upper bridge at the Falls. Not in 1889 as currently reported.
The 1886 Storm washed away all the stone laden piers or groins which protected the lake side of Fort Niagara, and a part of the stone wall. The Queen's Royal Hotel was seriously threatened, part of the bank being badly eroded by the big seas, which pounded it. This damage was repaired by taking down the log buildings in Fort Mississaugua and using the logs to build a breakwater along the Hotel front. John Ellison had the contract and Jim Longhurst hauled the stone from Queenston. He had two large scows and these he towed with a small Steamer named the Notos, belonging to the Rev. E. Stuart-Jones, who was then curate of St. Mark's Church. Now the lapse of time has seen this breakwater vanish. I must say that it seems like wanton vandalism to have allowed those historic building to be wantonly destroyed to save private property. My father and his brother attended the Army School in one of these, their father being then in the Garrison.
I have spoken elsewhere of the storm that caused the ice jam in 1909. This was from the southwest and besides the damage caused by the ice jam, it did plenty of other damage. For instance, there was a row of freight cars at the dock and two of them had the roofs blown off and deposited on the Steamship Wharf. I saw the roof of a boathouse sail out into the middle of the River and several large signs which stood where Shepherd's Boat Works are now, went flying, one of them going clear across the River. This wind did plenty of damage to farm buildings and fruit trees throughout the farming community. The date of that was April 7th, 1909.
[From May 8th, 1952:]
I was listening to the radio announcing an unusual occurrence that took place a day or two ago. It seems that a huge wave struck the Bruce Peninsula quite unexpectedly, causing an abrupt rise of the waters of Lake Huron and a consequent amount of damage along the waterfront. Damage was also caused along the Michigan side of the Lake. We do not have tides on the Great Lakes, consequently it could not be called a tidal wave, but there must be a cause for waters in ponds and lakes do not get up and cavort around of their own volition. There must have been an upheaval of the Lake bottom somewhere and the bottom of that Lake is a long way down in a great part of its expanse.
I suppose that nobody remembers a similar occurrence nearer home, but such a thing did actually happen along our own Lakefront. I had the story from my mother many years ago and she remembered it clearly, as one of the victims of the huge wave was her brother, William Keith. Men were engaged in dragnet fishing along the beach between the lake and the Two Mile Pond on a quiet day in April of 1854 when, without warning, a huge sea came in. It swept men, nets, and everything into the pond, which was then much larger and deeper than it is at present. When the turmoil had subsided and the men had gathered their wits about them, they set about recovering their gear from the pond. Imagine their dismay when they found entangled in the mess of nets and ropes, two dead people in the persons of an elderly man named James Forster and William Keith, aged 14. Nobody knew the boy was there until his body was discovered. I have seen a record in one of the old books in the Town Office of their decease. I do not know whether any other damage was done at the time, but two sudden deaths were damage enough.
Another event belonging to that era which was unusual and unexpected was a wind squall that swept in off the lake and caused a great deal of damage to property. Among buildings damaged was St. Andrew's Church which had its spire blown down. The building which now houses the basket factory at the Dock had its roof blown off. It was in the course of erection for the railway, as part of the car works that flourished at that time. No lives were lost as the damage occurred at the noon hour when the men were away. I wonder what would have happened if some one had previously invented DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME."
But to get back to our open winters. In that of 1890 and 1891, we had neither ice nor snow; it rained off and on all winter, believe it or not, Mr. Ripley. The butchers got no ice and had to get it shipped in by Schooner during the summer. I remember seeing all the teens in the neighbourhood being pressed into service to get the ice into the icehouses that adorned Market Street behind the Town Hall. We had an epidemic that Winter which bore the name of "La Grippe." Nearly everybody had it. It had the effect, however, of leaving its victims with a nasty cough and great depression of spirits. I was around the water all winter and I was the only one of our family who didn't have it. I remember that one day, the fishermen were indulging in a little friendly horseplay and they threw a few pailfulls of water over one another. Someone doused Dick Taylor and waded into the river to get a pailfull to retaliate, when Mope Bishop gave him a shove and down he went like a coween diving. He was very reproachful and said so, of course. Also he was scared stiff, as he was sure he would get the Grippe.
The next winter, we had no ice in the river until March and the following winter, ice was flowing in February; the next year, ice came about as usual, early in the new year. For some reason, we do not have the ice jams as frequently as we used to. I have written about two that did a lot of damage, but I remember one during the winter of 1903 and 1904. That was a very steady cold winter and while there was no epidemic, an unusually large number of old people died that winter. As I recall, there were about fourteen funerals in St. Mark's and it a pretty general condition throughout Ontario. My father died that spring, following an attack of Pneumonia. To aggravate the situation, there was a coal shortage and our dealers were utterly unable to get supplies. Joe Greene, while not in the business, was able to get some carloads of coke, a fuel not then in general use. The river was blocked with ice all winter, and as far as one could see, there was no clear water in the Lake.
Another incident comes to my mind. The fishermen, in a playful mood, dumped a few pails of water over one another. Dick Taylor stepped out into the river to gather a pailfull to douse someone when as he stepped over, Charlie Bishop gave him a shove and Dick took a beautiful dive, from which he emerged dripping water and reproaches. He was scared to death that he would catch the Grippe, but he escaped that fate.
In the fall of 1890, we were fishing at Port Dalhousie until the first week in December and things froze up. With help from the others, I managed to get our sail boat afloat and worked her down against a head wind, until I reached the vicinity of the present rifle range at the Two, where my brother Fred met me. There were ice banks four to six feet high all along the lakeshore. The lake was calm and I got Fred aboard and we rowed the rest of the way into the River. We had quite a spell of mild weather after that cold snap.
They used to have the Military Camps here in September but after the growing of peaches became general, the fruitgrowers complained of the depredations by the soldiers on their orchards. So the powers that were decided to try October and the Camp of 189l was held during the first half of that month. Well, we had beastly weather, rain, snow and cold and the very day of breaking camp, it changed and we had a lovely Fall after that. The date of the following Camps was changed to the month of June after that and it so remained until war came and changed the whole camp situation
One more reminiscence comes to me. One night, the 9th of October, it snowed so hard that the Corona coming down the river for the seven o'clock trip, missed the wharf entirely. I remember the date, because of the death of my brother Fred, the next day in the hospital at St. Catharines. The snow afterwards turned to rain. The next night, after Fred's decease, my sister and I came home by way of the Falls and down to Youngstown by the Gorge railway. It was pitch dark and as it had been wet for some days, the crew of the car came along very slowly and it was lucky that they did so, for they came across a pile of stones that had slithered down the bank and covered the down track. So they backed the car up about a mile to a cross over and completed the trip along the up track, that nearest the river. It was not pleasant, I assure you. Close at hand were the rushing waters, which we could hear but couldn't see. Passengers and crew were not sorry when we emerged from that Black Gorge, safe and sound.
The whole thing as far as weather is concerned, might be summed up in the words of the late Dr. Morson. "This is a heck of a climate, ten months winter and July and August are darned cold. Time to take down your stovepipes is the thirty-first of July but put them up again on the first of August."
About thirty years ago, occurred one of the saddest events that ever happened around the mouth of the Niagara River. It was on a winter night and a terrible storm of wind and snow was sweeping over the River and Lake. The river was partly full of running ice and the waters of the Lake were raging under the fury of the heavy wind. A family, consisting of a man named Low, his wife, child and mother-in-law were on the Canadian side and were anxious to cross the river. Low kept a Butcher shop in Youngstown. His wife was a Niagara girl and they had been visiting friends in Town, and now wished to return home. Mr. Ralfe Clench, who was then keeping a Hotel at the Ferry, warned Low of the danger of attempting to cross in such a storm. However, it was after dark, but the party embarked in a scow and started away. They never reached their destination and were never seen again. Not a trace of them was ever found. No one saw their last moments, heard their despairing cries, their prayers. No one knows what they suffered or how long, whether they were slowly frozen to death or quickly engulfed by the greedy waves. How terrible must have been their thoughts. How all the hopes and fears of their past life must have swept before them. Would not anyone then realize the many things he had neglected, the sins he had committed, how unfit he was to die. Oh, the pity of it. Out on a raging Lake, far from the sight of human eyes, beyond the reach of a helping hand, surrounded by a tempestuous sea, grinding ice, drifting snow, with the wind howling around them, as if taunting them with their helplessness, what a plight to be in. How that man must have reproached himself for not taking the friendly advice given him.
It is one of the frailties of our human nature to reject friendly advice because it does not agree with our own inclinations and we often realize our folly when it is TOO LATE.
Tommy later on worked up a successful Livery business and served nine years in Town Council. When I first knew him, he was the Fort Shoemaker and was very good at his trade. He was one of the best rifle shots in his Regiment. He was a Veteran of several Indian campaigns in the Western States and in his latter days, received a medal from the U.S. Government for his service.
Another incident occurred at almost exactly the same spot many years ago, and with a very disastrous ending. I was in Tom Ferguson's shop on Queen St., then located where the Club 19 is now. John Long came past and looking in the door, he called out that there were some men in the ice down by the Queen's. Garner Clark, who was in the shop at the time, ran with me down to the front of the Queen's where were gathered a good many men and boys.
There had been a heavy wind blowing from the northeast and it had blown a lot of soft mushy ice into the eddy opposite the Queen's. This was stuff that once could not walk on or navigate through. Three U.S. soldiers had started for our side in a rowboat and had become stuck in the ice. They were calling lustily for help and could be heard uptown. Every once in a while, a huge sea would come boiling in and their situation was extremely dangerous. Just after we arrived on the scene a mountainous sea came roaring in and the boat seemed to run over endwise. For a moment, nothing could be seen or heard of the boat and men and then they appeared. It seemed to me that only two came up; then there broke on our ears the most blood-curdling screams. In another moment, all was still but the roaring of the seas and the crunching of the ice. Only one body was ever recovered and that down near Oswego. I could hear those screams for weeks afterwards. One of those soldiers was the son of the Bandmaster at Fort Niagara and was only 16 years of age. His name was Trautner. I was told later on that he had promised his mother that he would not attempt to cross the river that night. If that were true, he surely paid for his broken promise.
HIGH WATER AND HIGH WINDS
I remember that during the height of the storm, a fishing boat belonging to Ike Lloyd of Youngstown came drifting along our beach and a sea carried it neatly into Ball's Boathouse, the door of which had vanished. The next sea brought it out again and it vanished, gone no doubt, to the port of missing ships, for it was never seen again.
I learned early to sail a boat and my Dad used to make me take the rudder when I frankly would rather have been excused. My brother Charlie and I made up our Dad's crew and we were usually referred to as "The Skeeter Crew." Sometimes we doubled up with another crew. I remember one time we doubled with Jack Bolton whose crew was the late Jimmy Tay. Those were the days when "Daylight Savings Time" hadn't been invented. But we saved time by getting up anywhere from 2 to 4 in the morning and doing as day's work before breakfast. There wasn't much sale for fish and Jack Bolton had a peddler and we had one, and one boat would hold enough to supply both. We had to have the nets lifted and be on the Lakeshore by sunrise, so the peddlers could get away to Market at the Falls or St. Catharines for early market.
One morning, we set sail shortly after 2 o'clock, there being a nice southwest breeze. Sail was made, sheets made fast, Joey was ensconced at the helm while Joe Sr. and Jimmy laid them down one on either side of the centerboard while Jack took the bow. Soon the three of them were snoring peacefully while the good ship snored along with yours truly in full command of the situation. There were the usual waves that go with a brisk wind and somehow or other, the man at the wheel permitted the good ship to luff into the wind a bit and a wave came aboard. You, no doubt, have heard a radio abruptly shut off in the midst of a concert. Silence came o'er the scene but not for long. The man at the wheel was justly censured for his carelessness, which of course, he bore in silence, he being badly outnumbered.
I remember another period of high water when the water was up into the road at the Ferry Landing at the Slip. It think it would be early in the 1900's. There were no storms worth speaking of that season, so no great damage was done. It has become the fashion nowadays, to blame everything on the government and to run crying to the Government when we get into trouble. I sometimes think we are getting too much government. People and municipalities are losing the desire to help themselves.
I don't suppose anybody remembers the time that Albert Davey and Jim McMillan undertook to skate to Toronto on the ice that lined the Lakeshore. I don't remember what their reason was for undertaking such a stunt, but it was another campaign that failed. I think it was Billy Smith who was running the Youngstown News who composed and printed a verse descriptive of their jaunt, a part of which ran as follows:
They skated east and they skated west,
And they skated on accordin'
And Windy Jim went in to his chin
On the other side of Jordan.
I was reminiscing about open winters a while ago and how they brought about epidemics of one kind or another. I mentioned an extra cold winter however. You usually connect a cold, steady winter with good health, but it does not always turn out that way. The one winter, that of 1903 and 1904 was very cold and steady, but contrary to the accepted belief, it brought with it a very heavy mortality, particularly among old people. I belonged to the United Workmen and the death toll was so heavy in the Province of Ontario that we had a whole series of double assessments to meet the death rate. This was not confined to this particular locality, but was general throughout the Province. We had about thirty interments in St. Mark's Cemetery during those cold winter months. Father died that spring.
There is an old saying: "If Candlemas Day be bright and clear, We'll have two winters in that year." Has anyone counted the number we have had? A great many more than two. I'd like to reminisce a bit about it. On the sixth of April 1886, we had a gale of wind from the northeast. The water was very high in the Lake and River and the seas were huge, driven by that gale. I was a youth then, fishing with my father and the muss made by the seas was something to talk about. We had to empty our Boathouses and lug everything over the ground leading to the Railway Roundhouse. I remember Jack Bolton's boats and net perched on the Railway bank near his dwelling on the Beach. We had a freshly painted boat in one of our Boathouses and we couldn't very well move it and after the storm was over, the paint was blistered and had to be scraped off and done over.
A series of groins along the lakefront of Fort Niagara were washed away and the stone with which they had been loaded was piled up in a big heap in the bend this side of the Fort. Many of the Boathouses on the Beach were completely wrecked. The bank in front of the Queen's Royal Hotel was badly eroded. Water washed over the railway tracks and filled the cellar of the Lake View House. It is hard to say how much real serious damage would have been done finally, but it came on to snow very heavily and it piled up ice banks along the waterfront. Along the front of the sand bar, they were six to eight feet high. And believe me, it did snow while it was at it. This little dab that visited us lately wasn't a patch on that snowfall. The flats where Councilor Boyle now resides were covered with water two feet deep and we went home to dinner in a boat across them.
I saw one odd happening. Ike Lloyd in Youngstown had an old fishing boat called the Shamrock, which had lain on the Beach at Youngstown for some years a deserted hulk. Well, in the midst of the storm, it arrived at our Beach full of water and it sailed into the open door of Ball Brothers beach house as neat as if it had a pilot aboard. The next sea brought it out again and it was never seen again. That was the storm, after which the buildings in Fort Mississaugua were removed to make a breakwater in front of the Queen's Royal. So now, when you hear of late springs, just think of 1886.
I remember a heavy fall of snow on the 5th of October many years ago. The Steamer Corona was running then and was due down river at 7:30 and it was snowing so hard that she missed the wharf and had quite a time making a landing. I remember it very well as my brother and I were tying up our Ferry for the night at that very time. Bert Currie came along and told us that our Mother wanted us right away. She had just received word that our brother Fred had taken a bad turn in the hospital at St. Catharines and was in grave dangers. Fred's wife was taken up there as soon as a livery rig could be procured and the next day, my sister and I journeyed there. There was then no direct connection with St. Catharines and we crossed the river and traveled by way of the Gorge Railway to the Falls and thence to our destination by trolley. Poor Fred passed away soon after we arrived, and my sister and I returned home that night by the same route. And it poured rain all the way. We came down the Gorge route by the eleven o'clock car, and it was a black as tar down in that Gorge. That was a pleasant road to travel in daylight, but on a black, rainy night it was anything but nice. Above was the frowning cliff, with its mass of rock which it seemed might take a notion to come down any old time. On the other head, about twenty or thirty feet away was the raging, roaring, turbulent river. The car was manned by two Youngstown men, John Turner as motorman and Fred Thompson, Conductor.
They were proceeding very cautiously when down near the Whirlpool, they found the down track covered over with small stone which the rain had loosened and brought slithering down the cliff. The men decided to back up about a mile to a cross over and we came the rest of the way on the up track, which, by the way, was so much nearer that sinister stream that seemed to be awaiting our coming. We all breathed much more freely when we finally emerged from that Gorge.
All these things happened in October. So here we are with lots of leaves to be gathered and disposed of. The sun is shining, the wind is blowing and the leaves are sweeping along the street and stealing through fences and under gates. All in the month of October.
[From March 4th, 1954:]
What a winter we are having. One thing about it is that we get so many varieties that we cannot get sick of any one of them. I was listening on the radio to the weather commentary and it was stated that this winter had established a record as having the shortest ice season ever known on Toronto Bay. I am inclined to take that with a grain of salt. While it is true that Toronto, on the average, is a little colder than Niagara, yet I have seen at least one winter in which we had no ice or snow whatever. I think I have mentioned this before. The winter of 1890 and 1891 we had rain off and on all winter, but no snow or ice.
I spent many years around the river with my father, and we had all kinds of weather to contend with in operating the ferry across the river. Usually, we would get some ice around New Years, but I remember a series of seasons when we had first of all, no ice to contend with; the next year we had no ice until the first of March; the next it came February first; the next January first. Quite often we would get an ice jam some time through the winter and it would then be possible to drive a horse and sleigh across the river. There used to be a rough roadway down to the water at the Old Ferry, and some body would pick a winding way over the ice to Youngstown and one would find the path marked out with a series of sticks upright in the ice. I have walked over many times myself, although it is a long time since we had an Ice Jam. Some of us remember the jams of 1909 and 1937. I think the latter was the last, as I do not seem to remember any since. These jams were caused by ice from Lake Erie coming down in such quantities over the Falls that the slower current of the Lower River could not pass it out into the Lake fast enough to clear. Usually the greatest pressure would be at the old Ferry, while the swells from the Lake would break it away further down. I remember an incident that occurred in the early 1900's. There had been a jam in existence for some time, but the mouth of the river was clear. Bill Ball and Ned O'Melia were running the Ferry at that time and an Irish Soldier from Fort Niagara had come over the ice bridge to spend the evening in Niagara. When it came time for him to return, a gale of wind from off the Lake had sprung up and he didn't like to tackle the ice trip, as it was a dark stormy night. Mr. Ball, to whom he went seeking passage by boat, declined the trip, it being such a bad night, so the soldier borrowed a lantern and departed for the path over the ice bridge. Some time later, he arrived at one of the hotels near the dock, soaking wet and minus the lantern. The storm had loosened the ice and a gap had opened, into which Corporal Barney Larkin had walked. We never could figure out how he managed to get back on the ice. He certainly was a lucky Irishman.
This poking around in and through the river ice was always a precarious business. I remember the late Tommy May having an adventure that might have cost him his life. He had married a wife in our Town and having bought a rowboat, spent his free nights over here. Having to answer roll call early in the morning, it was usually not yet daylight when he would embark for the U.S.A.
About 8 o'clock in the morning, I was standing on the Railway Platform, talking to Paddy Miles, the Conductor, when along came Tommy in his rowboat. He had been unable to get through to the other side, but had managed to get back to our side and he had spent a couple of hours of strenuous labour in that ice. The river, by the way, was about three quarters full of running ice, the wind keeping it crowded against the American shore, while on our side, there was a clear passage. I called out to Tommy as he rowed past that he could not make it. His reply was to the effect that he would cross the blessed river if it took him all the gosh blessed day or words to that effect. "Let him go, let him go," called out Paddy, "Another fool, another fool." About noon, Tommy was seen from our side to miss the American Wharf and he being tuckered out, finally wound up his toilsome efforts some miles out in the lake. A party of American soldiers manned a rowboat and went to the rescue, but they not being wise to the ways of making a way through the ice, also became stuck. So to the rescue, came ten of the Niagara Fishermen. They manned a big skiff belonging to Charlie Currie called the "Maggie", and with plenty of stout ash oars and pikepoles they brought both derelicts and their crews safely to shore behind the Fort. They then took their boat overland to Youngstown on a sleigh and thence home through the ice.
This event reminded me of a similar occurrence on our own lakeshore just west of the Town. I had first heard of this event from my mother and in looking over persons who were the victims of this upheaval of the waters of peaceful Lake Ontario. In my young days and long before my time, the local fishermen pursued their calling in the Spring months by dragging seines, or as they called them, dragnets for the whitefish which then were plentiful and which came in close to shore in the Spring. One fine day in the month of April 1850, a gang of men was engaged in this operation on the Beach between the Two Mile Pond and the Lake. To the uninitiated, this would be just behind the targets on the present rifle range. It was a calm day, for it had to be calm to drag nets on the shore. Without any warning, a huge wave swept in from the lake and men and boats and gear were washed into the Pond, which was then much bigger and deeper than it is now. When the men had recovered their wits and had emerged from their involuntary bath, they proceeded to retrieve their gear from the Pond.
What was their dismay, when they found entangled in the nets, the forms of two persons who had drowned while helpless among the entangled nets and ropes. They proved to be an elderly man named James Forster and a boy of 14 named William Keith, a brother of my mother. No one appeared to know that the boy was on the Beach. No one seems to know what caused this freak wave and the fishermen always spoke of it as a tidal wave.
Various theories are being advanced as to the cause of the happening on Lake Michigan, but I have seen nothing that seems even probable. You and I will just have to accept these things as a freak of nature. There are no tides on the lakes, so the tidal wave theory is not feasible. Perhaps some unreported or unrecorded seismic event in the Lake bottom may have caused these strange upheavals in either of the two Lakes.
I spent most of my younger years on or about Lake Ontario and in that time, have seen some pretty big seas, perhaps as big as those mentioned, but they were caused by winds of gale force. I remember one occasion when my father, my brother Charlie and I were lifting gillnets at the edge of the bar above the Four Mile Point. As we were finishing our task the wind, which had been blowing pretty hard from the northwest, rose to gale force when we were about ready to set sail for home. Needless to say that we didn't have one of those newfangled outboard motor boats under us, but a serviceable, seaworthy boat. It was about time for the old Steamer Chicora on her trip, due to arrive at Niagara soon after four o'clock, and people were on the wharf watching for her and they saw us. We were told that when we went down between two waves, we were out of sight, sail and all. As the top of our sail would be in the neighbourhood of fourteen feet high, you can get some idea of the size of those waves. And when I tell you that chairs were washed off the deck of the Chicora when nearing the harbour, it will also give you some idea of the size of the waves. You can imagine what those waves would do if they broke on a shore on a calm and cloudless day.
In the spring of 1886, in the month of April, we had a heavy blow from the northeast which did a lot of damage along the waterfront and only a heavy fall of snow prevented more damage being done. If Councilor Boyle had been dwelling where he is presently situated, he would have been a mite uncomfortable, as there was a depth of two feet of water all over that ground. Of course, the water was unusually high that spring and that being the case, old Lake Ontario can kick up a muss when he gets his dander up. It can happen again, but let us hope not.
