Showing posts with label Taylor-Forbes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Taylor-Forbes. Show all posts

Saturday, 28 December 2024

No pickles and no pudding: Merry Xmas 1907, Guelph!

The end of 1907 brought the annual international convention of the Women's Institute to Guelph. Audiences jammed into the lecture hall in Massey Hall on the Ontario Agricultural College (OAC) to hear speakers hold forth on topics of special interest to women. On the morning of 12 December, for example, speakers prescribed proper nourishmen of children, in both mind and body. Miss Aikens of Detroit stated that (Globe, 13 December):
No soothing syrups should be given to babies, and she emphasized the danger of allowing too many people to kiss babies.
This seems like sound advice, especially considering that "soothing syrups" of the era could well contain uncontrolled amounts of narcotics or alcohol. Soothing? Yes. Healthy? Not so much. The prohibition on kissing probably reflects the recent ascendance of the germ theory of disease, on which illnesses were held to be caused by infections of microscopic organisms, a theory that still prevails today.
("Massey Hall and Library, O.A.C.," #173 of the International Stationary Co. series on Guelph, ca. 1910.)

Miss Watson, principal of the Macdonald Institute associated with the OAC, articulated advice particularly a propos of the holiday season:

"Don’t train children to drink tea, coffee, or any other stimulant. Don't teach them to eat highly-seasoned foods, and up to fourteen years anyway forbid pickles and highly-seasoned foods, and forbid rich foods, such as pastry, puddings and cakes.” Miss Watson stated that the time was very opportune for speaking of feeding children, as a great deal of the sickness which followed Christmas among children was due to the stuffing on Christmas day. Instead of giving children plum pudding and mince pie, she suggested that a pretty dessert be prepared, plain, but wholesome, which the children would enjoy.
No soothing syrups, no stimulants, no pickles, no stuffing, no pastries, no cake, and no pie. And no fun.

The Women's Institute was (and remains) an association that advocated for women's issues, founded in 1897 in Stoney Creek by Adelaide Hoodless. Branches quickly spread throughout the Dominion and abroad. Ms. Hoodless was also the prime mover behind the foundation of the Macdonald Institute, which aimed to teach young women skills they would need to run modern households. It was hoped that such training would help to stem the tide of young women leaving rural Canada for its cities, where jobs as bookkeepers, store clerks, telephone operators, and so on, beckoned them away from the farm.

(In fact, it was just at this time that the population of Ontario went from being mostly rural to mostly urban, with more residents living in cities than outside of them.)

Besides domestic issues, the convention included some remarks on the place of women in political life:

Mr. C.C. James ... charged the women to look after the proper training of children, and instead of dabbling in politics, endeavoring to break up men’s meetings or agitating for suffrage, to see that the home life was made as educating as possible.
Ten years later, women gained the right to vote for the first time in Canada.

The postcard craze of the era continued to gain momentum, with many Guelphites sending postcards to touch base during the holiday season. One such card featured a picture of the new Carnegie Library in Guelph, the front of which was featured in an earlier blog post on that structure.

Obviously, this card was not designed to be a holiday card but it could do the job with a suitable message, in this case from "B.P." to Mary in Lifford, Ontario:
The message says:
Guelph Ont, Dec 5th/07 // Dear Mary:— I don’t think I sent you a card like this one before. it is a pretty place both inside and out[.] Wishing you a Merry Xmas and a Happy New Year, B.P
It sounds as though B.P. and Miss Mary Staples of Lifford had been exchanging postcards, a common way for children and adults of the time to see images of places they probably hadn't been and to have fun amassing a collection of their favorite cards. (A hobby that can be carried on today, I should add!)

So, what kind of Xmas did Guelph have in 1907? Was it merry?

From the cooking advice given by Miss Watson, it might seem like the children of the Royal City did not have a good time. However, we learn that some managed to entertain themselves in a time-honored fashion by toboganning down the sidewalk on Neeve street after a big snowfall. Though fun for the participants, the practice did not meet with general approval (Mercury, 17 December):

Naturally some objections were raised, and the boys were asked to keep off the sidewalk, with the result that retorts were made, advising the sojourning of the parties in a land where snow is not known and sleds utterly useless.
Police were summoned and four of the boys appeared before the magistrate, who let them off with a warning and an admonition to have their parents administer justice via a hickory stick. The paper does not record if this was done.

In another sign of times, a group of young women were observed walking through the town in male garb (4 December):

A couple of charming young ladies last night made their debut in that attire, consisting of Christy, trowsers and coat, which is usually conceded to be part of the male make up. The young lady gentlemen were from one of the local hotels and, with their hands in their pockets, curls stuck under Derbys, and chaperoned by a couple of men friends, they made a parade of the main streets to the astonishment of the natives who happened to be abroad and the entertainment of the young men on the street corners. This disguise was not carried so far as to include the wearing of overcoats, and the masqueraders could not have found it pleasant. They were thoroughly chilled.
Presumably, they were not attending the Women's Institute convention. But, although chilly, it does sound somewhat merry.

The weather in December 1907 was generally quite wintery. There was quite a blizzard on the 14th, which blew snow up into high drifts and immobilized the streetcar system for several hours. The street railway prepared and opened up the outdoor rink that it usually operated on Howitt's pond, near the the system's main building. The same site featured change rooms and a toboggan slide.

(The Petrie Rink, Gymnasium and Baths; Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 2014.84.2.)

The team of the Guelph Hockey Club prepared for a new season. Local players worked on their skating legs on the frozen pond at Goldie's Mill. The Royal City rink, at the intersection of Gordon and Wellington streets, had recently been enlarged and was ready for more games and up to 1,600 spectators. (The rink had begun life as the Petrie Athletic Park in 1897, was turned into a cream separator factory in 1901, and then back into a recreational facility earlier in 1907.)

(Tommy Burns, ca. 1912. Courtesy of Library and Archives Canada 3191889.)

Besides winter events, Guelph was also linked, albeit somewhat tenuously, with the world heavyweight title boxing match in London, England, between "Gunner" Moir and Tommy Burns. Burns was born as Noah Brusso in Hannover, Ontario, and became a professional boxer in 1904, adopting the Scottish moniker "Tommy Burns" perhaps for professional reasons. He clearly had a talent for it and became world champion in 1906. On 2 December 1907, he fought British boxer "Gunner" Moir in a title defence. Though Moir was the bigger man with a harder punch, Burns's "ringcraft" served him well and he soundly defeated Moir by a KO in the 10th round.

A film of the whole fight can be seen on YouTube, along with an added commentary track. There is also a video of selected highlights, which is much shorter.

The connection with Guelph? In February, 1907, Burns had been to Guelph to put on an exhibition of boxing at the Royal Opera House with his sparring partner Jimmy Burns of Toronto. Burns was a former resident of Galt, so he was able to drop by there to visit his parents during the outing.

In addition, the Toronto Globe (2 December) reported that Burns sent the following message just before the fight to Alderman Higgins of Guelph, manager of the Royal Opera House: "Am defending the world’s championship against Gunner Moir, and will fight to bring home the money and honors.” So, it seems that Burns retained a connection with the Royal City after his recent visit. No doubt, many Guelphites read the account of his fight with great interest.

("The Bell Organ and Piano Co., Ltd., Factory, Guelph, Ont." published by Valentine & Sons Publishing Co., Ltd., ca. 1905. Courtesy of the Keleher collection. The front of the Royal Hotel can be seen to the right of the factory, facing onto Carden street. Jubilee Park is visible in the foreground, now the site of the VIA station.)

One thing that stands out to anyone reviewing the events of Xmas time in Guelph, 1907, is the number of big fires. On 5 December, a "dangerous" fire broke out in the Royal Hotel, next to the Bell Piano factory on Carden street. The fire started in the cellar and soon seemed to have hold of the entire building. It was said that smoke was soon pouring out every window. Business travelers, with whom the hotel was popular, immediately smashed many of the ground floor windows to eject their trunks and other wares. One man named Tracey had 14 trunks with him, all of which he managed to save in this manner.

A number of women were trapped by the smoke on the third floor. One made ready to throw herself out but was persuaded to wait for a ladder rescue. This was duly accomplished by Assistant Chief John Aitkens of the London fire brigade, who, for whatever reason, happened to be on hand. After the fire was doused, Aitkens went to the cellar to investigate its cause, when he was arrested by a police constable! Happily, he was well known about the town and was quickly released.

Though damage was considerable, no one was seriously hurt.

(The Taylor-Forbes factory, as seen looking northward from the Neeve street bridge, from a real photo postcard dated 1919; courtesy of the Keleher collection. The Guelph standpipe can be seen in the background.)

On 9 December, there was a blaze in a shipping building of the Taylor-Forbes plant on Arthur street. Mr. James Taylor noted smoke pouring from the structure and called it in to the fire department. The fire was quite intense as a pile of seasoned timber in the structure ignited and made for some very dense smoke. It was difficult for the fire fighters to get into the building, so they cut holes in the roof and gable ends to train water on the flames.

The fire was put out in a couple of hours but the company lost quite a bit of finished products, mainly lawn mowers, radiators, and similar items.

Another serious fire occured in St. George's Square in the boot-and-shoe store of "J. Dandeno" on 22 December. Mr. Dandeno had been cleaning up and oiling the floor, a measure taken to keep wooden flooring in good shape. He left a lit lamp on the landing of the stairs when he exited through the rear door. When the door slammed shut, it caused a rush of air that upset the lamp, which tumbled down and set the floor oil on fire. The flames quickly climbed the stairs, threatening to set the whole building—and its neighbors—ablaze.

(East side of St. George's Square, ca. 1910. Joseph Dandeno's shoe store would have been where Alex Stewart's drug store is in this photograph. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2009.32.4536.)

Mrs. Dandeno ran up the stairs, through the flames, to rescue the children, which she was able to do through a rear window, with the assistance of some passers-by. She and two children were slightly burned and treated at the hospital.

The fire brigade had the fire out in about 45 minutes, and managed to save the surrounding buildings from much damage. Still, the Dandeno's losses were about $6,400, only half of which was covered by insurance.

This J. Dandeno was very likely Joseph Dandeno, a local boy who had worked as a piano finisher at Bell's Piano factory since about 1889. Only in the 1908 city directory is he listed as associated with a shoe store, suggesting that he had only recently gone into the trade before the fire struck. Evidently, the loss and shock were enough to prompt Dandeno to move to Providence, Rhode Island, the next year, where he lived for the remainder of his life.

("Photograph, Rotary Club of Guelph, Lionel O'Keeffe, 1921." George Scroggie is standing fifth from the left in the front row. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2014.84.282.)

Despite these serious fires, Guelph escaped a general conflagration. However, it was consumed by an unusual scandal that year. It came to light that month that George Scroggie, the City Treasurer, was collecting two rents for one of the residences that he owned in the city. In brief, Scroggie rented out a modest residence on Durham street to a Mrs. Fisher, an elderly black woman who was described as "a well-known character" (Mercury, 20 December). Mrs. Fisher was destitute and relied to a large degree on the generosity of her friends and neighbors. As such, her rent of $4/month was covered by the City's Relief Committee. However, Mrs. Fisher was also staunchly independent and preferred to pay her own way as much as she could manage. As such, she had been paying some rent money to Scroggie, even though the city covered the full amount.

So, it seemed as though Scroggie was collecting rent twice, once from the city and again (in part) from the destitute Mrs. Fisher. Naturally, when this situation came to general notice, it looked bad for Scroggie. The Relief Committee of the city council investigated and learned the particulars. They learned that Mrs. Fisher was perfectly aware that her rent was paid by the committee but was determined to contribute to it as much as possible. They learned from Scroggie that he was saving the money that Mrs. Fisher paid to him in this way with the idea of remitting it to the city at the end of the year.

Was this odd situation even a matter for the city government? After all, rent for the residence was paid by the committee to Scroggie as per their express arrangement. If Mrs. Fisher wanted to pay him further money out of her own pocket, knowing that her rent was fully covered, perhaps that was simply her affair. However, the committee felt it had to do something, as rumors about the situation had been spreading like wildfire.

When the committee offered to pay Mrs. Fisher the money she had given to Scroggie, and which he had remitted to the city, she refused (Mercury, 24 December):

The amount of these payments, about $20, which Mr. Scroggie has stated his willingness to pay, was offered to her, but she refused point blank to accept it. She is a very eccentric old lady, and independently maintains that she will be dependent upon charity no more than she possibly can.
So, the committee arranged for the funds to put in the hands of a trustee to be used on Mrs. Fisher's behalf when the need arose. This arrangement met the approval of the editor of the Mercury, who remarked that she would certainly need the support before the winter was out.
("Winter Fair Buildings, Guelph." Published by Henry Garner Living Picture Postcard Co., Leister England; posted in 1909. Now the site of the Market square; note the old city hall at the left.)

Since its founding in 1827, Guelph was a central point in local agriculture, a role that was enlarged with the founding of the OAC in 1874. In 1889, the Royal City became the permanent site of the Ontario Provincial Winter Fair, in which the finest live stock, poultry, produce, and other agricultural items were displayed and judged. The year 1907 was no exception, with the Winter Fair building on Carden Street (now the site of the Market square) hosting a panoply of meetings and events.

("Sir Adam Beck," Watercolour, gouache, gum arabic, on ivory, by Gerald Sinclair Hayward, 1902. Courtesy of the Royal Ontario Museum, 993.209.1.)

Perhaps the biggest draw was the speech given by the Hon. Adam Beck. Although the meat of his speech was to encourage Ontario agriculturalists to pay more attention to horse breeding (Beck was a enthusiastic amateur breeder), he could not help but mention his support for the plan to connect the region's cities to a single grid, by which electricity generated at Niagara Falls would be distrubted throughout under the auspices of a government corporation. Educated at the nearby Rockwood Academy, Beck had recently been appointed the first chairman of the Hydro-electric Power Commission, dedicated to this purpose. Guelph, like most cities in the region, was about to vote on by-laws that would commit them to the scheme. Government control, Beck argued, would ensure that the resource was developed and made available with the public interest at heart, rather than as a money-making scheme of private providers. The next month, Guelph, along with almost all municipalities in the region, voted resoundingly in favor.

Despite the success of the Winter Fair, the biggest agricultural news that winter in Guelph was the victory of the OAC stocking judging team at the International Livestock Show in Chicago the previous month. A team of students from the OAC won the overall event there for the third year in a row, which entitled them to take permanent possession of the Spoor Trophy, in the form of a bronze bull. The win was considered a national victory, which I have described in a previous post.

The real photo postcard above shows students from the OAC celebrating their triumph by painting the Blacksmith Fountain in red and white, the OAC colors, during a victory parade. The Blacksmith retained his new livery for the holidays, though it was soon removed by a city crew.
("James Gow," ca. 1880. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, M1991.9.1.149.)

Guelph received an item of sad news during Xmas 1907 as well. Mr. James Gow, described by the Mercury (21 December) as "one of the most lovable men who ever lived in Guelph," passed away at his residence in Windsor, Ontario (Mercury, 21 December). Born in 1827 in Glasgow, Scotland, Gow had emigrated to Canada in 1851, settling first in Hamilton but then moving to a farm in Eramosa. In town, he struck up a partnership with Peter Gow (not a relation or, at least, an immediate one), in the form of P. & J. Gow, tanners and leather merchants. In 1866, the partnership was dissolved and Gow had a storehouse built on Huskisson street (now Wyndham street south) to carry on the business in his own name. However, he was then appointed to the office of Collector of the Inland Revenue in Guelph.

Ten years later, he was transferred to the office at Windsor and then made Inspector of the Windsor District and Dominion Inspector of Distilleries, an appointment he held until retirement in 1902. Although he had been away from Guelph for some 30 years, we are told that his inspections brought him regularly to his old haunts and that he kept in close contact with old friends and family members who remained in the Royal City.

On the whole, it seems that Xmas and New Year's in Guelph in 1907 was merry enough, though not remarkably so. It was neither especially memorable but not without notable news and events. Perhaps the season is epitomized by the following item from the Mercury (28 December):

Drank 21 beers

This is the story which is going the rounds today. The employees of a certain factory last night decided to test the drinking capacity of one of their number—a colored gent. Accordingly they hied themselves to the nearest dispensary of warming drink, and then this man of mighty thirst got on the outside of 21 beers—not small beers, or short beers, or ordinary beers, but 21 big pint schooners of lager. He walked home afterwards but was not at work today.
No doubt, speakers with the Women's Institute would not have approved but such were the spirits of Xmas in Guelph in 1907.

Merry Xmas and Happy 2025, Guelph!

Sunday, 27 November 2022

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.


Works consulted for this post include:
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.

Monday, 30 December 2019

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.