Tuesday 30 January 2024

Charles Raymond and the sewing machine empire he stitched together

One of the significant industrial leaders of 19th century Guelph still somewhat familiar to current Guelphites would be Charles Raymond. Following a fire in 2015, Tom Lammer, owner of Raymond's old brick factory on Yarmouth Street, had the original, building-length sign restored, so that "Raymond's Sewing Machines" once again proclaims the existence of Raymond and his business to passers-by.
(The old Raymond Sewing Machines factory on Yarmouth street, Guelph. Courtesy of Google Street View.)

But, who was Charles Raymond and what was his role in Guelph's industrialization? The whole story is quite a lengthy one but the basic thread may be instructively picked out of the details.

A good place to begin is near the end, with the postcard image of the Raymond factory facilities below.

("Raymond Manufacturing Co.y, Limited, Guelph, Ontario, Canada." Postcard published ca. 1910 by the Valentine & Sons Publishing Company.)

As pointed out in my post about the Baker Street lot, this postcard gives a synopsis of the development of much of Raymond's business: His early stone factories facing Suffolk street stand in the foreground, the later brick factories facing Yarmouth street in the middle, and the latest cream separator plant facing Baker street near the back.

To understand how this industrial complex came about, we have to go back to Charles Raymond and his entry into the sewing machine business.

Charles Raymond was born on 6 January 1826 in Ashburnham, Massachusetts. His father Daniel was a carpenter and carriage-maker, and it seems that young Charles demonstrated a facility with mechanics early on. In 1843, Raymond became an apprentice machinist at the Massachusetts Cotton Mills Co., in Lowell, which was a center of the American textile industry in that era, and then on to Bristol, Connecticut, where he began his own business. He married Mary Marston of Lowell in 1847 and the 1850 US Census locates him in Fitchburg, Massachusets, with Mary and three children.

In 1852, Raymond produced his first sewing machine. Given his mechanial inclination and experience in textiles, it is easy to imagine why he was interested in devices for sewing. Textile making had become highly mechanized by mid-century, notwithstanding the Luddite riots in England in the 1810s upon the introduction of mechanized looms. Yet, although textile making had been industrialized, making clothing or other wares like bedding, drapery, etc., from textiles was still a cottage industry in many respects.

("An engraving of Thimonnier and his sewing machine of 1830, from Sewing Machine News, 1880. Courtesy Smithsonian photo 10569-C.)

Many individuals pursued designs and patents for a machine that could mechanize sewing. A notable step was the creation of a feasible lock-stitch machine by Barthélemy Thimonnier in 1829, who set up a factory in Paris to make uniforms for the French army. However, the factory was attacked, reportedly by tailors afraid that it would put them out of work.

("Drawing of the first patented lockstitch sewing machine, invented by Elias Howe in 1845 and patented in 1846." Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.)

Several Americans also got into the act, notably Elias Howe and Isaac Singer, resulting in one of the US's first big patent fights. Apparently not wanting to get involved in the fracas, Raymond put his own designs to one side. Nevertheless, in partnership with Willford Nettleton of Bristol, Conn., Raymond registered a sewing machine patent in 1857 and the Nettleton & Raymond Empire Family Sewing Machine was launched. The term "family sewing machine" refers to the fact that the design was intended for household use, as opposed to factory work. The Nettleton & Raymond went for $25, which was a huge advantage against competitors, whose machines typically retailed for $100 or more.

Despite the machine's virtues and its low price, success did not seem to attend its introduction. In 1858, Raymond set up a new business in Brattleboro, Vermont, selling the "New England Family Sewing Machine." In 1860, Raymond turned his eyes north of the border and tried to set up shop in Montreal, a move that was also unsuccessful.

(Charles Raymond, ca. 1860. Courtesy of Guelph Public Library, F38-0-15-0-0-294.)

Perhaps continued patent litigation or the outbreak of the US Civil War undermined his plans. In any event, Raymond and 15 hands from his Brattleboro works arrived in Guelph in 1862, looking to set up operations there. Canada had lax patent legislation, which attracted foreign investment and may well have influenced Raymond's move, though why he located in Guelph in particular is unclear. In any event, the new locale certainly worked in his favour.

The commercial success of Raymond's company is reflected in its rapidly expanded building program. The first Raymond factory was sited on Norfolk street on the lot where Raymond also built his house. This building was a two-storey stone structure mere 24x50 feet. In 1865, a 30x40 frame extension was built onto it in order to accommodate the expanding business.

(Raymond family home, in the gore between Norfolk and Yarmouth streets (left), and the sewing machine factory on Yarmouth street (right), as seen from across the Nelson Crescent park, now the site of the Guelph Public Library main branch, ca. 1865. Courtesy of Guelph Public Library, C6-0-0-0-0-793.)

Around this time, Raymond also built a factory 26x108 on the other side of Yarmouth street, on the lot where the building bearing his name now stands. Even this could not accommodate his needs for long. Thus, in 1869, the neighbouring Knox Presbyterian Church was purchased and annexed to the Yarmouth street factory. (Not to worry: a new Knox Church was built around the corner on Quebec street.)

In June 1869, Raymond's wife Mary died, leaving two daughters, Emma and Ada. In August of the following year, Raymond married Miss Helen Gill, of Brattleboro. Charles and Helen had two children together, Elizabeth and Charles (Jr.).

("Suffolk Street and Raymond Factory, Guelph, Canada." Postcard published by Rumsey & Co., ca. 1905. Suffolk Street (right) here intersects with Yarmouth Street (left), with Woolwich Street in the foreground.)

As the appetite for Raymond machines contingued to grow, Raymond purchased the Arms & Worswick sewing machine factory, then a frame building at the corner of Yarmouth and Suffolk streets, in 1870. Only two years later, this "branch plant" burned to the ground. Raymond had it expanded and rebuilt in stone, so that it reopened in 1874. The building remains there to this day and its end can be seen in the postcard above.

(Raymond's Sewing Machine factory on Yarmouth street (left) and the old Knox Church (right), which was incorporated into the factory, ca. 1870. Courtesy of the Guelph Public Library, F38-0-14-0-0-414.)

Fire tested Raymond's resolve yet again in 1875, when a blaze consumed the Yarmouth steet factory, including the former Knox church. He took the opportunity to expand his plant again, this time building the three storey, 120x108 brick factory that now (once again) carries the company's name.

("Raymond's Machine and Moulding Shop, Guelph, Ont.," ca. 1905. Postcard published for A.B. Petrie. Note that the factory is buff-coloured and not gray as the lithographer has depicted it here.)

In 1878, Raymond had an iron foundry built on the lot adjoining the north side of the Yarmouth street factory.

(Advertisement showing both Raymond factories, plus Yarmouth street foundry, ca. 1895. Courtesy of Guelph Public Library, F38-0-7-0-0-89.)

The early 1880s probably represents the apogee of the Raymond Sewing Machine company. As Brent (1980) notes, initial resistance to sewing machines in Canada had largely abated by 1860. (In 1852, the introduction of sewing machines to the Toronto tailoring firm of Walker and Hutchison occasioned Toronto the Good's first organized labour strike.) On the home front, most women, including the well-to-do ones, had daily sewing tasks to perform for their families. Sewing machines could considerably shorten this labour. A frock coat that took 16 1/2 hours to sew by hand could be sewn in 2 1/2 hours with a machine!

(Charles Raymond, printed in 1880 biography.)

As it became recognized as a labour-saving device, the sewing machine became a social status item (Connolly 1999). Having a machine at home, visible to guests and visitors, suggested that a household was up-to-date and its womenfolk well supported and domestic. Manufacturers responded by dressing their wares in appropriately domestic garb. Whereas early household machines were often iron gadgets simply clamped to existing furniture, later machines were nicely japanned and painted with feminine designs, and housed in smart looking, special-purpose furniture. A great deal of factory space, including in Raymond's facilities, were dedicated to japanning and cabinet making as a result.

Raymond, or his marketing department, made generous use of trade cards to help drum up business. By the mid-1870s, printing technology allowed for cheap cards carrying colourful images to be made up in large quantities. Businesses ordered cards to hand out for free to potential customers with the idea that they would keep the brand in their client's minds when buying decisions were made. Space was left on the cards, sometimes just on the back, for each business to print information about itself.

("Before purchasing see the “New Raymond” with compliments of Charles Raymond, Guelph, Ont. // Copyright 1884 by J.H. Buffords Sons."

Images on the cards tended to be generic. For example, the card above shows a scene of a group of well-dressed Victorians out for some fun roller skating. There seems to be little relation of roller skating to sewing machines, unless viewers were supposed to associate the fancy clothing with their sewing needs.

(Front of a Raymond trade card, ca. 1900.)

Much like postcards in the Edwardian era, trade cards appealed to collectors and so were probably reasonably effective in drumming up interest in a business's goods or service.

(Back of the Raymond trade card above. "National Cream Separator // Manufactured by The Raymond Mfg. Co. Limited, Guelph, Ont. Also manufacturers of the celebrated Raymond Sewing Machines.")

The Raymond Manufacturing Company stuck with the trade cards for some time. Many of them advertise not only sewing machines but the cream separators that were made under license in the early 20th century.

(Raymond sewing machine with table, ca. 1879. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 1978X.00.145.3.)

Raymond's Sewing Machines became the second-biggest manufacturer in Canada, behind only Wanzer & Co. of Hamilton. Sewing machines were a solid Canadian export in this era as well, and Raymond was quite invested in markets abroad. A note in the Mercury (13 May 1876) records that Raymond shipped a consignment of machines, worth $10,000, to Cuba and Brazil!

(The beaver logo that became the trademark of the Raymond "beaver" sewing machines. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Musuems, 1988.30.37.)

Yet, what goes up must come down, they say, and this was true of Raymond's Sewing Machines. A number of factors ate into the trade during the 1880s. The depression of 1882–1885 cut into business, especially iron and steel, which was crucial to the sewing machine trade. Changes in Canadian law opened domestic markets to American firms, such as the giant Singer Co., which unloaded low-priced machines north of the border. In addition, ready-to-wear clothing began to rise in popularity. Instead of making clothes at home, families could simply purchase clothing made in factories (using commercial sewing machines), the beginning of the modern clothing and fashion industries. Domestic sewing certainly didn't vanish but the trend towards consumable clothing did begin to undercut the need people felt to have their own machines.

("Raymond "Beaver" Sewing Machine," ca. 1880. Here, the machine has been concealed by the "drop table." Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2012.67.1.1.)

This change in trends was duly reflected in the design of sewing machines themselves. In particular, sewing machines began to appear in "drop cabinets," in which the machine itself could be hidden from sight by being lowered beneath the cabinet top when not in use. Thus, visitors to a home need not be confronted with the sight of a sewing machine and would, therefore, not infer that the householders weren't up to buying their clothes at a specialty store. Descriptions of Raymond sewing machines shown in exhibitions in the 1890s make note of the "latest thing in drop cabinets, of which Mr. Raymond is the only manufacturer in Canada" (Globe, 8 September 1892).

("Sewing Machine, Raymond Sewing Machine Company, circa 1900." Courtesy Guelph Civic Museums, 1978.55.1.5.)

Anyone curious about more information regarding the details of Raymond's sewing machines is directed to Vern Schafer's Raymond Sewing Machine Research Project.

("Livingroom of Mr. C. Raymond," ca. 1870. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2014.84.69.)

Partly in response to the difficulties of Canadian manufacturers, the government of John A. Macdonald implemented the "National Policy" in 1879. A key element of this policy was raising tariffs against imports in order to make Canadian-made goods more competitive domestically. In the case of sewing machines, imports went from a tariff of 17.5% to a 20% tariff, plus $2. At first, Raymond was against this policy, arguing that, by sheltering Canadian products against American ones, it would allow Canadian producers to market inferior goods (Globe, 14 September 1878). In addition, it would encourage Canadian manufacturers to inflate their prices, thus making their goods uncompetitive on the export market.

(Charles Raymond and family in their front garden, 187?. Courtesy of Guelph Public Library, F38-0-14-0-0-417. This image may be from a set of photographs of the Raymond house and grounds taken by local photographer W. Marshall in 1879.)

However, experience changed his tune. Raymond later admitted that the National Policy had helped his business. Mainly, it mitigated the impact of American manufacturers dumping inexpensive machines on the Canadian market, which buoyed sales of Raymond machines (Globe, 19 April 1882). These sales helped to support the company despite the lower margins it realized on sales abroad.

(Detail of a portrait of Chas. Raymond, 1892. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2016.3.1.)

By the 1890s, the difficulties of the sewing machine business were telling. In 1895, the Raymond Sewing Machine Company was sold to the "Raymond Manufacturing Company," which diversified into other lines, such as bicycles, cash registers, silver platters, and sundry brass and iron goods.

(The Raymond Sewing Machine factory (foreground) and the National Separator Works (background), 1905. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2009.32.820.)

In 1897, Charles Raymond retired as president of the Raymond Manufacturing Company. Thirty-five years in charge was certainly a long time, and new perspective might help keep the business afloat. Raymond was succeeded by the vice-president, Christian Kloepfer. That same year, the company was sold to the White Sewing Machine Company of Cleveland, Ohio. By 1899, the company joined the rush to market mechanical cream separators. For this purpose, a new, three-storey factory was built on the Baker Street lot, where the old burying ground once stood.

(Detail of "Insurance plan of the city of Guelph, Ontario, Canada," 1911, page 6. Courtesy of Library and Archives Canada, R6990-430-9-E.)

However, the decline of Raymond Manufacturing Company continued. In 1916, the White Sewing Machine Company took over direct management of it and, in 1922, the company's affairs were wound up.

However, Charles Raymond did not live to see its dissolution. He died on 4 June 1904 due to complications of a surgery meant to alleviate a threatening illness.

(First Baptist Church, still sporting its steeple, printed by the International Stationery Company, ca. 1910.)

Raymond's obituary in the local paper has not survived. However, it would certainly mention not only his business life but also his involvement in public affairs. For example, Charles Raymond was a deacon of the Baptist church and a Superintendent of its Sunday School. An 1880 biography also states that Raymond was a prime mover behind the construction of the First Baptist Church on Woolwich street, not far from his residence. Besides this, Raymond also had been President of both the Home and Foreign Baptist Missionary Societies. The biography also mentions that he contributed a "large sum" to the construction of the Congregational church, which was sited across Norfolk street from his residence. Apparently, Raymond attended Congregationalist services early in his residence in Guelph, having found the Baptist minister too Calvanist. (Also, his daughter Emma married John Crowe, another prominent local business figure and Congregationalist.)

Raymond was also active in civic affairs. He served on the local School Board and was Chairman of the city's Building Committee during his stint as a city alderman (councilor). In this office, Raymond was credited with playing an indispensible part in the building of the Central School on Dublin street.

("Portrait of Wellington County Council members, 1875." Courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives, A1981.90. Chas. Raymond is front row, centre.)

Besides Guelph, Raymond was active in County politics, serving as deputy Reeve of Wellington County and, as such, being instrumental in the building of the County "Poor House," now the Wellington County Museum in Aboyne.

("Raymond family on grounds in front of their second house, from a photograph that appeared in The Globe (Toronto) newspaper, 06 August 1892." Courtesy Wellington County Museum, A1985.110, ph. 7608.)

One other thing that Charles Raymond was remembered for was his hosting of His Excellency the Marquis of Lorne, Governor-General, and Her Royal Highness, the Princess Louise, during their tour of Guelph on 17 September 1879. The Marquis and his royal wife holed up at Raymond's residence for an hour or so during a break in official engagements in town, during their tour of Ontario cites. This visit was remembered in the city as it afforded the occasion when Guelph was semi-offically christened "The Royal City." For his part, Raymond commemorated the visit by naming his house Lornewood, a moniker that is still sometimes remembered today.

(Lornewood, 2009. Courtesy of Google Steet View.)

However, Raymond's name is today remembered mainly in connection with "Raymond's Sewing Machines" as it once again says on the sign over his old Yarmouth street factory.

Of course, Charles Raymond did not build and run the Sewing Machine factory by himself. At its height in the 1880s, the business employed about 200 people, a considerable number in a city of about 12,000.
("Raymond Sewing Machine Factory Employees circa 1890." Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 1985.73.2.)

When Raymond first moved to Guelph in 1862, he brought 15 hands with him from Brattleboro (Mercury, 20 July 1927). One of those hands was Myron Burr, who later set up the "Burr & Skinner" furniture company with F.W. Skinner, at the corner of Oxford and Yorkshire streets. After Skinner retired from the firm, Myron and his brother Frank changed it to the Burr Bros. furniture company. This was bought up by the Canada Furniture Manufacturers in 1900.

In 1873, the Mercury (21 August) made note of J.B. Clyne, a young mechanic employed by Raymond who invented a kind of mechanical pigeon, after reading a description of one in an English newspaper. Called the "gyros pigeon," copies of the invention were available for purchase from Mr. P. Kribs. The Mercury reported its working as follows:

The flyer is a piece of tin, resembling in shape a two-bladed screw propeller, and a swift rotatory motion is given to this by an apparatus worked by a spring, which can be held in the hand or affixed to any stationary substance. The flight of the mock pigeon resembles curiously that of the living bird, and the direction of its movements can be controlled, by the person flying it; it can be made to skim along the ground, or to soar upwards; and one of its usual flights is to describe a circular path in the air like a boomerang.
The purpose of the automaton was to substitute for live pigeons in the popular sport of pigeon shooting, which had become controversial due to the cruelty it involved. Unfortunately, unlike the gyro pigeon, this idea never flew.
("Raymond Sewing Machine Office, Guelph," ca. 1903. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 1989.7.2.)

Another employee of note was Sam Terrell, who worked at the Raymond factory for 35 years, 20 as a foreman. When he retired in 1913, he was presented with a silver service of four pieces plus a tray. Terrell then moved to Victoria, B.C., to live with his daugther and son-in-law. However, he was interred in the Union (now Woodlawn) cemetery in Guelph after his death in 1923.

("Raymond Sewing Machine Factory Workers," 1910. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2009.32.822.)

A final special employee was Mr. Isaac Spencer, an African American who was born in Virginia and enslaved there. Fortunately, he found his way to freedom and became an employee of the Raymond company around 1865. He worked there for some 30 years, nearly to the day of his death (Mercury, 21 October 1895). His obituary adds the following details:

He delighted to amuse his hearers by telling thrilling reminiscences of his early slavery days. Though he could neither read nor write he was possessed of a shrewd sense of fair judgment, and withal was honest and upright, and led a good life. His age is given as 75 years, but many believe he is much older. He was married the second time a few years ago, and his widow survives him. He was well known in the city, and respected by all for his honesty, industry and good character.
It is a shame that his story, and his stories, are not better known.
Works consulted for this post include:

Tuesday 26 December 2023

Merry Xmas Guelph, 1925

The Christmas card has been a staple of the western, Yuletide celebration since at least 1843, when Sir Henry Cole commmissioned a set of 1,000 engraved holiday cards. As 1843 was also the year that Dickens published "A Christmas Carol," it's fair to say that this was a big year for the origins of contempoary Christmas celebrations.
Naturally, postcard makers got into the act during the medium's heyday in the Edwardian era. Although the foldable Christmas card continued on strong, the postcard version faded from the scene. Still, it is not unusual to find Xmas postcards in the 1920s, one of which found its way to yours truly.
This is a fairly standard scene, presumably of Bethlehem, in a festive frame, made by Whitney Made of Worcester, Massachusetts, a company not confined to the Valentine's Day cards it is most remembered for.

The card is addressed to "Mrs. Jno Mitchell, Arkell, Ont // ℅ D. Tarzwell," with the following message:

with best wishes to Mrs. Mitchell for a Merrie Xmas & a Happy New Year. // Susie Atkinson.
The card was postmarked in Guelph on 20 December 1925.

With generic cards of this sort, the main interest tends to be personal: Who was Susie Atkinson and why was she sending a Christmas postcard to Mrs. Jno Mitchell of Arkell (a village a short distance from Guelph)?

Susan Agnes Atkinson (née Coker) was born in Eramosa, Guelph Township, on 4 March 1887 and seems to have grown up on the family farm there. She became Mrs. Wesley George Atkinson on 15 December 1909. The couple was married in the Speedside church, a lovely rural church that I have blogged about, and had the pleasure of visiting.

The Atkinson's were thick on the ground in Guelph Township. William Atkinson, of Yorkshire, England, arrived in Upper Canada in 1832 with a large family and became a successful farmer with hundreds of acres under cultivation. One of his sons, George, carried on the tradition and, according to the County Atlas, was known as the "King of Marden" (a small village in northern Guelph Township).

(George Atkinson, the "King of Marden;" courtesy of the Illustrated Historical Atlas of Wellington County.)

Wesley, I believe, was a grandson of George's brother Joseph.

In any event, Wesley and Susie moved to Guelph and lived at 25 Queen street (now 25 Arthur street) for a number of years. They lived at 186 London Road west when Susie sent the postcard to Mrs. John Mitchell.

(25 Arthur street; courtesy of Google Street View.)

Wesley worked as a clerk or salesman for local businesses such as the Penfold Hardware store.

Now for the recipient! Mrs. John Mitchell appears to be Lydia Maria (née Haggett) born 21 May 1848 on another farm in Eramosa. She married Mr. John Mitchell, originally of Flamboro, on 10 September 1873, who owned a farm in Eramosa. That makes her a generation older than Susie Atkinson, who also does not seem to be a family relation. So, why were they corresponding?

The answer seems to lie in the 1901 census. In that document, the Mitchells are listed right below the Cokers (spelled Coekers). In short, they were neighbours! Even after Susie got married and moved to town, she seems to have kept in touch with her former neighbour, Lydia Mitchell.

The remaining puzzle is the relationship between the Mitchells and David Tarzwell, whose farm in Arkell was the destination of the postcard. Here, the 1921 census helps out. David Tarzwell, a widower, is listed as the owner of the farm. Not only that, three Mitchells are listed as living under the same roof: Harriet (occupation Housekeeper) and Lydia & John (boarders). In fact, Harriet is a daughter of Lydia & John. It seems that the senior Mitchells had moved in with their daughter, not an unusual arrangement for retired folk at that time.

Still more interesting is that Harriet officially became Mrs. David Tarzwell on 5 December 1929, four years after the postcard was sent. One can't help wondering if Harriet's occupation as "Housekeeper" listed in the 1921 census was some sort of euphemism for common-law wife.

Also interesting is the fact that Mrs. John Mitchell (that is, Lydia) died on 18 August 1929, only a few months before the wedding. Was Lydia's death a factor in the timing of the nuptials? Who now can say?

Alas, the Guelph Mercury for all of 1925 is missing from archival records, so local news is somewhat lacking in detail. However, some highlights show up in various sources and can give an idea of the state of affairs in Guelph late in 1925 when the postcard was sent.

The assets of the Guelph Co-operative Association were sold off in December (Globe, 12 December 1925). The Co-op had been founded in 1903 by the Guelph Trades and Labour Council in order to provide bread at affordable prices to the working people of the Royal City (Durtnall 2004). The enterprise continued successfully for over 20 years and greatly expanded its affordable offerings but, for reasons that are not entirely clear, went under at the end of 1925.

The Guelph Ontario Hockey Association intermediate team got off to a promising start. The Orange-and-Black of the Royal City handed a 7–2 drubbing to the Green-shirt senior team of Kitchener-Waterloo in an exhibition game on 19 December. A 3-to-2, come-from-behind exhibition decision over the Excelsiors of Brampton on December 22 stoked excitement in the local squad. Interest in competetive hockey had only recently led the owners to expand seating at the Guelph Arena (now the Royal Plaza mall).

However, the year ended on a bit of a low note when Guelph was handed a 3–1 defeat by their hosts for the first regular-season contest in North Toronto. Though the Guelphites skated well and launched many shots at the Toronto goalie, the netminder was hot and the larger ice surface at big-city rink gave the visitors more trouble than they could handle.

Big regional news was the undertaking by the Provincial Department of Public Highways to keep the Guelph-Hamilton highway (now Highway 6) open throughout the winter (Globe, 21 December). Chief Engineer Hogarth said that the Department would keep the "immense" motor plows available in Aberfoyle or Morriston to plow roads out immediately in the event of a big snowfall. In previous years, the highway could be closed for days at a time after a big storm. With increasing reliance on trucking for regional commerce, such interruptions became more and more costly. Regularized plowing was the government's response.

("Snowplough No. P.2." 7 Jan. 1924, courtesy of City of Toronto Archives, Fonds 16, Series 71, Item 2910. I have the feeling that the highway plows were more "immense" than this street plow. If you have a contemporary highway plow photo, let me know!)

The Ontario Agricultural College Review (v. 38, n. 4) celebrated the season by reprinting a short story by Canadian humourist Stephen Leacock, entitled, "The Christmas ghost." In this story, the unnamed protagonist gets to thinking about how Christmas has changed over the years:

I was contrasting Christmas in the old country house of a century ago, with the fires roaring up the chimneys, and Christmas in the modern apartment on the ninth floor with the gasoline generator turned on for the maid’s bath.
Suddenly, a dejected looking ghost appeared and asked if he might haunt his host for a while. Upon receiving the invitation, the spectre sits and complains about his situation. About one hundred years earlier, he had murdered a man on a public road and was, after death, condemned to wander the Earth, dragging around great chains, moaning, and haunting a house.

This employment was finally undone by modernization:

The days of the motor car came and they paved the highway and knocked down the house and built a big garage there, with electricity as bright as day. You can’t haunt a garage, can you? I tried to stick on and do a little groaning, but nobody seemed to pay any attention; and anyway, I got nervous about the gasoline. I’m too immaterial to be round where there is gasoline. A fellow would blow up, wouldn’t he?
Further haunts proved fruitless. Upon hearing a ghost, modern children simply wanted to see if they could pass the radio set through him, whereupon he discovered that electricity "knocks me edgeways."

Worse yet, the ghost says, spiritualists have learned how to summon ghosts at will, thus reducing him to a kind of on-demand entertainment. At that moment, the ghost begins to vanish, saying:

There’s a group of fools somewhere sitting round a table at a Christmas eve party and they’re calling up a ghost just for fun—a darned poor notion of fun, I call it ...
Spiritualism plus motor cars, pavement, gasoline, electricity and radio had certainly changed the world, and Christmas, since Dicken's day.
Works consulted include:
  • Durtnall, B. (2004). "Each for all and all for each: The Story of the Guelph Co-operative Association," Historic Guelph 43, pp. 59–66.

Saturday 9 December 2023

An International Stationery Co. tour of Guelph

Yours truly recently gave a talk at a meeting of the Kitchener-Waterloo-Cambridge-Regional-Post-Card Club (KWCRPCC). This was the Club's first meeting since the arrival of the COVID pandemic, so it was an honour to help the group resume operations after a long hiatus.

The venue was the historic First Church of Christ, Scientist in Kitchener. As it happens, the church itself features in some old postcards, such as the following:

("Christian Scientist Church, Berlin, Canada," ca. 1909. Courtesy of Leigh Hogg.)

(First Church Christ, Scientist; courtesy of Google Maps.)

The subject of the talk was the postcard views of Guelph as provided by the International Stationery Co. (ISC) of Picton, Ontario. In this post, I will give a precis of the talk and show some of the images. The point of the presentation is not to give a history of places shown but to give an impression of the aesthetic quality of the individual postcards as pictures and of the whole set as a curated show of the Royal City as it then existed.

Among Canadian deltiologists, that is, postcard collectors, the ISC is known for its set of fine sepia-toned collotype postcards from the early 20th century. Consider the example below.

("Collegiate," #130.)

This is the predecessor of the current Guelph Collegiate and Vocational Institute, shown from near the corner of Paisley and Arnold streets. For inventory purposes, ISC numbered their cards; this card is number 130. The photo is nicely layered, with paths leading from the foreground into the image, where people can be seen walking under the trees and in front of the pointy buildings. Clouds billow upwards in the sky, drawn there by arists in Germany, where the cards were printed. As will become evident, this composition is typical for cards of Guelph from this set.

The history of the ISC goes back to "The Fair", a kitchen supply and grocery store located in Picton and founded by local boy James Livingstone (1868–1949) in 1895. The Fair was successful and expanded into new locations and goods. As the postcard craze took hold in the Edwardian era, Livingstone got into the act. Postcards turned into a big business for the ISC, which specialized in views from southern Ontario and the Montreal area. It carried on for some decades and left an interesting legacy of topical views.

To judge from postmarks, postcards of Guelph began circulation in 1913 and persisted into the early 1920s. Serial numbers range from 100 to 199, suggesting that there are about 100 views of Guelph in the set—quite a few! ISC expert Ian Robertson reports about 900 cards total in his collection, so the Royal City seems to have enjoyed attention disporportionate to its modest size. What was the charm?

The ISC set includes views of the usual suspects, such as the card below of the Carnegie Public Library. Designed by local boy William Frye-Colwill and erected in 1905, the building was a regular part of postcard sets of Guelph. Images were almost always taken from diagnoally across Norfolk street, which produces this dramatic angle. Even so, the photo appears to have been taken especially for the ISC.

("Carnegie Public Library," no number.)

The Winter Fair Building is another fine card. The building was located on Carden street, in front of the new City Hall, where the splash pad/outdoor rink is now located. It was built to house the agricultural fairs that used to be held downtown. The corner of the old City Hall, now a Provincial Court House, can be seen on the left. As usual, the scene is animated by figures walking hither and thither.

("Winter Fair Building," #110.)

Another good, downtown view is the end of the Bell Piano & Organ factory, seen from the old Grand Trunk train station, today the city bus depot downtown. The photo gives a good impression of the bulk of the building, which was meant to dominate the old market square and train station. Beneath the near facade is the street sprayer, a wagon drawn by two horses and carrying a big barrel of water that was sprayed onto the dirt streets in the summer in order to keep the dust down. To the upper left is the clock tower, perhaps the oldest illuminated clock dial in Canada. Alas, the building burned to the ground in 1945 and the site is now a parking lot for the Royal Inn and Suites.

("Bell Piano and Organ Co.," #122.)

Another interesting view is the one below of the side of the Ontario Reformatory, popularly known in the day as the "Prison farm." The view was taken from the bluff at the back of what used to be the Turfgrass Institute. In the foreground is the Guelph Junction Railway while the three-span concrete bridge over the Eramosa River lies in the middle ground. The bridge was built from limestone from the on-site quarry and using prison labour. The prison buildings themselves lie in the background, making this card one of the few showing the Reformatory that do not feature the buildings themselves up close.

("Prison Farm," #178.)

One of the features of the ISC cards is that there are sometimes multiple views of a given building or site. Such collections of views can provide an impression of a place that would not be possible with a single image—and also would help to sell multiple cards!

One such set in Guelph is of the old Central School. The school lies along the shoulder of the drumlin that is topped by the Church of Our Lady, just one block away. With its prominent site and tall belfry, the old Central School seems to have been intended to leave a strong visual impression on anyone looking around from the downtown, and competing for visual profile with the neighbouring church. The old Central School was demolished in the 1960s and replaced by the current, one-storey structure.

("Central School," #173, looking along what is now Commercial street from Norfolk street.)

("Central School," no number, looking from Cambridge street across Dublin street—the opposite facade to the one above.)

("Guelph Model School," #142, seen from the south along Cambridge street.)

It was certainly an imposing structure!

Naturally, many of the ISC cards feature sites on the Ontario Agricultural College (OAC), now the site of the University of Guelph. For present purposes, I will feature views of Massey Hall & Library. The story has it that OAC President James Mills happened upon Walter Massey, head of the farm implement giant, on a Toronto streetcar and persuaded him to fund construction of a campus library. Thus did this charming structure come into being!

As with many ISC images, the main entrance of Massey Hall & Library can be seen behind a number of trees and elegantly-dressed ladies walking the path from the OAC garden.

("Massey Hall and Library, O.A.C.," #176.)

Below is a view of the Hall from the reverse angle, looking along the entry lane from what is now Gordon street. The MacLaghlan Building is more in the foreground on the right, with the Main Building (where Johnston Hall now stands) behind on the left.

("Massey Hall and Library, O.A.C.," #108.)

The third card with the same caption returns us to the uphill side of the Hall but further down what is now "Winegard Walk". Here, it appears that some sort of open-air lecture is underway, with the audience sitting in rapt attention on the bank of the College reservoir. No photographer on the OAC campus could resist the reflections afforded by this artificial pool!

("Massey Hall and Library, O.A.C.," #173.)

The University of Guelph has produced the following short video relating the story of the Hall:

One of the real treats contained in the ISC set of Guelph are the many pictures from Old Home Week, 1913. Old Home Week, also known as the Old Boys' Reunion, was a city-wide party for residents and former residents. The first installment was the Old Home Week 1908, the second was the Old Home Week 1913, while the third occurred in the Royal City's centennial year, 1927. ISC postcards of the 1913 event are the only images of that installment that I am aware of. The cards are characterized by decorated buildings, people milling about, parades, and events in Exhibition Park. A few selected images will give an appropriate impression.

This card shows a crowd of well-heeled ladies and gentlemen disembarking from a train at the CPR station and making their way through Trafalgar Square towards the downtown. A small omnibus waits by the station's front entrace. It is labelled, "Hotel New Wellington." The actual Hotel New Wellington was only a stone's throw away but the omnibus may have been handy for passengers who arrived with a lot of luggage. The site is today the location of the Trafalgar Square apartments on Cardigan street.

("C.P.R. Station," #136.)

The Grand Trunk railway station (now the VIA station) was also the entry/departure point for many participants in the Old Home Week. In the card below, a train can be seen in the background while people mill about the entrance and the intersection of Wyndham and Carden streets in the foreground. At the front entrance to the station can, once again, be seen the Hotel New Wellington Omnibus. Those must have been busy days for the bus driver! Also doing a good business was the city's peanut vendor, whose cart, I believe, is the focus of attention on the street corner in the centre of the image. Bags of roasted peanuts were a common street snack in those days, and passengers probably arrived with an appetite, not to mention money in their pockets.

("G.T.R. Station," #190.)

The actual Hotel New Wellington itself is featured in the card below. It is suitably dressed up for the occasion. In the foreground is a sandwich board and overhead sign for the Bogardus Pharmacy, which had a storefront facing the corner of Wyndham and Woolwich street in those days.

("Hotel New Wellington," #139.)

There are also many scenes of parades in the set. I include the one below, looking up Wyndham street towards St. George's Square, because the caption actually names the event shown in the image, instead of referring to the places or buildings in the background.

("Old Boy's Home Week at Guelph," #111.)

A number of pictures show crowds in Exhibition Park but the one below is the best (at least of those that I know of at present). At the right is the grandstand, roughly where Hastings Stadium is now, overlooking the track where many racing events and parades were held. To the left are many cars, which were parked in the park for the day. In the background were some of the Exhibition buildings, including the unusual octagonal barn.

("Exhibition Grounds," #127.)

For a final Old Home Week card, I cannot resist one of my Guelph favourites, which shows a woman guiding what I suppose are her young daughters across Woolwich street towards the Hotel New Wellington. Nice outfits! Also, the picture features an interesting composition, with the three figures in the foreground on the right of centre that balance out the dramatic fall and rise of Eramosa road in the background to the left of centre. Very deliberate photography!

("Eramora [sic] Road," #121.)

I will finish by giving a few examples of characteristic street scenes. One of the quirks of the ISC set of Guelph is the photographer's affection for scenes with people walking towards or (more often) away from the camera.

The example below is a card of two gentlemen in fashionable straw boaters striding up Delhi street, which the viewer can see was a dirt road at the time. Their retirement into the middle layer of the composition animates the picture in away that a simple picture of the sidewalk could not.

("Delhi St.," #181)

The locations seems to be near the intersection with Eramosa Road, with the house at address 34 Delhi in view at the left margin. Compare with the Street View image below.

(Delhi street, June 2016; courtesy Google Street View.)

The scene below is Waterloo Avenue, with a woman walking down the sidewalk away from the camera, while a horse & wagon and a streetcar move along the street. Judging from the shadows, the view is looking eastward along the north side of the avenue. It is hard to say which crossroad is in the foreground.

("Waterloo Ave.," #115.)

The penultimate view is of Woolwich street, the main thoroughfare leading north-west out of town. Two well-dressed ladies approach the camera along the sidewalk. A man on horseback rides down the street on the other side.

("Woolwich Street," #145.)

It is difficult to be sure but my sense is that this picture is set just north of the First Baptist Church, looking towards the intersection with London Road in the distance. In that case, the intersection on the left side of the picture is Edwin street. Compare with the Street View image below.

To conclude the tour, have a look at the image below. It shows two ladies and a young man—well turned out, of course—walking across the second Heffernan street footbridge towards Queen street. It seems a fitting image on which to finish.

("Foot bridge," # not known. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2004.32.61.)

(As you may have guessed, I do not have a copy of this card in my collection—yet. For the postcard collector, there is always hope.)

Of course, there are many more excellent views in the ISC tour of the burgeois Royal City of 1913. The images are impressively composed and curated and form an appealing tour of the town, all the more poignant as it was, unknowingly, on the verge of the precipice of the Great War, which would change it profoundly.

Works consulted include:
  • Ian Robertson and Barb Henderson (2016) “The International Stationery Company of Picton, Ont.” Card Talk v. 37, n. 2.)