Better late than never: The Dundas bridge arrives in Guelph

There is an old expresson about a bridge too far. However, a bridge can also be too late, as suggested by the telegram sent by Donald Guthrie, then Guelph's solicitor, to the G. & J. Brown Manufacturing Company of Belleville (Mercury, 2 February 1892):

To G. & J. Brown, Mfg. Co., Belleville.
Do you intend to furnish the bridge to the city, and when. Answer immediately.
Don. Guthrie,
City Solicitor.

Reply:
D. Guthrie.
City Solicitor:
Your bridge will be shipped this week without fail.
W.H. Lee.

The City of Guelph had contracted the previous July with the Belleville Bridge Company (as G. & J. were also known) for an up-to-date iron bridge over the Speed River, to replace its venerable but also decrepit predecessor as a vital link between the Royal City and destinations like Hamilton to its south. Having dismantled the old span and installed piers and footings for the new one, Guelphites waited impatiently for the star of the show to arrive.

The move was not without controversy. For one thing, the contract had been let by the council without competition, prompting accusations of shady dealing. A $2,000 contract was a large sum to pay out without tenders. Also, several observers were concerned that the stonework for the bridge's foundation was not sufficient, and no city inspectors were reviewing the work. Would the bridge be set up only to sink into the Speed?

Would it arrive at all? Delivery was expected in December 1891 but the month passed with no bridge in sight. Even in the days before Amazon, this sort of delay was not acceptable. As the end of January, 1892, came into view, the Mercury editor wrote (26 January), tongue in cheek, that residents of Brooklyn, the part of town south of the Speed, was considering separating from Guelph and instituting a ferry service across the river. In general, grumbling about having to detour into town via Gow's Bridge was getting louder and the city fathers were feeling the heat; thus the telegram.

Happily, the ironwork for the bridge arrived in February and the new Dundas Bridge was open for traffic by the end of the month. The link knitted back together the sinews of the town that were strained in its absence.

("George Sleeman, 190?." Courtesy of Guelph Public Library F38-0-4-0-0-2.)

A fitting test of the new structure was soon made by Mayor George Sleeman, owner of the Sleeman brewery. Five dray loads of ale bound for Toronto were parked on the span in order to assess its performance. An admirably detailed account of the event was recorded in the Mercury (2 March 1892):

The horses, drays and their contents were weighed on the market scales, and are as follows: 1st load, horses, 3,110, load, 8,845; 2nd, 3,230, 8,930; 3rd, 3,375, 8,965; 4th, 3,405, 9,690; 5th, 3,220, 8,855, making a total of 61,025 pounds. The drays were then driven to the bridge, and placed on the centre span, where the test was witnessed by about 200 people. Including the people standing around and everything else, there was about 32 tons weight on this span. City Engineer Tout made the test and reported that there was only a deflection of 3/16ths of an inch on this span, which of course is the main one. The five dray loads were then driven over the bridge at a quick pace in file and the vibration was very slight.

The bridge passed with flying colours! If only all such tests of public infrastructure could be conducted with wagonloads of beer.

The bridge was later recorded in a postcard published by A.B. Petrie, postmarked in 1909.

("Brock Road, Guelph, Ont.," published by A.B. Petrie, ca. 1910.)

The image is not the most aesthetically pleasing one ever printed but it does show the layout of the bridge from a traveller's perspective, facing south. The three iron arches are visible on either side. To the right, a sidewalk with a high fence can be seen while, to the left, a water conduit used to supply city water to the Agricultural College on the hill is visible below the railing. The deck is smattered with horse dung.

Its connection to the south had always been a very important one for Guelph. Farmers in lots south of the city needed a bridge to bring their produce to its market when the time came, while shipping goods to and from Hamilton and Dundas was crucial for the economic goals of the settlement. So, the first Dundas Bridge (as it was often called at the time) was built in 1828, only one year after the foundation of Guelph by John Galt. This bridge was constructed under the supervision of Jehu Clark (sometimes spelled "Clarke") (1797–1879). Born in Sommersetshire, England, in 1797, Clark emigrated to New York State in 1818, later removing to Canada and arriving in Guelph in April 1828. He was put to work building the first Dundas Road bridge and also Strickland's Bridge on the Eramosa road. The next year, he worked at clearing the townsite of Goderich, returning to farm at Guelph. Around 1850, he moved into town and set up a tannery on Surrey street. Around 1871, due to ill health, he sold the tannery and retired to a cottage he had built on Water street. The 1872 list of Guelph building operations in the Mercury (18 December) describes the location as "over Dundas Bridge," a common way of referring to locations in Brooklyn at the time. He died 31 July 1879 (Mercury, 1 August 1879).

Unfortunately, there are no pictures or descriptions of this first bridge that I have come across. Neither are there any images of Jehu Clark. As the bridge lasted over 20 years, we may suppose it had stone rather than wooden footings but was topped by a wooden deck and railings. We are at liberty to imagine Jehu as we like.

The second Dundas bridge was built in 1849. This date is recorded many years later in a Mercury (17 October 1874) article detailing a lawsuit initiated by George Hood against Peter Gow. Gow owned much of the property along the Speed River west of the Dundas Bridge and had a dam across it to provide water for his mill. George Hood owned property upstream along the Eramosa and was suing Gow for flooding his land due to excessive water level rise resulting from the dam. Happily for us (but not for Hood), several witnesses who testified at the court case had worked on the Dundas bridges in prior years. Jehu Clark, for example, was called to the stand and testified that he had worked on the "old Dundas bridge." Then, Richard Ainley told the court that he had the contract for the bridge in 1849. So, via subtraction, we can calculate that the original bridge built by Clark had lasted 21 years before being replaced.

("View from the Cutten Club, ca. 1872." Courtesy of Guelph Public Library, F38-0-14-0-0-487.)

Luckily, the second bridge can be seen in the photograph above of a view of Guelph from the south. The bridge sits in the middle of the image. Stone abutments, two stone piers and railings can be made out. St. Bartholomew's Church (predecessor of the Church of Our Lady) can be seen on the top of the Catholic Hill. The scene is considerably different from today's as the land near the bridge is without any trees and there is no boathouse across the road.

Richard Ainley (1814–1884) was born in Yorkshire, England on 31 December 1814 and immigrated to Canada with his family at age nine, first residing at Rice Lake and then locating to Guelph in 1831, where he spent the rest of his life (Mercury, 19 August 1884). He was a carpenter and builder and appears to have done well, accumulating enough money to retire a number of years before his death in 1884.

Besides his work on the 1849 Dundas bridge, Ainley was the framer of the Royal City's first purpose-built store in 1842. He also worked as a lumber merchant and filled a number of civic jobs including fence viewer and constable.

By his retirement, Ainley had set himself up well. For an auction of his estate in 1887 (Mercury, 21 July), we read the following description of his primary residence at 146 Norfolk Street:

“Crescent Vale,” the late residence, is a very commodious, well built, two story white brick, eight rooms, easily heated, large cellar, hard and soft water, suitable out-buildings. There is a splendid fruit garden, upwards of one hundred well cared-for fruit trees and grape vines, all choicest varieties pears, apples and cherries, black, red, and white currants, black, red and white raspberries, gooseberries, strawberries in abundance. Beautiful cedar hedge, ornamental trees.

It sounds like Ainley had quite a green thumb!

The name "Crescent Vale" derives, no doubt, from the fact that the property bordered on the corner of Norfolk street and Nelson's Crescent, the latter a street now largely occupied by the current site of the Guelph Public Library, Main branch.

The construction of the second bridge in 1849 may have been prompted by serious improvements made to the Dundas road by the governments of the Wellington and Gore districts starting in 1848. The old road provided a notoriously bone-jarring ride, so the new, macadamized surface would greatly facilitate trade and travel to the south.

Unforunately, paying for the improvements and upkeep of the new road proved burdensome and the commission running the bridge set up a toll booth at the corner of the Dundas road and what is now College avenue to collect a fee to defray costs. This toll proved to be highly unpopular and led to the construction of Gow's bridge as free alternative.

Travellers often tried to evade the toll, sometimes with deleterious consequences, as noted in this story from the Guelph Advertiser (6 August 1864):

A pleasure ride and what happened.—Two young men, named C. Pratt and A. Smith, with Mrs. Pratt, Mrs. Rynard, and Miss Sarah Chatterson, started for a drive to Puslinch, to pay a visit to some friends. Returning about nine o’clock they drove through the toll-gate on the Dundas road, without stopping to pay the toll. The keeper of the toll-gate, Mr. John Hockin, immediately came up with them as they were entering on the Dundas Bridge. He at once hailed them, but receiving only laughter to his questions, he seized the horses by the head in order to stop their progress. Not being able to accomplish this he had to let go his hold. By this time the horses had become restive, and before they had proceeded many yards the buggy was overturned in the ditch. The men escaped without injury, but Miss Chatterton had her leg broken, and Mrs. Rynard was more or less injured. The buggy, a handsome double one, was smashed to pieces, but the horses escaped uninjured. One of the men struck Mr. Hockin three times on the face. The horses were taken charge of by the toll-gate keeper, who has taken them in safe keeping.

So, use of the Dundas bridge was long associated in the minds of locals with the unwelcome ceremony of paying a toll.

However, interactions of residents and horses at the second bridge were sometimes of a more comic nature, as illustrated by the following account in the Mercury (13 June 1891):

There was considerable excitement in the neighbourhood of the Dundas bridge yesterday. A blind horse, owned by a bill poster, strayed into the river. Two or three who came to the rescue secured a ducking in trying to get the animal out. The best of the joke was that it freed itself from them all and gained terra firma without assistance.

Happy or sad, the second bridge was certainly showing its age after more than 40 years. And so, residents began to call for a third bridge, as described above.

Bridges are significant places in many ways. They connect places that are otherwise separated, providing new opportunties, for good or ill. They are also a focus of activity of various kinds in themselves, and serve as landmarks by which residents understand their settlements. All these things are very true of the Dundas bridge, which has always been central to living and moving in Guelph.

("Streetcar in front of George Sleeman's Home on Waterloo [ave] 1905." The fender on the front of this car was designed to mitigate collisions with pedestrians and were added in light of incidents like the one described below. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 2009.32.6028.)

For example, the electric streetcar system was built by George Sleeman in 1895, with a route laid down over the bridge to connect it to the Agricultural College on College Hill. This meant that students at the College could more easily make trips to the city, and for students and employees of the College to commute to work. Of course, it also posed a new danger for residents and visitors to Brooklyn. On 19 October 1896, Mrs. Truckle was out shopping with her grandson Charles at a store south of the bridge when the lad wandered out and in front of a streetcar (Globe, 20 October). Mrs. Truckle rushed to his rescue but was struck and crushed by the vehicle. She succeeded, however, in saving Charles, who suffered only minor injuries. This was the first fatal incident involving the new streetcar system.

The bridge was associated with many recreational activities, especialy boating because of the boat houses that were installed nearby, culminating in Johnson's boathouse, which does a good business in tea, ice cream and boat rentals today. See my earlier blog post for more on this topic.

("Men's Curling Match, 1881-82." A composite photograph with hand-drawn scenery, signed "C. Hetherington, Guelph." Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1981X.282.1.)

The confluence of the Speed and Eramosa rivers just upstream of the bridge invited curling in winter. Of course, outdoor matches could be unpredictable. On one occasion, three rinks from Toronto had arrived in the Royal City to play the locals on the river by the Dundas bridge but rain made the conditions unsuitable for "scientific playing," so the group retired to the local indoor rink (Mercury, 27 January 1879). It seems that outdoor curling retained its charm in that era while indoor rinks were something of a last resort.

Skating was another popular pastime that was enjoyed informally on the river near the bridge. The Mercury made note of an "extraordinary" skater who was seen enjoying the activity at that site (23 February 1880):

... A boy named McTague, who had one of his legs amputated near the hip three or four years ago, in consequence of a railway accident, has learned to skate, and on Sunday displayed his knowledge of the art to the amusement of not a few. He only uses one skate and supports the side from which his leg has been removed by a sharp pointed crutch. Though his movements are not particularly graceful he hops over the ice almost as quickly as an ordinary skater, and seems to derive equal amusement.

Swimming was another popular activity near Guelph's bridges, which I have covered in other posts. In this respect, Gow's bridge seems to have been favored for its swimming potential. Dundas bridge was sometimes a haven from the sight of naked youth cavorting in the river downstream (Mercury, 5 August 1887):

Bathing at Gow’s bridge.—Numerous are the complaints that are made about young men and boys bathing at Gow’s bridge in broad daylight and in the evening. They run around the bridge, and dive from the parapet as naked as the day they were born and the language they use is most offensive beyond imagination. Ladies living on the other side of the river, and whose direct road home is over this bridge, are compelled to walk around by Dundas bridge. This state of things ought not to be, and the police authorities should see to it at once.

In the days before swimming lessons and PFDs, swimming could be hazardous also (Mercury, 27 August 1923):

Pulled boy out of river

On Friday evening while Mr. Dan Anderson, Verney Street, was passing along to Gordon Street, near the Dundas Bridge, he heard a boy calling for help. On investigating he found a youngster about 12 years old struggling in the water near the bridge. Mr. Anderson fished the lad out, and when asked for his name the youth took to his heels.

Fishing was also enjoyed in the vicinity of the bridge. This common activity drew little attention in the media except when something unusual happened. The Mercury (8 August 1890) notes that the Rev. W.T. Minter, minister of Guelph's British Methodist Episcopal church—a focus of Guelph's black community—who was "enjoying a quiet fish on the river above the Dundas bridge yesterday, was grossly insulted by a boat-load of young men, who swore at him and used other disgraceful language." Fishing While Black? When the Reverend laid a complaint with the police, one of the youths approached him and apologized, asking him not to press the matter. "He represented that they belonged to the best families of the city, which may be true in one sense, and that it would come hard on them to be publicly prosecuted." Minter agreed provided that the rest of the party apologize similarly. It is not clear that they did.

Besides its proximity to the water, the Dundas bridge was a landmark due to the presence of large fields next to it. Called variously the "flats," "field," or "commons" near the Dundas bridge, what I will call the "Dundas bridge flats" for convenience seems to have been the low-lying land north of the river extending from the bridge to Edinburgh road.

(Detail of "Map, Town of Guelph, 1862." The Dundas bridge flats was an informal name for the north bank of the Speed extending roughly from that bridge to Edinburgh road, and up to Bedford and Bristol streets. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1981X.233.1.)

The flats did seem to be regarded as a commons, that is, as a place where anyone might hold an event that had some kind of public purpose. For example, Mr. Wm. S.G. Knowles held an auction there of various conveyances of particular interest to farmers (Herald, 19 November 1850):

One very superior double-seated buggy; three single ditto; six very strong wagons, for teaming or farming purposes; four single-horse wagons, (two with steel springs;) seven double-horse sleighs; three pleasure ditto; two cutters; two pair of harrows; seven wheelbarrows, and a pair of blacksmith’s bellows. The above articles are new, and made by experienced workmen. Also, 2 beautiful horses, 1 milch cow, 3 sets of harness, saddle, bridle, &c.

Cash sales preferred!

(John B. Doris’ Great Inter-Ocean Museum, Menagerie & Circus. Cincinnati: Strobridge, ca. 1883.)

The visitation of traveling circuses was always a big event in early Guelph and, manytimes, the big top was set up on the Dundas bridge flats. On 16 July 1885, for intance, the John B. Doris Circus arrived and put up their tents there. The customary parade through the town was held and the Mercury reported that this was headed by "a very creditable band" and featured a menagerie of rare specimens of animals. The Mercury report says little else but the Globe (20 June) provides a more fulsome description of the offerings of this "Mammoth aggregation":

The Mammoth Fifty Cage Menagerie, comprising the largest and most varied collection of rare wild beasts, etc., received from all quarters of the globe, making one of the grandest zoological institutes travelling. The grand Gigantean Three-Ring Circus is comprised of all the leading excellence, equestrians, equestriennes, ten celebrated clowns, gymnasts, leapers, fourteen real brawny Turks, troupe of French bicycle riders, leapers, tumblers, acrobats, Siberian roller skaters, Japanese equilibrists, etc.

No corner of the globe went unmolested in bringing this show to Guelph! What could be more exotic than Siberbian roller skaters?

Sometimes, the locals put on their own shows, impromptu (Mercury, 24 August 1885):

A pugilistic encounter.—A most disgraceful fight took place on Sunday afternoon on the commons near Dundas bridge between two men whose names are given as Keough and O’Brien. The altercation took place on Macdonnell street, and the parties concerned, decided to go to the place above mentioned and fight it out. It is said that the fight lasted for about ten minutes in the presence of a large crowd of people, none of whom interfered to stop the brutal contestants. Both parties got a good pommelling.

Disgraceful though it was, it seems that the editors of the very English Guelph Mercury could not refrain from publishing an account of a donnybrook between two Irishmen. We are told that the affray was judged not by a referee but aftewards in police court.

Flooding was always a hazard, particularly in the spring when rain and snow melt might combine to produce a deluge of water down Guelph's rivers. Although large floods typically caused a great deal of damage to businesses and homes in the area, the result could be of aesthetic interest nonetheless, as in 1897 (Mercury, 22 March):

The whole flats presented the appearance of a lake. The trees were surrounded by water; the boat house had the appearance of a ship at sea, and ex-Alderman Slater’s, near Wells’ bridge, looked as if it was to be submerged.

With dredging and flood control measures in place, such scenes of nature's watery bounty are no longer to be enjoyed by the Royal City's residents.

("Gordon street bridge, 1931." Four young ladies pose on the bridge railing. Courtesy of Guelph Public Library F38-0-15-0-0-420.)

Though it arrived late, the third Dundas bridge remained a fixture of the city for many years. Inevitably, tested by the elements and ever increasing traffic, this bridge was replaced in 1938 with an up-to-date concrete structure. Arthur Sedgewick, chief engineer of the Ontario Department of Highways, cut the ribbon at the opening ceremonies.

By this time, the name "Dundas bridge" had itself been replaced with the handle "Gordon street bridge." Perhaps, the significance of the bridge's connection to Gordon street to the north prevailed over its connection to Dundas road to the south, as the importance of Dundas as a destination slipped into the past.

This bridge served for many years but was itself replaced in 2001 with the bridge now familiar to Guelphites. With its location along the route connecting the Royal Recreational Trail and the Boathouse Tea Room, the bridge continues to serve as an important connection and a significant place in town life.

The most disastrous fire that has ever visited Guelph: 6 July 1921

It began sometime around 3:30am on the morning of 6 July 1921 in or near the planing mill of the Robert Stewart Lumber Co., situated on the west side of Upper Wyndham street, across from the Wellington Hotel. Of course, a lumber mill is just about the last place you would want a fire to break out and, very soon, the whole structure was an inferno and its neighbours had ingnited.

("Great fire, Guelph," postcards; courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives: A2011.105, ph. 36218. In the background is the west side of Wyndham street just north of St. George's Square.)

Describing the sights, smells, and sounds of a major fire is not easy. However, after "the most disastrous fire that has ever visited Guelph," the Evening Mercury was bound to try:

It was a most spectacular blaze. Citizens in all sections of the city were awakened by the glare of the flames, and hurried to the scene. Within fifteen minutes the whole of the mill property was a seething furnace. The building was filled with very combustible material, while the yards adjoining were piled high with dry lumber and manufactured product, which were rapidly consumed. High into the air shot the flames, carrying sparks and shingles and red hot metal roofing hundreds of feet, and for a time there was a genuine fear that the fire would get completely out of hand.

The first alarm was turned in at 4:04am by Mrs. Steele, housekeeper of the Allan family that lived next door to the mill. Fire fighters responded, to find the blaze already well established and threatening to spread throughout the street and perhaps beyond.

("Great fire, Guelph," postcards; courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives: A2011.105, ph. 36221. Note the "Candyland" sign on the awning.)

On the west side of Upper Wyndham, the fire was already consuming the Hazelton and Coffee blocks. These were occupied by some well-known businesses, including Goetz's shoe store, Grinyer's electrician's shop, Smith's furniture, and Candyland. These were all incinerated.

("The Great Fire July 6, 1921 Postcard;" courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2016.13.23. In the background are the Apollo theatre, New American Hotel, and Opera house, on Wyndham street north of Stewart's lumber mill.)

On the street itself, the intense heat of the fire melted the guy wires for the street car line, allowing the live wires to drop into the roadway. Flashes of fire from the wires added to the general sense of alarm and helped to keep the crowds of spectators back, for fear of electrocution. Electricians working for the hydro utility came on the scene and helped to remove the hazard.

The Wellington Hotel across the road was soon in danger of being set alight. Heat from the blaze set the window sills on fire and flaming embers falling from the sky threatened to do the same to the roof.

Guests of the hotel were awakened, either by the roar of the fire itself or by the alarm. They threw on some clothes, quickly packed items in their portable luggage and made their way to the lobby. Some waited there for the final command to depart while others vacated immediately and moved across Woolwich street to Trafalgar Square.

("Great fire - Wyndham Street," courtesy of the Guelph Public Library, F38-0-2-0-0-71. The view is up Wyndham street from St. George's Square, with water still being sprayed on the Stewart lumber mill.)

Fire fighters kept the building from burning by keeping two streams of water on it throughout the night. This measure did the job, preventing the flames from taking hold and spreading down the whole east side of the street.

(View up Wyndham street north, similar to the image above; courtesy of Google Street View.)

Even so, hardly a window on the street remained intact. The heat caused all to crack or even burst asunder. Many of the sills caught fire, to which the fire fighters responded by dousing them with water, often causing them to shatter under the pressure. Cracked and crushed glass spewed into the street adding to the fire fighters' difficulties.

("Demolition of Stewart Lumber Company Factory, Wyndham Street, 1921," courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2014.84.4. On the left stands the Candyland store; on the right in the background can be seen the rear of the Victoria Rink.)

In behind the lumber mill, the Victoria Rink on the Baker street lot, rebuilt in 1914 after a fire had destroyed its predecesor, was nearly set alight. The manicured greens of the Guelph Lawn Bowling Club were thoroughly singed. The dry kiln and its wooden fuel belonging to the White Sewing Machine factory on the lot was also consumed by flames and it appeared for a while that the factory building itself might follow suit. However, this too was prevent by fire fighters.

The list of damaged shops and stores on Wyndham street was extensive:

From Lou’ Watts barber shop to Keleher and Hendley’s store, every pane of plate glass in the store windows on the east side of the main street was smashed or cracked, and this loss alone will run into thousands of dollars.

It is an odd fact the reports of disasters like this one often prompt descriptions of business interiors and provisions in the city that are otherwise missing from newspaper and other sources.

Two large windows at the G.T.R. ticket office were also damaged while at Garnet Singer’s jewelry store, next door, two more windows were badly broken. A valuable display of jewelry in the window escaped the flames and water, and very little damage to the stock was reported at this store.
...
When the blaze was at its worst in the Coffee block, the front of Geo. Williams’ store took fire and two of the largest plate glass windows on the east side of the street were smashed to atoms. The heat caused by the raging flames melted a large quantity of candy, and otherwise damaged the confectionary, and the loss in this store will be considerable. One will realize the intensity of the heat when he considers that the glass candy containers in the store became so hot they could not be removed from the show casing.
More destruction was caused at Hiscox China palace and Cohen’s Furniture store, where all the windows in both places were broken. Mr. Cohen’s loss will be a heavy one because of the fact that some expensive furniture on display in the two front windows was completely ruined. Included in the damaged stock were a walnut bedroom suite, a valuable chesterfield, rugs, and other expensive furniture.

With a little imagination, one can almost imagine what would be seen while perusing these stores' goods the previous day.

("Great fire, Guelph," postcards; courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives: A2011.105, ph. 36219.)

Similarly, we also hear of the people who lived in apartments of the upper floors of some of these buildings, especially if they had difficult or harrowing escapes:

It was a serious moment for [the Allan] family, for Mrs. Allan, as is generally known, has been an invalid for a great number of years. She was hurriedly wrapped in blankets and carried to safety by her son, Clifford, and the others had barely time to gather enough clothing to cover themselves before being driven to the street by the advancing flames. Kind neighbors immediately gave them shelter and they are now being cared for at the home of Dr. F.C. Grenside. In assisting with the family of Sheriff and Mrs. Allan, Miss Freda Grenside suffered slight injuries from the excessive heat, her hair being singed and neck blistered.
...
In addition to the destruction caused to the stores on the east side of the street, eight families occupying apartments on the second and third floors of some of the buildings were driven from their homes, and owing to the rapidity with which the flames spread along the street, they were forced to make their exit over the roof tops, and descend to a lane at the rear of Wyndham street by means of ladders. During the excitement, Mrs. Adeline Humphries, one of the apartment residents, fainted three times, before she was finally rescued from the burning home.

These accounts of so many families living in apartments above stores reminds us that rented accommodations were much more common than today, when home ownership is almost everyone's life goal.

Not only did people try to save themselves but they also acted to save their property or the property of others:

Mr. Grinyer [the electrician] had another narrow escape when he saved his motor car, which was in a shed at the back of the building. He succeeded, however, in getting the machine out, although the flames were shooting over and into the shed at the time.

The front wall of Grinyer's store fell into the street at about 4:30am, leaving a sizeable pile of burning rubble. Fortunately, no one was injured.

Perhaps the most notable story of the evacuation was that of Rev. Frank Sanders, pastor of the Congregational church on Norfolk street. He was one of the first people on the scene and took action when the Wyndham Inn, which we would call a boarding house, caught fire.

But when this latter building took fire the reverend gentleman was prompt in helping to salvage the contents. When the ladies were finally driven out by the fire, he continued to carry out the chairs and tables and pass them to those outside. It was while he was in the act of getting out the last table from the dining room, that he narrowly escaped the falling roof which carried the upper floor down with it, the flaming mass of woodwork and beams falling within a few feet of where he stood and completely blocking up the room out of which he had just come.

Divine intervention?

("Guelph Firefighters, 1927;" courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2009.32.3245. Chief Knighton stands on the left, firefighter D. Gray middle, and firefighter Clifford Reginald Knighton on the right.)

The main accolades went to the fire fighters and others who participated in the response to the fire. Fire Chief Knighton directed the efforts of the Guelph Fire Brigade. They were assisted by fire fighters from the Guelph Carpet Mills, the Ontario Agricultural College, and the Reformatory. In addition, the call went out for reinforcements as far away as Hamilton and Stratford. The Galt brigade was able to arrive with a supply of gear and rendered substantial help in figting the blaze.

("Great fire, Guelph," postcards; courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives: A2011.105, ph. 36224. The Stewart lumber mill ruins are doused as they continue to smoulder.)

Even after the flames of the fire were suppressed, fire fighters continued to pour water on the burned buildings throughout the day to prevent smouldering embers from reigniting it. Even on the morning of July 7, heaps of burning coal were located in the ruins of the Stewart mill that had to be doused (Mercury, July 7).

Walls within the ruins remained standing and had to be demolished to prevent them from collapsing suddenly later on. A street car was employed for the purpose under the direction of Chief Knighton:

A street car was used last night to bring down the big Coffee Block wall, which stood out alone with a three-foot warp in it. A rope was attached to a big steel girder underneath, and the rope was then tied on to the street car, and when the Hydro juice was turned on the girder was dragged out and the big wall crumpled up and fell.

The demolitions left a long gap in the steetscape, from Candyland to the Apollo Theatre, showing the extent of the damage.

A set of real photo postcards, shown here, record the devastation, the firefighters, and the crowds of awed and bewildered spectators. Most are labeled, "Great Fire Guelph July 6th. 1921." One pair also show before-and-after views of the incinerated buidings:

("Great fire, Guelph," postcards; courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives: A2011.105, ph. 36222. Note the lamp post near the right edge.)

The second image shows roughly the same part of the street after the walls had been pulled down.

("Great fire, Guelph," postcards; courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives: A2011.105, ph. 36223. Note the lamp post near the middle; it is the same post as the one above. Interestingly, zone posts are in view on the street, showing that the streetcar service had already resumed at this point.)

Why reproduce these pictures as postcards? As this earlier post about the Gourock train wreck demonstrates, there was always a public demand to rubberneck at disaters, even if only through recorded imagery. The Mercury story makes it clear that large crowds from around the district gathered to witness the fire and its aftermath. Some enterprising local store owner recognized the commercial potential of the situation and, no doubt, had selected pictures of the scene sent off to nearby printers, who could return dozens or hundreds of copies for quick sale.

As numerous postcards of the Titanic and other misadventures plainly tell, disaster sells.

Another immediate consequence of the fire was that there was a "run" on plate glass in Guelph. Nearly every window on the street had been cracked or shattered as a result of the blaze. Many business and building owners wasted no time in ordering replacements. Even before the fire was officialy out, trucks carrying plate glass were on their way from Toronto (Mercury, 7 July). Several had a "mishap" near Bronte and had to return for replacements. Further consignments of glass began to arrive by both truck and train. About $7,000 of new glass was need to replace the windows on the east side of Upper Wyndham street.

Of course, building owners did not simply have thousands of dollars set aside in bank accounts in case of fire. Replacement windows and the myriad other expenses were covered (or not) by insurance. Insurance adjusters were on the scene before the ruins on Wyndham street had stopped smoking.

("Great fire - Wyndham Street," courtesy of Guelph Public Library, F38-0-2-0-0-69.)

Most owners and businesses carried insurance against fire damage. From an initial inspection, they estimated the cost of the damage as a whole to be somewhere in the range of $300k to $500k. This was certainly a vast amount of money for the time and testimony to the wealth that the Royal City embodied by then.

E.M. Stewart of the Robert Stewart Lumber Co. wasted no time in applying the company's insurance to get the operation working again. By July 12, he had arranged for company equipment to be moved to vacant space at the Bell Piano Co. on Macdonell street. The Bell Company had been an important part of the manufacturing scene in Guelph in the late 19th century but was well into decline by the 1920s, so it seems that it had room to spare.

As the fire's embers cooled, talk about the town raised questions about how well the fire service was prepared for it and whether or not the fire watch had delayed raising the alarm.

(Mayor Charles Burgess, 1921; courtesy of Guelph Public Library, F38-0-4-0-0-20.)

Mayor Burgess requested an inquiry into the fire and the city's response to it, which Provincial Fire Marshal E.P. Heaton quickly arranged. The inquiry raised a number of concerns. For one thing, when Kitchener Fire Chief Guerin arrived in Guelph in response to the Guelph fire fighters' request for assistance, he found that Guelph had hydrants that were incompatible with those in Kitchener: threading on the hose connectors went opposite ways. Thus, the Kitchener crew's equipment could not be used. This observation suggested that fire equipment should be standardized in the province.

The inquiry raised a number of concerns specific to Guelph. It seemed that the water pressure in the city system was initially too low (Mercury, 26 July). It was standard practise for the fire department to telephone the Waterworks to ask for an increase of pressure when a fire was being watered. On the morning of the big fire, it took about 20 minutes for an increase in pressure to be generated, thus dampening the initial response to the fire.

("Firemen on Parade, c.1915;" courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2009.32.2445.)

Also, Guelph still relied on teams of horses to pull its firefighting equipment. Fire Marshall Heaton point out that similar cities in the province were investing in motorized gear, which could reduce the time taken to respond to fire alarms. Mayor Burgess noted that Guelph's city council had considered this option but decided not to proceed in order to avoid the tax increase needed to fund it. He was also of the opinion that motorized equipment would not have made a significant difference in the case of the recent fire.

Fire Marshal Heaton noted that reports from the Fire Underwriters' Association (that is, fire insurance providers) suggested that Guelph did not have an adequate method for processing fire alarms. There were already rumours about town that there had been delays in reporting the fire to the fire department. These focused on the city's reliance on the telephone service for this purpose. One witness claimed that he tried to phone in an alarm around 3.35am from the Wellington Hotel and reported that he could not get an operator. Mrs. Hogg, occupant of the Wyndham Inn, next door to the lumber mill, attempted to telepone the operator around 3.50am but was evidently unsuccessful. The operators' log suggested they received a call only after 4 o'clock, suggesting that the fire had burned for 25 minutes without a response.

At the conclusion of the inquiry, Fire Marshal Heaton could not decisively establish the cause or origin of the fire (Mercury, 30 July). However, he did conclude that Guelph's preparations for fires was inadequate. Provisions for water supply were not adequate and the firefighting gear was "woefully deficient."

In addition, the Royal City's reliance on the regular telephone system for raising alarms was "far from satisfactory." The Fire Marshal endorsed the suggestion of Fire Chief Knighton that the Royal City should adopt a system of fire alarm call boxes already common elsewhere. These call boxes had a direct connection to the fire department such that when a lever on the box is pulled, an alarm specifying the location of the box is sounded at the fire station. To drive the point home, and perhaps shame the city fathers, the Fire Marshal "read out a long list of towns, smaller than Guelph, each of which was equipped with an up-to-date alarm system."

Perhaps the coup de grace of the inquiry came from an unexpected quarter, having only a tangential relation to the fire and the city's response to it. Fire Marshal Heaton invited any member of the public to testify at the inquiry, an offer accepted by Mrs. Fred Hatch (Mercury, 29 July). When her turn came, her husband appeared bearing a note from a doctor stating she was too ill to attend, so he offered to speak in her place. A resident on a first-floor apartment at 92 Macdonell street, Mr. Hatch testified that his wife had seen two police officers, Clark and Shingleton, leaving a second-floor apartment and exiting the building at the rear, just as she went to the back window to look towards the fire when she got wind of it early in the morning. The apartment in question was occupied by a Mrs. Dempsey, her two daughters, and a Miss Peacock. Mrs. Dempsey, Mr. Hatch averred, "was in the habit of entertaining many male visitors." When asked if he had ever seen a Mr. Dempsey, he replied, "I never saw a Mr. Dempsey unless the many men frequenters there are Mr. Dempseys."

Naturally, this testimony and its implications caused quite an uproar, not to mention denials from Mrs. Dempsey and Constables Clark and Shingleton. The officers involved were indeed supposed to be on patrol, and not in hanging about in a "house of ill fame," but their beat was in the Ward and not on Upper Wyndham street, so their plight did not affect the inquiry into the fire in a direct way. Later on, the city Police Commission held a separate inquiry into their conduct. The result was that Constable Clark resigned from the force, while Constable Shingleton was discovered to be on probation after misconduct with the Toronto Police. So, his services were also no longer required.

Mayor Burgess saluted the bravery of citizens who reported this incident and remarked that if such happened more often, Guelph would have a more effective police force.

("Great fire, Guelph," postcards; courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives: A2011.105, ph. 36225.)

The Stewart Lumber Company, where the conflagration began, never returned to Wyndham street. Obviously, it was a fire hazard and probably would not be welcomed again there with open arms: It was a factory in a part of town that had come to be dominated by stores and offices. The company located its local operations to Cardigan street, across the road from Goldie's mill, where it remained until 1968 when the business was wound up.

("Upper Wyndham street," ca. 1925; courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, Grundy 125. The view shows the gap in Upper Wyndham street seen from the Baker street lot after the burned buildings were demolished. The gap was temporarily home to a number of billboards.)

The void left on Wyndham street by the combustion of the Stewart lumber mill and its neighbours remained for some time.

It was mostly remediated in 1935 when the Dominion Public Building, the city's new post office, was erected there, where it remains today in the hands of the Wellington County government.

With the smoke long since cleared and the chasm in Wyndham street filled in, the memory of the Great Fire of Guelph lives on in the Royal City's best set of disaster postcards souvenirs.

In "Dolly Varden" and Lillian Spencer, Guelph receives a comical treat

When you examine the scene below, what do you see?

One of the pleasures of looking at old postcard views, such as this one printed for the druggist A.B. Petrie & Son, is they can be enjoyed in many ways. They can be enjoyed simply for their aesthetic value. They can be enjoyed for the glimpses that they afford into the people and things depicted in them. They can also be enjoyed as puzzles, challenging viewers to figure out what is happening and when. What you see depends on what you are looking for.

Of course, the image in the postcard above is of St. George's Square, an image that was reproduced in several Edwardian postcards and that I have discussed in a previous post.

In aesthetic terms, the image is nicely layered. In the foreground is a woman with a parasoal strolling away from the camera, off on some unknown errand. In the middle ground is a two-wheeled cart. Although such an item would draw attention in the middle of the road today, no one is paying it any mind in the image. In fact, it is a sanitation cart, whose purpose was removal of horse droppings from the streets. In an era before motor vehicles, the sanitation cart was a familiar, unremarkable sight, as was its cargo.

Nearby is a wagon being drawn by two horses. The driver is speaking to someone on the street, who may well be the custodian of the sanitation cart. The errand of the wagon driver is not clear, although the sign on the side of the tank on the wagon is suggestive: "Gasoline." Why is a tank of gasoline being pulled down Wyndham Street on a wagon? Perhaps that is what the custodian wants to know.

In the middle of the Square is the Blacksmith Fountain, a symbol of "industry" and the industrial aspirations of the Royal City.

In the background stands the old Post Office/Customs House. The structure projects both forwards and upwards, presiding over the Square as a reminder of the authority of the Canadian state that it and the city belong to. Curiously, the clock face that one would expect in the circle at the top of the tower is missing. This little puzzle is easily resolved: Although the clock tower was added to the old Post Office in 1903, the clock itself was not installed until late in 1906—not an unusual sort of occurrence at the time. This fact also helps to date this image to that interval.

Although the image is largely static, there is one dynamic element, namely the streetcars approaching down Wyndham Street to the left. These cars were the small open ones (no windows) that were bought for the system when it began operations in 1895. A closeup of the front of the nearest car shows that it was carrying a sign on its fender:

The sign reads, "Dolly Varden // Opera House // To-Night." This little detail dates the image to exactly one day, since Dolly Varden played in Guelph on 19 Sep. 1906 only (Mercury):

As the ad states, Dolly Varden was a "dainty comic opera," that is, a musical comedy with a marriageable woman in the lead role. In fact, the character Dolly Varden has an interesting history of its own.

"Dolly Varden" was a character from Charles Dickens's Barnaby Rudge, a beautiful coquette distinguished by her colourful manner of dress. The character proved to be a popualar one and inspired a whole style of Victorian ladies' dress that was named the "Dolly Varden" after her. It was a Victorian reintepretation of the fashions of the 1780s, when Barnaby Rudge was set. Clothing stores advertised Dolly Varden dresses, hats, and shoes. Women could wear such outfits to costume parties, where they were sure to be recognized as a "Dolly Varden."

("Music sheet cover depicting women wearing Dolly Varden costumes." Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.)

With the commercial potential of this character in mind, it is no surpise that Dolly finally got her own day in the sun. Around 1900, writer Stanislaus Stange and composer Julian Edwards wrote a comic opera with her as the main character. The plot has little to do with Barnaby Rudge, beyond being set in the 1780s and featuring the gaily-dressed Miss Varden. In the opera, Dolly Varden is an very pretty, assertive, but somewhat unsophisticated orphan girl set to inherit a tidy fortune. She visits London with her jealous guardian, Jack Fairfax, who desires to have her to himself. However, she manages to outfox him and marry her true love, the dashing army officer Dick Belleville. Not only that, Dolly prevents her friend Letitia from marrying the inappropriate fop Lord Gayspark, instead setting her up with the manly Captain Harcourt.

Naturally, this sort of action called for a great deal of singing. The opera was packed with comic and romantic ditties including:

• For the knot there's no untying;
• An aural misunderstanding;
• Song of the sword;
• The girl you love;
• The lay of the jay;
• My ship's the girl for me;
• Dolly Varden (of course);
• We met in Lover's Lane; and
• A cannibal maid!

Sheet music for the opera sold well and "We met in Lover's Lane" became a number one seller.

You can hear this hit single, sung by William F. Hooley in 1902 (courtesy of the Library of Congress):

The piece was cast and rehearsed in New York but opened in Toronto on 23 Sep. 1901. In brief, it was a smash. The review in the Globe gushed (24 Sep 1901):

A crowded house last night at the Princess Theatre gave an enthusiastic reception to the new comic opera, “Dolly Varden,” which was presented for the first time on any stage by the Lulu Glaser Opera Company. So emphatic was the success with the audience of the “premiere” that the composer, Mr. Julian Edwards, who conducted for this occasion only, the librettist, Mr. Stanislaus Stange, and the star, Miss Glaser, were repeatedly called before the curtain on the close of the first act, and Mr. Stange had to make a little speech on behalf of himself and colleagues, in acknowledgment.

The lush costumes and rich settings were praised to the roof. The music was praised as "bright and tuneful" and Sullivanesque.

The songs were well recieved, with the audience demanding encores and sometimes double encores on many occasions. The composition was ambitious and demanding, and much praise was heaped on how effectively it was presented:

The ensemble finale of this act is a clever bit of work. The composer has contrived to work up the volume of sound by simple means to a grandeur approaching the effect of grand opera, and here the excellent material he had at command in the number of leading voices, showed to advantage. In the second act, in addition to a taking dance and chorus at the opening, and a pretty minuet, with a flavor of an Offenbachian Tylorienne, there may be mentioned a double quintette of fine tonal effects and light and shade, and an octette that won instant approval. The quartette of leading women’s voices also showed to advantage in this act.

Naturally, the leading lady, Miss Lulu Glaser, won particular admiration:

The star of the company, Miss Lulu Glaser, is too well known as a clever and attractive comedienne to need much comment upon her performance. Vivacious and bright, with a superabundance of spirit, and possessing a voice of good quality, she held the stage whenever she had anything to do, and as the sprightly Dolly Varden, she was well suited with the role.

The show stayed in Toronto for a week before hitting the rails. As a big hit, and seeking to be worthy of the New York stage, it stuck to the big cities and did not visit Guelph, though Guelphites must have heard of it.

Certainly, it was a big breakthrough for its leading lady, Lulu Glaser. She featured prominently in promotional material, like this picture of what must be a key scene (Hamilton Times, 26 Sep. 1903):

Miss Glaser's image, in costume, appeared in the promotional postcard below:

("Lulu Glaser." Courtesy of the New York Public Library.)

A similar picture appeared on the cover of The Billboard trade magazine in 1902.

The show toured the continent twice. A company was formed to present it in Britain as well. It also achieved its highest aspiration, a lengthy run in New York. In fact, it was staged in Herald Square, New York City, for the entire summer of 1902. This was no small feat since theatres normally closed between May and September. In the days before air conditioning, it was simply not feasible to pack hundreds of people into a dark and poorly ventilated auditorium for hours while the mercury ascended the thermometer to sweltering heights. (Nor was it healthy for the performers.) The Billboard (17 May 1902) noted that the theatre was specially modified for the occasion:

Eight big noiseless fans are being set in different parts of the house and a large hole is being cut in the top of the dome of the auditorium, in which is being placed a “suck fan,” through which the hot air will be removed. New summer costumes for the whole cast are promised for Decoration Day.

Of course, all good things must come to an end and Lulu Glaser left "Dolly Varden" after the 1903–04 season. The show ran for one more season with Maud Hollins, who was Miss Glaser's understudy (I think).

There the matter may have rested, and Guelph deprived of this musical spectacular, but for the intervention of the Aborn Operatic Company. Milton and Sargent Aborn were on the lookout for a vehicle for a potential star they had picked out, Miss Lillian Spencer. She had attracted their attention after graduating suddenly from the chorus to the lead in the musical comedy "Florodora" along with her subsequent work. They felt that she would be a good fit for the lead role in "Dolly Varden" and so purchased the rights to stage another run of the show.

("The Aborn Company presents Dolly Varden;" ca. 1906. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.)

They had good reason for this judgement. Although only 21 years old, Lillian Spencer had a long history in showbusiness, particularly in comedy. At the tender age of three years, she trod the boards with American-German actor Joseph "Fritz" Emmet. Mr. Emmet cut his teeth in the post Civil War era in a minstrel troupe, where his claim to fame was singing songs in German while in blackface. He graduated to ethnic comedy, speaking and singing in a stagey German accent while yodelling and performing spectacular dance numbers.

He was most noted for his roles in the character of "Fritz," a German who experienced misadventures in various locales, while singing, dancing, and playing the guitar. The first "Fritz" show involved the character's arrival in America, with later reditions set in Ireland, Australia, etc. The plot and details of each play made little sense but that was of no consequence: The audience always wanted the same dances, the "Cuckoo song," and whatnot.

("Joseph K. Emmett in the stage production Fritz, Our Cousin German, 1869." Courtesy of the New York Public Library.)

Part of his act was interacting with children: searching for missing ones, singing them lullabies, and so on. So it was that a three-year-old Lillian Spencer tumbled out of a prop suitcase on stage in 1888, probably during a production of "Uncle Joe; or, Fritz in a Madhouse." Audiences took to the little waif immediately and she became a professional, child actor.

Why Lillian Spencer entered the theatre at such a young age is unclear. However, the 1900 US Census shows her living in a boarding house in Manhattan along with a Jessie Spencer, age 35, whose occupation is also listed as "actress." Her marital status is listed as divorced. Although records are sparse, it seems that Jessie was Lillian's mother and may have put her on stage as a way of earning a living while being a single mother, although that is speculation.

In her early career, she was often billed simply as "Baby Spencer" and made her way as an actor and a model (The Labor World, 1 Dec. 1906):

For a number of years, she played children’s parts, and at the same time, became noted as an artist’s model. Her piquant style of childish beauty made her much sought after for idealistic paintings, and her likeness was used by many famous artists.

It would be interesting to track down some of those images.

In any event, "Dolly Varden" returned to the rails for the 1906–07 season. It played in many of the same cities as the earlier runs, such as Toronto and Hamilton. However, although the show had been revised for its new rendition, some of the novelty had worn off and it played one-night stands in smaller cities that were bypassed in previous years. And so it was that "Dolly Varden" arrived in Guelph, where, as in many other small cities, advertisements that hung on streetcars carried with them Miss Lillian Spencer's hopes for a career as a mature performer.

(The Opera House Guelph—now the site of the Guelph Community Health Centre at Wyndham and Woolwich streets— printed by the Pugh Mfg. Co. of Toronto, ca. 1910.)

The Mercury did not review the show, so it is hard to say exactly what sort of reception it got. However, the publicity stills below, published in the Sep. 12 and 14 Chatham Daily Planet provide some idea of what audiences saw.

("Lillian Spencer with 'Dolly Varden.'" Miss Spencer appears to have a flower in her teeth and is covered in straw.)

("Lillian Spencer and Huntington May in 'Dolly Varden.'" Mr. May played Jack Fairfax.)

In lieu of a report from Guelph, this short review from the performance in Duluth, Minn. (26 Sep 1906) provides an idea of the show's reception:

“Dolly Varden” was very prettily produced at the Lyceum theater last evening. The production is worthy of its title of comic opera success. Its music is a delight, and the stage pictures and costumes are charming. When first in Duluth, with Lulu Glaser in the title role, it met with great public favor, and last night this success was repeated, although Miss Glaser is no longer with the company. For some reason or other the audience was a small one, but what there was of it was enthusiastically appreciative.
Lillian Spencer is the present Dolly Varden. She is a small, very active person, graceful and light of foot, with a piquant air and a contagious laugh. Her singing was well received, and her acting full of spirit. Her support was quite satisfactory.

Piquant to Miss Glaser's sprightly, it sounds as though Miss Spencer succeeded in putting her own impression on the role. We may assume that Guelphites gave it their approval also.

To my knowledge, Miss Spencer never returned to Guelph. Her encounter with the Royal City was fun but largely inconsequential to both. Even so, the incident is illustrative of the life of small cities of Ontario in the Edwardian era, and how they were connected to the larger world. In matters of popular entertainment, Guelphites relied on the theatrical circuits centered on the metropolises of the day, as also illustrated in the case of the play Officer 666. The entertainment world has changed substantially in the meantime but we may enjoy a glimpse back in time through media like old postcards, if we are willing to look for it.

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Although "Dolly Varden" did not catapult Lillian Spencer to stardom, it does seem to have provided her with a lasting career separate from her early stint as Baby Spencer. She remained in New York and featured in many productions, although not usually as the star. In 1917, she joined the Charles Coburn company, which prompted the following review of her career up to that point (Sun, 27 Jan 1917):

A newcomer in the company now presenting “The yellow jacket” with Mr. and Mrs. Coburn at the Harris Theatre is Lillian Spencer, who plays the roles of Duc Jung Fah and See Quoc Fah (Fuchsia Flower and Four Season Flour). Miss Spencer’s interpretation of the role of the Second wife is a sprightly contribution to the performance and a somewhat intimate rendering of a part to which full justice has not heretofore been done. Miss Spencer may lay claim to the irregularly expressed but nevertheless clearly understood title of “natural born actress.” She has been on the stage since she was 5 years old. She was known as the youngest star in the theater when she appeared in the title role of “Dolly Varden” under the management of Milton Aborn. She has played important parts with Maude Adams in “What every woman knows,” “Chantacler” and “Jeanne d’Arc,” and although she never actually publicly appeared in place of Miss Adams, she was that eminent actress’s understudy and substituted for her at most of the rehearsals of these plays. Miss Spencer has appeared also in the support of Fritz Scheff, Blanche Ring and Julian Eltinge. More recently she enacted the role of the Lisping Girl in “The Girl who smiles” at the Longacre Theatre, and also impersonated one of the matrimonial chances offered to the hero of “Seven Chances” played originally at the Cohan Theatre.

The final record that I have found about her is a notice in Variety (17 Nov 1926) stating that she had a role in the Coburn production, "Ole Bill, M.P.".

If any reader has further information about her, please leave it in the comments below!

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Pictures of Miss Lillian Spencer are not exactly common. Besides the publicity images shown above, there is a set of photographs taken in the 1910–1915 period by photographer Arnold Genthe, who was particulary known for his images of notable persons of the day. I will show a few here; the rest are accessible at the Library of Congress website.

A photo from Theatre Magazine (Jan 1918) shows Miss Lillian Spencer luxuriating in a Balch Price motor coat made of finest Australian opossum. She looks warm! Perhaps she continued to do modeling work in addition to acting.

The zone post: Guelph gets safety first

Oddly, the postcard below was the one that got me interested in postcards of Guelph in the first place. Have a look and see if there is anything unusual there:

The card was printed by the Valentine-Black Co. of Toronto and published in the mid 1920s.

Here is a similar view today, courtesy of Google Street View:

Picking this card casually out of a box at an antique market, I was struck by the peculiar orange post in the middle of the intersection at Wyndham and Carden streets, rhyming visually with the campanile tower of the train station in the background. Who would plant a post in the middle of a busy intersection? I surmised it was some sort of traffic control measure. Being interested in the history of cars and cities, I bought the card and decided to find out.

It turned out that I was right. The post is apparently an example of what was called a "safety zone post" or just "zone post" for short. These posts were one of the first attempts to regulate the flow of automobile traffic in cities as that became both voluminous and dangerous.

From their introduction until about 1910, automobiles were mainly a curiosity for the well-to-do. In the summertime, when roads dried up enough to be passable, people who could afford motor cars (also called "motors" or "machines") would take them out of town for picnics or other recreations. This activity was pleasant for the motorists and mainly mildly amusing or annoying for other users of the roads.

However, with the introduction of cheaper cars like the Ford Model T in 1908, cars began to account for a substantial amount of traffic. The behaviour of motorists began to determine traffic conditions on streets and in a way that was significantly different from conditions on the streets before.

As Peter Norton (2008) explains in "Fighting traffic," city streets were common property, available for any members of the public to use more-or-less as they saw fit. If you had a mind to, you could stand in the street all day, or set up your peanut cart there, or play in the street, and that was normally your privilege.

Traffic was not usually very dangerous. It went at a slow pace and drivers or cyclists could maneuver around people who were hanging out on the street. Horses were normally smart enough not to run into people or other vehicles. Streetcars went slowly and along predictable paths.

This situation is illustrated in the following video of New York City around 1900. Note how people navigate or park in the streets without much concern for traffic.

As automobiles came to dominate the streets, this situation changed. They were large and heavy and went increasingly fast, so that being hit by one was a major problem. Their steering and brakes were not particularly responsive or even reliable, so they could be difficult to control. With their increased degrees of freedom, and few rules about who went where, automobile movements could be hard to anticipate.

The result was increasing levels of conflict and frustration. That Guelphites of this period were similarly affected is suggested by the following cartoon printed on the front page of the Guelph Evening Mercury (13 Nov 1915):

People began to think about how to deal with the risks posed by automobile traffic. An important, early response to this problem was the "Safety First" movement. Peter Norton (2015) points out that the Safety First movement originated in attempts to improve workplace safety and was transferred to railways and roads in the early 1900s. The slogan implies that safety should be the highest priority in traffic flow, over other priorities such as speed and convenience.

Furthermore, automobiles were seen as intruders in the streetscape and were thus the focus of traffic control. An interesting Maclean's article ("Two years of Safety First," 1 Nov 1915) gives a list of laws prompted by the Safety First movement aimed at regulating the configuration and maneuvers of automobiles on the roads:

We have seen the inauguration of automatic control of traffic which has minimized accidents; we have laws in several states and in most large cities compelling the use of dimming devices on headlights; we have seen the passing of the muffler cutout, the coming in of short radius turns on the automobiles themselves, and we have witnessed a strong effort on the part of various states to being about the enforcement of universal lighting laws which will compel every vehicle, no matter whether motor-propelled or horse-driven, to show lights at night.

For our purposes, the mention of "short radius turns" is significant. In early days, automobiles would often execute left turns by passing just next to the street corner on their left. Sometimes, this sort of turn is known as "cutting the corner." Drivers liked it because it was gradual and easy to execute rather than sudden and strenuous (remember, there was no power steering), and could be done without slowing down much. Geometrically, this turn is a "big radius" turn because a car following it would describe a big circle if it kept on turning.

As you can imagine, though, this turn is not very safe. An automobile cutting a corner could collide head-on with another vehicle approaching the corner on the cross-road. Since this turn was taken at high speed, the results of a collision could be severe. As the Safety First movement placed safety above speed, this sort of turn had to be prevented.

That is where the zone post came in. The zone post worked as a "keep right" sign. By placing a zone post in the middle of the intersection of Wyndham and Carden streets, it forced motorists who planned to make a left turn to drive to the middle of the intersection, slow down, and turn sharply left around the post. By replacing high-radius left turns at high speed with small radius left turns at low speed, the zone post helped to increase road safety.

In effect, the zone post turned an intersection into a very small roundabout.

Looking at the postcard again, many of the automobiles parked at the Grand Trunk station probably came down Wyndham street and made a left turn around the zone post in the picture before driving to the station entrance.

Zone posts were used at busy intersections for this purpose. However, their primary use was to designate "safety zones"—thus the name "safety zone post." A safety zone was a region of roadway that automobiles were not supposed to enter. The most common example was a zone around streetcar stops, which were often in the middle of roads. Since automobiles were prohibited from driving through safety zones, riders could wait inside them for streetcars and get on and off them without being menaced by motorists. At least, that was the theory.

In Guelph, the central point of the city's streetcar network was St. George's Square. People often stood in the Square around the streetcar tracks (standing on the grass around the Blacksmith Fountain was prohibited) while waiting for streetcars to arrive. As more automobiles took to the streets, this practice made these riders vulnerable.

In November 1915, the City of Guelph By-Laws and Markets Committee recommended a by-law to establish a safety zone around the streetcar tracks in St. George's Square. Although this notion seemed to meet with general approval, the zone was not enacted until nearly two years later. Finally, Guelph got its first safety zones and zone posts (Evening Mercury, 15 Sep 1917):

After a great deal of agitation and hard work Chief Randall has finally got zone posts placed at St. George’s Square. Three posts on each side of the square are in position, and they should go a long way in diverting traffic to the proper channel, and be a source of protection to pedestrians. The chief will also have the zone posts placed at the corner of Wyndham and Macdonnell streets, Wilson and Macdonnell, and the intersection at the Public Library.

There is a photograph in the Guelph Public Library archives of the safety zone in the Square, ca. 1920:

(Courtesy of the Guelph Public Library, C6-0-0-0-0-144.)

The zone posts are the skinny, metal sticks arranged around the Blacksmith Fountain garden, outside of the streetcar tracks. Painted on the top disk of each post is the instruction, "Keep to right." The posts were supposed to remind motorists to pass around the outside of the posts and in a counter-clockwise direction. In effect, St. George's Square became a large traffic circle.

I assume this measure helped to mitigate the danger of people being hit by automobiles in the middle of the Square. However, the zone posts were not fixed to the ground in order that they would not severely damage any cars that did hit them by mistake. A byproduct of this design was that the zone posts became objects of mischief. Indeed, they became auto-mobile themselves, especially at night (Evening Mercury, 9 Oct 1917):

Magistrate Watt made it very plain at the Police Court this morning that no nonsense, playful, willful or otherwise, around Chief Randall’s zone posts will be tolerated. His attention was called to the fact through a charge laid by Sergt. Rae against a young man, who was caught swinging one of the St. George’s Square posts around in the air on Sunday night. Although the youth pleaded not guilty, he had no defence to make, and was fined $2 and costs. The magistrate issued a warning that if any other case came before him of a like nature he would deal harshly with the offender. Chief Randall also informed His Worship that some time during last night the zone post at the corner of Wyndham and Macdonnell streets was removed and carried half a block up Macdonnell street. Another one at the Square was carried off some distance.

Indeed, the Mercury seemed to delight in reporting on the nocturnal perambulations of these "silent policemen" and how this habit affected the poor Police Chief (Evening Mercury, 2 Sep 1919):

For the second time this week the zone post which stands guard at the Public Library corner was removed during last night, and carried to Oxford Street. Chief Rae was very wrathy this morning when he heard of the matter, and stated he would pay $5.00 out of his own pocket for information that would lead to the arrest of the guilty party.

One more for good measure (Evening Mercury, 12 Nov 1919):

Apparently some person was laboring under the impression that last night was Hallowe’en, and as usual Chief Rae’s zone posts were the targets for the jokers. The Chief’s silent policeman which does duty at the corner of Woolwich and Norwich Streets, was removed during the night and taken to Hamilton’s marble works [now the site of Speedy Muffler], and this morning the “Keep to the Right” post was doing sentinel duty on top of a large monument. The post was still on monumental duty at noon today.

These long-suffering "dummy cops" kept their vigil in St. George's Square until 1923 when they were deemed unnecessary after the changes to the street car alignment there. However, zone posts continued to regulate left turns in downtown Guelph intersections for many years to come.

Some safety zones are still with us. School safety zones typically mandate reduced speed limits on roads around schools in order to reduce risk to children who cross streets there.

Another kind of safety zone is the crosswalk. In addition to zone posts, safety zones could be delineated by white lines painted on paved road surfaces. One sort of safety zones that cities began to mark in this way were lanes for pedestrians to cross streets at their corners. These markings were sometimes referred to as "jay lines" since they were provided, in part, to prevent people from crossing streets at mid-block, a practice still known as "jay walking." All is explained in this article from the Harrisburg Telegraph (1 Jun 1915):

“Jay lines,” for pedestrians will be placed at busy street intersections in Harrisburg. These lines will be painted in white and will mark the space to be used by pedestrians when crossing streets.

Colonel Joseph B. Hutchison arranged with Superintendent of Streets William H. Lynch to have “jay lines” at the busy corners, and to keep them in good condition. In explaining the new safety first project to-day Colonel Hutchison said:

“Two lines will be painted at each crossing. The lines will be separated, allowing a space equal to the width of the sidewalk. When a traffic officer orders an automobile, street car or any other vehicle to stop, it will not mean that the vehicle can run halfway over the crossing, but must stay beyond the “jay lines.” It will also mean greater safety to pedestrians, as they will be able to cross a street without the necessity of running around a vehicle that has stopped halfway on a crossing or taking chances of being hit by an automobile or wagon coming from another direction.”

Although the Safety First movement and its zone posts disappeared in the 1930s, its legacy lives on in the form of these "jay lines," including in St. George's Square.

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A recent proposal for redevelopment of St. George's Square includes turning it into a traffic circle. As we have seen, this plan is, in a way, a case of back to the future.

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Because you asked, traffic in New York in 1928. And, yes, that is the Bambino in the car. Note how the car drives through a safety zone at the video's end.