The Heffernan street bridge: A short span a long time coming

Before 1856, the Rev. Arthur Palmer lived in a handsome stone house on the north shore of the Speed River, today 96 Arthur street north. In those days, there was no footbridge across the river there, so the good Reverend was known to row across the river in his own little boat, where he would disembark to make his way to St. George's Anglican Church, then standing in the middle of St. George's Square.

(96 Arthur street north, as viewed from today's Heffernan street bridge. Author's photo, 26 Nov. 2022.)

Today, the Heffernan street footbridge stands almost exactly that place, a monument to the Reverend's old commute to work.

("Arthur Palmer, 1874." Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2009.32.2762.)

But, the bridge did not come into existence straightforwardly. Indeed, for many years, it was a kind of confabulation, a structure that existed only in the desires of commuters like Rev. Palmer. On land, such "desire lines" are paths worn into the ground by many feet passing by the same route through a park or vacant lot. For example, a wide desire line led across the Johnston Green from the corner of Gordon and College streets to Massey Hall, a route that was recently paved by the University of Guelph.

Of course, you cannot wear lines into a river but people can still yearn for a permanent way across them, a sort of fluid line of desire.

Perhaps the earliest record of this particular desire line comes in the 1855 Palmer Survey map. At this time, the Rev. Palmer had bought up a goodly parcel of land along the north bank of the Speed and up across the ridge of the hill behind. (He was then in the process of building his new residence "Tyrcathlen," now Ker Cavan, on the site.) In a detail of the map, a bridge labelled "proposed bridge" is shown connecting the foot of Grange street with Thorp street on the other side.

(Detail of "Land Survey, Arthur Street Subdivision, 1855;" courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1981X.221.1.)

Proposed by whom? We are not told but the Reverend himself must surely have blessed the plan.

Nothing was done but the desire did not fade. In 1869, a scheme was floated and money pledged to carry it out, with a hearty endoresement from the editor of the Guelph Mercury (7 May 1869):

There is no question as to the desirableness or utility of such a bridge, for it would be of great service to the bulk of the ratepayers living in that section across the river, as well as those residing on the road in rear of the hill on which Archdeacon Palmer’s and Mr. John Horsman’s residences stand.

The Archdeacon himself put his money where his mouth was:

Archdeacon Palmer has with great liberality offered to give twelve feet of land from the road to the river bank as an approach to the bridge, and in addition will give $100 subscription towards the construction of the bridge.

For reasons they do not explain, the City's Board of Works shot down the idea at their next meeting. It was still a bridge too far.

("St. George's Church, 1874." Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, Grundy 60. The first footbridge would be built at this site a few years later.)

Headway was made in 1876 when Heffernan street was created on the north side of the river, right where the bridge was to make land. (The street was named after Thomas Heffernan, a prominent merchant.) Surely, bridging of the river, and thus completion of the street, would be accomplished the next year said a column in the paper (Mercury, 5 December 1876).

("T. Heffernan, n.d." Courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives, A1985.110.)

This was duly not accomplished. The issue turned on what kind of bridge was to be realized. Some people's desires went as far as a street bridge, which would accommodate general traffic. Others' vision was limited to a footbridge, which would carry only pedestrians. The main difference was price: A full-sized bridge would cost $2,300, while a footbridge would run only $1,500—or even merely $500 for a basic model.

("Goldie's Mill race, ca. 1885." Courtesy of the Guelph Civic Museums, Grundy 225.)

There were many footbridges in Guelph. In the main, these were built into dams so that goods and people necessary for business could be easily transported over the river. The Goldie Mill, for example, had a footbridge that connected the mill on the west side of the Speed to a cooperage on the opposite side. Barrels made for packing flour could be brought from the cooperage to the mill over this little bridge. The general public often used these bridges for commuting or casual purposes. Other such bridges were present at the Taylor-Forbes plant and Presant's Mill, the latter of which was particularly popular.

Even so, a dedicated footbridge not attached to a mill would be a new thing for Guelph. This novelty may have persuaded some townsfolk that the idea was not an acceptable one.

After much wrangling, some funds (perhaps $1000) were allocated by the Board of Works towards construction of a bridge. Local surveyor T.W. Cooper was paid for plans and surveys while builder George Pike began construction of the abutments (Mercury, 15 January 1879). The bridge was on its way!

This was duly not accomplished. Funds ran short and no more were allocated for two years. For this time, only the abutments were present to bear witness to the incipient structure.

In 1881, the Council allocated $500 for completion of the bridge. When no tenders for this modest amount were received, the Board of Works called its own number and set out to construct the bridge using city workmen (Mercury, 5 July 1881). These would be overseen by George Bruce, a prominent local builder and Alderman who was also chair of the Board of Works.

("Captain Bruce, ca. 1870." Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, M1991.9.2.147. Besides being a prominent builder and alderman, Bruce had been a member of the Guelph Company of the Wellington Rifles and fought in the response to the Fenian Raids.)

The $500 allocation constrained the structure to a footbridge with a width of 6 feet (ca. 1.8m). Nonetheless, the piers for the bridge were built 20 feet wide (6m) so that a full road deck could be substituted when more money became available (Mercury, 16 Sep 1881). The Mercury editor thought the result incongruous and the pedestrian deck a waste of funds in light of the imminent upgrade.

After many more arguments, setbacks, and changes of mind, the Heffernan street footbridge with railings and a five-foot wide deck finally spanned the Speed river in December 1881.

Pictures of the first bridge are scarce. The only archival image that I have been able to locate is the one below:

("St. George's Church." Courtesy of the Guelph Public Library, F38-0-6-0-0-4.)

If you look carefully to the left of St. George's Church, you can see the bridge extending across the Speed, with a flat deck, resting on three piers. It seems that Guelphites didn't find it very photogenic.

In any event, once opened to the public, the bridge attracted the usual sort of uses. There were complaints about the smell of refuse dumped off the approach to the bridge behind St. George's Church (Mercury, 16 May 1882). Before municipal waste collection became common, dumping of refuse at or into rivers was a common practice. Besides aesthetic issues, the resulting pile of waste gave rise to bad odours, which were thought to give rise to disease.

As ever, young men were wont to swim in the river near bridges, often in their birthday suits (Mercury, 24 June 1882). This behavior contravened the swimming by-law, which was often honoured more in the breech than the observance.

It also did not take long for a few people to ride horses over the bridge. The Mercury editor called them "stupid cranks" and warned that the practice put women and children on the bridge at risk (15 July 1882). For the townsfolk, the matter of riding horses over the bridge may have cut to the issue of just what sort of a structure it was. I suspect that many people regarded it as akin to a sidewalk: At the time, a sidewalk was a platform, usually constructed of planks, that was laid out in front of businesses or, occaionsally, as a kind of crosswalk. Horses and vehicles were not allowed on sidewalks so that pedestrians on them would not have to trouble about dodging horses or their droppings, as they would on the dirt streets of the day. Businesses might construct sidewalks and keep them clean in order to attract potential shoppers to their windows and storefront displays.

("Douglas street, ca. 1880." Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 1991.35.5. Note the board sidewalks on either side of the street.)

Even though it did not approach any stores, the plank deck of the footbridge was essentially a sidewalk in the eyes of many, so that riding horses on them was considered completely inappropriate.

Bridges also afford other, unintended opportunities. On one occasion, a Mrs. W.P. Howard, wife of the sexton of St. George's Church, was seen to act erratically on the bridge and then to climb over the railing, seemingly with the aim of throwing herself into the river. This she was prevented from doing by the intervention of passers-by. The Mercury editor observed (4 June 1889):

It is understood that Mrs. Howard’s mind gets a little unhinged sometimes, and yesterday she managed to elude the vigilance of her friends.

Construction of the Guelph Junction Railway in 1887–88 also changed the bridge's situation. Since the rail line was built right by the south bank of the Speed, pedestrians at that end of the bridge found that they sometimes had to dodge passing trains. This was an especially daunting task at night as the space was not well illuminated.

The bridge might have weathered these hazards well enough but it suffered also from the ancient foe of Canadian footbridges: ice and floods. On 23 February 1893, for example, inspectors from the Board of Works found that the bridge had been raised up two feet on the upriver side due to an ice jam against its piers. Not good! Citizens began to complain and campaign for a replacement.

In 1896, after much discussion of materials and costs, funds were allocated and contracts let. Local builder Thomas Irving (who had worked on the Church of Our Lady) oversaw construction of the stone abutments and piers. Alderman Kennedy, chairman of the Board of Works, supplied the stone, a conflict of interest then not unusual but that did draw comment during a Council meeting (Mercury, 30 Sep 1896). The iron superstructure was manufactured and installed by the Canada Bridge and Iron Company of Montreal.

All was duly accomplished by 29 October when the work was completed and the bridge opened to the public.

Guelphites seemed to like the look of the new structure. Its solid, modern ironwork and graceful catenary curves feature in many photographs and postcards of the era.

("Foot bridge on the Speed, Guelph, Ont." Published by Warwick Bro’s & Rutter, Toronto for C. Anderson & Co., Guelph, ca. 1910. From the author's collection.)

("St. George's Church and River Speed, City of Guelph, Canada," ca. 1900. This postcard was one of "Turnbull's private postals," a very early postcards set in the Royal City. From the author's collection.)

("Footbridge, Guelph," ca. 1900. Postcard printed for the Pugh Manufacturing Co., Toronto. From the author's collection.)

("Foot bridge, Guelph, Can." ca. 1910. Postcard printed for International Stationary Co. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2004.32.61.)

("St. George's Church and Footbridge, c.1910." Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2009.32.2760.)

Despite its good looks and charm, the new footbridge did not address one of the significant disadvantages of the old one, which was proximity of the Guelph Junction Railway tracks to the south end of the bridge. Eventually, this prompted the replacement of the iron bridge with a concrete one that would look familiar to Guelphites of today. However, that is a story for another occasion.

When the old bridge was taken down in 1913, part of it was purchased by the Taylor-Forbes company. The company installed a span over the Speed just downstream from the Guelph Junction railway trestle bridge so that employees who wanted to cross the river there would not have to dodge trains (or walk around by Allan's bridge) to do so.

("Aerial Photograph, Allan's Mill, 1948." Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 2014.84.569. The footbridge can be seen at the left margin, just to the right of the railway bridge, leading from Allan's mill in the foreground to the Taylor-Forbes plant across the river.)

What ultimately became of that last piece of the old Heffernan street footbridge, I do not know. But, whatever the fate of its particular incarnations, the idea of the footbridge retains a firm footing in the minds and desires of Guelphites today.

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Works consulted for this post include:

• Partridge, Stelter, and Seto (1990). "Slopes of the Speed." Guelph Arts Council.

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21 May 2023: I have found another image of the first Heffernan street bridge! This comes from the "Diary of Fanny Colwill Calvert" (Colwill-Maddock 1981, p. 44). Unfortunately, no source is give for the image and I have not seen it elsewhere. Anyway, it looks much the same as the image given above but includes more of the bridge. I would guess that it was taken from the top of the Royal Opera building.

Winter was a big one in Guelph, 1911–12

In the so-called golden age of postcards, people often printed pictures on postcard stock so they could send interesting views to wow their friends and relations. Extreme events like train wrecks or fires were especially popular subjects for this treatment. So, it is not shocking to see these three well-dressed ladies posing beside some prodigious snowbanks in Guelph's winter of 1911–12.

(Courtesy of the John W. Keleher collection.)

The caption on the front reads, "Winter scene in Guelph City. Delhi Street, March 23rd 1912." On the back is the message:

May 19th, 1912 // My Dear Molly // Don’t be suspicious if Marg. Wolfe & I am up some Sunday morning when the days are a little warmer. This is a snap I took this winter but is not very clear as the cards & plates are old. It is the sidewalk leading to the Homewood Sanitarium. With love from Ella

The postcard was addressed to Miss Gertie Maitland of nearby Ponsonby, Ontario.

It is always welcome when such real-photo cards include details of the views they depict. It seems likely that one of the women in the picture is Ella, though the identity of the trio remains uncertain. Of course, the remarkable feature of the scene are the heaps of snow on either side of them. Surely, the winter of 1912 is what is now called an "old-time winter". Of course, some strategic shoveling may have been used to exaggerate the extent of the recent snowfall for photographic purposes.

Looking back on this scene from over 100 years later invites us to recall the winter season of 1911–12, starting with the Xmas holiday.

The Christmas season of 1911 began with an athletic spectacle in the form of a ten-mile footrace between Tom Longboat and Fred Meadows (Mercury, 1 December 1911). Longboat was an Onandaga (Haudenosaunee name Cogwagee) distance runner from the Six Nations Reserve and already had an international reputation after winning the Boston Marathon in 1907 and turning professional.

(From left to right: Meadows, Wood, Queal, and Longboat, ca. 1910–1915; Bain News Service/Wikimedia Commons)

The race took place at the Victoria Rink (since demolished), situated behind Knox Presbyterian Church. Since there were 12 laps to the mile in the Rink, the race would go for 120 laps. Over 1000 people crowded into the rink to see the event, which Longboat led all the way, winning in 51.5 minutes, a lap and a half ahead of Meadows.

Longboat also served in the Great War as a dispatch runner and survived the conflict in spite of being wounded twice. June 4, his birthday, is now known in Ontario as Tom Longboat Day in his honour.

Guelph enjoyed a visit from another fine performer on the same day in the person of Miss Mabel Beddoe, a contralto singer from Toronto who was at the outset of a distinguished career spanning North America. The Norfolk Street Methodist Church (now Lakeside Church downtown) put on a choral performance with Miss Beddoe as feature soloist. The Mercury (1 December) expressed the crowd's delight with her singing:

Miss Mabel Beddoe, of Toronto, was the soloist of the evening and her numbers were a veritable treat to the music lovers of the city, who were present. She possesses a mezzo contralto voice of richness and purity, of volume and elasticity, which was delightful to listen to. Her enunciation was perfect, her control thorough, and she possesses dramatic qualities and expression, such as few of the many vocalists who come to Guelph possess. Kipling's beautiful "Recessional" to the music of Reginald DeKoven was especially fruitful in dramatic force, as was Bruno Huhn's "Invictus." Her second number, "I am far frae my hame," the delightful old Scotch air, was a favorite, and brought tears to the eyes of many of the land of the heather. Her other numbers, all of which were heartily appreciated, were the arias, "God shall wipe away all tears," Sullivan; "He shall feed his flock," from "The Messiah," and E.L. Ashford's "My task."

(Mabel Beddoe, Courtesy of The Globe, 11 September 1929.)



Perhaps an idea of the performance can be gained from Robert Merrill's performance of Invictus in 1947.

Besides these special visitors, Guelphites awaited the arrival of old man winter, whose snow and ice afforded pleasant, seasonal recreation. There was both bad news and good news (Mercury, 4 December). The bad news was that Mr. Foster, Manager of the Street Railway (streetcar), had decided against providing a toboggan slide in the park behind the car barn on Waterloo Avenue. The children, and some adults, of the Royal City could take consolation in the use of their usual toboggan venues, which often included the precipitous hills on Cork Street and Eramosa Road.

The good news was that the skating rink behind the car barns was to open in a few days. So, anyone looking to get an early start on skating could simply ride the streetcar down Waterloo Avenue and skate on the pond at the current location of Howitt Park.

Of course, the most anticipated visitor of the season was Santa Claus. To judge from the pages of the Mercury, no one looked forward to this night with more gusto than the storekeepers of the Royal City. Many ads urge Guelph's citizens to shop early and often so as not to disappoint the many good girls and boys of the town. Pictures of Santa generously imparting gifts are included as a model of the appropriate behaviour.

The ad above, from 9 December, announces the opening of Toyland at D.E. Macdonald & Bros. emporium, on the southeast corner of Wyndham and Macdonnell streets.

With the fireplace in the background, this first ad refers to the tradition that Santa flew from house to house in a magic sleigh and entered each dwelling down its chimney. Other ads testify that Santa was progressive and could change with the times.

This ad on 15 December, from the Kandy Kitchen on Wyndham Street, shows that the jolly old elf grasped the advantages and perhaps the pleasures of the automobile, anticipating by many years the modern reliance on delivery vehicles to bring Christmas home.

Another ad on 18 December from D.E. Macdonald & Bros. shows Saint Nick riding the cutting edge of contemporary technology, delivering presents from an airplane resembling a Wright Flyer.

This advertisement eerily foreshadows the use of drones to bombard houses with Xmas presents greatly anticipated by Guelphites today.

Perhaps because it was then old hat, Santa was not depicted making deliveries by streetcar. Yet, a significant development in Guelph was the expansion of the streetcar network into St. Patrick's Ward (AKA "The Ward") in 1911. On 14 December, shortly before 11am, the first streetcar made its way from St. George's Square into the Ward (Mercury, 14 December). Inside it were the usual dignitaries, including Manager Foster and Commissioners Lyon, Ryan, and Drew, and reporters from the Mercury, Herald, Toronto Globe, and the Mail and Empire.

The procession made good time and was observed by many of the Ward's residents from their sidewalks and doorways. The route went down Neeve street, over the bridge, along Ontario street and then York road. The route was originally conceived by J.W. Lyon for freight only, to help service the factories that were springing up in the area. However, passenger service was added in 1912, which proved to be popular with Ward residents who commuted to work in other parts of town.

The highlight of the maiden trip of the new line was when James Gow, of Ontario street, stopped the car and presented each passenger with a cigar.

(Streetcar on York Road, 1920s. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 2014.30.1.)

Xmas day itself passed quietly in the Royal City in 1911. This calmness may have had something to do with the general satisfaction derived from Santa's use of new technologies to delivery presents more efficiently. Also, as noted in the Mercury (26 December), festivities may have been affected by the closure of bars and liquor stores on the day itself, due to the recent Ontario Liquor License Act:

Never in the history of Guelph has there been such a lack of evidence of excessive use of intoxicants on the streets as there was yesterday.

One hopes that Xmas 1911 was a merry one in Guelph nonetheless.

As the postcard above suggests, the winter of 1911–12 brought a heap of snow to the Royal City. That was great for Santa Claus and winter recreation enthusiasts. However, the all the snow and ice did not go quietly.

A peculiar incident presaged a precipitous end to winter. Around 10:30pm on 4 April 1912, residents of Cardigan street heard cries of "Help, help!" coming from the river (Mercury, 6 April). Through the gloom, they eventually spotted a man floating down the Speed River through Goldie's Mill pond on an ice floe. Although the block of ice was not far from the bank, the man refused to launch himself to shore. As the cake of ice sank beneath his weight, it swung towards the bank and the man was saved from an icy dip in the flood.

Once safely ashore, the man gave his name as Richardson and said that he was a resident at Cardigan street. He claimed to have no idea how he ended up on an ice floe in the Speed River at that hour. However, his rescuers gained the impression that Richardson was suffering the influence of alcohol and had wandered onto the ice "in a dazed condition." At any rate, he seemed not much the worse for wear.

A bout of mild weather produced a quick and heavy melt off. The result was the biggest flood in Guelph since 1869 (Mercury, 8 April). Several bridges were swept away, including the footbridge to Homewood above Goldie's dam, the footbridge from Goldie's mill to the cooperage across the river, and the centre span of Well's bridge (Edinburgh Road today).

Goldie's dam nearly burst its banks. However, flour sacks filled with earth by a gang of workmen were employed successfully to shore up its sides. Of course, this success meant that floodwaters were squeezed downstream into the centre of town.

The rushing water broke up the river ice north of Allan's dam, which then piled up and burst the mill race there. Combined with a pileup of debris from the washed out bridges upstream, Allan's bridge was put under a great deal of pressure. Water poured over the occluding mass in what the Mercury described as a "miniature Niagara." Happily, the debris was dislodged before the bridge collapsed. Nonetheless, the flood tore up the earth next to the nearby Light and Power substation, recently converted to Niagara Power, undermining a critical transmission pole, which was then held in place solely by its guy wires. The Taylor-Forbes plant next door was flooded well above the 15 inches for which it was prepared, destroying thousands of dollars of tools and materials.

(Allan's bridge during the the 1929 flood, which perhaps gives an idea of the 1912 event; Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1971.6.2).

Ice built up against the low arches of the Neeve Street bridge. The bridge remained intact but floodwaters rose up and spilled over into the neighboring streets. The Guelph Spinning Mills on Cross Street was flooded to a depth of two feet.

(The Neeve Street bridge in calmer times, 2018. From the author's collection.)

Water flooded up Huskisson Street (now Wyndham Street south) and Wellington Street. The Guelph Waterproof Clothing factory there was flooded. Little damage was done, not because the goods were waterproof but because workers had spent the previous day moving everything to higher ground. Floodwaters scooped dirt from the Wellington Street roadbed, to a depth of three feet in places, and piled it up on the far sidewalks.

In spite of the extensive damage done, the flood was not without its lighter side, duly noted in the pages of the Mercury:

Mr. J.M. Taylor, of the Taylor-Forbes Co., was down at the factory on Saturday night at about eleven o'clock, having a look around to see what could be done. He was walking on the York road behind the moulding foundry, when he saw a lady standing at the corner of Cross street, evidently desiring to get to her home, which is in the flooded section. He volunteered to carry her home, he having long rubber boots, and she mounted on his shoulders, while he painstakingly walked through the water, with Chairman John Kennedy acting as rear-guard with a lantern, shedding some light on the situation.
Mr. Taylor dropped his burden at the first house, having been nearly choked as she hung on to his windpipe, and though there was a good deal of pleasure in assisting one of the fair sex, it would not be out of place to say that he was pleased to have the pressure on his windpipe released.
"This is not my house," said the lady in surprise as he dropped her, and again he had his burden to carry further down the street, while John Kennedy chuckled with laughter, adding to Mr. Taylor's injured feelings.

Mr. Taylor was not the only one whose rubber boots led him to folly. The Mercury also relates the following tale about Mr. H.H.O. Stull, a dealer in animal hides and tallow, who donned his galoshes to probe the floodwaters at the south end of Huskisson Street:

Mr. H.H.O. Stull waded out in the stream, clad in a pair of rubber boots. Suddenly he put his foot into a washout, and went in, only his head and one arm remaining out of the water. The large number of spectators had a hearty laugh at his expense.

It is sometimes said that comedy and tragedy are each the mirror image of the other. Here, the flood of 1912 gives us further grounds to reflect on the truth of this statement.

At any rate, some kind soul got out a canoe and rescued the many stranded residents of the Cross Street area who did not possess rubber boots.

Certainly, the winter of 1911–1912 was a memorable one, mostly because of how it ended. Yet, memories, like floodwaters, recede over time. Happily, we have old accounts, photos, and postcards to remind us.

The Goldie Mill grounds

A section of Goldie Mill Park was recently closed due to detection of contaminated soil. The trouble started in June 2016 when sinkholes began to open in the vicinity of the great chimney. Environmental testing subsequently detected the presence of hydrocarbons, some due to incomplete incineration, so the area is closed off while the nature and extent of the contamination is further investigated.

It is strangely appropriate to find that incineration remains an issue at Goldie Mill. Since the founding of Guelph, fire, along with water and stone, were always at hand there. The site has seen many changes over the years, changes that are not always evident today. Happily, old postcards, maps, and photos can help us to envision how Goldie Mill used to be, especially as it was developed by James Goldie himself.

David Allan (1939, pp. 38–39) notes that the story of Goldie's Mill begins at the founding of Guelph in 1827. David Gilkison, a cousin of John Galt, and Gilkison's partner Captain William Leaden bought the site (for a total of 25 acres) after having failed to obtain the site of Allan's Mill next to the Priory. There, they built a dam and a sawmill. However, the business never made money and the pair discontinued operations in 1829.

It was sold to Captain Henry Strange in 1833. It seems that Strange operated the mill with more success but died in 1845. Besides operating the mill, Strange also built a house at Cardigan and Norwich streets, as related by Tatham (1983, pp. 6–7):

About 1837 Captain Henry Strange built a house on the property and operated the sawmill. The house, a long low building with arched windows and doorways in a latticed porch at the centre front, is well remembered in some photographs (usually with a little dark dog on the lawn!) still in existence, and by a painting which was in the possession of “Alex” Goldie and was given to Riverslea by his widow, Mrs. Marjorie Goldie. This house was occupied by James Goldie and his family from 1868 to 1891 (and was torn down about 1925). Thus this house, often called “Captain Strange’s House,” was home for James and Frances Goldie and their children, Thomas, John, James Owen, and later Roswell, born in Guelph on March 26, 1862, and Lincoln, born in Guelph in 1864. Baby Margaret probably never saw this house, because she was born in Guelph on February 26, 1867, and died two weeks later, on March 11th.

Strange Street was named after Captain Strange, comprising the blocks of what is now Dufferin Street from Kerr to Division.

(The "Old Goldie Home" AKA "Captain Strange's House", complete with lawn dog, ca. 1895. Courtesy of Guelph Public Library Archives, item F38-0-14-0-0-126.)

Local potentate and wheeler-dealer Dr. William Clarke, and his partner Dr. Henry Orton, bought the mill from Strange's estate. To the sawmill they added a flour milling operation that they called The Wellington Mill. This frame structure was the first of several structures to occupy the later Goldie Mill site.

Fire destroyed the mill in 1846. Mills of that era were quite prone to fire and burned down with regularity. So, this event was no surprise. However, the blaze may have been more than a simple accident. As Stephen Thorning has explained, Dr. Clarke was an unreconstructed Protestant who had engendered more than a little contempt from local Catholics during the heated religious conflict of the time. As Justice of the Peace, Dr. Clarke could make life difficult for those whose religion he looked down upon. So, the blaze that consumed his mill may have been sparked by the religious friction of the era.

A determined man, Dr. Clarke bought out his partner's share in the mill privilege and built a new mill in 1850, which he called The People's Mill. This time, Dr. Clarke had the building made from stone, at least some of which was quarried on the property itself.

Over the next few years, the property went through a succession of hands, until it was leased to Charles Whitelaw, a successful businessman from Paris who operated several mills in the Grand River valley, among other concerns. Whitelaw, it seemed, had the touch and the mill apparently operated at a profit.

However, fire returned again on 8 June 1864. Although some of the stores and equipment, and the cooperage across the river, were saved, the mill was a total loss. Stephen Thorning noted that suspicion fell on local cooper Bernard Kelly, who had threatened to burn down the mill before because he did not get orders for barrels from Whitelaw. The coroner's inquest found the the blaze was indeed arson but deemed that there was not sufficient evidence to accuse anyone in particular. Even so, Kelly was convicted in the court of public opinion and hastily left town.

On 8 June 1866, the property was bought for $15,000 by James Goldie. In 1860, Goldie had built the Speedvale Mill further upstream, at the current site of the Speedvale Fire Station. He sold his old place of business and undertook rebuilding and expansion of the People's Mill. It would remain in his hands for 46 years and duly become the "Goldie Mill".

(James Goldie, from "Golden Jubilee of Nurses," 1938. Goldie was on the Hospital's Board of Directors.)

A good idea of what the area looked like during Goldie's tenure can be gained from the 1881 Wellington County Atlas. Because of the dam just upstream of the Goldie Mill, the reservoir made the Speed River much wider there than it is today. Here, I have superimposed part of the town map on a portion of the Google map of the area as it is now. I have outlined the banks of the river in solid lines and the bridges in dashed lines.

Bridges are represented by dashed lines. The parallel dashed lines in the center of the picture represent the dam, which was also used as a foot crossing. The black block to its left is the location of the original sawmill. On the west bank, the reservoir covered the wooded slope that exists there today. Note that a "Victoria Street" was on the survey through the middle of what is now Herb Markle Park. Of course, the street was never built. On the east bank, the reservoir covered most of what is now Joseph Wolfond Park East, upstream from the foot of Derry Street.

Four postcards record views of Goldie Mill. The first one (labelled "1" on the map above) was taken on the west bank of the Speed downstream from the mill. Although the caption identifies the subject as "Goldie's bridge", the bridge in view is clearly what is now called the Norwich Street bridge. Goldie Mill, with its ninety-foot chimney, built in 1885 and which still remains, can be seen peeking over the treetops on the left-hand side, a hint of what is to come.

(Courtesy of the John Keleher Collection.)

The building on the right is what was then a storage house of the Canada Ingot Iron Culvert Co. (demolished in 1927). This card is a "bookmark" card, published by Rumsey & Co., Toronto, of a photo taken with a panoramic camera.

The second postcard was taken from the east bank upstream of the Norwich Street bridge (labelled "2" on the map above). The mill buildings can be clearly seen on the left-hand side of the picture. The top of the distinctive chimney is clearly visible behind the other structures. Beneath lies a spit or island separating the Speed on the right from the tail race on the left.

Although the mill is an industrial site, it is presented in the background, framed by water and foliage almost as if it were a picturesque temple discovered on a trek along an Arcadian river.

The third picture (taken from the point labelled "3" on the map above) was taken from beside the tail race and next to the Speed River. It looks northwards to the back of the dam.

There is more tension in this picture. The ground is strewn with chunks of broken limestone, lying around like the remnants of an explosion or quarrying operation. The dam in the background is straining to hold back the waters of the mill pond beyond, without complete success. This card was printed by Warwick Bro’s & Rutter of Toronto.

The fourth picture (taken from the point labelled "4" on the map above) shows the mill pond itself from the north looking southeast. The steeple of St. George's Anglican Church can be seen in the center background. Goldie Mill and its tall chimney can be seen to the right. Today, this spot would be not far south of Riverslea, where the Goldie family then lived, today on the Homewood grounds. The Speed is now much narrower at this point and both banks are thickly wooded.

Near the opposite shore there are two swans in the water. It seems as though they are approaching a man on the bank, who may be moving to feed them. A small boat lies tied up nearby, its stern dragged downstream by the current. This postcard was printed by the Pugh Mfg. Co. of Toronto.

James Goldie acquired two white swans in 1888 to add to his menagerie. His estate was renowned for its gardens. Goldie's father had been a globetrotting botanist and assembled a botanical collection for the Tsar at St. Petersburg. The apple did not fall far from the tree. Goldie Jr.'s gardens contained hundreds of exotic flowers, shrubs, and trees. Visitors came from far and wide to see them.

Goldie's menagerie included many exotic birds, both "preserved" and alive. The latter included Egyptian geese, a Sandhill crane, English, Golden, and Silver pheasants, and the two swans. He also imported English sparrows, some of which he released and some of which he kept in a cage. James Gay, a local man who styled himself the Poet Laureate of Canada, wrote the following poem about them ("Canada's poet" 1884):

On the sparrows
Mr. Goldie’s sparrows, quite a number, returned to James Gay,
He feeds them with small wheat every day,
About eight in the morning, you can see them fly around
To feed on the wheat laid out for them on the ground.
This friend to sparrows, he takes much delight,
To hear their little warblings from morning to night;
All are made welcome as the flowers in May,
Not one shall fall to the ground by the hands of James Gay.
If Mr. Goldie could hear their prattling ways,
He would send them some small wheat every day,
So between the miller and the poet too,
Those little birds are sure to do.
About four they take flight,
If they could speak, they would say thank you and good-night.

Besides swans, youths liked to swim in the mill pond and places nearby in summertime. There was an old quarry pit at the site known as Kate's hole (for reasons unknown to me), as recollected by Fred Dyson (Mercury, 8 May 1948):

Among the real old timers expressing interest in tales of the old town is Fred Dyson, who, at 87, can look back pretty far. Explaining the origin of Kate’s hole down by the spur line at the old Goldie Mill, he said it was the quarrying of stone there for the mill dam that made it a favorite resort for swimmers. The spur line ran right into the mill property.

That swimming there in those days was clothing-optional is confirmed wistfully by another old-timer, James Ritchie (Mercury, 1 May 1948):

Who among Guelph’s real old-timers does not remember Crib’s hole, near Russell Daly’s present home? Or Fraser’s hard by the Sterling Rubber Company’s plant, or the staircase near the old Goldie’s Mill? ... These are among many others inseparable from old swimmin’ hole memories. No swimming in the nude anywhere these days. If the boys try it they will be chased away, no matter how far they are from the city.

O tempora, O mores!

The Speed could be dangerous as well as beautiful and fun. Spring floods often threatened the dam. Indeed, it was swept away by floods in the springtime of 1873 and 1929.

In addition, girls and boys drowned in the pond alarmingly often, e.g., (Northern Advance, 12 June 1890):

Mrs. Henry Ching, of Toronto, who is on a visit to friends in Guelph, lost her five-year-old boy by drowning on the 5th inst. The little fellow fell into the river while throwing stones into the water from the bank. The river is very high with the recent heavy rains, and he was quickly carried over the dam at Goldie’s mill. The body was recovered in a few minutes, but life was extinct.

In the winter, the pond froze over and made for a useful expanse of ice. Guelphites went there for skating and curling. The ice itself was also harvested by Mr. T.P. Carter of Carter's Ice Company, who handled about 2,000 tons of ice annually from his ice houses on Essex Street (Industrial number, 1908). There was also an ice house on the west bank of the Speed upstream of the mill (in the backyard of 165 Cardigan Street today), perhaps for the use of James Goldie himself.

Perhaps the weirdest incident connected with the Goldie Mill pond occurred when it was frozen over. A Mr. Leslie, while walking home at noon hour by the Mill one day, found a green fedora with no band and a worn overcoat lying on the ground beside the ice. In a pocket was a peculiar note (Mercury, 11 Dec 1922):

This seems the only way out. If ‘F’ had been here it might have been different. Good-bye. X.—J.B.

The note suggested a suicide. Yet, there was no hole in the ice nearby. No amount of searching and dragging the river or mill race produced a body. Perhaps the whole thing was a prank. Either way, the identity and fate of J.B. remains a mystery to this day.

Goldie remained by the Mill and its pond. Around 1885, he purchased Rosehurst across the river from Dr. Clarke's estate. This grand house stood on the Delhi hill and had a beautiful view of the pond. James's son Thomas and his family moved in. (There is a lovely photo of Rosehurst taken from across the pond, Tatham 1983, p. 9. However, I cannot locate the source.)

James Goldie built Riverslea for himself in 1890–91. It stood somewhat apart from its setting, being made of brown stone imported from New York State (Tatham 1983). However, it was still sited near the east shore of the mill pond with a good view of the Speed and Goldie's Mill downstream. Like his mill, James Goldie never left the river.

The mill prospered. After he took over, Goldie rebuilt the mill larger than before. He also added a substantial cooperage across the river. A rough wooden bridge connected the two. Storage areas and an elevator were added also. See the map below.

Here, I have superimposed a portion of the Fire Insurance map of 1911 on a Google satellite view of the mill and vicinity. As President of the Wellington Mutual Fire Insurance Company, James Goldie would have been familiar with this map.

Just to the left of the mill, is a building shaped like a sideways "I", labelled "A. Office". As mentioned above, the Great Western Railway built a spur line down the Speed to Cardigan Street to serve the Royal City as a new passenger train station ("Guelph railroads", Keleher 1995, p. 59). It opened for business on 16 February 1882 but proved to be a flop and closed six months later. In 1884, Goldie bought the building and moved it next to his mill, where it appears on the map, to serve as office space.

The building can be seen on the left in the cute drawing below.

("Goldie Mill", courtesy of the Guelph Public Library, item F8-0-4-0-9-3.)

In 1888, the Guelph Junction Railway was built and a siding laid to Goldie's Mill, which is also visible in the map. As a result, wheat and flour at the mill were no longer transported by horse. This change was important since Goldie increasingly had to buy wheat from western Canada in order to keep the mill profitable.

The office was torn down around 1920. Today, the site is the location of the Guelph Youth Music Centre, constructed in 1995–2001, from a storeroom built in place of the office. The spur line was later torn up and became the Spurline Trail.

As more land in its watershed was cleared, the force of the flow of the Speed diminished. As a result, Goldie added a steam engine to pick up the slack. In 1910, electrical engines were furnished instead, supplied by a power substation dedicated to the mill. The electricity was generated at Niagara Falls. So, the mill ran on power from a river over 120km away rather than on power from Speed, which flowed right beneath it.

James Goldie died on 4 Nov 1912. The mill afterwards passed through many hands. In 1918, the mill was bought by F.K. Morrow, investor and owner of the Morrow Cereal Co. In 1926, the Standard Milling company took over, followed by the Pratt Food Company in 1930.

Time and tide chipped away at the mill and its grounds. Milling operations ceased soon after yet another spring flood wrecked the dam in 1929. The mill became a warehouse with its buildings used mainly for storage. On 24 February 1953, fire returned in the form of a spectacular blaze that destroyed the original milling, shipping, and boiler rooms.

The mill was then slated for demolition but the City and the Grand River Conservation Authority intervened. The remaining stone structures were stabilized and were turned into a picturesque folly. Fittingly, the park was named Goldie Mill Park, still bearing the name of the man who had shaped the place more than anyone else, so many decades before.