1885 - Wharf Fire

“One of those disastrous fires which, fortunately, are of rare occurrence in Hamilton took place Saturday night.”

Hamilton Spectator.    December 8, 1885.

On the hill overlooking the bay, the workers at glass works, located at the foot of Macnab, had a clear view of the docks and wharves below:

 “A few minutes after 7 o’clock, Mr. Harry Lee, clerk at the Burlington Glass Works, discovered fire in a warehouse on Zealand’s wharf. It needed not a second glance to convince him that the building was on fire and that the fire had secured a strong hold.

“The fire department was quickly telephoned to and responded promptly, but during the few minutes it took to make the run of over a mile, the flames had made such headway that there was no hope of saving the warehouse.”¹

1 “ An Incendiary’s Deed : The Fire Fiend Gets in His Work at Zealand’s Wharf”

Hamilton Spectator.   December 8, 1885.

The fire soon attracted a huge number of onlookers, including many willing to help save a steamer tied up near the wharf:

“The steamer Acadia was lying in the slip broadside the dock. The burning building was not eight feet away, and the side of the steamer was already scorched and blistered. A hundred ready hands assisted in pushing her out of the slip. The water around her was frozen and the work was slow, but with an occasional application of water, the fire was kept off until she was safely before all danger.”¹

There was a huge amount of felled trees piled near the wharf which was being assembled to make rafts and be floated down the lake for export. Willing hands helped thrown the lumber into the cold waters of the bay. Some of the wood was tied together providing a platform for firemen to use to pour water onto the fire. Two men fell into the bay while helping out in that effort.

A huge warehouse on the wharf had contained a large quantity of soda ash, and a substantial amount of manufactured glass works from the Burlington Glass Works awaiting the opening of navigation in the coming spring so it could be sent out to market.

Word of the fire was quickly spread throughout the city, and despite the cold weather, a huge crowded rushed to the site of the conflagration:

“Thousands of people assembled to witness the grand scene of destruction. Roofs of buildings, sides of boats and the bluffs above were crowded, while boys were seen in the rigging of schooners tied up at the adjoining docks.”¹

Speculation was that the fire had been deliberately set by an arsonist.

There was one positive outcome of the fire in that the clean up of the remains of the warehouse and wharf would provide much-needed employment of many men at a time o the year when unemployment was high.

1885 - Coasting

“Harry Lawry had his horse seized by the head and turned around, greatly endangering the horse and occupants of the cutter. Mr. Lawry himself was assaulted by the ruffians. The coasters kept up a torrent of foul and blasphemous language. If the coasting cannot be stopped, the police certainly have the power to stop such rowdyism.”

Rowdyism and Coasting”

Hamilton Spectator.    December 17, 1885.

It was an editorial that was prompted by an incident which had occurred on a hilly portion of John street south. A recent heavy snowstorm had left the Hamilton streets in perfect shape for tobogganing, or, as it usually called, in 1883, coasting :

          “A resident of Barton township undertook to drive up John street road to his home on Tuesday evening, but fell among coasters on the way. These not only blocked his way and frightened his horse, but fell upon him, attempted to beat him, stole his whip, assailed his wife with vile and brutal language and compelled the pair to return to the city. The gentleman applied for protection to the police, but there were none to protect him, and he was forced to remain in the city.”¹

¹ Coasting”

Hamilton Spectator.    December 17, 1885.

The editorial strongly declared that the public streets were not for the exclusive use of coasters:

“The streets are for the use of all – for those who ride or drive for pleasure, as well as for those who have business on them.

“Those who make use of the streets must not monopolize them. They may use them freely, but they must not interfere with the right of others to do the same. And they must observe certain rules necessary for safety.

“Experience shows coasting on the streets to be dangerous. It is dangerous not because one or more persons ride on a sleigh, but because they ride at a furious rate, and because the sleigh is not under their control. They cannot stop it when under full headway, and they cannot always guide it. Many accidents have happened in consequence of this sport.

“The SPECTATOR is not opposed to sport. It heartily approves of harmless enjoyment. There is plenty of work, plenty of care, plenty of sorrow in this world : let us get all the pleasure we can. But it does not follow that we must break people’s necks in the pursuit of pleasure.

“The rowdyism, obscenity, violence and robbery resorted to by the roughs on John street on Tuesday evening are not necessary incidents of coasting. But the fact that they were resorted to supplies another reason for enforcing the law and securing  to travelers on our streets free course and safety.”¹

1885 - The Kicker

On slow news days perhaps, when there was space to be filled, the Spectator would give full vein to reporters to write about their observations of life in Hamilton.

Such was probably the case on November 19, 1885, when a column, headlined “The Kicker” appeared. In the column, the ‘Kicker’ talked about the behavior of young people, and about what can happen when the street lights go out :

“The small boy, especially the street variety, is an object of interest to me. I like him. But I am not blind to his faults, and I am candid enough to admit that I do not approve of the treatment which young Mr. Dudeworth received the other day from a boy on James street south.

“Mr. Dudeworth was strutting up the street when he became aware of two pretty young ladies coming down Jackson street. As soon as he saw them, and saw that they saw him, he summoned into his face an expression of the most supernal inanity, crooked his arms at a more pronounced angle, and projected himself forward with a more fashionable awkwardness. He passed within a few feet of the young ladies and bestowed on them a cold, stony glare, and they returned it with a glance of shy approval. Up to this point, Mr. Dudeworth looked just as he wished to look. To the outward gaze, he was merely a moving automaton propelled by some internal machinery, as incapable of feeling as of thought. But, ah ! how little can we know from exteriors! That calm, unruffled, supercilious face was but a mask; behind it throbbed a human heart, quick to respond to the touch of emotion.

“Young Mr. Dudeworth had advanced only a few yards in front of the young ladies when a Small Boy appeared on the scene. He was standing at a gate as the young gentleman passed.

“ ‘Say, mister,’ he shouted, ‘you’ve got a big hole in your pants !

“Mr. Dudeworth’s face was the scene of a sudden and remarkable transformation. The look of blank inanity gave place to one of the most intense anguish. He stood rooted to the ground, and made a rapid movement with his hands as though to discover by the sense of touch where the rent was; but the motion was suddenly arrested when the unfortunate gentleman thought of the young ladies close behind him, and he stood with his arms stretched out behind him as though he were leaning against an invisible support. Then he lost his head and made a rush across the street through the mud and went up a lane to investigate.

“Now, there was not a sign of rent in any part of Mr. Dudeworth’s clothing. It was a malicious fiction on the part of the Small Boy, who had invented it solely for the purpose of lowering Mr. Dudeworth in the eyes of the young ladies. I was a witness to this scene, and lectured the urchin severely, but judging from his demeanor and remarks when I left him, I am inclined to fear that my admonitions had little effect.

“Speaking about bad manners in the youth of our streets, I am reminded of another incident which I witnessed one day last week. Sheriff McKellar met an aged, poorly-dressed Irish woman on a street crossing. The old woman was carrying a heavily-laden basket. The sheriff politely stepped off the dry boards into the mud and let her pass without dirtying her shoes. The old woman was moved. She set down her basket and called after the sheriff :’God bless yer honor for yer good manners ! Sure, if the childer on the streets was half so p’lite as you, it’ud be better for ‘em.’ The compliment appeared to please the sheriff greatly, for the smile had not left his face after he had walked three blocks.

-------------------------------------------------------------

“It is not often that I have been outdoors when the darkness was so intense that I ‘couldn’t see my hand before my face.’ But it was as dark as that on Tuesday night last, or rather Wednesday morning between 1 and 2 o’clock. It was raining. I can’t tell whether the rain had quenched the gaslight and electric lights, but certain it is that, standing on the corner of James and Main streets, near St. Paul’s church, I got off the sidewalk and fell headlong into a ditch, but, fortunately, I escaped with no serious injury than very muddy garments. Now, if I can, if necessary, produce irrefragable testimony that I was perfectly sober at the time, and am usually as steady on my legs as most men; therefore the mishap was no fault of mine. It seems to me that if I had broken a leg or an arm in my fall, or had suffered any other injury equally serious, I would have had good ground for an action against the city for not having the streets properly lighted.”¹

¹   “The Kicker”

Hamilton Spectator.  November 19, 1885.

1885 - Quick Hitch Record

When an article in a New York City newspaper was brought to the attention of Hamilton Fire Chief Alex Aitchison neither his nor his men were very pleased. The men of the Victoria Avenue station, in particular, took what was claimed in the article as a challenge

The offensive claim was that, in a trial, the New York Fire Department received a fire call, hitched horses to a wagon, and it was out the fire station door in world record time:

“Chief Aitchison determined that New York’s triumph should be short.

“A large number of ladies and gentlemen gathered at the Victoria avenue engine house in the afternoon. After a few preliminary trials, in order to get things in good working order, the chief announced:

“ ‘Now, here goes for smashing the record.’

“Bang ! sounded the gong, the stall doors flew open, the horses bounded to their places; there was a brief fusillade of clinks, as the snaps were fastened, the men jumped clear, and the fire chief sounded, ‘Ready!’

“ ‘What was the time? Demanded everybody of the gentleman, who was holding a delicately-regulated and accurate track timer. He looked up, smiled; took another look at the watch to make sure there was no mistake, and answered:

‘ ‘Precisely one second and a half.’ ”¹

¹ “The Record Broken : The Victoria Avenue Fire Boys Hitch in a Second and a Half”

Hamilton Spectator.   November 13, 1885.

 

 

1885 - Ball at the Grand Opera House

It was a fund-raising event, a ball to remember.

The site was the Grand Opera House on James Street North. The organizers of the evening were the members of the local amateur dramatic society, the Garrick Club.

The recipients of the funds raised were the residents of the Girls’ Home, the orphanage on George street.

The Spectator reporter assigned to cover the event  observed the evening from high in the gallery, his word pictures published the next day were superbly written, capturing the beauty of the ball:

“It is a very long while since the Grand Opera House looked so bright and gay as it did last night, a long while since its staid, old walls have held so much beauty and listened to so much mirthful and silvery talk and rippling laughter.

“National flags and strips of other bunting decked the boxes and gallery; the scenery on stage led by easy gradations from a garden through an ancient forest to a conservatory, the back door of which opened on a charming landscape; diamonds flashed in the gas light; the strains of lively music filled the air; faint perfume mingled with the laughter and music and the eternal hum of hundreds of voices, and scores of feet tripped gaily to and fro from on a substantial floor that ran the full length of the stage to the dividing rail between the orchestra chairs and the parquette.

 “The decorating of the opera house was done with great taste, and the scene from the gallery was a beautiful one. The orchestra was placed at the head of the stage and the large space for dancers was literally alive with the whirling forms that swept over it.” ¹

¹ “The Garrick’s Ball : A Great and Successful Event in Hamilton Society.”

Hamilton Spectator.   November 07, 1885.

In the end, the reporter speculated that the purpose of the ball was undoubtedly accomplished:

“The occasion of all this was a ball under the auspices of the Garrick Club, and inasmuch as whatever the club does is done as well as mere human beings can do anything, it is perhaps somewhat superfluous to remark that the ball was a complete success. It was given in aid of the Girls Home, and as the attendance was very large, a substantial sum was probably netted for that deserving institution.”¹

1886 - Orange Demonstration

The annual celebration of the victory at the Battle of the Boyne was held in most Ontario communities in the 19^th century, while every year one community was chosen to hold a major celebration with lodges from many communities invited to gather. In 1886, Hamilton was the city chosen to host Orange Lodges from many places, and the Hamilton Orangemen went to great efforts to ensure that the 1886 event would be very memorable:

“Yesterday was the day dearest to the hearts of Orangemen of all days in the year – the day which has been arbitrarily fixed as the anniversary of the Battle of the Boyne, which was fought on July 1, 1640.  The event was celebrated with the usual enthusiasm and the accustomed pounding of drums, screaming of fifes, blares of brass bands and display of banners, regalia and Orange Lilies and all the paraphernalia of a first class Orange demonstration.¹

¹ “The Glorious Memory of Him Who Crossed Boyne Water.”

Hamilton Spectator.   July 13, 1886.

The first event of the day was a street procession from the Gore along York street to Dundurn park:

“In the morning and until after the procession, the principal streets looked as if they had taken yellow fever. They were crowded and every other person wore a showy regalia or a bit of orange ribbon in his button hole, or orange lilies stuck in his hat or pinned on his coat. And the fresh-faced girls and matrons from the country who came to town to see the show – and there seemed to be thousands of them – all showed their colors.

“ From quite early in the morning, the lodges from a distance who were to assist in the demonstration began to arrive and continued to do so on every train, until the procession started. The procession was the same kind of Orange procession which Anglo-Saxon communities have been familiar with for over a century and a half, only it was on a somewhat larger scale than usual.”¹

At the Dundurn, it was hard work to get into the park through the gates as the number of people who marched in the procession was so large:

“The crowd at Dundurn was enormous. It was hard work to get through the gates. The faintest of breezes was blowing and the shuffling of the thousands of feet stirred the dust. It rose in a dense cloud and stirred the air. It was better inside and it was a relief to get on the cool grass and beneath the shade of trees after the crush at the gates.”¹

Once the crowd was completely in the park, three things went on simultaneously. A number of speakers addressed many people with addresses on the history of the Battle and the ongoing need to be vigilant in protecting the interests of Protestantism. The ball diamond was the location of a professional baseball which also attracted great interest, and there was an exhibition of fancy marching on the expansive lawn:

 “While the speaking and baseball game were in progress, the uniformed knights had been giving an exhibition drill on the lawn. Bands were playing all over the grounds. The shrill treble of the fifes, the sturdy boom of the big drums and the rat-a-tat-tat of the little fellows, mingled with the sonorous blare from many brass instruments.

“When the ball game was over, most of the vast crowd disposed of itself in various ways outside the grounds. Avenues to the various railroad depots were thronged with the knights of the tiger lily, who sought early trains for home.”¹

While many Orange lodge members from outside of Hamilton left, many stayed for the second procession and the evening events at Dundurn park:

“Despite the lessened numbers, however, it was a large procession that formed in the Gore in the evening, and, headed by the Thirteenth band, marched once more to the park.

“The grounds were brilliantly illuminated with electric light, and between the electricity and the moon, the enclosed space fronting the grandstand was as light as day when the three uniformed societies in connection with the Orange Order in this city – the Hamilton Pioneer Corps and the Crimson and Scarlet Knights – began to drill on the diamond. The exhibition was one of the best of the kind ever seen there, and elicited round after round from the thousands of spectators.

“The drilling over, the fireworks display was started. Prof. Hand and Co. laid themselves out in a special effort, and, as a consequence, the set pieces, the bombs, the mines, nests of fiery serpents and other things of that description were as near perfection as mere human pyrotechnists could get them. The Thirteenth band played the while, and people’s hands were sore applauding the music and the fireworks. Altogether, the day was one of the most successful that Hamilton Orangemen have ever engineered, and no small thanks are due the energetic committee for this eminently satisfactory state of affairs.”¹

1886 - Baseball Poem

Hamilton’s professional baseball team was much-beloved in the team’s home city. The team was often the subject of some fan-obsessed poetry such as the one which appeared in the Spectator on July 28, 1886 as the team returned home after a road trip. The poem has a twist in the last stanza and perhaps the road trip might not have as been as successful as it could have been.

 

“Crown’d with laurel, see them come!

 Welcome, heroes, welcome home!

 Lustrous as the noonday sun,

 Shine by the deeds ye have done,

 By your victories ye have won wondrous fame for Hamilton.

 

“In the verdant diamond field

 Unto you all foemen yield,

 And ye proudly take your place

 Foremost in the pennant race.

 

“Noble batters, fielders rare,

 Runners quite beyond compare!

 In phenomenal exploits

 Your Chicagos or Detroits

 Are as milk compared with cream.

 By our own triumphant team.

 

“With what pride our bosoms rose,

 When we saw your serried foes,

 As before the scythe the hay

 Fall beneath your perfect play !

 

“And when now ye homeward turn

 All our breasts with ardor burn,

 And we yield ye praises due,

 Noblest of the baseball crew.

 

“It were needless here to state,

 This is not appropriate

 To the team which now doth come

 With bedraggled plumage home.”¹

 

 ¹“More Ball Doggerall.”

Hamilton Spectator.   July 28, 1886

 

 

 

 

 

1885 - Salvation Army Ceremony

It did not take much to gather a big crowd in downtown Hamilton, especially if the Salvation Army was involved.

Such was the case during the afternoon of October 29, 1885 when the Salvation Army was scheduled to lay the cornerstone of their new barracks at the corner of James Street South and Hunter street.

To attract a crowd to the ceremony, the members of the Salvation Army paraded through the downtown streets, leading what eventually became a rather large crowd:

“The army with banners flying and drums beating and tambourines jingling and everybody singing marched towards the corner of James and Hunter and halted in front of the new temple.”¹

¹ “The Salvation Temple : How the Cornerstone Was Laid.”

Hamilton Spectator.   October 20, 1885.

Once at the site of the barracks, the Army members became silent as prayer were sad before the ceremony began:

“Then there was more singing, and every member of the army who had a handkerchief waved it enthusiastically, and those who didn’t have handkerchiefs, waved their hands. The song which roused this enthusiasm was one which was evidently written for such an occasion. Its chorus, which was sung over and over again, ran thus:

‘Lord, to Thee, we give this building;

   Let Thy light within it shine;

 Let Thy glory be its gilding;

   Seal it now forever thine.’ ”¹

 

One old gentleman carrying a banner was “guyed” (teased) by youth watching from a roof across the street:

“This roused the old gentleman’s wrath or pity or indignation, and his defiantly hurled a volley of ‘hallelujahs,’ ‘amens,’ and ‘Praise the Lords,’ at them every now and again. The effect was rather funny, and not a little startling to people unacquainted with army methods.”

 

The wife of Commissioner Coombes was described in the Spectator as“a pale-faced, slender woman, evidently of nervous temperament”

The Spectator reporter had a slight quibble about was being dedicated:

“It was not a cornerstone at all, but the large, ornamental piece of sandstone over the main entrance. It bears the following inscription :

‘Erected to God’s Glory

   By Gen. Wm. Booth, A. D. 1885’

“When the stone was fixed into position, a chorus of ‘hallelujahs’ was vociferated from a hundred throats.

“But the proceedings were not yet over. It was a religious service and therefore it was necessary to have a collection taken. Soldiers and hallelujah lasses moved through the crowd with caps and tambourines into which small coins were dropped – not unmixed with bits of mortar and tin, of which a plentiful supply was gladly contributed by youths on the housetops.”¹

1885 - City Hall and Market Square Conditions

The Palladium of Labor, a weekly newspaper published for the interest of Hamilton workingmen was a place where frank opinions on civic matters could be placed.

The following appeared in the September 19, 1885 issue:

“While art associations and other nobby enterprises are engaging that attention of a certain class of citizens, a little common sense might be wasted on the propriety of making improvements in the Market Square in the way of obliterating the disgraceful sheds and tables that now occupy that central space of ground in the city.

“It is a well-known fact that these sheds and stalls are reeking with vermin, that on a quiet day or Sunday, myriads of rats may be seen venturing forth from their holes and sewer haunts to gambol and frisk like so many kittens up and down these sheds.

“These sewer-bred rodents have free access to the provisions left in the stalls for future sale, and the public who would turn up their noses at second hand victuals or dirty plates, are compelled to eat after animals that have just emerged from floundering in the nauseating contents of the public sewers.

“What gain to the health of the city are all the scavengers, health officers and others who draw pay from the public pocket if the victuals that are catered out to the people are allowed to be gnawed and trodden over by the filthiest animals known to the natural historian.

“The nuisance has existed for years, and it is probable that if some of the infectious maladies that have destroyed life in this city could be properly traced, it would be located in the meat and provisions that have been purchased from some of these stalls.

“The whole square is a disgrace to any community making a pretense to decency, and should be swept clean of sheds or other obstructions, and the stall butchers should be compelled to take their places around the city the same as the corner butchers. Why should the stall butchers be allowed to retail meat without a license more than Bill Bunsby, who keeps a shop on Ray street, or elsewhere. True, they rent stalls from the city, but Bill Bunsby rents a house and that house bears its proportion of responsibility as much as the market shed that is only an obstruction in a public place.

“The City Hall, too, requires rejuvenation. The tower is a monument of ignorance and folly to its projectors; the building is old and decayed; the roof is leaky; the foundation is giving way, and the whole structure is only useful as a conservatory for the owl and bat.

“The concentrated wisdom of the civic skull should be pointed to a project for the reorganization of the City Hall. The site of the building should be ‘ungreelyized’ – it should go east, and there is no better spot for it than the Gore on King street. A nicely-designed building would be an ornament to that street, and it would help to fill up the vacuum of the Gore. But we will have more to say about this on a future occasion.

So far as the market sheds are concerned, the case has gone forth that they must go; they must be swept from the vision forever. The whole square must be cedar-blocked, and more room must be given for the traffic that concentrates there.”¹

¹  “Improvements in Market Square.”

Palladium of Labor.   September 19, 1885.

                   Hamilton City Hall Tower as it appeared in 1880s

                    Hamilton Market Square in 1890s showing sheds
          Both photos courtesy PreVIEW,
                   Local History and Archives,  Hamilton Public Library

 

1885 - Labor Poem

At the first annual picnic organized for the employees and friends of the Hamilton weekly workingman’s newspaper, The Palladium of Labor, there was a literary contest for those who might want to write and read aloud something about labor in Hamilton.

R. A. Langlois was employed by the City of Hamilton as a general laborer. The poem he wrote and submitted, titled Ninety Cents a Day, dealt with his wages and prospects as old age approached. It also referred jealous to white-collar City of Hamilton employees who were paid much more for much less work.

The Langlois poem follows:

 

“We are off to our daily work,

   On the Hamilton corporation;

To pick and shovel the dirt

   Is our constant occupation.

Others as well as myself,

   In the city’s service have grown gray –

And now in our old age,

    We get but ninety cents a day.

 

Oh ! but we’ll soon be rich !

   You bet, and in our carriages ride,

For on such magnificent salary,

    We can throw dull care aside.

With our extensive “bank” account

   To creditors we can truthful say –

We are full-fledged, bloomin’ aristocrats

   On our ninety cents a day.

 

Others are paid by our city –

   For doing just nothing at all;

They are furnished assistants to help them,

   At their office in the City Hall.

They are paid their thousands a year –

   For doing what we would call play,

While the poor laboring man who works hard

   Gets his ninety cents a day.

 

But still the poor man is rich

   In the love of his family dear;

And while he has to bite and sup.

   No hard work does he fear.

The children will gather around us,

   And we’ll drive dull care away;

In hunger and rags we are happy –

   On our ninety cents a day.”¹

¹ “Ninety Cents a Day”

Palladium of Labor.  September 12, 1885.

 

After printing the poem prominently, the Palladium of Editor commented on it :

“The poem on Local Labor matter was composed and read by R. A. Langlois, at the Palladium Picnic, last Saturday afternoon. Bard Langlois was awarded first prize in the strength of his declaring that he ‘scribbled it off in a hurry.’ ”¹

 

1885 - City Halls

In 1885, when No. 1 Police Station was located in the City Hall on James Street North, newspaper reporters would drop in regularly to see if anything newsworthy had recently taken place.

During a blustery November night, a reporter on the overnight shift made his way into the small police office, and found the lone officer on duty in a reflective mood.

The reporter’s account of the conversation appeared the next day edition of the Great Family Journal as follows:

On towards 12 o’clock last night, a policeman lay back in No. 1 station, and wiled his hour of rest away with idle talk and fitful snatches of sleep. He had got into  a reminiscent mood when a Spectator reporter dropped in, and was gazing mournfully at the heavy beam that runs across the station’s ceiling.

“ ‘I bet none of you fellows know how that beam came there,’ he said, and without giving anyone else a chance to speak, he continued: ‘When I was a boy, a partition ran along there, the full length of the building. There was one on the other side to correspond. Butchers’ stalls were on the other side, and the one right in the corner was occupied by Mr. Lawry., father of Thomas Lawry.

“ ‘The present main hall was a sort of arcade, and the officers of the civic departments were upstairs. They were reached by a stairway running from the southwest corner to where the main window is now at the west end of the building. The steps got so rickety that they had to come down at last, and new ones were built inside. This started the changes from which at that time came about gradually.

“ ‘You can recollect when the police magistrate held court where the waterworks and health offices now are, and the tower was built, Then the court house was built, high court was held in it, and the police court was removed to its proper place on King William street, and there were many more changes made here. How old is this building? Guess it must be pretty well onto 60 years by this time. By George, sir, I tell you what, there have been a lot of changes in Hamilton since the old days,’ and he lapsed once more into silence and resumed his snooze.”¹

“The City Hall. A Policeman’s Reminiscences of It Was in His Youth”

Hamilton Spectator.   July 20, 1886.

                           Hamilton City Hall as it appeared ca 1860

Hamilton City Hall as it appeared ca 1885 with new tower,

Both images courtesy PreVIEW, Local History and Archives, Hamilton Public Library