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 early days of Orton

One of the main reasons that John Galt had for chosing the site he did for Guelph was the presence of the Speed River. The volume and energetic flow of water in the river could power many mills, which would be the mainstay of the town's economy, making it a natural centre for settlement in the region.

This fact makes it interesting for any scholar of the Royal City to consider the rest of the Speed River, especially upstream of Guelph. (The towns of Hespeler and Preston, downstream from Guelph, now part of the city of Cambridge, are perfectly interesting but lie in what is now Waterloo Region, and so are outside the purview of collectors of Wellington County ephemera, such as yours truly.) In that connection, the hamlet of Speedside has already been taken up in an earlier post.

What about the source of the Speed? Conventionally, this is traced to spot just outside of Orton, Ontario, a hamlet located at the edge of Wellington and Dufferin Counties, at the border of the townships of Erin and East Garafraxa. The Speed can be found beside the Elora Cataract rail trail just south of Orton, where it is a lovely but modest stream.

(The Speed river near the point where it emerges from under the rail trail at Orton. Photo by the author, July 2024.)

So, imagine my pleasure at obtaining a postcard of Orton, all the more so as postcards of little villages are often rare and hard to come by.

("Main St., Orton". Real photo postcard, ca. 1910. The view faces west from roughly the village's center.)

A railway crossing is visible in the immediate foreground, along with a few utility poles on the left-hand side of the street. These are likely telephone poles, which provided a service that was extended into the village in 1909. At the left margin is the facade of a general goods store, featuring a variety of items on the porch and a three-step gable. Unfortunately, the sign over the front awning is not quite legible. A cow is visible grazing on the grass on the right-hand side of street.

Here is a corresponding image of Orton today, courtesy of Google Street View:

The buidings once gathered around the railway crossing are notably absent today, not to mention the crossing itself.

As luck would have it, the Dufferin County Museum has another postcard of Orton that records almost exactly the same view but taken from a slightly more westerly point along Main Street:

("Main Street, Orton". Real photo postcard, ca. 1910.)

The format, caption, and handwriting strongly suggest that this image was taken by the same person as the one above, just from a little further east along Main Street. A railway crossing "X" sign can be seen along the left side of the street, next to the store with the three-step gable. Across the road there is a building with a two-storey verandah; perhaps the hotel. The sign across a span of its second-floor balcony is not quite legible. At the bottom middle, fresh horse hoofprints can be seen in the road. Perhaps these were made by the horse that the photographer rode while passing through town.

(Corresponding image courtesy of Google Street View.)

A reverse angle photograph shows the street from the west side of the village looking east.

("Main Street, Orton, Erin Township, Ontario." Courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives, A1980.116.)

In this view, the two-storey hotel from the previous picture can be side on the left side of the street near the middle of the image. Utility poles are visible on both sides of the street in this picture, suggesting it was taken at a later time than the images above, perhaps in the 1930s after electricty arrived in Orton. Another building with a two-storey verandah can be seen in the right foreground. Unlike many of the old buildings in these pictures, this building remains standing today.

(Courtesy of Google Street View.)

As was the case with Gourock, the hamlet of Orton came into existence through an offical act of the Canada Post Office. The nucleus of the settlement was a small log house inhabited by John Glover, a farmer on the Garafraxa side. He and John Leeson, a farmer who owned the land on the Erin Township side of the line, sold off lots for houses and small businesses. One of the settlers to take advantage of this opportunity was William Mooney, who built himself a log house, 10x12 feet, on one of the lots. This, it appears, was a general goods store. Business was good and a larger store was later built on the site, with accommodations for the Mooney family provided on a second floor.

Mooney, his store and other enterprises are always noted as central to the story or Orton in the reminiscences of later residents. Of course, the store was a place where locals could find items that they were in need of but could also meet informally and chew the fat.

In addition to the store, Mooney was involved in the food trade, buying and selling local livestock, potatoes and turnips, and operating the local grain elevator. After his death on 12 July 1915, the Toronto World newspaper published a brief obituary (23 July 1915):

One of the founders of Orton is dead

The village of Orton loses one of its most respected citizens in the person of Wm. Mooney, who died suddenly on Wednesday of apoplexy, in his 64th year. He was one of the founders of the village, having erected the first general store, and in addition has conducted a general grain, live stock and farm produce business.
For 35 years he served as postmaster and was always foremost in his support of the interests of the village. The late Mr. Mooney was a Conservative in politics and a member of the Christ’s Church.
A widow, three sons and a daughter survive.

As noted, one of his accomplishments was the job of local Postmaster. Since 1840, the local post office had been located in the nearby village of Mimosa. However, everything changed when the Credit Valley Railway (CVR) came to town in 1879. The CVR connected the little hamlet with the Big Smoke, thus allowing Mooney to ship goods with much greater facility than before. No doubt, this linkage allowed Mooney to make connections in Toronto that were noted in his obituary. (The first passenger train left Orton on 19 February 1880. One can only imagine that Mooney was on it.)

("Canadian Pacific Railway station, Orton, 1898." Courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives, A2006.218. The CPR had taken over the CVR by this time. Apparently located on the north side of Main Street, the early station is not much more than a shed. Note the water tower in the background, positioned to supply water to the steam engines of locomotives.)

With a train station then right in town, it made sense for the mail to come by train along with people and goods. So, Mooney become the local postmaster in 1883 and set up a post office in his store. Naturally, the Post Office required a name for this branch. Up to this point, the community had been known, perhaps informally, as "Little Chicago." Brown (2006, p. 307) suggests that this name reflected a rivalry with the town of Grand Valley in Luther township, which was known locally as "Little Toronto."

("Canadian Pacific Railway station, Orton, 1911." Courtesy of Wellington County Museums, A2006.218. The new station was a significant upgrade from the original one. The station was later moved away and converted into a house.)

Whatever the case, the Post Office followed its established practice in such cases and blessed the locale with a new name, "Orton." This was in honor of Dr. George Turner Orton, who was then the Wellington-Centre Member of Parliament (1875–1887). Orton had been born in Guelph in 1837 and was educated as a medical doctor in back in the old country. In 1880, he was resident in nearby Fergus. Being a local bigwig, his name recommended itself to Post Office officials. What Orton thought of this distinction is not known. There is no evidence that he ever visted his eponymous community.

(Dr. George Turner Orton, M.P., Wellington Centre, Ont., 1879. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.)

In any event, the railway and the post office put Orton on the map.

The 1884 Ontario Gazeteer and Business Directory estimated the population of Orton at 50 souls and provides the following list of the hamlet's concerns:

Name	Occupation
Hodgins, Wm.	grocer
Lathorn & McLaughlin	saw and shingle mill
Liddle, H.	carpenter
Linsay & Clark	grain dealers
Mooney, Wm.	general store
Murphy, John	hotel
Richings, F.W.	live stock
Stevens, A	shoemaker
Warden, L.	blacksmith

Henry Liddle (usually spelled Henry Little) is the man usually credited with construction of Mooney's store and many of the other early buildings of Orton.

Another person listed in the directory who is often central in accounts of Orton is Lorenzo Warden (sometimes spelled Worden). Warden was born in Eramosa in 1851 and is listed as a blacksmith in nearby Ballinafad in 1876. Like Mooney, it seems that Warden saw the wisdom of relocating to Orton in its early days and set up as the village blacksmith, a business he kept up for most of the remainder of his life. (It appears he sold his business to the aptly named Fred Black around 1910 and moved to nearby Marsville but returned in 1911.)

A local blacksmith was vital to a rural community like Orton in that era. Transportation and mechanical power for farm operations was provided mainly by horses, and these had to be shoed regularly and properly.

Warden's son Osborn followed his father into the blacksmith's trade and took over the business for some time, followed by Harry Raven in the 1920s and William Lane. In a sign of the times, this building burned down and was replaced by a garage. Warden died on 9 December 1928.

Another founding father of Orton was John Near. Near was born in Erin in 1828 and the 1871 census lists him as a farmer in that locale, married to Ellen McEnery. He is also listed as a member of the Methodist New Connexion church, a splinter group of the Wesleyen Methodists who held with a high degree of equality between ministers and the laity. When what became Orton was first established, Near was the possessor of an extensive farm on the Garafraxa side of the line.

Today, Near is most remembered for his role in the construction of St. John's Methodist church in Orton. In her historical sketch of Orton, Mrs. Thomas Dearing (née Annie Collier) recalled (Acton Free Press, 27 January 1938):

Ever since the village was incorporated, the late John Near had agitated for a church to be built, so about the year 1900, in the midst of much opposition from the Grove Methodist Church adherents, he made arrangements for its erection, and putting all his time, labor and money into it, the church was completed, to his own satisfaction, and in 1901, the St. John’s Methodist Church was opened (St. John’s United now).

As noted in a Faded Genes blog post, there seems to have been some antagonism between Near and Mr. John Handley, the farmer who lived beside "The Grove" Methodist Church situated only two concessions east of Orton. Whether this antagonism was personal, doctrinal, or otherwise is unclear. In any event, Near convinced enough people to support the construction of a new church in Orton itself, St. John's.

("St. John's Church, Orton, Ontario." Photo by Gordon Couling, 18 September 1974. Courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives, A1985.110.)

The matter between churches persisted for some time, as the blog post goes on to describe:

And for many years there was some dissatisfaction in the community. Some of the people west of Orton continued to drive right through to The Grove Church; and others drove past the Old Church to the new one in Orton.

Whatever the issue, the result was that Near built a lovely stone church in Orton that graces the hamlet to this day. (The Grove church eventually closed and was demolished but its cemetery remains.) One item long remembered in connection with the church was that an entire ox was roasted on a spit over a bonfire at its opening. Admisson to the feast was 10 cents per person.

(Thomas Dearing, no date. Courtesy of Lorinda Mann.)

Besides the church, the formation of a local school was apparently a controversial item. In his reminiscence, Mr. Thomas Dearing recollected that a new school for the community was first discussed in 1887–88. A board of local dignitaries was formed to give the matter due consideration and a general meeting held at Orton (Acton Free Press, 27 January 1938):

A largely attended meeting was held in the Orton Hall to discuss the matter. Some hot words were spoken by some of the speakers, and hotly resented by the others, and some hard feelings caused, which was likely to break up the meeting, but Judge Drew, an excellent chairman, managed to keep order. There was no decision given at this meeting, but at a later one, it was decided to form a new section, with parts of 12 and 14 of Erin, and parts 4 and 8 of Garafraxa, to be known as the Union School No. 2. The first Trustees were Warren Jestin, Thos. Ballantine and John Near. The school was opened in 1892.

Judge Drew seems to refer to George Alexander Drew, a former Member of Parliament and then judge in the High Court of Justice for Ontario. It was no coincidence, then, that the judge was an old hand with contentious meetings.

("Exterior of Union School No.2, Orton, Erin Twp., ca.1891." Courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives, A1991.241.)

(Orton Public School today, now a private residence. Courtesy of Google Street View.)

Just what made the meeting so contentious is not recorded. Perhaps it was a consequence of the formation of Dufferin County ten years earlier, which separated East Garafraxa from Wellington County and produced the border that ran through Orton. In any event, the decision ultimately centered on the issues of the catchment area of the school and its location. These issues were sorted out and the Union School Section #2 was duly built on the townline road a short ways east of Orton. The trustees were John Near, Thomas Ballentine, and Warren Jestin.

It is usually mentioned that a Miss McKechnie became the school's first teacher in 1892 but remained in the job for only one year. However, she was not done with Orton, for she married Marriott McKee, one of the brothers who ran the McKee Bros. general store there. The marriage took place in 1899, by which time McKee had become a minister. The couple soon set out for British Columbia, where McKee would follow his vocation.

Beyond his essential role in founding the town church and his stewardship of the local school, Mrs. Dearing also gives John Near credit for building the hamlet's hotel, saying that he "forsaw the need of it in the community." Certainly, a local business entrepot like Orton would have use for a hotel. Grain and livestock buyers might choose to stay there while making purchases, and traveling salesmen would stay over while making calls on owners of local stores.

Mrs. Dearing notes that there had been many hotel keepers over the years, beginning with a Thomas Hodgin. (It may be that Near owned the hotel but let it to proprietors who ran the business.) The fullest description of the hotel is given in an undated history of Orton recorded by Alex Duncan:

One attraction at that time was the hotel, named the Exchange, owned by J. Irvine. It had a shed for farmers to tie teams in out of the rain or snow, and stable housing several driving horses to rent out to anyone who came in on the train and wanted to go out in the country. The usual fee would be about a dollar a day. Travellers used to come to the hotel and display their merchandise for storekeepers, and take orders instead of going to the stores.

As the local watering hole, the hotel was also the site of numerous goings on. The Grand Valley Star and Vidette provides the following example (23 March 1905):

Cost Him $22.85—Tom McLellan, of Orton, appeared before Magistrate John Carmichael of Hillsburg on Friday charged with disorderly conduct while seeking to gain entrance to North’s hotel during weesma’ hours a few nights previously. The coaxing methods by which he sought to soften the heart of the landlord were to try to break in the door and heave a six-pound dornick through the window. Squire Carmichael salted him $10 for breaking the law, $5 for breaking the window and door, and $7.85 for breaking into the time of the magistrate.

Clearly, running a hotel could be a trying business, which helps to explain why the hotel had several different keepers over the years. Indeed, North seems to have decided that he had had enough, and a new keeper came onto the scene in 1905, with a challenging vision for the establishment, as also noted in the Star and Vidette (19 October 1905):

A NEW VENTURE AT ORTON: John Gibson of the 10th line Garafraxa, who came home from British Columbia a couple of years ago in poor health, has rented the Orton hotel, and will conduct it on strict temperance principles.

How would the good people of Orton (and their visitors) respond to a hotel that did not serve alcohol? The Star and Vidette reported the following year on its success (5 May 1906):

He Couldn’t Do It—Mr. Gibson who has been running the hotel at Orton on strictly temperance lines for the past six months, has given up the business in despair.

Mr. Gibson returned to British Columbia the following year.

Other hotel keepers were more pragmatic on the subject, though some went perhaps a little too far, as the following item in the Acton Free Press suggests (19 November 1908):

Provincial License Inspector Ayearst secured convictions against William Willis, of Orton, in Erin Township, for which fines and costs amounted to $98. Willis was fined $50 and costs for selling liquor, and $40 and costs for keeping it.

Either Willis was not licensed or he sold liquor in ways that violated the limitations of the license he had. Nonetheless, William Willis is still listed as hotel keeper in the 1911 Ontario census. If there is a moral to this story, perhaps it is that, in popular watering holes, too much alcohol is viewed with more indulgence than too little.

The Great War profoundly affected Orton, as it did most Ontario communities. Several young men of the area went off to fight. The military careers of three of the Conlin boys provide a view into the variety of experiences the war afforded soldiers.

("Harry Conlin," no date. Courtesy of Dufferin County Museum, AR-2092.)

Three of Thomas and Elizabeth Conlin's boys went off to war. The first was Henry Ross, who joined up at Fergus on 16 December 1915 at 23 years of age, and was assigned to the 153rd Battalion. He married Mae Jessie McQuarrie of Fergus on 4 November 1916. He sailed to France on the RMS Olympic the following year and joined the 18th Battalion. Conlin seems to have done well and was promoted to corporal in August 1918 and then acting Sergeant. He lived to see the Armistice of 11 November 1918 but came down with the Spanish flu a few days later. He died on 29 November and was awarded the Military Medal posthumously.

("Willard Conlin, no date." Courtesy of Dufferin County Museum, AR-2092.)

Willard Conlin joined up, also at Fergus, on 8 January 1916 at 19 years of age. He trained with the 153rd Battaltion with his brother and was on the same ship with him, the RMS Olympic, when she sailed for Britain on 28 April 1917. He also served in the 18th Battalion. He was shot through the right knee near Arras on 26 August 1918, during the Hundred Days Offensive, when, after fierce fighting, the Allies pushed the German Army into retreat and finally the Armistice. Luckily, the wound was relatively benign and he recovered well. His military file even has a dandy x-ray of the affected joint!

Still, Willard fell ill from the Spanish flu in hospital but recovered. In January 1918, he got a case of the German measles (Rubella) but finally recovered from that also by the end of the year. All things considered, Willard was quite lucky to survive. He returned to Canada on the RMS Aquitania and was demobilized on 27 May 1919.

Willard returned to the family farm for a few years. On 24 September 1923, he married Florence Luella Johnston of Elora and the couple moved to Fergus. Willard opened a Ford garage/dealership and also served as a city councillor.

("Pte Franklin Conlin in uniform, 1920." Courtesy of Dufferin County Museum, P-2616A.)

The final Conlin brother to enter the service was Franklin, though he did not go voluntarily. He was drafted under the controversial Military Service Act on 10 May 1918, at the age of 23. He shipped out to Britain on the SS Corsican on 20 August 1918 and joined his unit in the field in France on 16 November, just five days after the Armistice. In March 1919, he sailed back to Canada on the RMS Carmania. He returned to the family farm and ran it after his father's death in 1926.

As Wellington County historian Stephen Thorning (2009) pointed out, the heyday of early Orton was the first quarter of the 20th century. Its population climbed over 100 souls and its railway station was an important shipping point for local stock and produce. Jim Courtney set up a turnip waxing plant in the grain elevator that was retired after the grain business moved west in the early years of the century. He also did a good business in potatoes and was the village barber as well.

Like Eden Mills, Orton also became a police village, in 1907. This designation allowed the community to set up some provisions for its own security, including fire-fighting, and enabled it to pave its main street, which was the dirt-surfaced townline. (This status was given up 60 years later when the village decided it did not have sufficient funds to maintain the main street, which reverted to control of Wellington and Dufferin Counties.)

In fact, government projects to pave the province's roadways and the increasing popularity and affordability of gas-powered vehicles also undermined the village's railway. Stock dealers from Hogtown could simply pick up cattle in trucks directly from local farms and ship them to stockyards in the big city. Uptake of cars and trucks meant that farmers could drive to Fergus, Guelph, or Orangeville for goods and supplies, bypassing Orton merchants. The advent of rural mail delivery also lessened the importance of the post office.

The local hotel fell victim to prohibition resulting from the Ontario Temperance Act of 1916, and the local bank branch closed in 1932.

As with many small, Ontario communities, these events and the Great Depression were a watershed moment that brought many changes. Electricity arrived from Niagara Falls in 1932, courtesy of the Hydro-Electric Power Commission of Ontario (also known as "Hydro"). The activism of Rev. A.L. Atton of St. John's church brought about a village park complete with baseball diamond and outdoor ice rink. More recently, Orton acquired a suburban street in the form of Elizabeth Crescent, which increased the hamlet's population to new heights.

Of course, closure of the railway line made possible the Elora Cataract Rail Trail, that hikers and cyclists can use to visit Orton, ponder the remaining old buildings and, if they so choose, locate the Speed River near its source.

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Works consulted include:

• Brown, S.J. and Taylor, K.A. (2006). "East Garafraxa: A history." The Corporation of the Township of East Garafraxa, Orton, Ont.
• Thorning, S. (2 March 2007). "Credit Valley Railway created hamlet of Orton." Wellington Advertiser.
• Thorning, S. (30 October 2009). "Railroad station helped to sustain hamlet of Orton." Wellington Advertiser.

The Ontario Bank branched into Guelph

(Front and back of postal card addressed to the Bank of Hamilton from the Ontario Bank, Guelph branch, on 25 April 1876. Pencil notes on the back are due to an earlier collector.)

This very quotitidan postcard conveys a very quotidian messsage:

Ontario Bank, Guelph, Ont. 25 Apr, 1876
I have received your letter of the 22nd inst. with enclosing … Manager.

This sort of card, sometimes known as a "postal card," was often used for business correspondance in the last quarter of the nineteenth century. As this Ontario Bank "postal" illustrates, they could be printed as form cards, useful for quick acknowledegement of correspondence, cheques, or goods received. Addressees could then keep these postals in their books as a record that a transaction had been completed, an important bookkeeping function for a commercial enterprise.

Undoubtedly, the most interesting bit of this postal is the loopy signature. I believe it is the signature of Edmund Morris, who was the manager of the Ontario Bank Branch in Guelph in the 1870s. The signature begins with an "E" consisting of two upper loops themselves encompassed by a loop that seems to transition into a capital "M" followed by a "orris" in a peaky scrawl.

As Stephen Thorning explains, the banking system of Ontario was substantially different in the early days of the province than it is today. The Province chartered a small set of "offical" banks that were subject to the regulations of the banking act. These big banks concentrated in the big cities such as Toronto. Branches were located in a few, second-tier locations, such as Guelph, but small cities and towns were mostly served by regional or private banks. A private bank was typically a local man or two who had deep pockets or perhaps good credit with a big bank that would loan him money that he could then re-loan to the locals or invest on his own account. Regional and private banks effectively functioned as bank branches do today, and also allowed the chartered banks to apply their money by proxy in ways that weren't strictly allowed by the rules.

(The most notorious private bank in Guelph was the aptly named Guelph Bank, owned by W.H. Cutten— the father of "Wheat King" Arthur Cutten—though that is a story for another occasion.)

The Ontario Bank actually preceeded confederation, being set up in 1857 in Bowmanville with the object of serving the banking needs of farmers and other rural businesses on Ontario and Durham Counties (thus the name). By 1862, the Ontario Bank had expanded to a number of other locations such as Guelph. At that time, the city directory lists its location as the Market Square (Carden street) and its employees as:

Alexander Fisher, manager
G.H.G. McVity, accountant
P.H. Gibbs, teller

Alex Fisher was born at Scotsburn, near Tain in Rosshire, Scotland, in 1817 and immigrated to Canada with his father John in 1832 (Globe, 20 April 1882). He began his business career with the Bank of Upper Canada (as Ontario was known before 1841) but later joined the Bank of Ontario. He was (apparently) the first manager of the Guelph branch but then left to manage the Toronto branch in 1864. There he remained until his death by suicide in 1882, brought on by ill health.

("Group in garden," ca. 1870. Edmund Morris is standing in the back row, right-hand side, wearing a straw boater. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 1975.21.187.)

Fisher was succeeded as manager by Edmund Morris, whose signature adorns the postcard above. On Morris's watch, the Guelph branch of the Ontario Bank seems to have done well. In 1887, the Guelph branch took over the accounts of the Central Bank, a regional bank that had finally succumbed to bad loans made to brokers and speculators. However, the Central Bank had a snazzy office on Quebec street, to which Morris moved his branch ASAP.

For reasons not entirely clear, the Ontario Bank closed its Guelph branch in 1890. The accounts—and nifty offices—were taken over by the Traders Bank. Edmund Morris was presented with a gold watch and chain by some of the Royal City's leading citizens in gratitude for his many years of service. He relocated to Toronto, where he moved up to the position of Inspector in the Ontario Bank's main office in the Queen City.

One possible reason for the move was a set of "defalcations." Some accountants with Ontario Bank in Toronto were found to have embezzeled a substantial amount of money from the bank, perhaps prompting it to rationalize its liabilities (Mercury, 28 January 1890).

Edmund Morris died in his Spadina residence in 1899 (Globe, 18 December 1899).

The Ontario Bank folded up its tent in 1906. The end was brought about by Charles McGill, the general manager, who attempted to expand the bank's assets through unwise stock market speculation, though McGill insisted they were "investments" (Toronto World, 13 October 1906). Rather than allow the bank to simply collapse, and perhaps start a general panic, the Bank of Montreal took over its affairs and made good its deposits.

News reports concerning the Ontario Bank in Guelph give us glimpses into the operations and challenges of running small town banks in the late Victorian era. For example, the Acton Free Press (16 November 1877) reports that people had been presenting counterfeit ten dollar bills issued by the Ontario Bank to branches in Guelph as well as other Ontario cities. Trying to pass "funny money" was a serious issue.

(Ontario Bank $10 bill, engraved date 1 June 1888. Courtesy of the Bank of Canada Museum, Object ID: 1972.0231.00001.000.)

This notice is a reminder that, between 1871 and 1944, chartered banks were authorized under Canadian law to issue their own currency for circulation. Today, the only cash that most Canadians carry is issued by the Bank of Canada but it wasn't always so. Of course, any bank that issues currency has to protect against fraud, which applied to the Guelph branch, as this example illustrates.

In 1880, a scandal resulted when a local businessman tried to abscond with funds that belonged to the Ontario Bank in Guelph (Globe, 10 December). Mr. J.E. Merlihan, a prominent Clifton businessman, had bought a large amount of wool earlier in the year and stored it in a Guelph warehouse on credit obtained from the Ontario Bank. His plan was to wait until the wool price increased so he could sell it at a profit. This happened and Merlihan sold the wool to Winans & Co. of Toronto, who issued him a cheque for $7,000. Merlihan cashed the cheque at the Federal Bank in Guelph. It was quickly noticed at the Ontario Bank that Merlihan did not appear to make good his debt to them:

In the afternoon the Manager of the Ontario Bank found out that Merlihan had got the draft and as they held the warehouse receipt he wondered why Merlihan had not brought the money to the bank as he should have done.

Why indeed?

On making enquiries he soon learned that Merlihan had driven to Hespeler, the first station south of here; and suspecting that he would take the first train there for Suspension Bridge, telegraphed the Chief of Police at Clifton, and his arrest followed, $6,960 and a ticket for Buffalo being found on his person.

It seems that Merlihan had reckoned without the social network of local bankers.

As Stephen Thorning points out, the turn of the century saw consolidation of Canadian banks. Big banks had worked out how to run branches in smaller centres and still make money. Potential employees gravitated to the big banks because they could offer career growth in the form of promotions and higher salaries. Local banks were just a few people in size and were not apt to grow. In addition, smaller banks like the Ontario Bank sometimes got into financial trouble and Ontarians took a dim view of the prospect that they might one day open their newspapers to read that their bank had gone under, taking most if not all their money with it. Banks got fewer and bigger and assumed more of the form that is familiar to Ontarians today.

The departure of the Ontario Bank from Guelph in 1890 was a sign of things to come.

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Works consulted for this post include:

• Thorning, S. (1994). "Private banking in Wellington County." Wellington County Historical Society, v. 7, pp. 48–70.

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Sharp-eyed readers may have noted the absence of images of the Ontario Bank premises. I have noticed this also! Nothing of any quality has come to my attention. If you, dear reader, can supply the deficit, please let me know!

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.