Mrs. Ker, Royal City tinsmith

For many years, the Guelph Mercury published annual reports on the "building operations" in town. These would list each structure newly built or renovated. (Of course, Guelph was much smaller then!) Records often included the contractors who provided various elements of each building, such as stone work, carpentry, painting, roofing, etc. These records provide an interesting view into the building history of the Royal City and occasionally contain surprises. The following entry from 18 August 1881 contains something unusual:

The work of demolishing the old Western Hotel preparatory to erecting a new building on its site is now fairly in progress. Contracts have been let as follows for the new building:—Stone work, Messrs. Dobbie & Grierson; carpentering, Alex. Bruce; plastering, Mahoney & Wallace; painting, Humphrey & Reynolds; tinsmithing, Mrs. Kerr; slating, Brown [Bros (Brantford)].

Builders in those days were (and perhaps remain) almost invariably men but this entry records that the tinsmithing for this new hotel was provided by a woman, Mrs. Kerr. ("Ker" is the more common spelling for this family's name, so I will stick with that for the rest of the post.)

This is interesting because, as readers likely know, women in the Victorian era were expected to reside in the domestic sphere, involving tasks such as cooking, cleaning, child rearing, and so on. Occupations for women in cities were often limited to activities with similar remits, such as household servant, teacher, and keeping a boarding house. Running a business was an unusual occurrence. One exception discussed in a previous post was Christian Anderson, who founded and ran the Central Bookstore, and published Guelph postcards, for many years. A woman in charge of a building business would make an interesting addition to the Royal City's history.

The story begins with William Ker (Sr.), born in 1831 to James and Elizabeth Ker in Dundas, Upper Canada (as the southern part of Ontario was known at the time). William was baptised in Galt in 1849. (The family was Wesleyan Methodist, a denomination that did not emphasize infant baptism.) The 1851 census of Canada West (as southern Ontario was then called), showed William living in Galt and gave his occupation as "tinsmith," as did the 1861 census.

William Ker (Sr) married Pamelia Hunt of Preston on 5 July 1861. The 1871 census of Ontario (thus called after confederation) put the family in Esquesing township, Halton, along with six children: John, William (Jr), Emily, Robert, Marcy and James. In 1873, the family moved to Guelph, where William took over an existing tinsmithing business. (Perhaps this was the reason for the move.) The family residence is listed as 113 Northumberland St. in the 1877 city directory, while their shop was located at 12 Cork St.

(Advertisement for Wm. Ker's Tin & Stove Shop, purveyor of the "Victory base burner", Mercury 3 January 1879. Give him a call, he sells cheap!)

There seems to be little to learn about Ker's time in Guelph. An item in the Mercury dated 29 April 1879 notes that his shop contributed to a parade, held in celebration of Guelph's incorporation as a city:

Weir, Bryce & Co’s handsome commercial wagon surmounted by boxes of biscuits followed; and then came a miniature of Wm. Ker’s tin-shop, with men making eave troughs.

Was the miniature made of tin? Eavestroughs were one of the main products of the shop, so this contribution seems like a suitable way to advertise the business and contribute to civic pride.

Sadly, William Ker died only days later. A short obituary provides some personal context (Mercury, 6 May 1879):

On Saturday last [May 3], Wm. Ker, tinsmith, died of congestion of the lungs. He had only been sick a short time period. Deceased came to this city from Galt about 7 years ago, when he bought out the tin and stove business of John Webster, Cork St. He was a member of the Masonic fraternity, and it is probable that he will be interred with Masonic honors.

He was buried with Masonic honours at the Union (now Woodlawn) Cemetery.

Beyond its personal consequences, a sudden widowhood could be a difficult time in a woman's life. Pamelia Ker had many mouths to feed and the loss of her husband's income might be catastrophic. The tax roll for 1880 shows that she had $1100 in real estate and $300 in personal property; not bad but not enough to live on for long. Since William had died without a will, the disposal of the property went to probate court. A court summary shows that Pamelia was made the administrator of the estate. This arrangement gave her control over the business and its assets, which she could continue to operate if she chose. If the business was in good shape, then this option could provide crucial income. This was the route that Pamelia took. Thus, she became the owner and operator of "Mrs. Wm. Ker, tinsmith."

(Advertisement for the Stove, Tinware, and House Furnishing store of Mrs. Wm. Ker, from the 1882 Guelph City Directory. I'm not sure what the elephants are meant to signify but they are carrying coal, which was the fuel most used for home cooking and heating at the time. Perhaps they were supposed to be some kind of fantastical labour-saving devices, before the advent of electric gadgets.)

It appears that Mrs. Ker took the business in hand. In the Mercury of 23 September 1880, we learn that the firm exhibited the Stewart & Milne line of stoves at the Guelph Central Exhibition that year. In 1882, a full-page advertisement for the business appeared at the front of the Guelph City Directory. The phrase "Mrs Ker" occurs 21 times in the building operations columns in the Mercury, from 1881 through 1884. These contracts include the Cutten Block (which replaced the old Western Hotel at Macdonnell and Wyndham), the McCrae spinning mills at the old Allen estate east of the Speed River (just south of Allen's bridge), the Burr Bros. furniture factory at Oxford and Yorkshire Streets (now the Oxford Manor), Petrie's drug store, the lodge of the Union Cemetery (now Woodlawn Cemetery), and numerous private residences.

The Guelph city directories provide a little more information. Mrs. Wm. Ker ("Estate") is listed in the 1880 directory as proprietor of "Tins & stoves". Listings continue to show her as proprietor of the business through 1886.

When widows took over their husbands' businesses, their children (if any) were often drafted into the trade to keep things running and support their families. So, it is not a surpise to find William Brock Ker, the eldest of the Ker family's boys, listed as a store clerk in the 1881 census and as a salesman with the business in the 1883 directory. Born in 1863, it seems that Wm. B. was 18 when he went to work in the family trade.

Pamelia Ker died on 12 March 1885 at age 48. She was interred with her husband in Woodlawn cemetery. Sadly, the Mercury for this date is missing from the archives and there is no obituary on record for her.

However, her will reveals some interesting details about her affairs at the time. For example, the will was witnessed on 10 May 1885, only two days before her death. It seems likely that she had fallen seriously ill and felt that she had to put her affairs in order. She directed that $500 of her $1000 life insurance policy be given to her son William B., who was one of the executors, the rest to be divided equally among the rest of her children. Her daughter Ida was given the piano. Her son William B. was also given the family business with the proviso that it be liquidated and sold off when her youngest surviving child reached the age of 21, then to be divided equally among them all. In short, the family business had what might be called a sunset clause.

Her youngest child in the 1881 census was James, who was ten years old at that time. In effect, the family business was due to be sold off in 1892.

William B. duly took up the reins.

Seen above is a trade card printed by Wm. B. Ker ca. 1890. Trade cards were small cards with information about a business printed on them. The rise of colour lithography in the 19th century facilitated the use of trade cards in advertising in the late Victorian era. Trade cards typically had an attractive but perhaps generic picture printed on one side with the back left for printed information relating to the particular business sponsoring the card. Business owners could hand them out to customers at their stores or exhibitions to promote their offerings. Trade cards gained an avid following of collectors, who would try to assemble a full set. Savvy businesses would issue a series of cards in order to capitalize on this following. (The Bell Piano Co. were big users of trade cards in Guelph.)

The Wm. B. Ker trade card above is a nice example of the genre. The front contains a colourful if generic image to attract attention and identify the business, while the back provides a list of the goods that the shop provided, such as stoves, tinware, and house furnishing hardware. Unfortunately, this is the only trade card relating to this business that I am aware of.

("12 Cork St.," 1894. The picture shows the Ker Bros shop on Cork Street, complete with a large advertisement painted on the side. Courtesy of Guelph Public Library F38-0-7-0-0-62.)

Younger sibling James B. Ker apparently joined the business in 1893, whereupon it became known as the Ker Bros. (An advertisement attributed to "Ker Bros, Guelph" looking for a jobbing tinsmith appears in the Toronto Globe on 9 September 1893. The Guelph city directory does not list the Ker Bros until 1895, but information in such directories could be a little dated.)

In view of Pamelia Ker's will, the appearance of Ker Bros presents a puzzle. The direction in her will was for the liquidation of the Ker tinsmith business in 1892, when James turned 21, with the proceeds to be divided amongst all her children. Yet, in 1893, we find James as a partner in Ker Bros. Did the family not honour the terms of Pamelia's will? No records currently available resolve question but it could be that the business of Wm. B. Ker, tinsmith, was sold and the proceeds shared among the siblings, and that Wm. and James decided to use their shares to purchase the operation and continue it on the same premises under the new name of the Ker Bros. This manoeuver seems like a potentially dodgy one but it's unclear what other account would fit the facts.

(Portrait of the Ker Bros, Guelph Herald, December 1895. The pictures are not labeled but I suspect that Wm. B. is on the left and James B. on the right.)

The Ker Bros business is written up in the special commercial edition of the Guelph Herald in December 1895, where the reader is told that, "The business carried on by Ker brothers, of this city is one well deserving of notice." The body of the article is mainly boilerplate copy in praise of a local enterprise but some particular details of the outfit are given:

The building in which Ker brothers transact business is located at 12 Cork St. It is a large stone structure, three stories high, all of which space is required to carry the large line of goods handled by the firm. ... They have the sole agency for Guelph and vicinity, of a very superior line of stoves, ranges and furnaces, known as “the jewel line.” ...
As manufacturers of tin, copper and sheet iron wares Ker brothers occupy a prominent position. They make a specialty of galvanized iron roofing, eve-troughing and cornices, which they are prepared to make in any design that may be ordered. ... Some four or five men are given constant employment, and all are mechanics of sound ability.

Then comes a curious retrospective on the history of the business:

For 22 years this business has been firmly established. In 1873 the late William Ker, father of the present proprietors founded it, and carried it on most successfully till the year 1879, when the Kerr [sic] brothers took it in hand, and developed the trade in every direction.

Mrs. Ker's tenure as proprietor of the business is completely omitted! It is hard to know why. Did the Ker Bros not want to share any attention with their mother? Did the author of the article consider it a detail too minor to record? Was the history of a woman business owner just a trival oddity? It is impossible to say but this omission does serve as a reminder that these sort of write-ups were meant to serve commercial interests and not to be the most illuminating historical accounts.

At any rate, the Ker Bros continued in the tinsmith trade until 1901, when the enterprise was sold to brothers T.E. and S. Rudd. At that point, it seems that William Brock Ker became a "traveller", that is, a salesman, for the Burrow, Stewart and Milne Foundry of Hamilton, whose wares the Kers had long featured in their store. He died prematurely on 10 November 1913 in Brandon, Manitoba, probably while on the job. Brother James Byron became an insurance salesman and moved with his family to Toronto and later to Seattle, where he died in 1922.

At this point, we cannot say much about Pamelia Ker's experiences as the owner of a going tinsmith concern in late Victorian Guelph. However, the fact that she was in charge of Mrs. Ker, tinsmith, is beyond dispute and is a forgotten feature of the history of the Royal City that is deserving of recognition.

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Works consulted in this post include:

• Bradbury, B. (1989). Surviving as a Widow in 19th-century Montreal. Urban History Review, 17(3), 148-160.

Atomic age lighting comes to Guelph's City Hall Square

Postcard images of Guelph's (old) city hall are, not surprisingly, pretty common. In their heyday (roughly the Edwardian era), picture postcards of the Royal City often included the city hall. After all, it was a significant civic building and, thus, the kind of image that collectors and tourists tended to favour.

However, picture postcards of the same building continued to be popular in the post-WWII era of chromatic postcards. This commonness can leave us to pass over these cards without much thought. But, there is something novel about these images that rewards a second thought.

So, what do you see when you look at this colour postcard of the city hall?

("City Hall, Guelph, Ontario," published by the McCrae Birthplace Society ca. 1970.)

There is the building, the square in front featuring some seating, as well as a garden. Also featured prominently in the lower half of the image are rows of lamps, each sporting three white globes. In fact, the lamps surrounding the square are designed to "embrace" it: On the side of the square, the three globes on each post are aligned in a row while the two side globes of the lamps at each corner are aligned along each border of the square, making a right triangle when seen from above.

The arrangement is quite visible in an image of the Guelph Memorial Gardens (where the current city hall is now located) from another postcard:

("Memorial Gardens, Sports Arena, Guelph, Ontario," published by the Kitchener News Co. Ltd., ca. 1970.)

Other contemporary postcards of the city hall also frame their images so that the lighting is given prominence.

("Guelph, Ontario. The Guelph City Hall, built in 1856," published by Schneider Enterprises & Gifts Ltd., Woodstock, Ontario, Canada, ca. 1980.)

Finally, there is an image that actually has people in it, sitting on the benches.

("City Hall, the 'Royal City', Guelph, Ontario," published by the Kitchener News Co. Ltd., ca. 1975.)

On the whole, the effect is a bit incongruous, with the square in front of the pre-Confederation city hall being illumated by lamps of a distinctly modern style. Why, then, were those lamps chosen for this location?

I have yet to find any records showing why Guelph's leaders made this choice but some general points about the history of ligting can illuminate the matter at least a little. In brief, I think that this lighting design wass chosen because it is "atomic."

The world entered the atomic age in 1945 with the completion of the Manhattan Project, resulting in the development of atomic weapons. Atomic energy followed soon after. Canada was closely involved in both developments, such as the CANDU reactor design initiated at the Chalk River Laboratories. So, there was no shortage of interest in the technology and trappings of the atomic age. But, what was the atomic age supposed to look like?

The answer emerged from various quarters. One early visual manifestation of the atomic age was the "ball wall clock," designed by George Nelson and Irving Harper in 1947.

("Irving Harper (American, 20th century). "Ball" Wall Clock, 1948-1969." Courtesy of the Brooklyn Museum/Wikimedia Commons.)

With its central "nucleus" governing an orbiting set of "electrons," the clock playfully reflected a simplified model of an atom. It set a precedent and similar examples of starburst design soon followed in many other types of domestic furnishings.

("Sputnik I exhibit in the Missile & Space Gallery at the National Museum of the United States Air Force." Courtesy of the National Museum of the United States Air Force 070308-F-1234S-001.)

One of those types was lighting. The launch of the Sputnik satellite in 1957 popularized a kind of atomic-style light fixture in which small light bulbs stuck out on stalks emanating from a central point, in playful imitation of the spindly antennae of the much admired (and feared) Russian space probe.

("luzete," Sputnik-style light fixture. Courtesy of S. Bolin via Flickr.)

Of course, this sort of sputnik light fixture is a bit complex but could be simplified by reducing the number of lights in the cluster and adopting a more regular geometry for them, such as sitting in a single plane or line.

The final step is to move the fixture from building interiors into outdoor spaces. This step was apparently encouraged by the enormous structure named Atomium, erected for the Brussels World Fair of 1958. At 102m in height, the sculpture was a model of nine iron atoms arranged in a cubic structure (an α-iron crystal) and represented Belgium's contribution to nuclear research. (The Belgian Congo, now the Democratic Republic of Congo, was a major source of uranium.)

Naturally, the Atomium sculpture featured in many postcards of the Fair.

(Postcard depicting the Atomium monument from the 1958 World's Fair exhibition in Brussels, Belgium. Note that the stamp also features a depiction of Atomium. Courtesy of the Science History Institute.)

There's no evidence that the Atomium monument directly prompted the design of outdoor lighting in general, or of lighting in Guelph in particular. However, it is credited with legitimating "atomic design" as a style in civic landscapes, so it is worth bearing in mind.

To be clear, Guelph, like many other cities, had public lighting that combined multiple globes. But, the design of those lights tended to reflect Edwardian modes of design. Consider the postcard below showing St. George's Square, ca. 1930.

("St. George's Square, Guelph, Ontario," published by F.H. Leslie, Niagara Falls, ca. 1930.)

Note the street lights across the middle of the square, each featuring two globes on arms protruding from a central post. In terms of style, the lights would not look out of place in the Guelph of 1910 and are certainly not atomic.

("View on Cité du Havre, showing Expo-Express, the fabulous Habitat 67, and ships in the St. Lawrence River," an Official Postcard published by the Benjamin News Co. Ltd, Montreal, 1967. Courtesy of the BanQ 0002636786. Note the design of the lighting on the train platform, featuring "orbital" globes combined with more traditional-looking arms with right-angled bends.)

The country's centennial in 1967 turned the thoughts of many Canadians to the nation's future. The 1967 International and Universal Exposition, usually known as Expo 67, got people excited about new ideas of architecture and public space. In Guelph, the Expo seemed to add impetus to ideas about renovating the Royal City's old-school downtown. While general plans for the area were ruminated on, money was allocated early in 1968 to re-do the City Hall square and the entrance to the Memorial Gardens.

("City Hall, 1967." Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 2009.32.2252.)

Up to that point, the City Hall square was simply part of the Carden Street roadway. Normally, one could simply drive up to the building's front door and park right there. This arrangement is evident in pictures of the square before the renovations.

("Guelphites enjoy unique afternoon of song and dance," 6 May 1968. Courtesy of Guelph Public Library F45-0-11-0-0-19.)

Arrangements could always be made to rope off the area for special events, such as the Guelph Spring Festival dance performance. But, after each such event, the square reverted to car traffic.

In fact, renovations to the square were delayed until after the visit of Governor General Roland Michener, who dropped by on 26 August to officiate at the grand opening of the John McCrae house (Mercury, 21 August 1968). A ceremony in the City Hall square was planned for the occasion but renovations could not have been completed beforehand and so had to wait.

Renovations were finished by November, when the square became for the first time a strictly pedestrian space. A judo demonstration was apparently the first event to be held beneath the square's new, atomic globes (Mercury, 5 November 1968).

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("City Hall after renovations, October 1987." Courtesy of Guelph Civic Muesums 2009.32.2239.)

Guelphites visiting City Hall basked in the glow of the square's atomic-style lighting for 19 years. In 1987, the City Council decided to give the facade of the City Hall a much-needed "facelift." This beautifcation also extended to the lighting: the triple globes were replaced by single lanterns that imitated the style of coal oil lighting of the kind Guelph had around the time of Confederation. The atomic age was out, the coal era was back!

The early days of Guelph's county courthouse

A courthouse is both a practical and symbolic structure all at once. This is certainly true of Guelph's historic courthouse. Not long after the building's completion in 1843, Major Thornton, a visitor to town, made the following observations relating to it:

Aug. 16th. [1849]—Visited the Court-house where the sessions are held, and where the Sheriff and the Treasurer (Col. Hewat) have their offices. It is a solid stone building, with a district prison behind it. How do prisons proclaim the general depravity of human nature! Go where you will, you find prisons. Walked about the town of Guelph; the locality is diversified and intermixed with verdure and trees, and surrounded at the distance of half a mile and with the wild native forest, with cultivated clearings here and there. From the eminence opposite to the Court-house, the prospect is delightful, and Guelph truly appears “beautiful for situation.”

The Courthouse, and jail, are testimony both to the assertion of the law as established by government and to the tragic failure of the citizenry to live up to their legal obligations. (The justice of the law itself the Major sets aside in his remarks.)

Major Thornton says little about the appearance of courthouse but notes that it is well-situated. Anyone overlooking Guelph from "the eminence opposite" ("Grange Hill" today) would note the centrality of the courthouse on the town site. It's placement on rising ground across Woolwich Street from the Speed River gave it physical prominence in keeping with its social significance. Added to this significance is the neighbouring jail, speaking to the potential stakes involved in judicial proceedings, not excluding the administration of capital punishment.

It was not inevitable that Guelph should have a grand courthouse at all. In the eyes of the British administration, the Guelph region was initially part of the teutonic-sounding District of Hesse, created in the wake of the American Revolution. Court proceedings for the expansive district were held in Detroit, until that was handed over to the United States in 1794.

(The Gore District, detail of "A map of the province of Upper Canada describing all the settlements and townships &c. with the countries adjacent from Quebec to Lake Huron," 1818. Courtesy of Toronto Public Library 912-713-S51-21.)

When Guelph was founded in 1827 by John Galt, it was considered part of the Gore District (founded in 1816, named after Francis Gore, then the Lieutenant Governor of Upper Canada) with its seat in Hamilton. Some Guelph worthies were appointed as Commissioners of the Peace (think "Justice of the Peace"), namely William "Tiger" Dunlop, Col. Lampray, and Messrs. Pryor, Brewster, Hodgert, and Strange, who were empowered to handle minor criminal matter locally, either individually or in panels in the Court of Quarter-Sessions. Minor civils suits were adjudicated locally by the Court of Requests.

No special building was required for these matters. Indeed, legal proceedings were held at the British Coffee House initially. This arrangement was not unusual in Upper Canada: the convenience of holding court proceedings in a tavern buliding need not be elaborated.

However, major legal proceedings were undertaken in Hamilton, the district centre. For example, trials of people accused of aiding and abetting William Lyon Mackenzie during the Upper Canada Rebellion of 1837 were held there. Difficulties experienced in arranging for prisoners and witnesses from Guelph to attend proceedings in Hamilton over poor roads, in bad winter weather, and with lacklustre accommodations illustrated the deficiences of the District's legal arrangements.

(Detail of "Canada West formerly Upper Canada," 1841. Courtesy of Toronto Public Library Digital Archives 912-713-M39-SMALL.)

In 1840, the government shuffled the cards again. Guelph became part of the new District of Wellington, which included not only today's Wellington County but also much of today's Grey, Bruce, and Waterloo counties. The new district would require a courthouse in keeping with its role as the regional seat of justice. Supporters of Berlin (Kitchener), Fergus, Guelph, Preston and Waterloo argued for their towns to be declared the district capital. In the end, Guelph won and the Act stipulated that it should be the judicial seat of the new district as soon as a suitable courthouse could be inaugurated.

Perhaps, in keeping with Major Thornton's concerns about the depravity of humanity, a jail was built first, starting in 1839 and being completed the following year. In terms of design, it is notable as one of Guelph's few octagonal structures, later joined by the "Palace" in Exhibition Park.

("Detail of the Court House and circular jail from "Guelph, Canada West 1853." Ink and pencil on paper by D.J. Kennedy, 1853." Note the octagonal jail to the left of the courthouse. Courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives A2009.42, ph. 30416.)

Construction of a new courthouse did not commence right away. Court proceedings were held at the Suffolk Hotel (corner of Gordon and Fountain Streets), where rooms upstairs were converted for use as a court room, judge's chambers, etc. After this hotel burned down, it was replaced by the Red Lion Hotel (later Fountain House, which survives to this day). The fire may have persuaded the building committee to get on with construction of a new, more dignified and less combustable structure. Construction was set in motion in 1842 and the edifice completed in 1844.

There is some ambiguity as to who designed the structure. James Innes (Mercury, 8 March 1866) implies that the designer was Thomas Young, the Toronto architect who is known to have designed the jail. However, as Ken Seiling (1980) points out, no firsthand record explicitly identifies the architect of the courthouse in particular. It seems likely, though, that the building committee in charge of both structures bought the plans for the jail and courthouse from Young at the same time.

Having said that, some local reports name local builder and architect David Allan as the designer. Guelph notable John Higinbotham (1933) relates the following:

David Allan studied architecture with Sir David Bryce, but did not practise it as a profession, although he designed and superintended the erection of the Court House, Saint Andrew’s Church and his own mills in Guelph, all of them monuments of stability and most graceful in their lines.

David Allan was Higinbotham's grandfather. Perhaps the intervening years enlarged his grandfather's role in the matter of the courthouse.

Other records name a few individuals who, along with David Allan, were involved in construction of the courthouse. The Wellington County Historical Atlas (1906) notes that John Black "assisted to build" both the jail and the courthouse. Arthur McQuillan, a noted local builder, recalled that his father James the stone mason had a hand in building the courthouse along with many of Guelph's other early, stone buildings (Mercury, 28 April 1923). Also, Thomas McBride, resident of Guelph since 1828, worked on the courthouse in his capacity as a carpenter (Mercury, 20 July 1927).

("Sketch of Guelph looking west towards Wellington County Court House, ca. 1850." This image provides a nice view of the courthouse in its early context (just above and right of the centre of the image). Courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives A1985.13, ph. 6854.)

The style of the architecture has been described as "Regency—Romantic stream" (MacRae 1983), meaning that it has a symmetric facade (more or less classical in inspiration) but incorporates a number of gothic elements, including battlements, corner towers, and stone construction. In terms of the motivation of this style, MacRae (1983, p. 259) states that it "could produce an expression of modern sophistication and yet imply dungeons," which does seem to fit. As such, Guelph's courthouse was only the second courthouse in Ontario designed in this style, the first being the London District (now Middlesex County) courthouse in London, Ontario.

MacRae (1983, pp. 104—105) provides a nice description of the new building's configuration:

Young designed the second Upper Canadian castellated courthouse around its ceremonial heart, the courtroom. Externally, he expressed this by buttressing the centre with four protective towers, the northern pair serving as stair towers and having matching entrance doorways in their bases. The central space above the courtroom was designated for the sittings of the grand jury, still a large and important body in 1837. All windows in the north facade of the Guelph building were large, their transoms and French casements glazed with leaded, diamond-shaped panes. Both the judges and the magistrates were comforted by fireplaces, as were the sheriff and court officials in the rooms overhead. The second floor office of the district treasurer contained the only provision planned in 1837 for the safe-keeping of documents or money: a shallow recess in the thick stone partition wall, fitted with an iron door. The south-east tower housed the constables on the ground floor, near the door in the courtroom leading to the jail. They shared their space for a time with the "court housekeeper," or janitor, one of whose duties was to see that the courtroom floor was thickly strewn with fresh sawdust during the Assizes—an oblique comment both on the state of the District roadways and on the prevalence of tobacco chewing among the spectators.

The accompanying figure gives a basic overview of the building's elevation and plan:

Note that the courthouse was also octagonal in plan, which would be easy to miss when looking at the building from outside.

Readers familiar with the courthouse today will note that it now appears considerably different. Indeed, repairs and renovations began when the structure was only a few years old. These are discussed in detail by Seiling (1983). Major renovations and additions were undertaken in 1850, 1873, 1953, 1955, 1963, and 1982.

("The Court House, Guelph, Ont." Illustrated Canadian News, 21 February 1874, p. 124. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1981.304.3.)

The horse-head hitching posts that appear in front of the courthouse in many older illustrations were installed in 1877.

("Court House, Guelph, Ontario," ca. 1900, from a set that may have been prepared by Guelph postcard pioneer Oran Turbnull.)

The postcard above provides a typical view of the courthouse from down Woolwich Street. The jail is visible to the left, and three men can be made out standing at the front entrace. The hitching posts are still evident by the roadside. The national flag flies from a pole on the roof. The postcard has the older, undivided back format with a message written on the front: "The compliments of the season to Mr. and Mrs. Church. // John Simpson" The card was sent to Mrs. Church of Victoria, BC, on 24 December 1904. If it were not for the date, the postcard could be understood as an ironic notification of the launch of a lawsuit, "compliments" of the sender. Instead, the card serves to remind us that people often paid little attention to images on the postcards that they sent for correspondence.

("Court House, Guelph, Ont." ca. 1910. Published by the Valentine & Sons Co., Toronto.)

The postcard above provides a similar view, although it has been colourized and the jail behind the courthouse seems to have been removed from view. What appears to be a curious sort of large faucet is visible in the centre foreground by the side of the street. Was this fixture some sort of hydrant? Horse-watering convenience? The postcard was sent on 7 September 1909 to a Miss A.E. Scott in Tasmania with the message: "Many thanks for pretty postal[.] hope you like this one. I have been away on my holidays or you would have got an answer sooner. ans soon [sic] Reg" The message suggests that this image was chosen deliberately. Perhaps Miss Scott collected postcards of courthouses. It seems likely that she was a stamp collector too—putting the stamps on the front would allow them to be visible if the postcard were pasted into an album, as many were.

("Court House, Guelph, Canada." ca. 1910, published by Charles Nelles, a notable purveyor of postcards of the Royal City.)

The postcard above provides a view of the courthouse from up Woolwich Street. One prominent feature in this postcard is the substantial mast planted in front of the courthouse. Although we cannot see the top, it may have been put there in lieu of the flagpole that was evident on top of the courthouse in earlier images but now seems to be missing. A standard fire hydrant can be glimpsed behind a horse-head hitching post in the lower, centre foreground. A group of four young men can be seen sitting about the courthouse's front door. Hopefully, they were not planning anything that would get them into trouble.

The courthouse had a near death experience in the late 1970s when Wellington County considered doing away with it as part of plans to modernize their operations. Happily, the Local Architectural Conservation Advisory Committee was able to persuade the County to "recycle" the building and request that the City of Guelph give it a heritage designation, which was accomplished in 1980.

("Court House, Guelph, Can." published by the International Stationary Co., ca. 1915.)

This image was probably taken at the time of the Old Home Week Guelph in 1913. Note the people in good clothes heading up Woolwich Street. The street also sports a new lighting system and the stairs connecting the street to the sidewalk in front of the Court House. The card was mailed on 23 September 1914 and conveys some sad news: "My dear[,] just a line to tell you our barn was burnt down last night[.] all we could save was the horse and buggie and pigs[.] it was struck with lightning and was burnt down in about 15 minutes. Clara" This incident is what lawyers would call an Act of God.

Naturally, the courthouse was the site of many trials and other legal proceedings. The most discussed of these were the ones that involved capital punishment. The first of these was the trial of Charles Coghlin in 1847, who was accused of the murder of Richard Oliver in the course of a fight. Coghlin was found guilty and hanged from a gallows erected for the purpose outside of the courthouse. This and later examples are discussed by Irwin (2002).

While the primary function of the courthouse was to serve as the locus for regional legal proceedings, the courthouse made itself available for a variety of civic functions. One such function was as a place of worship. In 1851, for example, the Parochial Association of St. George's Church was held in the courthouse, apparently to the satisfaction of all concerned.

("Herbert Purdy as a Baby, circa 1925." Was Herbert marked from an early age for a life of crime? A career in law? Note the street cleaning cart in the background. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1982.98.46.)

After the original St. Andrew's church on the Market Square was purchased by the town fathers to make way for the (old) city hall (now the site of the Ontario Court of Justice!) in 1856, the Presbyterian congregation met in the courthouse until their new building on Norfolk Street was completed two years later.

As noted in my earlier post on the origin of Chalmers Church, the congregation of Knox Church split up in 1869, apparently due to division regarding the behavior of their minister, the Reverend Ball. The breakway faction, no longer willing to congregate under the same roof, undertook to build their own, which became Chalmers Church, only a few doors down Quebec Street. Of course, churches cannot be built at the snap of a finger, so the rebel faction met for worship in the courthouse until 1871, when their new edifice was complete.

Besides providing space for religious observance, the courthouse served several other important functions. For example, it provided chambers for the Guelph and County councils until those bodies arranged to build dedicated structures of their own.

(Mouse pad showing the Wellington County Administration building, formerly the courthouse, ca. 2005. Courtesy of Wellington County Museum and Archives 2014.7.1.)

As the first "monumental" government structure raised in Guelph, the courthouse was the place to hold or to bless important events. For example, when the first train to visit Guelph arrived on the new Grand Trunk Railway tracks downtown on 30 January 1856, the party of dignitaries, including the Governor General, that arrived aboard her was escorted to the courthouse for a celebratory round of speeches. After that, the party retired to the British Hotel for libations.

On 18 September 1856, when the cornerstone of the (old) city hall was laid, the Town Council, contractors, and various well-wishers assembled at the courthouse and, led by the band of the rifle corps, marched in procession to the site of the new building. It seems that the glamour of the old building was needed to add to the dignity of the new one, something that was best conveyed physically by a procession.

In his history of Guelph, A.E. Byerly (1935, p. 95) notes that some concerts were held the courthouse, for example:

In 1857 efforts were started to build a rectory for the Catholic clergy and James G. Moylan advertised a Bazaar and Concert for Easter evening, April 14, 1857, at the Court House, to raise funds for the building.

Did the conductor use the judge's gavel?

Finally, the Centennial issue of the Mercury (20 July 1927) notes that the courthouse had a lawn bowling team!

While the Guelph Bowling Club is the oldest organization and boasts the largest membership, other flourishing bowling bodies are the Court House, Hillcrest, Reformatory and Homewood. These clubs are all fortunate in having excellent greens, and inter-club matches which are arranged from time to time always create considerable interest.

Did the courthouse team have an advantage? Imagine disputing calls with a teams of judges. (The courthouse, now the Wellington County Administration building, today. Courtesy of Google Street View.)

Things have changed a great deal for the courthouse since Major Thornton's visit in 1849. It has perhaps become less noticeable as its environs have filled in with other structures. It is now an office building that plays a less obvious role in the civic life of the county than it did as a courthouse. It hasn't featured on a Guelph postcard for quite some time. Still, unlike other old Guelph buildings, such as its former neighbour the Priory, it has adapted and survived and invites us to recollect its role in the judicial history of the Royal City.

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Works consulted include:

• Allinson, C.L.C. (1967). "Courts and Court-buidings at Guelph."
• Burrows, C.A. (1877). "The annals of the town of Guelph."
• Byerly, A.E. (1935). "The beginning of things in Wellington and Waterloo Counties."
• Higinbotham, J.D. (1933). "When the west was won."
• Irwin, R. (2002). "Capital punishment in Wellington County." Wellington County History 15:31–44.
• Seiling, K. (1983). "Wellington County Courthouse: A link with the past." [Wellington County Museum and Archives A2008.112]

Rockhaven Motor Court: Guelph's first motel

About 12:30 in the morning of 6 November 1968, Harry Johnston, proprietor of the Rockhaven Motel, answered the doorbell to find two young men with their backs to him. The fact that they had silk stockings over their heads immediately suggested they were up to no good. The account from the Kitchener-Waterloo Record continues:

One of the two men turned around and put a switch blade knife against Mr. Johnston’s chest and mumbled something about giving them money.
The proprietor backed his way out of a kitchen and managed to lock the two inside where they ransacked the premises but could not find a cash drawer.
They then fled from the unlocked entrance to the kitchen and disappeared shortly after 4 o’clock.

Johnston called the police, who soon located John Prochownik, 17, of RR 4, St. Catherines, and Peter Donald Holmes, 18, of Toronto, and charged them with attempted armed robbery and other crimes.

The Rockhaven Motel stood on at 780 York Road, on the north side, just opposite the driveway entrance to the Ontario Reformatory, in Guelph Township just outside of the Royal City. The armed robbery attempt by Prochownik and Holmes was possibly the most exciting or newsworthy event that happened there. Otherwise, the motel seems to have garnered little in the way of press attention.

(Ad for the Rockhaven Motel from the Bell Yellow Pages, 1981, early in the tenure of Jack and Margaret Randall. The motel had many of the usual attractions, including a heated swimming pool. Not every motel could offer a nice fishing hole in the ponds of the Reformatory across the road!)

Local phone books and city directories provide some basic information. The "Rockhaven Motor Court" first appears in the 1949 phone book, with W.H. Beacom listed as proprietor. It's name changes to Rockhaven Motel in 1956. Beacom's tenure seems to last throughout the 1950s, when Gladys Hill is given as proprietor in 1963. Harry Johnston takes over in 1964 and endures the armed robbery attempt four years later. In 1971, John and Alma Cimerman succeed Johnston and are followed in turn by Jack and Margaret Randall in 1980. In the 1988/89 city guide, the motel is listed as belonging to Trans Cities Realty, followed by Clarence Close in 1989/90 and 1990/91.

(Matchbook for Rockhaven Motel. Like postcards, these were also common promotional items for motels. Smoke 'em if you got 'em was the rule in motels in that era. From this matchbook, we also learn that Harry Johnston's wife was Jean. Note the two-letter + 5-number telephone number, TA 4-7500, which was in use ca. 1960. The matchbook appears to date from W.H. Beacom's proprietorship.)

In the 1991/92 directory, the address 780 York Road appears to be the private address of M Lajeunesse. Rockhaven Motel, it seems, had seen its final curtain and was shortly replaced by Yorkhaven Place. Yet, it deserves to be remembered. The fact that it is the only "motor court" listed in 1949 directory suggests that it was Guelph's first example of that up-and-coming means of motorist accommodation, the motel.

(Another matchbook for the Rockhaven Motel. The motel had not only a pool but a dining room! Courtesy of the Wellington Museum and Archives, 2018.8.23.)

The first motel of record seems to be the Milestone Mo-Tel, opened by Arthur and Alfred Heineman on 12 December 1925 in San Luis Obispo. The location was significant because SLO was half-way along the highway between Los Angeles and San Francisco and thus a convenient stop-over for folks travelling between California's best-known cities in that increasingly popular means of personal transportation, the automobile.

Until that point, auto travellers had two choices. One was to drive into town and stay at a regular inn or hotel. But, that option was becoming increasingly inconvenient given increasing levels of congestion in big cities. Also, downtown locations were often relatively expensive. Another option was to stay at an "auto camp," a road-side camp ground where travellers could pitch a tent and start a camp fire, and then enjoy the communal facilities. Cheap but not convenient or comfortable.

The mo-tel (a portmanteau of "motor" and "hotel"), located on the outskirts of town, offered a respite from city traffic and prices, combined with the convenience of an auto-camp but featured private rooms and facilities. Plus, guests could drive right up to their room doors! What's not to like?

The motel business prospered in spite of the Great Depression. After the Second World War, car production resumed, the economy boomed, and motels began to spring up along roadsides near every major (and not so major) city across North America.

Readers may have fond memories of stays in motels during road trips. Motels invested in more and more amenities to compete. A land line telephone in every room! A swimming pool! Colour TV! And, of course, postcards. While postcards had faded as a means of communication or civic display, motel postcards flourished as advertising for businesses and as a way of recording or sharing a record of one's exotic travels.

The Rockhaven Motor Court was no exception. In the motel's early days, the proprietors invested in an inexpensive postcard, as shown below.

("Rockhaven Motor Court—One mile east of Guelph on No. 7 Highway.")

Three people appear to be standing outside the motel office to the left, while three vehicles demonstrate that guests could indeed drive right up to their room doors. The ridge looming in the background is the raised rail bed of the Canadian National Railway track. Decorative rocks add a touch of class to the entrance and the foundation of the building.

No printer is listed on the card but text on the back does extol the amenities of the establishment: "A Restful Motor Court—Good Food, Centrally Heated—Open the Year Round." Nice!

Fortunately, a copy of this postcard from the Keleher collection was sent through the mail, 27 August 1951, suggesting that the postcard records the motel as it appeared in its earliest days. Furthermore, the postcard was sent by the proprietor himself:

Hello Gordon
This is a picture of our motor court. Hope you are real to all. We are very busy here.
Wm. & E. Beacom

It seems business was good.

From this postcard, we also learn that W.H. Beacom's first name was William and his wife's first initial was E. Beyond that, I have not been able to find out anything about the Rockhaven Motel's founders. In fact, information about the other proprietors is not plentiful either. Harry Johnston, John & Alma Cimmerman, and Clarence Close are largely cyphers.

(From the "Survey and Mapping Branch, Department of Energy, Mines and Resources, 1965." Courtesy of Brian Skerrett. Note the label "Motel" next to Rockhaven, opposite the entry drive to the Ontario Reformatory.)

Some things can be found about Jack and Margaret Randall, who owned the motel from 1979 through 1989. Jack married Margaret Schmidt on 7 December 1956 in Waterloo. It's not clear how they got into the motel business but they remained in it after leaving Guelph. They are given as owners of the Cedarcourt Motel in Southampton in 1998.

There is an interesting photo of Jack Randall in the Kitchener-Waterloo Record (1 December 1982):

("Aerial acrobot: Jack Randall, proprietor of the Rockhaven Motel on York Road, Guelph, balances precariously on a metal bar while he secures a sign that was being loosened by strong winds. Record photo by Rick Kotze."

At present, the reasons why the motel went out of business can only be guessed at. Perhaps increasing competition from big chains played a role. Also, the importance of York Road as a convenient route for motorists to reach Guelph likely dwindled with completion of the Hanlon Expressway in 1975, connecting the city to Highway 401 to the south.

(From the 1960 Guelph Fire Insurance Map. Courtesy of Brian Skerrett.)

In any event, if you happen to drive along York Road opposite the Reformatory east of Guelph, spare a glance at the former motel and imagine pulling in and driving right up to your door at the Royal City's first motor court!

(The former site of the Rockhaven Motel, now Yorkhaven Place. Courtesy, Google Street View.)

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It would be great to learn more about the Rockhaven Motel and its former owners. If you have some information to share, please leave a comment in this post!

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Works consulted include:

• McCrea, M. (2025, Oct. 22). "100 Years of the Motel: Neon Signs, Swimming Pools and American Dreams." New York Times.

Harriet Miller, "One of Guelph's most picturesque characters"

This rare and appealing postcard provides an image of an older woman seated outside in a rocking chair in the sunshine, wearing a straw hat and smoking a pipe. Her hands are folded, her look serious (as it might be for a formal portrait). She looks straight at the camera lens but remains enigmatic.

(Real photo postcard portrait of Harriet Miller, ca. 1925, perhaps taken at the "House of Providence" in the care of the Sisters of St. Joseph, Guelph. Courtesy of the Guelph Civic Museums, 1968.123.4.)

When I say "rare," I mean both that the postcard is not numerous—the Civic Museum copy is the only one I've seen—and that postcards of Black Canadians are unusual as a genre. Gifford (2013) pointed out that postcards were not used by Black Americans with as much frequency as white ones, and the same seems to be true north of the border. So, the card is rare as a piece of Black Canadiana.

Relatively little is known of Harriet Miller. Besides describing her as "one of Guelph's most picturesque characters," a short obituary in the Hamilton Spectator (29 January 1932) adds:

She is believed to have lived more than a century, and to have been a native of Peel county, although her origin is something of a mystery. She came here so long ago that there is no record of the date. Every citizen knew of her, and she was a great friend of the children.

Another in the Waterloo Record adds that she was a "devotee of her pipe, which she smoked until a short time before her death." (The Guelph Mercury at the time of her death, 28 January 1932, is missing from the archives, which is a shame as it was undoubtly the source of these other versions and contained more information.) Curiously, versions of this obituary were carried by newspapers as far away as Vancouver. It seems there was something about the idea of a centenarian, pipe-smoking, Black lady that had broad appeal.

Later recountings add more details. For example, in his "Pictorial Flashback" column (Mercury, 4 September 1958), local historian Findlay Weaver reproduced the same photo and expanded on her lore:

Little was known of Harriet's childhood or the actual date she took up residence in Guelph. She spent a great part of her life in this city and was a familar figure as she gathered wood and other articles, and accepted alms from citizens while making daily rounds about the streets. Her surname was "Miller" but to Guelphites she was known only as "Old Harriet."

In his short article for the Guelph Historical Society, Harold Koch (1973) says that "Aunt Harriet" was likely a formerly enslaved person who arrived in Guelph after the American Civil War, impecunious and peripatetic, who was known for her ready smile, a soft spot for young people (when they weren't annoying her), and singing of hymns and spirituals.

From these accounts one gets the sense that people writing about Harriet Miller were going on faded recollections and second-hand common knowledge, with a dash of speculation and infilling with ideas taken from stereotypes of people like her. The nickname "Aunt Harriet," for example, likely reflects the tendency of Americans and Canadians to refer to Black women as "Aunt ...," originally a reference to Black women assigned to domestic and childcare duties in the antebellum South. (Readers of a certain vintage may recall the "Aunt Jemima" brand of table syrup and pancake mix, with its depiction of a smiling Black woman dressed for kitchen duties.)

Nor was Miller the first eccentric, elderly Black woman in Guelph. One Mrs. Fisher, presumably a widow, was described in the pages of the Mercury (20 December 1907) as "a well-known character" who had "no means to earn a living." She was the object of charity for her neighbours on Durham street and was a regular recipient of relief money given out by the city. She supported herself as much as she could, catching fish for herself in the Speed in summer and gathering fallen wood for heating in the winter. City relief money was used to pay her rent. Nonetheless, she sought to pay as much rent as she could herself from whatever cash she obtained. Her landlord, the City Treasurer George Scroggie, was accused of pocketing the cash that Mrs. Fisher gave him, though an inquiry exonerated him.

In any event, the figure of a single, older, Black woman struggling to get by was not a new one in Guelph. But, the public figure of Harriet Miller was one formed by much presupposition on the part of folks who didn't know her background and made few inquiries.

With the ready availability of archival records online, there is an opportunity, if not to know Harriet Miller, then at least to get a better sense of the context in which she lived.

Harriet first appears in the 1861 census of Canada West (Ontario), nine years old and resident in the township of Nichol. Subsequent census records provide different birthdates for her but something like 1853 seems secure. Already, it's clear that the story that Miller was 100 years old when she died in 1932 was not accurate.

Harriet was the daughter of William and Mary Ann (née Harrington) Miller. William, it appears, was from Pennsylvania, while Mary Ann was born in Ontario. They seem to have married in the early 1830s, as their first child, Elizabeth Lucinda, was born in Toronto in 1833. The couple was nomadic, with subsequent children being born in Cobourg (Thomas Henry, 1836), Freelton (Sarah Ann, 1839), Whitby (James Francis, 1844), and St. Catherines, (Caroline Elizabeth, 1843). William was a farm laborer, so these peregrinations were likely to due to his movements looking for work as a hired hand on farms where work was available.

The 1851 census puts the family in a rural log house in Garafraxa, so it is likely that Harriet was born there, or perhaps their location in Nichol given in the 1861 census. Harriet was far from the couple's only child: William and Mary had ten sons and five daughters!

In the 1871 census, the Miller family is Maryborough, today the western half of Mapleton township in Wellington County. This locale is interesting in part because it was central to the Queen's Bush settlement. In brief, this was a large tract of land spreading from what is now western Wellington County towards Lake Huron and north towards Georgian Bay, obtained by Upper Canada resulting from the Manitoulin Island Treaty of 1836 for the purpose of settlement. The townships of Maryborough and Peel (now Mapleton) in Wellington County and Wellesley township (Waterloo Region) became the focus for settlement of Black migrants, both Canadian and American, who set up informal farms there. Usually living on limited means, these migrants could not afford to purchase the land and instead squatted there.

By 1850, the land was surveyed and the government prepared to sell of the lots. The Governor General, Earl Elgin, offered squatters a deal to purchase the lots their farms were situated on but most could not afford it. As a result, many moved on. However, several Black families remained and this fact may have attracted the Miller family to the area.

Unfortunately, William Miller died not long afterward the family's arrival. In 1874, Mary Ann Miller married Jacob Peterson, a widower and resident of Howick township in north Huron County. He had earlier been resident in Peel township, which is likely where he and Mary Ann got acquainted. Having been born in 1798, Peterson was not a young man and died in his turn early in 1881. Thus, the 1881 Ontario census finds Mary Ann Peterson as a widow in Howick, living with "Hariot" Peterson and Eliza Boid. "Hariot" is, of course, Harriet Miller, who had taken Jacob's surname, at least for official purposes. "Eliza" was Harriet's older sister Elizabeth Lucinda Miller, who had married Esau Boyd in 1858. It seems this marriage did not stick, as Esau is listed in the 1861 census as a saddler in Elora living by himself. Eliza had rejoined her parents. She eventually did remarry, hitching up with Caleb Gant, found in Normanby township, Grey County, in the 1891 census.

Subsequently, Mary and Harriet made their way to Guelph, where they are found, still with surname "Peterson," in the 1891 census. That census does not provide their address but they are listed next to another Black family, James and Lucinda Richards, whose address was 86 Essex Street. As their neighbours, Mary and Harriet would also be resident right across Essex Street from the British Methodist Episcopal (BME) church, now the headquarters of the Guelph Black Heritage Society.

At the age of 78, Mary Peterson passed away on 13 October 1893. The Mercury provides an account of her funeral at the BME church (16 October):

The funeral services of Mrs. Mary Ann Peterson (colored) at the B.M.E. church, yesterday afternoon, were largely attended, the church being filled to its utmost capacity. After the coffin had been brought in and placed near the communion railing, and the choir had sung the well known hymn, “And am I born to die,” Mr. Chown offered a short impressive prayer. Rev. Mr. Oliver, pastor, then spoke a few words of encouragement. The deceased was the mother of a family of ten sons and five daughters, and had some sixty grandchildren. Appropriate music was rendered as the audience took the last look at the aged face. Rev. Mr. Oliver also conducted the service at the grave.

A couple of questions occur: Why did Mary Ann and Harriet relocate to Guelph, and what did Harriet do after her mother died?

The Miller family did have some previous connection with the Royal City. Harriot's sister Elizabeth resided in Guelph at the time of the 1871 census, between husbands, boarding with the Smith family. Harriet's older brother James Francis ("Frank"), resident of Harriston in 1891, had moved his family to Guelph by the 1901 census. He died of pneumonia in 1907. His obituary provides some relevant background (Mercury, 20 January 1907):

The late Frank Miller, whose funeral took place on Monday afternoon from his residence on Albert street to the Union Cemetery, was in his 63rd year, and was born at Norval. While a child he moved to Guelph with his parents, where he has remained until his death, with the exception of some years spent at Harriston. Deceased was well known to almost every resident of the Royal City, and was generally respected. He leaves two brothers and four sisters, as well as six daughters and four sons to mourn his death.

The "two brothers and four sisters" may have been the only ones known to the obituary writer. Nonetheless, the article suggests that the Miller family had stronger connections to Guelph than the census data itself would indicate.

(Frank Miller, no date. Courtesy of Gwen Miller Miner via Ancestry.ca.)

Another Miller with a Guelph connection is Harriet's older sister Susan Jane. In 1874, Susan married Joseph Cromwell. Cromwell was originally from Nova Scotia and had moved to the Queen's Bush in 1846, along with the family of Jacob Peterson (who later married Eliza Miller as his second wife, as noted above). The Cromwells remained in Maryborough for some time, although the 1891 census finds them in Howick, at the same time as the Mary Ann and Herriot Peterson (Miller). Coincidence? Well, the family is located in Guelph in 1901. It seems as though the Millers, Petersons, and Cromwells were moving in sync at this time!

(It may not have lasted long for the Cromwell family. Susan Cromwell is listed as a resident of Cleveland, Ohio, in the 1910 US Census. Joseph died and Susan moved to Cleveland to live with a daughter and son-in-law there. Oddly, the census form gives her year of US immigration as 1892. Perhaps this date is a typo.)

Yet another Miller adds to this trend. Harriet's older sister Matilda married James Malott of Peel Township in 1867. They resided and raised a family there but the 1901 Ontario census finds them in—you guessed it—Guelph! James's father Joseph had been born in Alabama and worked as a cook on a Mississippi steamboat. He was able to purchase his freedom and moved to Ohio and then on to the Colbornesburg Settlement, a predominantly Black settlment near what is now Winterbourne in Woolwich Township, Waterloo Region. The Malott family moved to Peel township in the Queen's Bush in 1841. James worked as a labourer on the same farm as his father but, by the 1901 census, had relocated with Matilda and their family to Guelph.

For present purposes, the crucial thing about the Malott family's move to the Royal City is that Harriet Miller appears as a resident of their house at 133 York Road in the 1911 census, along with three of her sister's children and two grandchildren. This record is significant in that Harriot is not to be found in the 1901 census. We cannot be sure where Harriet lived between her mother's death in 1893 and the census of 1911 but it seems likely that she remained in the community, perhaps living with relatives as circumstances allowed. This conclusion also gibes with the remark in her obituary that "she came here [Guelph] so long ago..." Had she left the community in this interval, it seems unlikely she would have given people the impression that she was a long-time resident after her return.

The 1931 census locates Harriet Miller as an "inmate" of the House of Providence, run by the Sisters of St. Joseph in Guelph. In this case, "inmate" means that she was a resident there and does not necessarily imply confinement. The record states that her age is 100, which shows that this part of her legend had already taken root. Another annotation states briefly, "memory gone." In other words, it seems she had experienced a signficant cognitive decline and was unable to speak for herself.

The question naturally arises: Why was Miller placed in the care of the Sisters of St. Joseph? Why not remain with family members? It is impossible to know. However, her connection with the Malotts may have weakened after 1911. Her sister Matilda Malott died in 1913 and her brother-in-law James in 1919. So, the opportunities to live with siblings may have dried up.

Even so, several of the Malott children did live in the same neighbourhood. For example, James Malott junior had married Mary Elizabeth Palmer and lived at 151 Grove Street in 1921, where they had four children and a lodger.

("Mary Elizabeth Malott with son Edward Alonzo Malott, 26 Sackville Street, Guelph, 1935." Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, A2012.94.)

However, James Jr. had a number of run-ins with the law, mainly regarding theft, so that housing his aunt might not have seemed like a good idea. In any event, James Jr. died in 1924, so his family may not have been in a position to take care of an elderly relative.

Of course, it's also possible that Harriet simply decided that such a situation did not suit her. Or, given the cognitive decline that she appears to have experienced by 1931, someone may have decided that the House of Providence was the best option for her care.

In any event, although we have learned relatively little about Harriet Miller from these records, they do leave us with a different impression than the one handed down by Findlay Weaver and Harold Koch. Rather than a lonely, ancient, formerly enslaved woman, Harriet Miller turns out to have been part of a large and well-connected family with significant roots in southwestern Ontario in general and Guelph in particular.

It also seems clear that Harriet Miller never married, unlike most of her siblings. Whether she was uninterested in marriage or never met the right partner, she seems instead to have taken on the role of spinster caregiver, an unmarried daughter who remained with and cared for her parents. This role was not an uncommon one. Perhaps this role agreed with her. But, it had a clear downside, which is that it left her somewhat adrift after her parents' deaths. It may be after her mother's death in 1893 that Harriet became the "character" that so many Guelphites were later acquainted with.

At the time of Harriet's death, it was mostly this acquaintance and stereotypes about the kind of woman that Harriet was that became the basis of subsequent public writings about her. These made better copy than would be gleaned by consulting remaining family, and so they were printed. Happily, it is possible to get a better sense of Harriet's life and times, although she remains essentially the enigma that appears in the postcard of her taken about 100 years ago.

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Questions that always arise in considering photographs like Harriet's are: Who took them, and why? As expected, we have no definite answers. The quality of the photography suggests that it was taken by an amateur rather than a professional photographer. Like many real photo postcards, it may have been taken by a relative to share with friends and family members, maybe at Harriet's request. It may have been a member of the public who wanted a shot of Harriet the Guelph "character." It may have been taken by the Sisters of St. Joseph as a way to amuse the people in their care.

Without further information, its hard to say.

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Although Harriet Miller is gone, the postcard image of her remains evocative of her memory. In 2024, Guelph Artist in Residence HAUI screened a video recreating the character of Harriet Miller, portrayed by ahdri zhina mandiela. Screening was accompanied by a panel discussion at St. Joseph's Health Centre in Guelph.

The video is currently on tour but more local screenings are planned for 2026. See HAUI's Aunt Harriet video webpage for more information.

The trailer is available on YouTube!

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A couple of further family connections with Harriet Miller are worth mentioning. First, Joseph Harrington Miller, a son of Harriet Miller's older brother, Thomas Henry, moved to Guelph with his family in time to be recorded in 1911 census. So, he was a nephew of Harriet and, I suppose, would have known her. Unfortunately, he died in 1918 of influenza during the Spanish Flu pandemic.

As it happens, there is a picture of one of Joseph's sons, Joseph Melvin, with his wife Annabelle, possibly at their home in Palmerston, ca. 1930. So, he would have been a great nephew of Harriet's.

("Melvin Miller and wife Anna Belle Hisson," undated photo. Courtesy of Melissa Rolston at Ancestry.ca.)

Secondly, another interesting connection comes in the form of Jehu Sylvester Miller, Harriet's younger brother by a couple of years. He spent his life in northern Wellington County, where he was born. He did well for himself, moving from being a farm labourer to owning his own farm, ultimately settling on a farm near Palmerston.

("Jehu Sylvester Miller," taken in Palmerston. No date. Courtesy of LuAnne Cameron via Ancestry.ca.)

For present purposes, the connection of interest is that Jehu married Amanda Adalia Cromwell in Clifford in 1879. Yes, those Cromwells! In fact, Amanda was a daughter of Joseph Cromwell, the former Queen's Bush resident and husband of Jehu's older sister Susan. Of course, Amanda was a daughter of Joseph's first wife Elizabeth, so the familial relation was not too close. Nonetheless, this connection does suggest how interwined the lives of Black settlers, including the Millers, were in the region at the time.

Last, but not least, Harriet's older sister Caroline married John Malott, a brother of James Malott, whom Matilda Miller had married (as noted above). (Is there a term for the relationship of being married to a brother- or sister-in-law? It would apply to a few Millers.) John and Caroline lived in Peel township, where John worked as a labourer and then carpenter. One of their sons, Daniel Sylvester, moved to Guelph around 1905, took up residence on Alice Street (#170 in the 1915 city directory), and worked as a labourer and perhaps teamster for the Guelph Cartage Company, like his cousins James and Joseph Miller.

Unfortunately, Daniel appears to have run into some difficulties. He disappears from the Guelph city directory around 1915 and is found as a patient of the Ontario Hospital in Hamilton, AKA the Hamilton Asylum for the Insane, in the 1921 and 1931 censuses. His wife Sophia and children remained in Guelph. Whatever contact they may have had with aunt Harriet Miller is unclear.

Sophia is listed as Daniel's widow in the Guelph directories on and after 1925. However, Daniel's obituary (Brantford Expositor, 5 July 1955) suggests that he was released from the Asylum in 1937 and subsequently lived with siblings Joseph, John, and Alexander in Brantford.

Perhaps it is relevant to note the fact that another of Harriet's relations was institutionalized around the same time that she was. Besides her nephew Daniel, Daniel's sister, Ella Victoria Malott, was institutionalized at the Ontario Hospital in Cobourg, AKA the Cobourg Asylum, in 1912. There she remained until her death in 1949.

It's hard to know what, if anything, this information suggests about Harriet Miller. It does suggest that institutionalization was a familiar process to her Malott relations in Guelph, perhaps elevating the risk of this outcome for her.

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Works consulted for this post include:

• Brown-Kubisch, L. (2004). The Queen's Bush Settlement: Black Pioneers 1839–1865. Dundurn.
• Gifford, D. (2013). American holiday postcards, 1905-1915: imagery and context. McFarland.
• Koch, H. (1973). "Aunt Harriet," Historic Guelph, v. 13, n. 9.