The Old Mill kept Guelphites swimming for decades

On 2 June 1932, the Mercury conveyed some welcome news:

It is the intention of James L. Simpson, the owner [of Simpson's Mill], to lay out a complete private park, with all the usual facilities of such playgrounds, including swimming pools, camps sites, dance hall, dining room, tourist accommodation and other similar facilities.

With Guelph in the depths of the Great Depression, the arrival of a new amusement facility must have been welcome news to many.

The news also concluded the efforts of James Livingstone Simpson to sell his property to the City of Guelph, which proved, perhaps also due to the Depression, not to be receptive to the idea of buying the land to add to Riverside Park. Rebuffed by the city, Simpson decided to set up in the recreation business for himself.

Simpson's Mill sat on property along the Speed River, on the north side of Speedvale Avenue just east of the bridge then often known as Simpson's bridge. Today, the property houses the Speedvale Fire Station and the John Galt Garden. However, the site had a long history as a mill.

In 1859, Mr. John Goldie bought 17 acres of land along the east bank of the Speed from William Hood as an inducement for his son James to immigrate to Canada from New York and become a miller. The property was already the site of a sawmill and barrel-stave factory operated by Samuel Smith, a former Reeve and Mayor of Guelph. A dam constructed across the Speed about 200 yards south of what is now Woodlawn Road fed water into a raceway that led to the sawmill and factory, situated near the east bank about where the current footbridge is located.

(James Goldie (1824–1912); photo courtesy of William Weston.)

James Goldie took the bait and brought his family to the new site, which was accessible only by a footpath from the Elora Road (now Woolwich Street). The family lived in Smith's old stave factory while they built a new mill complex. They built a new dam next to the sawmill (where the current dam stands) and constructed a large raceway down to their new flour mill further south near Speedvale Avenue.

The new mill consisted of two sections. The first section was the mill proper, built of local stone, and housed the water wheels, grinding stones, and other equipment for a flour mill. The second section was a frame building made for storing grain. By the end of 1861, the new mill was in operation and the old sawmill repurposed as a stable.

The site also incorporated a cooperage, as flour was usually shipped in barrels rather than bags, and several coopers employed.

James Goldie bought the People's Mill (now known as Goldie Mill) in 1867 and sold the old place to Mr. John Pipe, a local farmer. It was therefore known as Pipe's Mill until 1883, when Pipe sold it to G.P. Tolton. Mr. Tolton installed a new-fangled roller system from the US known as "The Jumbo" (doubtless after the famous elephant), which locals honoured by dubbing the mill "The Jumbo Mills."

(Speedvale Mill, ca. 1870. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 2014.84.1025.)

With water levels falling in the Speed, the mill's water wheels had difficulty supplying Jumbo with enough energy to work properly. Mr. Tolton introduced a steam engine, which supplied the necessary power. Like its namesake, Jumbo had bad luck with steam engines and was disposed of in favour of steel rollers. Perhaps with some disappointment, the mill returned to being "The Speedvale Mill."

After passing through other hands, the mill was sold to James Simpson in 1901, thus becoming "Simpson's Mill." Finding that flour could no longer be produced profitably, Mr. Simpson converted the mill to grinding animal feed. This he did until his retirement in 1926, at which time he moved to a house on Wellington Place (now Riverview Drive) leased the mill to Joseph Lang, who continued the operation.

Besides the mill, the grounds also became an attraction connected with Riverside Park. The Park had been opened in 1905 as a place for Guelphites and others to find wholesome, outdoor entertainments and to get people onto the city's streetcar system.

One of the attractions was the opportunity to swim (or "bathe") in the Speed River at the dam belonging to Simpson's Mill. In fact, Mr. Simpson obligingly erected a new dam made of stone and concrete, which rose a couple of feet higher than the old one, in order to create a deeper reservoir that would make for better boating and bathing opportunities for park patrons (Mercury, 25 May 1905).

(Swimming in Riverside Park, from a postcard by Charles L. Nelles, ca. 1905.)

As a part of his mill operation, Mr. Simpson's property included the "water privilege" for the section of the Speed river adjacent to his mill. In short, he had the right to use the water to power his mill and to exclude others from using the water there. As a result, the city paid Mr. Simpson a monthly lease so that Guelphites could splash and swim in the water at Riverside Park. At first, the lease was $50/year, although it was later increased to $100 (Mercury, 2 June 1932).

All went well until fire, that ancient foe of millworks, struck at Simpson's Mill. On 17 July 1930, city firemen responded to a report of flames at the mill (Mercury, 16 April 1947):

A full turnout responded, and a long line of hose was laid from Elora Road, then split to two lines near the mill. Horses were taken from the stables and led to safety, while water was poured into the blazing building. Firemen fought the blaze for three hours before it was brought under control.

The cause was deemed to be spontaneous combustion of hay in the loft.

It turned out that this blaze was only a prelude. A year later, another fire caused a conflagration that finished what the first fire had begun. Despite all efforts to save the structure, nothing but smoking walls were left of Simpson's Mill in its aftermath.

Apparently, 70 years of milling on the site was enough. Rather than rebuild, Mr. Simpson tried to interest the city in purchasing the property, for provision of a recreational facility added to Riverside Park. This offer sparked serious interest, as at least a few citizens thought that Guelph should have a bona fide public swimming pool. Yet, the culture of the "swimmin' hole" remained strong, as evidenced by this letter to the editor of the Mercury pointing out that citizens of the Royal City yet enjoyed many swimming locales, many outdoors (4 July 1931):

Dear Sir:—I noticed in Thursday night’s Mercury somewhat of a cyclone of agitation for a municipal bathing and swimming pool in Guelph, and, Mr. Editor, I confess that I fail to see the great urgency claimed by the agitators. We have the large pool in Riverside Park, which is well patronized, the Y.M.C.A. swimming pool, which is also an important adjunct, and if we walk for a quarter of a mile from the eastern end of the York Road street car line, we can get any quantity of accommodation in the swimming pools on the Reformatory grounds, which are free to city bathers. Furthermore, the Kiwanis Club have a site for bathing between Norwich Street Bridge and Goldie’s Dam, which is unsurpassed for a bathing pool for children. ...
To the mind of this writer and many others, the city of Guelph is wondrously well equipped with bathing pools and “swimmin’ ‘holes,” and ... could have right near the heart of the city abundant accommodation for all classes of bathers and swimmers.

In the end, the city declined. Simpson then demanded an increase in the water rights lease to $150/year. After further controversy, this too was declined.

In 1932, Mr. Simpson took matters into his own hands. He decided to turn Simpson's Mill into a recreation centre on his own account. He began by erecting a fence between Riverside Park and the Speed River (Mercury, 2 June 1932). The fence ran the length of the Park, cutting off the river walk, the dam, the bathing huts, and the pavilion from the riverbank. Park patrons would no longer have any access to the water. As the Mercury writer put it:

There will be no river at Riverside Park this year.... Visitors to Riverside Park who wish to see the water this year will be compelled to do so while looking through a fence.

Alternatively, Guelphites could make their way to the new recreational facility that Mr. Simpson was building on the old mill site. The main attraction of the new facility was to be a pair of swimming pools, one for adults and one for children. Both pools would be fed by the mill race with a constant stream of river water.

At the south end of the race, the adult pool would be the most ambitious installation:

It will be 430 feet in length and 90 feet wide with a sand bottom, six inches in depth. The depth of the water will be nine feet at the peak, but is will be possible to drop it as low as two feet. It will be built in the form of a bowl, with a shore line around it.

Immediately upstream and separated by a floodgate would be the children's pool:

This pool for the youngsters will be 100 feet long and 26 feet wide and will be paved with brick, while the water level will be kept at a safe height.

The whole scene would be illuminated by lights attached to a 40-foot tower, allowing for nighttime use.

Besides the swimming pools, walking paths and picnic sites would be provided. In addition, part of the old mill structure would be renovated and converted into a dance hall with a dining hall upstairs.

(Car park at Old Mill Swimming Pool, ca. 1935. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1985.59.2.)

Mr. Simpson's concept turned out to be a popular one and the "Old Mill," as it came to be called, was well patronized for many years. For example, the city swimming championships were held there in 1933 (Globe, 8 August 1933). Thirteen-year-old Kathleen Sinclair won the girls' title while "Peewee" Brandon won the mens'.

(Children swimming at Simpson's Mill, ca. 1935. Courtesy of Guelph Public Library archive item F38-0-15-0-0-418.)

(Old Mill Swimming Pool, ca. 1935. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1985.59.3.)

Entitled "The Old Mill Swimming Pool" in local phone books, the facility continued operations for many years. Dickering with the city over water rights continued also, apparently without bearing fruit. In 1940, the city's Public Works committee recommended that the city purchase the property for a sum of about $3000 (Mercury, 7 May 1940). In the view of many aldermen (councilors), the need for the city to have a decent swimming pool was pressing and the property was well-suited for construction of one.

Ald. Wilson stated that ... “We are all agreed this is the right time. For a city of this size, we are all agreed we need a swimming pool. If we buy this, in the near future we will have a swimming pool second to none."

Although only one alderman opposed the measure, the purchase did not go through.

(Six people swimming at Simpson's Mill, ca. 1930. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 1978.38.7.)

(Detail of booklet, "Why we chose Guelph" (1945, p. 19). Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1985.82.119.)

("Speed River near Old Mill," postcard published by Photogelatine Engraving Co., Limited, Ottawa, ca. 1950.)

In 1944, Mr. Simpson died and the Old Mill became the property of Wilbert Nisbet, who had been operating it for Mr. Simpson for some years. After Mr. Nisbet's death in 1956, the city finally completed purchase of the property. It appears that the Old Mill was no longer as popular as it was and that the city did not continue to operate the pool or dance hall. In addition, construction of the Memorial Pool in Lyon Park in 1952 had satisified the city's need for a public swimming pool. Instead, the city began to make plans for a general renovation of Riverside Park and its new addition.

(Pavilion and old house at Simpson's old mill, flooded by Hurricane Hazel 1954. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 2014.84.1019.)

Even so, the Old Mill had a second act. It was rented out to the Guelph Little Theatre in 1960 (Globe, 10 September 1960). In January, 1959, the group had rented the dining hall for a party, trying to keep its membership engaged between productions. The hall was decked out to look like a Klondike saloon, apparently to suit the drafty nature of the old building. The party was a hit and the company, on the lookout for a new theatre, convinced the city to rent it to them on an ongoing basis. It was duly painted and repaired for the purpose.

(Guelph Little Theatre building (Old Mill), ca. 1960. Courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives A1985.110.)

However, the reprieve was only temporary and, after the city had decided on its plans for the new property, it lowered the curtain on the Old Mill in 1963. In its place were established the John Galt Gardens, commemorating the foundation of Guelph, and the Fire Hall, on the site of the old mill that had been destroyed in two blazes 33 years before.

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Sources consulted for this post include:

• The Guelph Evening Mercury (20 July 1927/Centennial edition, § 7), "Speedvale Mill."
• McIntosh, A.W. (1965), "Speedvale mill: A mill in Wellington County."

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It is curious that the only postcard to mention the Old Mill is the one above, which provides an image of the old suspension bridge over the Speed River at Riverside Park. Given that the Old Mill was a popular attraction, postcards that show it, and not simply a locale "near" it, would be expected.

On a related note, another run of the same postcard shows the scene a little differently. See if you can spot the difference:

I think that the first view above is correct but I am not a hundred percent sure.

In any event, the history of the Old Mill should be better known. If you have any further information about it, please let us know in the comments below. Thanks!

"Bathers of both sexes find good bathing there": Guelphites get a decent bath in Riverside Park

In his praise of the brand-new Riverside Park in 1905, the Rev. J.B. Mullen of Fergus remarked on one of its attractions:

Bathers, too, of both sexes, who have their suits, find good bathing there.  The caretaker also gives lessons in swimming.

Today, this observation seems unremarkable.  Yet, the presence of boys and girls bathing together in the Speed River was a novelty, and represents a significant change from old ways of public bathing.

As explained previously, bathing in Victorian Guelph followed an established pattern.  In the open air, bathing was enjoyed mainly by groups of young (and some older) men at any number of "swimming holes" along the rivers and creeks of the city.  In the days before indoor plumbing and air conditioning, a skinny dip in the river was a favored way to cool off and have fun with friends.  

Although this way of bathing was widely regarded as natural and healthy, it was also seen as decidedly not decent.  The nakedness of the bathers, and their vulgar language, marked them for exclusion from public view by city by-laws.  Restrictions requiring bathers to wear neck-to-knee costumes and stay away from public bridges and roadways were routinely, evenly gleefully ignored.

A more genteel form of bathing was practiced in commercial bathing houses.  In Guelph, James Hazelton's bathing house on the Speed River near the Eramosa road bridge provided baths, showers and a small pool, along with river access, in a discrete structure.  Unlike river bathing, Hazelton's bath house provided facilities for both men and women under one roof and ensured proper attire.  Although such bathing was decidedly decent, it was too expensive and meagre to lure many Guelphites away from the city's many freely available swimming holes.

Into this situation came Riverside Park in 1905.  It was founded, in part, to get more people on Guelph's streetcar system (which went right past the Park entrance) and to compensate for the lack of park space downtown (due to construction on large sections of the Market Square).  

Riverside Park was an immediate success.  In part, this was because it catered well to the leisure culture of the day, which was focussed on picnicking and related recreational activities, like strolling and boating.  Previously, these pursuits had been in the purview of private parks, like Paradise or Victoria Park on the Eramosa river. 

Unlike those private parks, Riverside Park determinedly constructed a space suitable for both men and women.  Most especially, that meant no naked bathing.  

On the face of it, this restriction should have been a challenge.  The Park had a perfect site for a conventional "swimming hole" in the form of the dam serving Simpson's Mill across the river from the Park.

Owned by J.L. Simpson, the mill stood where the Speedvale Fire Station now stands, just east of the Guelph Junction Railway tracks near Woolwich Street.  It had a dam, sited about where the current dam and bridge in Riverside Park now stand.  Upstream, the dam provided an excellent pond for casual boating.  Downstream, the dam provided a most attractive, splashy site for swimming.

Several postcards show bathers enjoying the site.

(From the Valentine & Sons Publishing Co., ca. 1910.  Note what appear to be bath houses, or changing rooms, on the shore to the left.)

(From Charles Nelles, ca. 1905.)

(From Rumsey & Co, ca. 1905.  Both postcards above show how swimmers became part of the spectacle to visitors at the Park.  Courtesy of the John Keleher collection.)

To my knowledge, postcards of Riverside Park are the only commercial postcards of Guelph that show bathers.  No doubt, this is because pictures of other public bathing sites would feature naked men and boys, which would have narrowed the market for them, not to mention being more daring than most postcard makers were prepared for.

So, although Riverside Park provided a tempting swimming hole of the old school variety, bathing was enjoyed only by those "who have their suits," in the words of Rev. Mullen.  How did this come about?

Formally, the city appointed a caretaker to look after and police the Park.  Charles Easton, who was an employee of the Radial Railway (the city streetcar) was the first person given the position.  Rev. Mullen noted that Easton gave swimming lessons at the park, suggesting that he was quite involved with the running and supervision of the swimming hole.  In that case, he could have taken pains to ensure that the dress code was observed by the swimmers.

Culturally, Riverside Park also reflects a change in bathing practices over previous generations.  Bathing had become an integral activity to late Victorian amusement parks, such as Coney Island in New York, where mixed-sex bathing became normalized.  This form of amusement ground spread to Canada through places like Hanlan's Point Beach on Toronto Island, founded by celebrity rower Ned Hanlan in the 1880s.

As such, Riverside Park was aggressively marketed to community groups.  One of the points J.W. Lyon used to sell the idea of developing the park in the first place was that it would appeal to Sunday School picnickers, for example.  Rev. Mullen of Fergus was at the park for just such an occasion.  Such groups would hardly tolerate nude bathing on the premises.

In addition, amusement grounds like Riverside Park had to be female-friendly because they were expected to draw courting couples.  Amenities such as boating, food, and a "Lovers' Lane" were made available so that women would have socially acceptable reasons to visit the park and spend money there.

(From Rumsey & Co., ca. 1905.  Curiously bereft of lovers, Lovers' Lane does feature one young man seated at a bench, perhaps wishing he was in the water.)

Indeed, the swimming hole would form yet another spectacle that courting couples, and other park visitors, could take in as a part of the experience on offer for consumption.  Postcards of the swimmers were part of, and further testimony to, this function of the bathing facility.

Again, this would be the case only if bathing suits were not optional.

As usual, written records and postcards of the swimming hole represent the views of the men involved in running them.  It is harder to find out what the women who made use of the Park thought of its bathing facilities.  However, its popularity with the fairer sex is suggested by the following item from the Mercury (24 July 1917):

Want bathing house.

 

A large number of the young ladies of the city are patronizing the swimming grounds at Riverside Park this season, and are anxious that there should be more accommodation in the line of dressing rooms.  At present there are only two very small and very cramped rooms, quite insufficient to take care of the large number of bathers.  The local mermaids have made several appeals to the street railway for dressing rooms, but so far without response.  One of the bathers stated to the Mercury today that between one hundred and one hundred and fifty were on hand last night, and great inconvenience was caused because there was not sufficient bathing house accommodation.

Though not ideal, it seems that the bathing place at Riverside Park was popular with the ladies.

As such, Riverside Park's swimming hole marks a turning point for recreation in Guelph.  It did not signify the immediate end of skinny dipping by groups of young men in the city.  However, it did show that a suitably provisioned and policed public facility could provide a viable alternative.  The change did take hold in time.  As noted in my previous post, by 1948, naked swimming in the rivers of the Royal City was but a fond memory for its male old-timers.

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The Priory—a sad ending

In his essential History of Guelph, Leo Johnson remarks that the Priory—the first house in Guelph—came to a sad ending (1977, p. 317). I have outlined the history of the Priory in an earlier post but it is worth revisiting this particular event in some detail: On the eve of the 100th anniversary of the city and the building, how was it that this historic structure was hauled away in pieces, never to be seen again?

The sad ending begins many years earlier, in 1887, when the Priory was sold to the Guelph Junction Railway (GJR). The GJR was a corporation formed in 1887 by local merchants and the city to create a transportation link to Guelph to compete with the Grand Trunk Railway, thus lowering shipping rates and costs for Guelphites and their businesses. The railway built a track from near Campbellville through the city itself. Instead of running the railway themselves, the corporation leased it to the Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR).

There had been some discussion of using the existing Grand Trunk Station downtown as a depot, thus creating a Union Station. However, the GJR instead acquired the Priory, which had been a private residence owned by David Spence. The 99-year lease to the CPR gave them the right to modify the property as necessary for the purpose of operating a station. No thought was given to what would become of the Priory in the event that the CPR no longer wanted it. Although some citizens were concerned about the erosion of links to Guelph's past and its founder, John Galt, there was no sense that preservation of certain structures for posterity was a significant project or something that might be enshrined in the city's contractual relationships, much less public policy. That proved to be fateful for the Priory.

The Priory's previous owners had created quite a park around the structure. The grounds featured a variety of flower and vegetable gardens, with paths in between. In the gardens could be found gooseberries, apples and plums, including the "Glass seedling plum" developed by David Allan's gardener, Alex Glass (Mercury, 5 Feb. 1955). Iris, narcissus and tulips were grown beside the main path, and the greenhouse featured several rare plants, including Spanish grapes.

The Mercury records the suggestion that the grounds be maintained in order to beautify the station and gratify visitors to Guelph (4 July 1888):

The Priory Trees.—The attention of the directors of the Guelph junction might be called to the need of caring for the valuable trees on the Priory lot. Owing to the grove being completely open from the track, but secluded by the clothes fence, from the street, young vandals have taken advantage of this license and have stripped three white birch trees of their bark. No grove perhaps in the city for its size contains more valuable specimens of choice trees there being 15 varieties of evergreens alone. It is a beautiful spot and will make a very comfortable resting place for travelers, and if thrown open for the benefit of the public would give them a nice park also. A fence behind the station along the track, with footpath through and seats round would put it under the protection of every citizen, and all would feel a just pride in preserving the small but valuable park.

In the end, most of the gardens, paths, and other features were removed to accommodate the tracks, platform, and access to Priory Street. Although the CPR was not wantonly destructive, neither was it much interested in the maintenance of gardens or the provision a civic park. As a result, the Priory did not receive "the protection of every citizen."

During the "golden" age of postcards in the early 20th century, the Priory was one of the most popular postcard views of Guelph. One particular image, taken from the east where Macdonell Street meets the Speed, is likely the most common Guelph postcard ever made. Here is the version of this image as produced by the Pugh Manufacturing Co. of Toronto.

This view shows the building as it appeared around 1900. With its contrasting colors, it nicely picks up the details in the building, including the Virginia creeper growing over much of its exterior.

Although the caption on this card says only, "C.P.R. Station, Guelph", captions of many cards from other companies often note that it was also the first house in Guelph and once the home of John Galt. Messages on these cards often mention the Priory, as in the following example from a card printed by the A.L. Merrill Co. of Toronto, sent in 1908:

I know you like historic buildings. This is the first house that was built in Guelph. It is about one hundred years old now. The C.P.R. use it as a station on account of it being the first house. they are not allowed to pull it down. J. M.

(Courtesy of John Parkyn.) It is interesting that Joe Merlihan (J.M.) remarked on the possible demolition of the Priory, since that had already become an issue of much discussion.

Before proceeding with that matter, I want to put up an unusual postcard that shows the Priory from across the Speed. This postcard was printed in the format of a bookmark and thus provides a panoramic view of the building and its surroundings at another point in its career as a CPR station.

This card was published by Rumsey and Co. of Toronto, around 1910. The photo reveals the screen of trees behind the building that still separated it somewhat from the downtown behind it. Note also the locomotive on the tracks to the right.

It would also help to have a bird's eye view of the Priory and its surroundings. No postcard or other such image survives, that I know of. However, one can be concocted by taking a satellite view of the vicinity from Google Maps and overlaying an early survey of the Priory and neighboring lots done by Captain Strange (and copied in 1957 by Mr. Shoemaker, a surveyor; University of Guelph Archives XR1 MS A379094). The outline of the Priory is emphasized by a black box with its porch facing the Speed.

I adjusted the overlay by locating two fixed points: The first is the bend of Woolwich Street immediately east of Thorp Street (Woolwich used to bend south there instead of north); the second is the location of the bridge at Allan's Dam, where the railway bridge was later constructed. The result is a rough-and-ready map of the Priory. The bulk of the Priory's plan is now under Woolwich Street with the porch to the north of the sidewalk, facing the metal canoe in John Galt Park. The map helps to give a sense of the scale of the building and its grounds, the latter comprising all the lots between Priory Street and the Speed River on the map.

Progress soon made the Priory seem obsolete as a railway station. In 1904, the CPR began construction of the Guelph to Goderich Railway, at the behest of the GJR. It was proposed that Priory be razed and replaced by a larger and more modern building as a part of this project (Johnson 1977, p. 318). Although the cost of $40,000 proved prohibitive, the proposal brought the matter to a head. Many residents viewed the Priory as something of a relic, one that seemed increasingly shabby and out-of-place in modern Guelph. Others viewed it as a significant connection with the Royal City's past. Even the Mercury, normally a voice for progress, urged that the old place be preserved (Mercury, 4 June 1904):

And, by the way, now that C.P.R. extension is in the air and a new station is talked of, what is to become of the old Priory? If the citizens of Guelph have any respect at all for, and pride in, the city’s history, they will see that this historical building is preserved intact. Would it not be a good idea to place it on rollers and remove it to the Exhibition grounds, to be used as a museum, containing interesting relics of Guelph, and including such old pictures as are now available.

Since the CPR's lease seemed to give them a free hand, the obvious way to save the Priory was to move it to another site. Buildings were moved around regularly in that era, so the scheme raised no technical problems. However, the notion of a historic park where old buildings might be located was, so far as I know, a novelty. Would it attract much support?

One important supporter of preservation was brewer George Sleeman. In 1905, then-Mayor Sleeman received a letter from one Gilbert Campbell, a Scottish fan of John Galt. In the letter, Mr. Campbell asked for confirmation of a story that had reached his ear to the effect that Guelphites proposed to destroy Galt's old residence. He offered a photo of Galt's birthplace in exchange for a photo (perhaps a postcard?) of the Priory. The Mercury (16 Oct. 1905) printed the letter along with the following observation:

His worship the mayor is one of the many citizens who hope that the old landmark will not be disturbed. He will acquaint to Mr. Campbell of the present situation.

In 1908, the CPR agreed to deputations from Guelph City Council urging them to build a new, better station in the town (Johnson 1977, p. 318). Construction of the new station in Trafalgar Square by the Eramosa Road bridge began in 1910. Their plans for the Priory site no longer included the building. Instead, they had plans to construct a short spur line and some pens and storage sheds at that location.

The crisis point was reached in 1911, upon completion of the new station. A letter from Donald Guthrie, a local lawyer, addressed to the Board of the GJR explains the situation (8 July 1911; UoG Archives XR1 MS A801—box 16, file 10). He explains that, in his opinion, the Priory is the property of the GJR and the CPR's lease does not entitle them to demolish or sell the structure. He reports that Mr. Oborne, Superintendent of the CPR, did not agree and said that, notwithstanding this news, the Company would demolish the building if it were not removed within a week! Mr. Guthrie advised that while the GJR could sue the CPR, it might be more expedient for Sleeman to contact Oborne personally to discuss the matter, as Sleeman was a prominent local customer of theirs.

Sleeman and the other Parks Commissioners explored numerous options. One scheme was to transport the building to Riverside Park. However, the cost estimate of $500 was more than could be mustered without help from either the CPR or the City Council, both unlikely. Besides,the building might not even fit under the streetcar wires on Woolwich Street.

Another scheme was to move the Priory a short distance back into Priory Park (the current location of the Blacksmith Fountain). However, the City Board of Works would not issue a permit to allow the move, a decision that the police promised to enforce (Mercury, 19 July 1911).

The CPR refused another suggestion to allow the building to be moved to the empty southwest corner of their site.

The situation provoked much popular discussion, much of it negative. Consider the following reports in the Mercury (26 July 1911):

All kinds of opinions continue to be expressed regarding the old building. Mr. C.J. Eisle was of the opinion that if its disposition were referred to the people they would 99 out of every hundred vote for its destruction. Six or seven men passed him when the fire bell rang the other day, and for fun he told him the fire was at the old C.P.R. station. In each case they expressed the hope that it was. This was Mr. Eisle’s method of taking a plebiscite. These opinions are in accordance with that of a prominent manufacturer, said if the disposal of the building were left to him he would put a stick of dynamite under it and blow it up.

Another wag suggested that it be taken to St. George's Square, halved in size, and used as a comfort station for streetcar passengers there.

The City's Finance Committee recommended a grant of $500 for removal of the Priory to Riverside Park. However, this proposal was flatly rejected by City Council in a session that featured "fireworks" (Mercury, 19 Aug. 1911):

Ald. Penfold was not a bit backward in stating his objections to any grant, in fact he was very much opposed to it. “The idea,” said the alderman, “of spending that amount of money for the removal of a few rotten logs! Why the idea is preposterous, and not to be thought of at all.”

Others objected that the shabby building would discredit the city and its citizens if displayed prominently in a city park:

Aldermen Calvert came back with a remark that if it was erected on the Priory Park site it would look like a man with a black eye.

Finally, the controversy also revealed a division along class lines. Most of the advocates for relocation of the Priory were wealthy and prominent men. Many citizens found the whole scheme evidence of how misguided and out-of-touch their wealthy patricians could be:

Alderman Howard was decidedly opposed to the removal of the building to Riverside Park. ”It is ridiculous,” said the alderman. ”I have interviewed a great number of the ratepayers, and not a single man has said that he was in favor of the project. The majority of them had said to tear it down. Furthermore, the council has no right to be dictated to by a few people who have a lot of money.”

City Council refused the grant. So, the ball landed squarely in George Sleeman's court. Sleeman had in the meantime purchased the building from the GJR and spent $300 on preparations for its relocation. He now contacted Mr. Oborne again and convinced him to allow the Priory to be relocated at the back of their site. It was relocated behind the Priory Hotel, on a laneway from Woolwich Street (as it was then) to Priory Street, roughly where the Supreme Car Wash stands on Woolwich Street today. The CPR had no immediate plans for that particular part of the site. Their condition on this agreement was that the Priory would be removed within 30 days of the CPR notifying Mr. Sleeman at some future time (2 Sept. 1911; UoG Archives XR1 MS A801—box 16, file 10).

The Mercury heaved a sigh of relief. On 29 Sept. 1911, a headline read, "Fate of the old Priory at last determined." However, the old building had merely been granted a reprieve. Also, dismantling of the structure had begun. Oddly, George Sleeman had the two side wings of the Priory removed and taken to his property on Waterloo Avenue, there erected as an independent structure (Mercury, 28 Aug 1911). Is was only the remainder of the building that was moved to the rear of the CPR grounds. It is unclear why Sleeman made this move. Perhaps it was the only way for the building to fit into the space made available by the CPR. Perhaps, seeing that the Priory was not out of danger, he had removed as much of it as he could afford to. In any event, the signs were not good.

Without anyone to maintain it, the Priory fell into disrepair and increasingly became an eyesore. It acquired the bad habit of catching fire, which it did at least three times in 1922 (Mercury, 27 Sep. 1922). That same year, members the City Parks and Buildings Committee asked the Council for some money to purchase the Priory from Sleeman with a view to moving it to Riverside Park, apparently in connection with a dam to be constructed there to make a swimming pool. Once again, the money was not forthcoming.

In 1923, the Guelph law firm of Guthrie & Kerwin corresponded with the CPR, suggesting that the railway lease the land on which the Priory then sat to the city, so that they could make a small park around it (31 July 1923; UoG Archives XR1 MS A801—box 16, file 10). Although CPR Superintendent Rutter confirmed that the company had no plans for that location, they were not willing to lease it out. The building caught on fire once again (Mercury, 28 Sep. 1923). At that point, the Fire Chief Knighton expressed the view that the ruin had become a fire hazard to the other buildings around it.

In 1924, the City Council consulted with Wellington Thompson of Huntsville, an expert on log cabin construction, for his opinion on whether or not a memorial to the building could be built in Riverside Park with the salvageable logs from the Priory (Toronto Globe; 29 May 1924). He expressed the view that a small model of 18 by 22 feet might be erected. The work was never carried out but the incident shows that the Council had given up on the idea of saving the whole structure.

In 1926, George Scroggie, building inspector for the City's Public Works Committee, was instructed to assess the remains of the Priory (Mercury, 2 March 1926). He reported that it should be condemned:

I have examined the building as requested and found it to be in a very bad repair. The roof has fallen in, adding to the danger of complete collapse, as the pressure on some parts of the log walls is now outward. As there has been considerable talk about the restoring of this structure, I have hesitated up to this time to condemn it, but the time has come when something must be done, and I would urge that it be torn down as soon as possible.

The Mercury published the following photo of the old derelict (16 March 1926):

On 4 May 1926, the Priory was demolished (Toronto Globe, 5 May 1926). Salvaged logs were stored at Robert Stewart's Lumber Company on Cardigan Street (KW Record, 22 Feb. 1958), the idea being to use them to construct a model replica of the Priory in Riverside Park the next year for Guelph's Centennial celebrations (Mercury, 21 Dec. 1926). However, the scheme was not carried out. The Priory was then just a memory.

It is certainly curious that Guelph's oldest building, and one associated so closely with the city's founder, came to such a sad ending. It is especially poignant that it was demolished on the eve of its 100th anniversary, when there was to be a celebration of the city's history. To understand this outcome, it may help to compare the Priory to other buildings that have been preserved.

Consider Zavitz Hall on the University of Guelph campus. When slated for demolition, Zavitz Hall was occupied by the Fine Art Department, for which no other accommodation existed. By contrast, the Priory was an empty shell, and one slated for replacement by the CPR not long after the Railway occupied the building. Also, whereas Zavitz Hall contributed positively to the space of Branion Plaza, the Priory was widely seen as an isolated relic shorn of the gardens of its former residents.

Importantly, supporters of the Priory lost the political battle to save it. Prominent political figures such as George Sleeman worked to preserve the building but were unable to raise sufficient money to carry out their plans. Many of the Aldermen and much of the electorate saw the scheme as the pet project of an elite out of touch with the priorities on the man in the street.

This last point is perhaps crucial. In the case of Zavitz Hall, supporters could articulate a vision for the future of the University in which the building played an important part: in making Branion Plaza a pleasant space, in honoring the significance of Charles Zavitz, and in respecting the achievements of the Fine Art Department. By contrast, would-be saviors of the Priory had difficulty making a similar case for it. The Priory had become a "black eye" that evoked no sympathy. Its association with John Galt was of little moment because, I suspect, most Guelphites knew little of or cared very much for Galt and knew the Priory mainly as an inadequate railway building, recently deprived of even that function.

The concept of using the Priory as museum and a tourist attraction was perhaps ahead of its time. As Guelphites grew tired of the building, some out-of-town newspapers expressed admiration for it and its historical associations, suggesting that the scheme was not hopeless. However, it seemed to make little sense to citizens of the Royal City at the time. Things changed dramatically by the end of World War II, as evidenced by the development of the John McCrae Memorial Garden and house as tourist attractions at that time.

Indeed, the Priory was later resurrected in various ways for this purpose. However, that is a story for another time.

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Thanks to the folks at the University of Guelph Archives for help in locating documents for this post!

Riverside Park's 110th anniversary

On 24 May 1905 (Victoria Day), thousands of Guelphites headed up Woolwich St. to their new playground, a park by the side of the river Speed. Many took the handy streetcar, which stopped by the entrance to the park. Only a year before, the place had been a private farm belonging to Alfred Lace. However, the city had managed to purchase the property with a view to turning it into a park. The citizens of Guelph were on their way to experience it and render their verdict.

According to the Mercury the next day, Guelphites were impressed by what they found. The park was not complete. Trees and undergrowth had been cleared but many of the planned amenities were not yet in place. However, the beauty and potential of the site were widely appreciated:

The promise is that when in shape it will prove a very popular resort for citizens, will aid in increasing the number of excursionists who visit Guelph, and will prove profitable to the city, aside from the additional earnings it will make for the street railway. Invariably yesterday’s visitors expressed themselves as pleased with the park and its promise as a pleasure resort.

The people were happy and receipts for the street railway were up. Indeed, the Mercury reported, the street railway carried 1109 more passengers than on Victoria Day the previous year.

What led the Royal City to buy the grounds and construct the park? Why had it bought land in that location, then north of the city limits, and not elsewhere? The answer is complex but centers on the prominent Guelph businessman J. W. Lyon.

According to the The Canadian Album (1891, p. 230), James Walter Lyon was born in Uniondale, Susquehanna Co., Pa., in 1848. He found his calling in business early on:

At age nineteen he left home to canvass for books in Michigan, and at twenty-two he had made and saved ten thousand dollars. He was then taken into partnership by his employer, O. A. Browning, of Toledo, Ohio, and in 1872 they opened a branch of the business in Canada, which proved a great success.

The Canadian office was sited in Guelph. According to the Historical Atlas of the County of Wellington (1906), Lyon liked what he saw in Canada and in the Royal City. In 1874, he sold off his interest in the US company and bought out his partner's interest in the Canadian branch, renaming it the "World Publishing Company". The new name was well chosen: The World Publishing Company became a global success with branches in Australia, South Africa, East and West Indies, and South America. Although book printing was carried out in Toronto, the head office, and J. W. Lyon, as he was always known, stayed in Guelph.

(J. W. Lyon, Historical Atlas of the County of Wellington, 1906)

Besides his publishing empire, Lyon became a highly successful real estate developer. He bought and sold land throughout the US and Canada. Partridge (1992) notes that Lyon bought about 400 acres in the area of York and Victoria roads in Guelph and donated the sites to manufacturers for development. He bought and upgraded John Hogg's old pile at 67 Queen Street, which he named "Wyoming" after the Wyoming Valley in Pennsylvania where he grew up. All his enterprises were blessed with success and he became Guelph's first millionaire. The stretch of Queen Street where he lived was sometimes known as "Millionaires' Row".

Lyon was also Commissioner of the Guelph Radial Railway Company (the streetcar) and keen on its development. Built originally by the brewer George Sleeman, the streetcar system was running well but had not yet become a money-maker. Lyon realized that part of the problem was the limitation of its clientele. The streetcars helped Guelphites commute to work and got students up College hill to the O.A.C. and back. To make money, the streetcar needed to attract new ridership and also to increase business on its northern route, which ended at the Woodlawn Cemetery, hardly a big draw although, of course, people were dying to go there. Besides, it needed more ridership during down times like evenings and weekends.

Lyon saw an opportunity and announced it in a letter to the editor of the Mercury (14 Oct. 1904):

New Park
Scheme for obtaining one proposed by Mr. Lyon

To the editor of the Mercury:
Dear Sir, —Myself and my Directors are extremely anxious to make the Guelph Radial Railway a success, financially as well as the means to recreation for the people of Guelph. ... The trouble with our line, however, is that it starts nowhere and goes nowhere, or, as it is said with a smile, “from the brewery to the cemetery.” The College end is satisfactory, and we desire to make the opposite end, up the Elora Road, equally satisfactory and profitable. With that in view, we have obtained an option on the Alfred Lace property—two properties, five acres and nine and a half acres. By acquiring this we would have a splendid outside park, excellently adapted for Sunday school and other picnics, well timbered, fronting about a quarter of a mile on the river Speed, and the dam for Pipe’s Mill furnishing boating and bathing, an ideal ground for all sports, games, amusements and band stand, an added attraction being an excellent spring of water.
...

A park would address both issues at once: It would create an attraction on an underperforming route and lure picnickers, especially Sunday school children, as passengers into the system. The new park could help put the streetcar in the black.

The problem, as Lyon realized, was that the development would cost a fair amount of money. The option obtained by the directors put the price of the land at $3,200. That would be a large sum for the city and would be seen as extravagant by some ratepayers. He raised a number of arguments to make his case.

• The first point, of course, was that it would make the streetcar profitable. In 1903, the city had bought the streetcar system from investors for $30,000 and assumed liability for its debt of $48,000 (Mills 2010, p. 185). So, the sooner it made money, the better it would be for the taxpayers.
  
• Lyon noted that the city was losing its park land downtown. Guelph had recently sold part of the Market grounds to the Canadian government for the construction of the Armory. Also, the Grand Trunk Railway was in the process of expropriating Jubilee Park, a public park where the VIA station now stands. There was a need for new park land and it seemed only fair, argued Lyon, that the money from these sales should go to the establishment of a new park.
  

In a second letter to the editor of the Mercury (30 Dec. 1904), Lyon made further points in answer to his critics.

• For example, he argued that the new park would put Guelph ahead of its regional rivals, especially Berlin (now Kitchener):
  

  In my opinion the natural features are superior to those of the celebrated park in Berlin. The Berlin people talk of the money they make out of the Guelph people. Let us make some money out of Berlin and other towns, and get a double fare out of the June excursionists; when they have seen the College, then take them to the park.
  

  The park that he does not dignify with a name is likely Riverside Park in Bridgeport, built in 1902 as an attraction for patrons of the Berlin and Bridgeport Street Railway.
  
• Lyon also noted that the park would be serviced by the existing streetcar system. This would save the city the thousands of dollars it would cost to build a new route to some other destination and provide more cars and employees to run it.
  
• He also rejected the argument that the city should wait until it could buy build a park at Puslinch Lake. The city of Guelph was very interested in developing a recreational park at the Lake, and businessmen like Lyon and George Sleeman had bought property there. However, Lyon noted that it would take a great deal more money, and many more years, for such a project to materialize. (It never did.) The new park on the Lace property could be opened in a few months.
  

Besides, Lyon reiterated the beauty and allure of the site.

In the end, Lyon took matters into his own hands. With the option to buy the Lace property nearing its end, and the City council waiting to hold a referendum on the matter, Lyon simply bought it (21 Nov. 1904). If the city supported its purchase, they could have it at cost. Otherwise, he could sell it to other interested parties, of whom there were several by then. The bylaw to purchase the property was passed and the city bought it from Lyon. Lyon was made the Chairman of the parks board and put in charge of the park's development.

On Victoria Day, 1905, the park opened and was another success for Lyon. The postcard below, published shortly after the opening of the Park for A. B. Petrie, shows its main entrance off the Elora Road (now the northern section of Woolwich St.).

Note the small signs on either side of the main "Riverside Park" marquee. They say, "No driving allowed." It was decided that people could not drive their own vehicles (horse- or motor-powered) into the park (Mercury, 13 June 1905). Perhaps Lyon wanted to spare patrons the need to dodge horses or their droppings. Or, perhaps this was his way of encouraging them to take the streetcar.

Lyon proceeded with the planned improvements. The first improvement was a box of monkeys. That was evidently Mayor Sleeman's idea (Mercury, 13 June 1905):

Swings and other facilities will be pushed forward and, as a special treat for the children, Chairman Lyon was empowered to purchase a cage of monkeys. No restrictions as to color, breed, or behavior were laid upon the chairman. The Mayor spoke of his experience when he had a monkey: it was a trade winner from the word go.

Six monkeys—four ringtails and two rhesus monkeys—arrived from New York on 22 June. They were to be fed bread, fruits and nuts but no meat. They were kept in their shipping box until their cage was completed. The monkeys were the beginning of the zoo that featured in the park for many years.

In an early instance of crowdsourcing, the board decided to hold a contest to find an official name for the new park. The Mercury had been calling it the "New Park", the "Street Railway Park" and "Riverside Park" but nothing had been made official. The Mercury announced the contest on 23 June, soliciting entries especially from school children and offering a book of streetcar tickets as a prize. The contest drew an enthusiastic response and the Mercury printed many of the suggestions received by Mr. Hackney, the manager of the streetcar system (16, 17, 19, & 22 June). The suggestions revealed many ideas about how to name the place:

• Honor (or flattery): Lyon Park, Lyon's Park, Lyondale, Lyonhead, Lyonville, Lyon Valley, Lyon Hurst, Lyon Lane, Lyoneese, Lyon's Cliff, Car Lyon, and Hackneydale.
  
• Scenery: Speedview Park, Speedvale Park, Speedside, Speed River, Ferndale, River View, Lakeview, Cedar, Elmdale, Forest Nook, Woodlawn, Woodview, Woodland, Springdale, Cedarvale, Pipe's Dam, Edgewater, Bush, and, of course, Riverside.
  
• Loyalty: King Edward Park, Royal City Park, The King's Park, Alexandra, Hanover, Park Royal, Commonwealth, Gotha, Princess, Balmoral, Sandringham, Kensington, and Maple Leaf.
  
• Romance: Inverlea Park, Saltaire Park, Wausakasene ("by the side of the river"), Kill Kare, Gretna Green, Lover's Rest, and Restormal.
  
• Whimsical: Eureka Park, Ideal Park, Madeline Square Garden, Sans Souci, Mikado, Spurliner's, Line Rhine, Uneeda Rest, Minnetonka, and Togo.
  

The selection was announced in the Mercury (11 July) with a brief note: "'Riverside Park' is the name selected for the street railway park." With so many other Ontario cities like Berlin establishing a "Riverside Park", it seems that Guelph would not be left out.

(The date 11 July is sometimes given as the official opening of the Park. The Mercury contains only a brief mention of the naming and nothing else. Perhaps we could say that this date was its christening.)

The Park proved quite popular. On 6 July, "practically" the first concert was given by the Guelph Musical Society in the new bandstand (Mercury, 7 July 1905). Over 2,000 people were on hand, and the streetcars were packed. Mr. Hackney estimated that one-third more people wanted to use the streetcars but could not due to limited capacity. Lyon and the other directors must have been smiling.

Riverside Park was meant not only for the comfort of Guelphites but also to impress out-of-towners. This it seemed to do. The Mercury (25 Aug. 1905) printed an except from a letter by Rev. J. B. Mullan of Fergus to the Fergus News-Record giving his assessment in a suitably ministerial tenor. The account tells us about the Park's facilities, both present and lacking, as people of the time saw them:

The Riverside Park will yet be an ideal one. The Radial Company, who own it, are determined to make it the most attractive of all the parks in neighboring towns and villages, such as Stanley at Erin, or Idlewyld in Hespeler, or the still more famous one in Berlin. There are fifteen acres in it, and the Company are about to add as many more to it, most of which is composed of rock and hill, and dell and stream and river, and wood and spring—features of natural scenery which will yet make it, with the help of taste and money, an ideal park. Already there is a large refreshment of ice-cream building, a splendid band stand, a never failing spring, a museum, a number of swings, and many fine rustic seats. Bathers, too, of both sexes, who have their suits, find good bathing there. The caretaker also gives lessons in swimming. There is a large stretch of water, too, above the dam, for boating, but the Company have not yet supplied the boats. There are one or two features of the Park which I do not care about. The merry-go-round and the shooting gallery should not be there, as the children and young people are tempted to spend too much of their money. One of the attractions of Idlwyld, Hespeler, is that they have all the dishes you need for a large picnic, and you can have the use of them for a few cents; but at Riverside there are no dishes, and no place round where you can borrow any. We had all the trouble of bringing them from the city. These defects will be supplied through time. Rome was not built in a day, neither can you make a Park in a year. It is a slow growth like the oak. We met, however, with such kindness and consideration at the hands of all the officials of the G.T.R., the trolley, and the Park, that we feel that if spared, we would like to go back with all the Sabbath schools—a big union picnic next year. In conclusion, permit me in kindness to any who are about to visit the Park, to utter this warning—Beware of the wasps.

Note that the Reverend also declines to name the park in Berlin! Did non-Berliners have to spit on the ground if they said it?

Below is a postcard published ca. 1910 by the Valentine & Sons Publishing company. It shows several youngsters enjoying a swim in the Speed at the park. (Or, are they fleeing the wasps?) The photo may have been taken from on top of the dam of the Speedvale Mill.

It looks very refreshing, an impression helped by the watery palate chosen by the colourizer.

Besides the facilities of 1905, we gain an insight into the activities of well-heeled picnickers in Riverside Park from a detailed article in the Mercury (28 Aug. 1905) describing the First Annual Picnic of the Commercial Travellers' Association, that is, men who travelled frequently in pursuit of their business. The group was well connected, as Mayor Sleeman, M.P.P. J. P. Downey, and M.P. Hugh Guthrie were all in attendance.

The picnic was highly organized by the Association's picnic committees, and nearly every member and his family attended, making nearly three hundred in all. The affair began with a series of games and athletic contests:

The proceedings commenced shortly after three o’clock, when the married men essayed to down the single men at baseball, but the job was too much for them and they gave it up after three innings. The score resulted 6-4 in favor of the single men.

In defense of married men, I should point out that single men tend to be younger.

Next came the foot races, with separate events for boys under 10, girls under 10, boys under 16, girls under 16, young women, single men, married men, and fat men. The victory of "Jock" Smith in the fat men's race is described in some detail.

After a men's and a ladies' egg race, the events became more gender specific. The men ran a backward race and a sack race. The ladies ran a "soap race" and a "tack and hammer race". A soap race at a Toronto Retail Grocers' picnic in 1896 is described as follows:

There were 22 entries for the soap race, ranging in age from girls of 17 to women of 50. The conditions of the race were that each woman was to run 100 yards, picking up a bar of soap every 10 yards, and carrying all her soap in an apron to the finish. The stumbling and falling of the women in their attempts to pick up the soap as they ran, was indeed funny "for the spectators."

In the tack and hammer race, the women had to hammer sixteen nails into a box.

Then came the "thread and needle race". This race was mixed gender and probably similar to the following event held on a British steamship in 1902:

... the thread & needle is good fun. The gentlemen race from one end of the ship with a needle in one hand to a lady with thread & she must thread the needle for him with one hand before he can start back again - they get so excited they cannot hold the needle still & the lady keeps missing the eye & all scream & laugh together.

To make it more interesting, the Association appears to have reversed the gender roles with the ladies running and the men trying to thread the needles.

At six o'clock, everyone sat down in the Pavilion for a "sumptuous tea" provided by the Kandy Kitchen, followed by several speeches. The speakers praised the Association, its members, their families, and the British Empire for furnishing them with so many possibilities for travel and business. Some remarks made by Hugh Guthrie, the M.P., would sound a little peculiar today:

They were the great channel of distribution of home and foreign made goods, and Mr. Guthrie paid high tribute to the colonizing power of Great Britain, whose trade followed the flag. Especially in newer Canada did the commercial men make trade bound forward; they were all proud of the commercial standing of Canada. To a marked degree, the commercial travellers were “the men behind the gun.” The present age would hardly permit of the simple, quiet life; it was more nearly a case of the survival of the fittest, and Canada and Canada’s travellers, employers, and capitalists were no laggards.

He wished them all "health, happiness, and contentment—and higher emoluments", which they met with applause. After more teasing and eulogizing, the evening wrapped up with an auction of wheelbarrows and boxes from the wheelbarrow race ("in which the contestants had to wheel home a box which persisted in slipping off"). Each box contained "some useful article", including an "all day sucker", from the Kandy Kitchen, I assume. Exhausted and amused, the picnickers then headed for the streetcars.

The next day, 29 August, a fireworks display was held (Mercury, 30 Aug. 1905). Somewhere between 2,500 and 3,000 people attended. It lasted from 8 o'clock to past nine and brought the summer park season to a close with a bang.

As J. W. Lyon had predicted, the park helped the streetcar finally to turn a profit. The net take for the 1905 financial year was $1,915.71, much better than the net loss of $2,378.80 the previous year (Mercury, 7 Nov. 1905). Receipts were up 30% over the previous year, which Mr. Hackney put down to the opening of the park. Lyon's gamble, if that's what it was, had paid off.

Riverside Park continues to be a fixture in the social life of Guelph. Its continued popularity is a legacy of several aspects of the Edwardian city. First, it is a monument of sorts to the long-vanished streetcar system. Streetcar technology had made it possible to move large enough numbers of people to and from this location outside of town cheaply and efficiently. Second, it testifies to the prosperity and growth of the city. Guelph now had enough citizens with sufficient income and leisure time to support a park built especially for their amusement. Third, Riverside Park is the legacy of J. W. Lyon, whose business acumen and civic boosterism made it possible.

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I have yet to find a map of the interior of Riverside Park in its early days. However, its initial boundaries are included in the Historical Atlas of the County of Wellington (1906). See the detail below.

The entrance was evidently in about the same location as today, at the south end of the lot on Woolwich. The solid black square above the word "Riverside" is the location of the Lace house, which remains in that place today as a park office.

Compare the detail above with the satellite image below, from Google Earth, with the original park boundaries marked by white lines.

The floral clock

The city of Guelph has a fair number of parks, each with different attractions and amenities.  One of those attractions is the Floral Clock, located in Riverside Park.  Have a look:

What time was it?  I make it out as 3:32pm.

On the back, the image is credited to "L. F. Charter, R.R. 4, Picton, Ontario", while the printing process is described as "Spectrome color, Wilson, Dryden Ont.".  The label correctly identifies the image as that of "The Floral Clock, Riverside Park, Guelph, Ontario, Canada".

According to Paul Lavoie's "The Floral Clock in Riverside Park" (vol. 19, 1980), the floral clock is the work of John "Jock" Clark, who was the Park Administrator and servant of the City from 1948 until his death in 1973.  He was born at Crail Fife in Scotland on September 3, 1914, which would account for the nickname "Jock".

Besides his talents as a public servant, Jock was also a determined clock enthusiast.  The article notes that he had a hobby of collecting old clocks from various places while he was a young sailor.  Three years in the planning, the Floral Clock was installed in 1954.  The clock's face is 28' or about 8.5m across and requires the planting of about 6000 flowers and other plants, which are renewed each year.

The clock mechanism itself testifies to careful design.  The hands have (still?) an aluminum base balanced by a hidden steel plate and weigh 420 lbs (ca. 190 kg) when laden with 120 or so plants and soil.  The clock is set at a 27 degree angle, requiring the weight of the plants to be carefully balanced if the hands are to be able to turn through a full circle.  The challenges of running an accurate clock out-of-doors in all weather were also carefully considered (p. 74):

Jock's clocks were made to withstand climatic changes and Guelph's floral clock runs continually, summer and winter. The hands of the clock are run by a small one-quarter-horsepower motor. They are supported by a granite centre base to keep dirt off and the whole clock face is tile drained to prevent washout. To adjust the time, the motor is simply speeded up or slowed down accordingly.

To serve as an accurate timekeeper the clock has a reduction drive from an electric motor to the hands. This drive comprises a belt drive to a double reduction gear box, a worm wheel reducer from the gear box to a shaft which directly supports the minute hand and a first spur gear reduction train from the second shaft to a hollow shaft co-axial with the first shaft, the hollow shaft supporting the hour hand. The minute hand is twelve feet six inches in length and the hour hand is nine feet six inches.

Although it was inspired by a floral clock constructed in Edinburgh, Jock's design had the distinction of being much larger and was indeed patented (No. 64741) at the time.


Every spring, the clock face is re-planted to a special theme.  For example, in 1976, it was planted to honour the Montreal Olympics that took place that year.  In 1977, it commemorated the 150th anniversary of the City of Guelph.  The rim around the clock face often carries a slogan at the bottom and the current date at the top.  Neither feature is visible in the postcard above, but they can be observed in this Flickr photo by Victor Mazar:

The slogan is, "Making a difference" and the date of the photo was "June 9, 2008".  The then-new City of Guelph logo is visible on the clock face.  Note that the clock has gone from Roman numerals (in the postcard) to Arabic ones.

Because of tree plantings, it can be a little difficult to see the clock from Woolwich St.  Here is the best Google Streetview image that is available at present:


View Larger Map

The postcard has a smudged cancellation mark of June or July of 1964 and is addressed to "Miss Jaclyn O'Dell, 9 Dewey St., Sayville, N.Y., USA", Sayville being a small town on Long Island.  The message, scrawled in a broad hand, appears to read as follows:

Hi Sweethart,
hop this card find you in fine helth and good cheer as I am fine.  Wish you where here to help me out.
Uncle [?] Marshall

The "I am fine, wish you were here" expression is a standard sentiment for postcards later in the 20th century (and today), as explained in this British "Phrase finder":

'Wish you were here' has long been expressed in letters home by people on holiday. It is most often associated with postcards though. ...
The 'wish you were here' sentiment soon became a cliché and appeared on a high percentage of cards, often preceded by 'having a lovely time'. So much so that cards became available with the text pre-printed.

The text may be somewhat clichéd, but Marshall has added some personal touches, addressing his niece as "sweethart" and wishing for her help with some task that had apparently taken him to Guelph from New York.  I imagine that she was happy to have her uncle connect with her this way.

On April 23, 1827, John Galt and company founded the city by felling a maple tree near a bend in the Speed River.  On the next day, Robert Thompson relates how a clock, in the form of a sundial, was placed on the stump of that tree (p. 2):

The stump was afterwards fenced round, neatly leveled and dressed on the top, and a sun-dial placed on it, which answered as the town clock for several years.

So, I think that the floral clock is a very suitable centerpiece for a Guelph park as well as an appropriate monument to "Jock" Clark.