Speedwell: The Guelph Military Convalescent Hospital

In the chilly afternoon of 8 November 1920, a group of people crossed over the Eramosa River on the sturdy, concrete bridge to the Canadian Pacific platform at the Speedwell station. They were the last patients and staff of the Speedwell Military Convalescent Hospital, commonly known as the Speedwell Hospital. They consisted of 45 walking patients, 9 "stretcher cases," 2 doctors, 7 nursing sisters, 3 vocational aides, and 9 orderlies. They boarded the 3:40pm train for Toronto, bound for Christie Street Hospital. The Speedwell Hospital was now closed.

(View of the Prison Farm from near the Speedwell train stop. Printed by International Stationary Co., Picton. Although the card is from ca. 1912, the note on the back says, "This is present Speedwell Hospital.")

The story of Speedwell Hospital begins in 1915. It had become clear that the conflict in Europe was going to be a long and grinding affair. Many personnel sent off to war were coming home badly wounded and in need of substantial care, and many more would do so in future. In June of that year, the Canadian government set up the Military Hospitals Commission (MHC) to acquire and operate a system of hospitals and other facilities to see to the needs of returning veterans. Given the pressing nature of the situation, the MHC was on the look-out for existing facilities that it could adapt for its purposes. The Ontario Reformatory at Guelph, still often known as the Prison Farm, was a good candidate. It could certainly serve the medical needs of wounded veterans but, more to the point, its farm and machine operations could provide employment and vocational training for veterans as they re-integrated into civilian life.

The choice of the Prison Farm was telling in some ways. The Prison Farm had been designed to turn young men from lives of petty crime or dissolution to lives as productive and upright citizens, learned through agricultural work or tradecraft. Although the Speedwell Hospital was to function as a medical facility, it too had a broader social function. Like the Prison Farm, it was intended to turn young men from soldiers into civilians through experience with agricultural work or useful trades.

Soldiering was generally viewed as heroic and not criminal, yet the fundamentally undemocratic operation of the military and the dependency of its rank and file on the organization were regarded as problematic for civilian life. Thus, Speedwell would be a place where returned soldiers would be honoured and healed but also helped to begin lives as the heads and breadwinners of the nation's future families.

Unfortunately, Speedwell did not succeed in this mission.

On 19 October 1917, the first 50 returned soldiers were brought to Speedwell from the London Military Hospital (Evening Mercury). The Prison Farm had been thoroughly renovated in preparation for their arrival. Of course, bars and screens had been removed from windows and iron doors replaced with curtains. Painters, carpenters, and other tradesmen from Guelph had been busy for months making the place more welcoming and less confining.

(Military Hospital, with a new dormitory wing visible on the right. Printed by the Heliotype Co. of Ottawa, ca. 1920.)

In addition, two new wings had been built as dormitories. Each was two storeys high and could accommodate 74 beds on each floor, for a total of 296. In addition, a large theatre had been constructed behind the Main Building, with a capacity of about 600. Here, soldiers could put on entertainments for each other, for visitors, or be entertained by special guests. A recreation room featuring billiard and pool tables as well as pianos was provided. A library was also fitted up, and a call for book donations put out. A canteen was constructed in the basement where patients could eat cafeteria style, if they could.

(Soldiers playing billiards at Speedwell. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1978.6.4.)

(Soldiers at a Speedwell cafeteria. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1978.6.1.)

Vocational training was also organized. Patients could get training in the trades, such as carpentry and auto mechanics. Remedial schooling was also available.

(Soldiers making furniture in a carpentry shop at Speedwell. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1978.6.5.)

As part of the deal between the Department of Soldiers' Civil Re-establishment (DSCR—successor to the MHC), command of the hospital remained with the military, headed by Lieutenant Colonel T.G. Delamere, a veteran of the first Canadian contingent to France who was wounded in action and returned to Canada. Even so, many of the staff of the facility would continue to be civilians, many remaining from the Prison Farm days.

(Real photo postcard of Speedwell, taken from the north with a Farm side road in the foreground.)

In some respects, Speedwell Hospital served its patients reasonably well. Opportunities for playing billiards, reading books, and writing letters and postcards were likely agreeable. Many special entertainments were mounted also. For example, sporting events were brought in. On 14 April 1919, for example, a boxing program was put on featuring "Irish" Kennedy versus "Battling" Ray of Syracuse (Globe). Although scheduled for 10 rounds, Kennedy knocked out Ray with two telling blows to the jaw in round 5. A wrestling match between Finnemore of Milton and Hays of Galt went nearly 25 mintues, when Hays made the second fall of the bout. The Eustis Bros. of Toronto delighted the assembled with their excellent acrobatic display. Three boxing matches between returned soldiers were well fought and ended in draws.

In 1919, amateur baseball returned to Guelph, and the Speedwell Hospital entered a team. The experience seems to have been a success as Speedwell went on to enter a team in 1920 as well.

Edward Johnson, local boy who was already an international singing sensation, put on a show to a packed audience at the Speedwell theatre on 10 September 1920 (London Free Press, 11 Sep.).

(Edward Johnson as Pelléas in Claude Debussy's Pelléas et Mélisande at the Metropolitan Opera in New York in 1925. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.)

Soldiers at the the Hospital also organized their own entertainments, which were sometimes made available for the community. For example, the Speedwell Hospital Minstrels put on a minstrel show in the old Guelph City Hall (Evening Mercury, 19 Feb. 1920). Minstrel shows were variety shows in which white men wore blackface and capered, sang, and played instruments in the manner they imagined southern African Americans did. The form had been largely superseded by Vaudville style shows but persisted as an informal kind of amusement. The Speedwell Minstrels' performance was liked well enough that they were invited to repeat it in Elora.

Ties between the returned soldiers and the community seem to have been positive. Reports suggest that many soldiers remained in Guelph after their time at Speedwell, though I have not found accounts of exactly who they were or how numerous. Connections with town were facilitated by the Toronto Suburban Railway stop at Speedwell station, across the Eramosa River from the institution. The Guelph Radial Railway (streetcar) opened a regular service to Speedwell (Evening Mercury, 15 Jan. 1920). Business on this route was so good that two extra daily trips were put on, which were filled to capacity.

(Storage building at Speedwell; Construction v. 13., n. 3, p. 97, March 1920.)

Various aid organizations, many run by women, took a great interest in the well-being of the soldiers, for example (Globe, 19 Dec. 1919):

The Speedwell Hospital Visiting Committee of the Red Cross Society at Guelph yesterday prepared the personal property bags and packages which are to be distributed to all the patients of the hospital. The committee received many generous donations for these packages, which will contain raisins, chocolates, smokes, socks, handkerchiefs, apples, and other articles. In each there is also a Christmas card and a Red Cross card. The distribution of gifts will be made on Thursday afternoon.

Soldier's Comfort Committees in many communities made goods and campaigned for funds to provide soldiers with domestic comforts. For example, the Women's Institute of Ospringe made and donated an "autograph quilt" to the Speedwell Hospital in 1919.

At the provincial level, Mrs. Arthur VanKoughnet of the DSCR coordinated a funding drive with impressive results (Globe, 7 Oct. 1919):

Oakville Woman’s Patriotic League, $200.00; Seaforth Canadian Red Cross Society, $125.00; St. Cyprian’s Carry on Club, $130.50; Riverdale Woman’s Patriotic League, $225.00; Woman’s Volunteer Corps. $125.00; Grey County Woman’s Institute, Ayton, $202.00; Ioco Good Cheer Club, $66.00; Gorrie Woman’s Institute, $54.50; Annan Woman’s Institute, $30.00, and others from individuals. Donations of comforts of various kinds were received from Sherbourne Street Methodist Church, Jarvis Street Patriotic Society, Navy League of the United States, York Rangers’ Chapter I.O.D.E., Sir Thos. Cheton Chapter, I.O.D.E., Hastings; W.I. Roseneath, Cobourg Ladies, 169th Regt., St. Alban’s Red Cross Society, North Toronto Red Cross Society and Soldiers’ Comforts, D.S.C.R., 71 King street west.

Some of the soldiers applied themselves to the domestic arts, perhaps those who were unable to work in the abbatoir or carpentry workshop. Some of the fruits of their labour, from Speedwell and other facilities, were put on display in the Women's Building of the Toronto Exhibition (Globe, 26 Aug. 1919):

There are beautiful scarves and hat bands woven on hand looms, beaded necklets and watch fobs of fine color and design; examples of metal work, hammered brass and copper; cushion covers and centerpieces in embroidery and cross stitch; excellent carpentry and cabinet work; beautifully carved and inlaid trays; hand-painted China and other things almost beyond his number.

Above all, the author heaped praise on the fine baskets that the men had made.

The author also took pains to maintain the dignity of the soldiers. Although this work was of a traditionally feminine character, it "may frequently set an example of the beauty of usefulness and simplicity to the women who exhibit their achievements in the adjoining rooms." In other words, the soldiers' scarves, embroidery, and baskets were safely masculine, and admirably so.

Of course, some items were decidedly military, such as a belt made of war trophies, a kind of art practiced in the trenches in France:

A unique contribution to the collection is a belt made from captured German regimental badges, and clasped with the regulation German brass buckle bearing a crown and the words “Gott Mit Uns.”

In spite of these efforts and the benefits they conferred, returned soldiers experienced significant troubles at Speedwell.

Some troubles were consequences of the war. For example, George William Moyser of the 71st Battery of Toronto, died as a result of ill-health caused by a gas attack suffered in France (Globe, 28 May 1919). Others were due to misadventure. Fred Tucker died as a result of falling off the top of the quarry pit at the back of the Hospital (Daily Star, 11 Aug. 1919).

Many soldiers were killed as a result of the Spanish Flu epidemic. For example, Lavelle Germain of St. Marys was taking a vocational course at Speedwell but staying in Guelph. He returned to his room at the King Edward Hotel complaining that he felt unwell. He later called for a doctor, who arrived to find Germain all but dead (Evening Mercury, 3 Feb. 1920). A whole ward of Speedwell was converted into a ward for flu victims, and several ill students from the O.A.C. were moved in (London Advertiser, 10 Feb. 1920).

Of course, the Spanish flu affected everyone. Nursing Sister Miss Geraldine McGinnis of London died of pneumonia resulting from the flu (London Advertiser, 12 Feb. 1920). She must have been very dedicated to her vocation as she had served two tours in France during the war and was in her second stint as a nurse at Speedwell.

Physically, Speedwell itself was not well suited to work as a hospital. Among the many problems was the damp. The stone walls of the institution seemed to encourage condensation, making the rooms continually uncomfortable. Dampness was a particular problem for the "lungers," that is, the many tuberculosis patients housed at Speedwell. Patients complained bitterly to a Mercury reporter who went to investigate (Evening Mercury, 8 July 1920):

Vincent is a British naval veteran, in with bronchitis. “The floors here are like the decks of a battle ship,” he said. “I had some experiences in the navy, was mined twice, but the experience I have had here are worse than the former ones.”
...
“It has to be a pretty wet place before I’ll complain of it,” said “Pick” McRae, “but you can tell ‘em all it’s too wet here for me.” McRae is a lung patient in cell number 9. Water was dripping from the walls of his cell.

As the word "cell" suggests, Speedwell retained the look and feel of a prison, in spite of the renovations and amenities. Naturally, the patients found this quality disheartening.

Speedwell had significant institutional problems as well. The DSCR's contract with the Ontario government meant that civilians staffed many of the Hospital's operations, such as the farm. Veterans felt that they should have preference for work at Speedwell and resented limitations on their opportunities there.

Budget limitations also led to conflicts among the staff. Nurses at Speedwell, who belonged to the military organization, complained that their medical duties did not allow them time to deliver and supervise patients' meals, as expected by the institution's dietitians, who belonged to the civilian authority. The dietitians complained that there was not enough money available to hire civilian staff to carry out that duty.

("Portion of the spotlessly clean kitchen at Speedwell, wherein cooking is a ?? and diet a study. No dish is used whereon one germ exists and frequent tests keep up this desirable condition." The London Advertiser, 20 Dec. 1919.)

In 1920, the situation came to a head. One hundred and fifty patients signed a petition demanding a sharp improvement in hospital conditions. They and the Great War Veterans Association (GWVA) called for the resignation of the Hospital administrators and for jobs at Speedwell to be given to veterans before civilians. Many of the nurses walked off the job in protest at conditions in the Hospital. A provincial inquiry found that want of money had led to filthy conditions falling well below the standards of a military hospital.

In the face of these problems, the DSCR decided that the situation at Speedwell was irretrievable and that the facility would be closed down. Military staff were re-assigned, civilians were laid off, and patients were moved to other facilities. The local Soldiers' Comfort Committee paid a final visit, bringing fruit and other gifts and holding a farewell dance (Evening Mercury, 4 Nov. 1920).

The Ontario government contemplated other uses for Speedwell, such as an insane asylum or merger with the OAC. In the end, they decided to return it to its former use as a prison. Local contractors were hired to put bars in the cell windows and make other preparations (Evening Mercury, 22 Nov. 1920). The theatre, which had served as a focal point for the amusement of returned soldiers, burned down in a mysterious fire during renovations (Globe, 28 Nov. 1921). The Speedwell Military Convalescent Hospital experiment was truly at an end.

---

Information about Speedwell and its institutional problems comes mainly from:

Durham, B. (2017). “The place is a prison, and you can’t change it”: Rehabilitation, Retraining, and Soldiers’ Re-Establishment at Speedwell Military Hospital, Guelph. 1911-1921. Ontario History, 109 (2), 184–212. https://doi.org/10.7202/1041284ar

Easter in Guelph, 1920

Easter has traditionally been an important time of year in Guelph, both for religious and secular reasons. Part of its significance is that it marks the change of seasons from winter to spring. Appropriately, people often chose to get in touch with one another at this time, perhaps hoping to get together. Postcard makers issued special cards with Easter motifs to help people honor the occasion.

The card below exemplifies this tradition. It features a drawing of a cute little girl feeding a couple of bunnies with a special dropper, with the message "A Happy Easter" to make the intent completely clear. The logo in the lower-left corner identifies the printer as the Stecher Lithographic Company of Rochester, New York.

Writing on the back identifies the addressee as Miss Grace Benham of Rockwood. The message is of the typical how-are-you sort:

Dear Grace: How is all the folks at your place. hoping every one is fine. I wish you & George will come in some Saturday & spend the day. wishing you all a happy Easter. from Agnes Bennett

The cancellation mark is from Guelph on 3 April 1920. Unfortunately, there is no listing for Agnes Bennett in the contemporary Guelph city directory, so it is unclear who she is.

Easter 1920 must have been especially significant for Guelphites. The trauma of the Great War was still present but people clearly hoped for better in the coming decade.

One continuing difficulty regarding the Great War was how to put it in perspective. For its part, the Ontario Agricultural College began a funding drive to raise $100,000 to construct a building to memorialize Canadian soldiers who fought and died in the conflict (Mercury, 6 Jan.). The result was the War Memorial Hall built on the campus in 1924. The Hall commemorates Canadians who lost their lives in both World Wars. However, it is often used for happier events, including conferences and convocation.

An unpleasant reminder of the war came as a recurrence of the Spanish flu that first appeared in 1918. The strain was infamous for its lethality and the fact that it seemed especially dangerous for young and healthy people. One article in the Mercury (3 Feb.) remarked on the number of young and well-known Guelphites who had been carried off in only the previous 24 hours. These included Walter Iveson, Mrs. Frank O'Drowsky, Emma Reinhart (daughter of Rudolf and Lena Reinhart, owners of the Fountain House hotel), William McArthur, Mamie Olive Guild of Rockwood, Douglas Pettipiece, Alice Kelly, and Lavelle Germain. The latter was a Great War veteran who was in Guelph to take a vocational course at the Speedwell Hospital. Some of the things Germain had welded during his training were exhibited to the Prince of Wales on his visit to the Royal City in the previous year. Germain, who was staying at the King Edward Hotel, complained one evening that he felt unwell and asked to see a doctor. The doctor arrived to find the man only a few hours away from death.

In addition, Guelphites read with alarm stories in the Mercury about current events in Europe. In Germany, for example, the Versailles Treaty came into effect. The new Weimar Republic, which had replaced the German Empire, was required to demobilize large parts of its armed forces. Rather than submit, German marines staged a coup under Wolfgang Kapp. On 13 March, marines marched into Berlin, ominously bearing swastikas emblazoned on their helmets. The German military was largely in favor of the so-called Kapp Putsch and the Republican government fled the city.

However, resistance to the coup arose in the form of a national strike led by German labor unions. Millions of Germans left work and protested in the streets, effectively paralyzing the country. Finding their situation untenable, Kapp and the generals resigned and left Berlin and, ultimately, the country.

Feeling that their time had come, socialist and communist strikers in the German industrial heartland of the Ruhr turned their resistance into a coup of their own. The so-called Ruhr Uprising attempted to install a "dictatorship of the proletariat", supported by the self-organized Red Ruhr Army. In April, the uprising was brutally suppressed by the German army and paramilitary forces. As the presence of the German army was against the Versailles Treaty, French and British forces occupied several western German cities. Happily, German troops backed off and no shots were fired between them.

The situation in Eastern Europe was even more chaotic. Nationalist and communist forces fought for control of territories in the former Austrian and Russian empires. Guelphites were likely concerned about the advances of the Soviet Red Army against the White Russian forces in the Ukraine during the Russian Civil War and were glad that the Canadian Siberian Expeditionary Force had returned from Vladivostok the previous year.

However, the international news was not all grim. For example, the League of Nations was brought into being on 16 January 1920 as a part of the Versailles Treaty. The League consisted of a General Assembly, a Council of the great powers, a Permanent Court of Justice, and the International Labor Organization (which still exists). One of the main aims of the League was to establish an effective alternative to warfare in international relations, in the hope of preventing another world conflict. Over the years, it met with some success in resolving border disputes but, of course, failed to prevent the occurrence of a second World War.

Locally, Guelph was still finding its way to a new normal for peacetime. In his inaugural speech to the City Council, Mayor Henry Westoby described his plans for the Royal City in 1920 (Mercury, 20 Jan.). They included renovation of the water supply system and storm sewers, renewed street paving to smooth the path for the city's increasing population of cars, support for the proposal to allow the Ontario Hydro utility to take over the city's streetcar system (accomplished in 1922), adoption of Daylight Saving Time, and construction of a public swimming pool.

Although no pool was built that year, a new ice rink was opened on 7 February (Mercury, 9 Feb.). The rink stood at the corner of Cambridge (now Commercial) Street and Norfolk, where the Royal Plaza now stands. Over a thousand people lined up to enjoy the opening ceremonies and events, which were filmed for a "moving picture" show. The opening event was a game between two teams of women's "hockeyists", one from the Guelph Collegiate Institute and the other from "White's," perhaps referring the Colonial Whitewear Company on Northumberland Street, which had many female employees. The reporter praised the teams for their vigorous play, which included many "stiff" bodychecks. The crowd was also amused at how the women, who were used to playing broom ball, handled their hockey sticks. The game was very competitive and the final result, after two periods of play, was a 3–1 victory for the GCI girls.

The women's game was followed by two matches between men's teams. In the first game, a team from the Guelph Carpet Mills Co. on Neeve Street played to a 0–0 tie with a team from the Partridge Rubber Co. on Clark Street (now Ferguson). In the second match, a junior all-star team from Toronto edged a junior all-star team from Guelph by a score of 6–5. The Mercury reporter thought that the events of the new arena's first evening augured a bright future for the facility.

The Priory, the first building constructed in the city, continued to fall into disrepair after it had been decommissioned as the city's C.P.R. train station in 1911. During a visit to the Royal City, eminent horticulturalist Dr. F.C. Bennett (any relation to Agnes Bennett?) was shocked to discover that such a historic structure had been left to fall into ruin (4 March):

Mr. Bennett was astonished to think that such a land mark of the city was being left to go to waste, and at a meeting of the Horticultural Society held last evening he proposed that the Society take the building over and fit it up as a permanent home for the local horticulturalists. His idea was to leave the old building on the property where it now stands, and put it in a good state of repair, and also that a great deal be gone to the grounds surrounding by planting flowers, shrubs and other improvements that would add to the general appearance of a picturesque home.

George Sleeman, former Mayor and the building's owner, was in favor of the plan. Unfortunately, it never bore fruit.

At the end of March it was learned that Canadian actress, and "America's sweetheart", Mary Pickford had married Hollywood heartthrob Douglas Fairbanks (Mercury, 1 April). She and Fairbanks, along with Charlie Chaplin, had just formed the independent production company United Artists. Pollyanna, her first movie with the new company, was a big hit in early 1920. It established Pickford's popular "little girl" persona and also the term "Pollyanna" for someone who is naively optimistic about life, based on "The Glad Game" portrayed in the movie in which players must describe things they are grateful for, even though they may be miserable.

You can get sense of the movie from this scene between Pollyanna and her dying father at its outset:

If you are intrigued, then feel free to watch the whole thing (courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)!

Pickford was undoubtedly grateful for the divorce from her first husband, Owen Moore, who had became an abusive alcoholic. She must have been keen on a new beginning since she acquiesced to Owen's demand for a $100,000 settlement. Pickford's marriage to Fairbanks probably caused tongues to wag in the Royal City, coming as it did only days after the divorce.

Guelph also began to deal with implications of the ascent of the automobile, renewed with vigor since the end of the war. The Mercury's editor (25 May) noted that there were a number of incidents in which cars hit children who were crossing or playing in the streets. Streets had always been used as places to play by young Guelphites but the increasing number and velocity of cars meant that this practice was becoming rather dangerous. The editor blamed parents of the children in question, arguing that it was not fair to motorists that naive children should be allowed to play in the streets and retard traffic. He suggested that the city should construct more playgrounds and that parents should see to it that children restrict their fun to designated play areas.

As Easter approached, store owners urged customers to impress their lady friends with—what else?—chocolate! Here is an ad in the Mercury from the pharmacy of Bogardus and Barton (5 April).

Easter itself fell on 4 April in 1920. The Mercury noted that the weather was uninviting, featuring a cold east wind and "sharp cutting snow" (5 April). Nevertheless, Guelph's churches were ready:

All the churches of the city were ready for the occasion with a profusion of flowers adorning chancel, pulpit and platform, all being significant of the new life that marks the passing of the winter of death, ushering in a season of joy and gladness and a hope for the good and the beautiful in life.

The article duly summarized the service in each of the City's main churches. All featured hymns, Easter lillies and recounting of the resurrection story. Reverend George Little of Chalmers Church (now Royal City Church) also took issue with doubters who looked to science or spiritualism for the truth about the afterlife. At Norfolk Street Methodist (now Lakeside Downtown), Mrs. Cook gave a talk entitled "Mission work in Japan." The Mercury reported that, despite the adverse weather, services in morning, afternoon, and evening were well attended.

In view of daunting events in recent history, it may be that Guelphites were looking extra hard for some Easter optimism as the 1920s began.

In Guelph and in poor health

Postcards are generally noted for their sunny views and sunny messages. Messages on postcards are often confined to mundane expressions about good health, such as "we are all fine" and "hope this post card finds you well." However, that is not always the case. Sometimes, postcards convey messages about ill health, from simply feeling poorly to reports of fatalities. It is interesting to look through the messages found on postcards for these unusual but sometimes telling glimpses into how people experienced illness in the Edwardian era. In this posting, I will share a few messages relating to illness from my collection. For the sake of focus and space, I will restrict the messages to physical illness—thus excluding psychological problems like home sickness—and set aside injuries such as work related accidents (where the distinction is clear).

First of all, illness is often mentioned simply in order to explain or excuse people's manner of writing. A simple example would be the following from a postcard postmarked in 1908:

Was ill on Sunday and have been too busy to write since. Am all right now. G.

Sending a postcard saying that you cannot write may sound like an oxymoron. However, in the Edwardian era, it was usually the case that only a full letter counted as "writing". A mere postcard with a line or two did not qualify. Here, the postcard mentions an illness to excuse the fact that "G" has not written when that might have been expected. Nothing serious.

Besides excusing one's own want of letter writing, postcards describing illness could be used to prompt letters from others. I have the sense that such prompting is partly behind the following message addressed to Master L. Frayer of Galt on 11 April 1907:

Apr. 11/09 // My Dear Lauren // Are you ever going to write to me again[?] have been looking for a letter the last few days. If P. comes up on S. tell him to bring me Mrs. (??) have not been so well the last few days but hope to be well soon. Love ??

Postcards were frequently used to scold tardy letter writers, and the mention of illness might be a kind of passive-aggressive measure to help ensure an appropriate response. After all, every sick person wanted letters of sympathy and well-wishes.

Winter was a particularly bad time for the flu. Postcards mailed in January, February, or March that mention illness often relate to the flu. In my collection, the French term "la grippe" is often used to designate the flu, as in this message from a postcard mailed on 26 January 1906:

... These are real spring days surely, but so much La Grippe am afraid to say I’ve escaped so far, but hope it continues. I believe in preventatives and so far it’s alright. I suppose you’re not looking for anything more or have you been in style[?] I believe you were too. Hope your throat is O.K. by now. ... Jean.

In the era before vaccinations, the annual flu was a risk that was hard to avoid, apart from the use of "preventatives", to which we will return.

Some postcards mention chronic conditions, such as asthma. Here is one example, sent to Mrs. Henry Sanders of Detroit on 25 September 1907, which mentions asthma in conjunction with a number of other ailments:

Guelph, Sept. 25, 1911 // Dear Cousin. // A few lines to let you know we are still living. But Richard is layed [sic] up with the asthma. Hope yours are all well. Did you hear Uncle George burried [sic] his youngest son Eddie and his wife is laying very low[;] waiting for her to go off at anytime. She may be dead by now. I have not wrote to your mother yet but will try & soon write to her. Mother is very poorly. How is Bertha do you hear & her baby. good by with love & best wishes from your loving cousin Bertha. I got your card & book all O.K. Write soon.

Some families seemed to get more than their fair share of troubles!

As a chronic condition, asthma could be quite limiting, as noted in this post card sent to Miss E. M. Wade of Smithville, Ontario:

Dear Eleanor :- Maude & Rob went to Toronto fair to-day so I am taking care of the children. we have just been down town for ice cream. we were going to Riverside Park, but it started to sprinkle so we had to come in. Robert is just so wheezy as can be. It is awful to be so susceptible to cold. ...

The term asthma is not used, but it seems to apply to poor, young Robert.

Serious illnesses seem to have been regarded with more resignation than might be the case today. For example, a half-dozen cases of mumps today is a major concern (and properly so). Old postcards reporting incidents of such diseases of childhood seem to treat it rather matter-of-factly. For example, this line was addressed to "Master Herbert Nelson" of Sarnia in 1909:

How is that “measley” boy coming up? Your Old Aunt.

Herbert was about 10 years old at the time and measles would have been a common ailment for a boy that age. Certainly, his aunt seems unfazed at the news.

Infectious diseases became more ominous during the First World War. Large camps full of soldiers in crowded quarters made for an elevated risk of outbreaks. For example, smallpox and diphtheria were on the rise in Ontario (Globe; 8 Jan. 1915) with a serious smallpox outbreak occurring in the Six Nations Reserve in Brantford. As a result, recruits in central and western Ontario were ordered vaccinated against those illnesses (Globe; 20 Jan. 1915). Perhaps this outbreak explains the following postcard message from Agnes Stewart to Miss Annie McCaig of Sarnia (2 Feb. 1915):

My dear Annie, Did you know that I had come here [Guelph General] as resident nurse? Your Aunt & I are good friends and she wishes to thank you for your letter & all the news you gave her. She did not know about the smallpox. She is well & hopes you will write again to her. Kind regards. Agnes Stewart // Glad you all getting well. Take care of yourself.

It sounds like Annie may have had a case, although a minor one.

Undoubtedly, the gravest epidemic of the period was the Spanish flu. Its origin is contested but the concentration of soldiers in Europe and North America helped it to spread rapidly around the globe. It is estimated to have infected 500 million people and killed at least 50 million, making it one of the deadliest disasters in human history. Some 50,000 Canadians are thought to have died of it. The flu continued to circulate well into the 1920s and was known for striking down people who were otherwise quite healthy, often devastating families. One report of the flu in Wellington County is given in a lengthy postcard (in tiny writing) from "Edith" in Erin to her cousin Susan, Mrs. H. H. Harding, of Guelph on 29 March 1920:

Dear Cousin.. Your card received O.K. Glad to hear from you. But sorry to hear you all have been sick with the flu. But oh how thankful you should be that yous [sic] have come through it safely when so many have died lately. There’s a young boy up the lane died this week, and young married women up at Orangeville I used to go to school with died and left 4 little children - the oldest 6 and baby 8 months[.] she was only 23-years old herself. ...

There must have been many more such sad stories related in the postcards of that time.

Some illnesses were more mysterious and seemingly arbitrary. Postcard descriptions convey a sense of helplessness, as in this example addressed to Miss Bessie Reid of Mobeetie Texas on 1 September 1910:

Guelph Sep 1st // Dear Children // John is sitting up today is feeling pretty well but cannot rise his legs yet at all nor his hands hope he will get better of that love from Mama

Here is a similar example, addressed to Mrs. D. C. Parsons of Davenport, Iowa on 19 November 1910:

Saturday, Mother still keeps growing weaker. face enlarging & discharging very rapidly. Little Sadie is not expected to live with Brain Fever. - has had the fever about 3 days. - E. Jaap

The term "brain fever" is a Victorian one that could refer to any number of illnesses, thought to have been brought on by some severe, emotional distress. Brain fever tended to be a life-threatening ailment.

In the face of these various threats to health, Guelphites of the day responded in various ways, including the use of "preventatives", as mentioned earlier. Some of these prophylactics seem to have been folk remedies, as suggested in this message from a card sent to Mrs. J. N. Babson of Cleveland on 14 November 1906:

... The cold is about all gone - took a proper dose of “onion” yesterday fore-noon - concluded my experimental dose had been insufficient. Met E. Crowe - she says K. is better. L.

L. does not say what a "dose of onion" would be but it sounds like a household cure. Onions are still held to have curative powers.

In her book, How to be a Victorian (pp. 270ff), Ruth Goodman notes that people of the era were the objects of a barrage of drug advertising. Such ads promised good health if only the reader would keep a stock of patent medicines on hand, perhaps taking them regularly or, at least, at the first sign of discomfort. Each advertised physic was said to be able to mitigate or cure a wide variety of ailments. For example, consider the text from an ad for Dr. Wood's Norway Pine Syrup that mixes fear, hyperbole, and neuroticism in its appeal to potential customers (Globe, 31 March 1906):

More terrible than war!

More terrible than war, famine, or pestilence is that awful destroyer, that hydra-headed monster, Consumption, that annually sweeps away more of earth's inhabitants than any other single disease known to man.
"It is only a cold, a trifling cough," say the careless, as the irritation upon the delicate mucous membrane causes them to hack away with an irritable tickling of the throat. When the irritation settles on the mucous surface of the throat, a cough is the result. To prevent Bronchitis of Consumption of the Lungs, do not neglect a cough however slight as the irritation spreading throughout the delicate lining of the sensitive air passages soon leads to fatal results. If on the first appearance of a cough or cold you would take a few doses of Dr. Wood's Norway Pine Syrup you would save yourself a great deal of unnecessary suffering. Dr. Wood's Norway Pine Syrup contains all the life-giving properties of the pine trees of Norway, and for Asthma, Croup, Whooping Cough and all Throat and Lung affections it is a specific. Be sure when you ask for Dr. Wood's Norway Pine Syrup to get it. Don't be humbugged into taking something else. Price 25 cents.
Miss Lena Johnston, Toledo, Ont., writes: "I have used Dr. Wood's Norway Pine Syrup for throat troubles after taking numerous other remedies, and I must say that nothing can take the place of it. I would not be without a bottle of it in the house."

Is it a coincidence that "Pine Syrup" is being sold by a man whose name is "Dr. Wood"? The leading tuberculosis researcher of the day, Robert Koch of Germany, had tried and failed to find an effective treatment for tuberculosis ("consumption"), so it seems all the more like that "Dr. Wood" is a pseudonym and his specific a "humbug".

The ad makes broad claims for the power of this specific, without saying much about the nature of the "life-giving properties of the pine trees of Norway." The contents of such specifics, tonics, and the like were not regulated and could contain a variety of powerful drugs (Goodman 2013, p. 282):

Morphine, opium, cocaine, laudanum, heroin, chloroform, ether, aspirin and cannabis were all purchasable, without any form of medical supervision, and for a very few pence.

As a result, Goodman observes, addiction to these medicines was all too common. Although people sometimes fell ill and even died from these addictions, addiction was not recorded as a cause of death at the time. Thus, anyone, even children, reported to have "wasted away", "died in his sleep" or perished from a "brain fever" may have suffered from a drug overdose.

Scepticism about these tonics had prompted some official investigation. Specifically, governments of the era were concerned with "adulteration", that is, the inclusion of fraudulent ingredients in drugs (or foods). For example, a preliminary investigation by the US Inland Revenue Department found that many over-the-counter drugs contained very little active ingredient and a great deal of alcohol, up to 40% (Globe, 28 Feb. 1906):

These preparations contain so small an amount, if any, of effective drugs or medicines, and so large an amount of alcohol as to make their use as intoxicants not uncommon.

Being so potent, the medicines would have an obvious and immediate impact and at least give the taker the impression that they were taking some effective action to treat themselves. With so much alcohol in common medicines, the Inland Revenue investigators suggested that druggists should require a liquor license to sell them.

Illnesses that did not simply go away or yield to the confections of druggists might result in a visit to the doctor. Once prohibitively expensive for most, visits to a doctor had become more affordable for the Edwardian middle class in Guelph. In that light, there were times when a doctor's attention was definitely what was required, as in the case mentioned in this postcard by "Fred", which was never addressed or sent:

The Dr. lanced my face four or five days ago. it was as big as a tea cup. I think it must be from the poison ivy. I was some sick. all kinds of pain and sick feeling and weak. I could hardly walk. I hope I will be able to come in the Freight. It will be some experience. Coming with the cattle. we might only bring the sixteen cattle we have already bought. I haven’t shaved for a week. I will have some whiskers when I come home. Eddie has had a bad cold. We got lots of warm clothes for him before he starts. Fred

I imagine that Fred's face must have hurt for a while after that experience!

Of course, some ailments demanded a trip to one of Guelph's hospitals. Hospitals and nursing facilities were a point of pride in the Royal City, and were depicted frequently in postcards of the Edwardian era. Many postcard messages also speak of stays in hospital. With some good fortune, the hospital was a place where sick people could recuperate from their illnesses, as mentioned in this postcard to Mrs. H. C. Schumm of Baden, Ontario on 18 June 1912:

G. General Hospital // Dear Alice // I have been perched up on pillows to-day but am down flat again. Come to see me soon as you can. this is my first writing. I am tired so good bye. With love, Luella

Another postcard dated 23 June notes that Luella had left the hospital for Hespeler, so I assume that she had recovered by that time.

Luella gives the General Hospital as her address. Also, the card depicts the hospital itself, as shown below.

The card was published around 1910 by the Illustrated Post Card Co., Montreal. It was evidently taken in the spring before the foliage could completely obscure the building. It may be that the hospital kept a stock of such cards on hand for the use of patients and assisted in getting them into the mail.

The old General Hospital was located roughly where the Medical Health Centre on 75 Delhi St. currently sits (just down the road from the current hospital), which you can see in the Google Street View image below.

The hospital is where operations for various ailments might be performed, as mentioned in this postcard from Lena Martin to Miss Martha Polzen of Berlin (now Kitchener) on 13 June 1910:

Guelph. June 12th/10 // Thought I would let you know that Katie is at the General Hospital at Guelph from an operation for appendiscitis [sic] a week ago. is doing nicely but may have to undergone [sic] another operation soon for internial [sic] trouble. With love, Lena Martin per Katie Bachert

Wasn't it nice of Katie to write this postcard on Lena's behalf? The operation was probably performed in the east wing (right in the postcard), named the Victoria Jubilee Wing after the Queen's Jubilee when its construction began in 1887 (Golden Jubilee: School for Nurses, 1938). That wing contained the first proper operating theatre in the hospital. Happily for Katie, the appendectomy operation had been well advanced by 1910. Before about 1885, most sufferers of appendicitis were expected to die of infection.

Of course, not all operations were expected to succeed, as reported matter-of-factly in this postcard by Susie sent to Mrs. Noah Sunley of Chilliwack on 16 August 1912:

Thur evening Aug 16th // Dear Mother:— I hope you are enjoying yourself. We are all well at present. We throw in with the haying and started harvest. G. Swan went through a very serious operation Tues. Very little hopes for him. We will write a letter in a few days. Dont’ forget to write again as we do enjoy your letters. hoping all is well. Bye Bye. Your daughter, Susie.

With a few exceptions, surgery remained the treatment of last resort for those who were unwell in Guelph.

The messages conveyed in postcards tend to be brief and quotidian. Mentions of health are often confined to "we are well" and "hope you are fine." For such reasons, postcard messages are often overlooked in favour of their pictures. Yet, postcard messages can serve to illustrate the life experiences of their writers, and postcards on the experience of illness seem to bear this out. In messages like the ones above, we get a glimpse through a proverbial keyhole of what it meant when you were not well in the Royal City of about 100 years ago.