In the mid-1880s, one of the
young men who was a reporter with the Hamilton Spectator was a well-known
character, not only in Hamilton but in the other cities in which he had lived
and worked for the local newspaper.
In fact, this reporter was a
free spirit, and a man who liked his spirits, liked his drink very much. His
love of drink often was the cause of his dismissal from one newspaper, but his
talent as an writer, storyteller and keen observer often gained his another job
in short order.
In August, 1885, this
reporter returned to the pages of the Spectator, using the pseudonym, The Town
Tramp. He had used that nickname before, but any writings by The Town Tramp had
been interrupted. While the cause of the interruption was not specified, it was
probably related to his love of good whiskey, card games and perhaps some
financial indiscretion.
In the article which
appeared on August, 15, 1885, the Town Tramp only hinted at the reason for his
temporary absence. He also hinted at his awareness of gamblers in the reference
to the height of the tower at what he called was the “new customs house” but
which was also the immense new post off at John and King streets.
Following is The Town
Tramp’s breezy observations on various things, written in his characteristic
style:
‘Come into the garden broad,
For the tall, tall weed has grown.’
- Old song (revised version)
“Yes, the Town Tramp is back
again. And he feels sure his many friends will not be too inquisitive as to
where he has been for so long. He will tell so much as is good for the public
to know. Men in positions of responsibility and trust – turnkeys and the like –
will understand when the Town Tramp remarks that it is sometimes absolutely
necessary for gentlemen of his profession to retire for shorter or longer
periods from the activities of a cruel world to enjoy a change of occupation
and diet in the seclusion provided by a paternal government. But – no more on a
painful subject.
“The Town Tramp’s next
friend (a useful person in law) says: ‘There can be no question that the girl
with the cork leg would be safe in patronizing the new salt water baths.’
“ ‘How so?’
“ ‘Do you suppose anyone
with cork enough to float her could drown? Let her take it off and use it as a
life preserver.’
“The Town Tramp never bets –
on principal. Always on interest. And he was much interested in a bet made by
two gentlemen the other day as to the height of the new custom house tower.
Both gentlemen were losers. The tower is 175 feet from the roadway to the top.
“The Town Tramp was
delighted the other day with the appearance of the house and grounds of Mr. B.
E. Charlton, on John street north. Mr. Charlton and his accomplished lady are
true lovers of the beautiful in both nature and art, and their good taste is
shown in the removal of the fence which formerly encompassed their grounds, and
the good effects they have obtained with the limited area at their disposal.
The house is almost covered with the luxuriant growth of a handsome creeper,
and on a summer day is to the traveler an oasis in the desert of dusty roadway
and heated brick, most refreshing to the eye. Mr. Charlton is an enthusiastic
and successful amateur photographer, and his love of the beautiful is no doubt
nurtured by the pursuit of his favorite pastime.
“Talking of the beautiful
reminds The Town Tramp of its opposite – ugliness; and for a specimen, pure and
unadulterated, the citizen is recommended to a sight of the city hall, meat
market and market place on Sunday morning. All sorts of refuse, rubbish, old
papers and dirt is allowed to accumulate around the city buildings and on the
market place, and left there to offend the eye and nostril until Monday. The
Town Tramp has no love for the law, but thinks it would be well to enforce one
against littering the public streets with handbills and refuse paper.
“The Town Tramp has heard
that during his retirement the city fathers went on a tramp, and that they
enjoyed themselves well, although when one of the most respected of their
number went off alone on a trip to the opening of the Niagara Falls Reserve, he
was unlucky enough to lose a gold watch which he valued more for the
associations connected with it than for its worth as a watch, though that is
considerable. There was a tremendous crowd at the Falls that day, and robberies
were quite numerous. Three bold fellows got on a car on the American side and,
shouting to the passengers, ‘everybody change cars here, leave by the other
end,’ almost drove the passengers out of the car. They and their confederates
reaped a rich harvest of purses and watches in the crush, and made good their
escape. But two of them were caught on the Canadian side next day and extradited
without any ceremony.
“Speaking of the new
national park on the American side of the falls reminds The Town Tramp of a
story. Previous to the American war, the hotels at the Falls did an immense
business. All summer long, the Cataract and Clifton houses would be thronged
with guests, principally southerners, who travelled north as regularly as the
year rolled around to escape the heat of the southern clime. These sojourners
were, most of them, wealthy, and poured out money like water, so that the hotel
attaches came to look more for pecuniary returns from the gratuities of the
guests than from their salaries. Among these generous travelers was a captain
from New Orleans who fairly rolled in riches. He was the beau ideal of a
southern gentleman. Tall, and well-proportioned, with dark, curly locks and a
fine open countenance betokening a high strung generous nature, he attracted
attention both by his personal appearance and the munificent manner in which he
distributed his favors, he was an especial favorite with the ladies, but season
after season passed and they lavished their smiles and attentions in vain. He
had bestowed his love in early youth, met with disappointment, and remained
true to his early attachment. No siren in later days could win from him his
allegiance to Jenny Lind. When that famous songstress visited America, the
captain heard her sing, was enraptured, sought for and obtained an
introduction. He was fascinated and his passion grew with time. He neglected
his line of Mississippi steamboats to follow the singer from city to city,
until at last, he declared his love and asked for her hand in a fiery,
passionate poem, which he had printed upon satin and sent to the cantatrice.
Jenny Lind was impressed, and sent the love-stricken captain a little poem, in
which she gently but firmly declined his proposal, and soon after sailed for
Europe. Thus ended his life’s romance, and when the cruel war had stripped him
of his wealth, and age had deprived his eyes of fire and his steps of vigor, he
still travelled north each summer, and managed by the grace of the men upon
whom he had formerly lavished his wealth, to live for a few weeks within the
sound of the mighty cataract. But drink claimed him and he died a beggar.
“He was no relation of
THE TOWN TRAMP.”1
1“The
Town Tramp”
Hamilton Spectator. August
15, 1885
The Hamilton Market Square to which the Town Tramp refers. The flag-topped tower is the Hamilton City Hall, the Meat Market is the one story roofed, structure center left.
Photo courtesy Local History and Archives, Hamilton Public Library.
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