1884-01-25 The Poor of Hamilton

On Friday, January 25, 1884, a meeting of representatives of Hamilton’s charitable societies was held in the Council Chambers of Hamilton City Hall. The meeting was called to discuss the possibility of every society combining their efforts with the relief efforts provided by the municipal government. The goal was to be better able to respond to the fast growing demands for assistance by destitute families throughout the city.

Hamilton Mayor J. J. Mason was elected chairman of the meeting. He began by stating that he believed that there was more destitution in Hamilton in January, 1884 than there ever had been in any previous time in the city’s history. He noted that during the previous few days since he had begun his term as mayor, he had received applications for relief from 132 persons. Since most of the applicants were heads of families, it represented between 600 and 700 people in Hamilton who found themselves in dire economic circumstances.

In response to the mayor’s observations, the idea had been put forward that each of the private charitable societies should get together and co-ordinate their efforts in order to avoid deception on the part of those who attempt to receive assistance from more than one source.

It was moved that a member of each of the charitable committees of the local benevolent societies should meet at the mayor’s office at 11 a.m. every morning to assist the mayor in the distribution of civic charity.

It was also suggested that any old warm clothing would be welcomed by the needy of the city. Hamilton Police Chief Stewart volunteered to receive any such donations at his office in the city hall.

It was also put forward that there should be a mass meeting to appeal for donations from the public if any of the benevolent societies’ relief funds became exhausted.¹

¹ “Combined Charities : Meeting of the Representatives of the Charitable Societies”

Hamilton Spectator.  January 26, 1884.

January 28, 1884 was the day when the first of the proposed meetings suggested by the mayor was held:

“”There were about twenty applicants for relief at the mayor’s office yesterday morning and representatives of the various charitable societies were present to after such cases as came within their rules.”²

² “The Diurnal Epitome : What Goeth On In and About the City”

Hamilton Spectator.  January 29, 1884 .

The following day, at a meeting of Hamilton City Council, Mayor Mason brought attention to the fact that “a number of people in this city are in an impoverished state and should have their wants attended to.

“Since Monday last he had received some 170 applications, many of whom he had visited and he had found them very destitute. He thought something should be done to supplement the amount appropriated by council for relief, as it would not cover the ground.

“These people he found mainly divided into three classes : men out of work, widows, and old and infirm people. He found those men out of work all anxious to get something to do.”³

³ “Board of Aldermen : First Business Meeting of the New Council”

Hamilton Spectator. January 29, 1884.

Considerable discussion arose over Mayor Mason’s statements on the demand for relief in Hamilton. When it was stated that many of those out of work were mechanics, Alderman Tuckett rose to flatly deny the allegation :

“He had been out with the mayor while visiting the poor, and had not found one mechanic in all the places visited. He believed there were very few mechanics indeed out of employment in the city at the present time.”³

Alderman Tuckett repeatedly challenged the mayor to read aloud from the notes he made while visiting the poor, but Mayor Mason declined to do so.

After some prolonged additional discussion that the sewers committee and the board of works committee for a special committee for the purpose of devising some scheme with the object of giving employment to those in the city who were out of work.

There was no attempt to increase the amount of funds already earmarked for the municipal relief efforts.

The Spectator, on the day after the council meeting, published a lengthy editorial, about the discussion on poor relief being hijacked by political gamesmanship:

‘ ‘The poor ye have always with you.’

“So it has been, and so it will be to the last syllable of recorded time.

“In Canada we have little real distress; but there are considerable numbers who are hardly able to keep the wolf from the door. Especially this is the case in winter, when additional fuel and additional clothing are required.

“There is the widow, generally with children, and too frequently in frail health; there is the orphan left wholly without protectors; there are the sick, unable to work, and needing comforts as well as the common necessaries of life; and there are the dissolute and the improvident, who save nothing when in regular employment  and are compelled to ask charity when work fails.

“At the same time, it is not possible to let them starve, even if their misfortunes are consequent upon their own folly and want of forethought.

“Then, in winter, when outgo is necessarily increased, with many, income is reduced. Sailors are out of work; most building operations are suspended; the foundries slacken their operations for a few weeks; the corporation work is reduced to a minimum. So that there are hundreds in a large city who can maintain themselves in comparative comfort during the summer, but who in winter are wholly or partly dependent on public or private charity.

“No doubt there are a considerable number of men in the city who are out of work. The brickyards are idle, building operations are suspended, vessels are laid up, corporation laborers have been dismissed, and it is quite true that some shops are not so busy as they were a while ago. But it is wholly untrue that any considerable number of mechanics are in want because of slackness in industrial works.

“There is a sacredness in sorrow and misery which calls all the finer feelings of our common humanity. That this widow in her affliction, this old man who has lost all his strength and his sons, this orphan all alone in the world, or even this strong man vainly looking for employment, must sit by a cold hearth hearing the pitiless storm beating at the door and knowing the cupboard is empty – is a most sorrowful thing, but it is not peculiar to any one country.

“Since the Divine Master used the words quoted at the head of this article, all ages have known suffering and all lands have held the sorrowful.

“Most men when they encounter misery think only of measures for relief. There are some who study how to turn it to personal or political advantage. We pity the man. It is a matter for profound humiliation that any can be found willing to use sacred sorrow as a weapon of political warfare, or a stepping stone to personal preferment .

“We regret very much indeed that any have sought to give this matter the turn it has.”⁴

⁴ “The City’s Poor”

Hamilton Spectator. January 29, 1884.

1886-06-23 Rain Out Basball Tactics

“There was more fun at Dundurn park yesterday than at any previous game of ball played on the same grounds ever afforded.”

Hamilton Spectator.   June 22, 1886

 It was a regular season baseball game that began under threatening skies. The game involved two International League professional teams, the visiting Binghamtons versus the home team, the Hamiltons.

The Spectator afforded a great deal of space for its reporter to recount in some amusing detail what happened at the game:

“The game opened in the usual style. The Hamiltons made three in the first inning, and three in the second, and it looked much as if they could have gone on producing triplets to the end.

“Binghamton knocked out a couple of singles, and at the close of the first half of the fifth inning the score stood 6 to 2.

“Then came the fun. A gentle drizzling rain began to fall, and it looked as if it would presently develop into a deluge.

“For the information of people who do not live in Hamilton, the information is here interjected that it requires five complete innings to make a legal game.

“Of course, the Bings wanted to prolong the inning until the rain fell big enough to induce the umpire to declare the game off.

“Of course, the Hamiltons wanted to rush things, complete the inning, and count a won game.

“The Bings were very slow in their movements in taking the field. Little umpire Hoover endeavored to accelerate their motions; but the Bings had suddenly become weary. Then they began to throw the ball away out into the field and to walk slowly after it.

“Some sharp talk from Hoover got the inning started. Collins was at bat. Pitcher Becannon tossed him an easy one, and Collins moved his bat across the plate, carefully avoiding the ball. One strike, said Hoover.

“In the course of time, the ball was returned to the pitcher, and after he had monkeyed away all the time he possibly could, he tossed another easy one. Collins again avoided it, and Hoover remarked two strikes.

“By this time, the audience was convulsed with laughter, and the Bings were getting wild, and were hoping for a regular Noah’s ark deluge.

“Pitched Becannon thought it a good scheme to throw in a wild one, which Collins didn’t strike it knowing the catcher couldn’t get it. The fourth ball resulted in another strike; but the catcher moved out of the way, and let it go by.

“Collins wandered slowly off the line, and the umpire mentioned that he was out for so doing.

“Terrific laughter among the audience, and much hatching of schemes among the Bings.

“McGucken to bat. The first ball was about two feet over his head, but he struck viciously across the plate about six inches from the ground. One strike, remarked the umpire.

“It is doubtful if the Bing pitcher ever made so many consecutive strikes before. The next ball came, and McGucken changed his tactics. He hit the ball feebly out to short, who agilely got out of its way, and let it go by.

“But the batter didn’t budge and was put out for not running.

“Then came Mickey Jones to bat. Manager Sullivan sat on a bench. He whistled to his men and made signs. Presently, they tumbled

“Lo!  An inspiration! They would change pitchers. The captain looked around to see which fielder was farthest from the box, and called in the man from the right garden.

“The man from right came in very slowly. Umpire Hoover remarked that there was no use in that sort of monkeying; that they’d have to play ball if it rained buckets.

“Another inspiration seized the Bing captain. The pitcher couldn’t pitch without that ornamental skin thing that some pitchers use to make people think their arms are sore. It took a good deal of hauling and grunting to get it on the new pitcher’s arm. The fact that it was put on the wrong arm don’t count.

“It is marvelous that the new pitcher hadn’t head enough to insist on a few trial balls. He finally got into the boz, picked up the ball, fondled it softly, wiped one hand on his bifurcated garment, looked around to see that the field was all ready, studied the ball awhile, wiped the other hand, looked at first base to see if the baserunner who wasn’t there could be thrown out, looked around the horizon, fondled the ball a little more, repeated all these preliminaries and added some more, and then let her go.

“Jones made an awful swipe at the ball, and came within four or five feet of hitting it. It was a narrow escape. The next one hit Mickey’s bat. He stood still, and the umpire punished him for his dilatoriness by declaring him out.

“The fifth inning was then complete, and the score remained 6 to 2.

“The laughter in the grand stand was uproarious, and the Bings looked as if they had been beaten at two games.

“And that was about the size of it.

“The Hamiltons then took the field, and afterplaying a few minutes, umpire Hoover came to the conclusion that it was raining.

“And Hamilton won.”¹

¹ “The World of Sport : The Hamiltons Down Binghamton in a Five Inning Game.”

Hamilton Spectator.  June 23, 1886.

The time of the game 55 minutes, and the attendance was numbered at 350 paying customers.

1886-07-01 Dominion Day

When July 1 rolled around in 1880s Hamilton, it meant that the anniversary of the formation of Canada would be publicly celebrated at Dundurn.

On July 1,1886, Dundurn was still a private residence and the grounds of the castle were rented to the Irish Protestant Benevolent Society (I.P.B.S.)

As the grounds of Dundurn were surrounded by a high wooden fence, the I.P.B.S. could control access through a gate, at which admission would be charged. To attract visitors in order to recoup the rental fee, and hopefully make a profit, a baseball game was scheduled, bands were hired to provide music, a dancing platform set up, and a massive fireworks display by the Hamilton-based T.W. Hand and Company was the finale of the day.

The reporter covering the 1886 July 1 celebrations did so in a vivid manner that was both distinctive and creative. Instead of a straight documentary listing of what he saw throughout the day, the reporter created a fictional character and used him as a basis for his article. (Although the article was not attributed to anyone, it has the style and approach of The Khan (Robert Kirkland Kernighan who would later become nationally famous, often referred to as Canada’s Mark Twain.)

The article started as the holiday began soon after sunrise when Little Willie Smith, the son of the main character, Pa. got celebrations going with a literal bang :

“ Little Willie Smith got up early yesterday morning before the family was awake and startled them all by letting off a great big batch of firecrackers. He had several bunches altogether. His father bought them for him the day before out of the money he expected to make by backing the Rochesters.

“Willie thought he would hold the firecrackers in his hand. The doctor was there half an hour afterwards. Willie didn’t have as much fun for the rest of the day as he had hoped for. Neither did his father.”¹

¹“How We Spent the Day : the I.P.B.S. at Dundurn Park.”

Hamilton Spectator.   July 02, 1886

The Rochesters was the name of the visiting baseball team which would play the Hamiltons at Dundurn later in the day.

Willie’s accident had painfully ruined his day, and it served as the first of a series of negative things to occur to Pa as the day unfolded.

No one could complain about the weather for the July 1, 1886 celebrations in Hamilton:

    “The firecracker explosion had aroused the whole family, and when they turned out of bed, they looked on a glorious day. The sun shone from a cloudless sky. The hills were partially hid by the pale blue haze that hung over them, and a light breeze stirred the air. It was a day to dream of.”¹

A doctor had been summoned to attend to the burns on his sons hand, costing Pa some money but he remained confident that in betting against the home team, he would be flush with money once the game was over:

“After the doctor had bandaged Willie’s hand, the family had breakfast. Willie’s papa was quite cheerful. He felt sure that Rochester would beat Hamilton. He didn’t know that Jones and Knight were going to pitch. In imagination, he had that $20 stowed snugly away in his pocket, and he intimated in a casual way that he would make his wife happy by buying her that bonnet she fancied the other day.”¹

Later in the morning, Pa left home, heading first to the downtown core, where would meet up with some of his friends at a saloon before going to the baseball game:

“Pa thought he would go and see the game and yell, “Rah for the Raws,” a couple of times just to encourage them, so he started out from the house and met the gang downtown. He saw an immense crowd streaking for Dundurn.

“They all smiled and smiled as if they meant it. Pa hadn’t been reading the newspapers recently and didn’t know there was anything there but the ball game.

“But there was. It was Dominion day, confederation’s anniversary, and the occasion of the annual I.P.B.S. Demonstration at Dundurn.

The procession was coming down the street and he stood and watched it. Thousands of people were around him. Young men and maidens, aged persons in stylish garments and summer before last’s clothes, boys, girls and babies – all were there. The irrepressible small boy howled and the itinerant with the hurdy gurdy worked his machine as if it had been called for.”¹

Once Pa arrived at Dundurn, he walked all over the grounds noting the many types of people there and the brightly uniformed Knights of Pythias who performed marching drills to entertain the crowd :

“Spectators of every kind were on hand in abundance. The slopes and sward were dotted with spring suits and white lawn dresses. Pretty faces smiled from beneath attractive bangs and coquettish hats. The ball players skirmished around with their Sunday girls in tow, and all Dundurn looked as gay and festive as it only can look when the I.P.B.S. demonstration is on.

“While the games were in progress, the uniformed knights were drilling on the lawn. It is needless to say that they drilled well. Hamilton’s uniformed societies always do. The intricate movements and marching attracted large numbers of people and the drilling was vociferously applauded.”¹

People-watching and marching drills were not on Pa’s list of things he was focusing on – he wanted a drink of cold beer and so ventured over to the dancing platform area where such could be purchased:

“Pa was getting restless. He strolled down towards the dancing platform and discovered a hole in the grandstand where he spent 15 cents. He felt better when he succeeded in getting outside of the foam-topped amber fluid. He lit a cigar and hit the toe of his right foot with a cane as he meditated on the vague unsatisfactory nature of various things.

“The dancing on the platform did not please him. He listened for a while to the monotonous drone of the music and the incessant shuffling of feet.

“Presently he heard a bell ring. He probed his vest pocket and discovered a flannel case with a gold watch in it. He had only got it from the jeweler’s the day before and found it quite handy for reference. He looked at it quite often when people were gazing at him. He learned this time that it wanted three and a quarter minutes to four.

“People were packed in the grandstand like sardines in a box, but he fought his way in and was in a good position when umpire Pearson twisted his moustache and shouted “Play ball!”¹

Unfortunately for Pa, the Rochesters provided little effective opposition to the Hamiltons, the home team winning the tilt handily:

“A couple of hours afterward he walked across the diamond, feeling that life was a hollow mockery and a bitter delusion. For him, the sun didn’t shine, the birds didn’t twitter in the trees, the gentle breezes were like cyclones, the Thirteenth band’s exquisite music sounded like a funeral dirge. He was poor, sad and unhappy. And he mentioned to himself that he didn’t know anything more about baseball than a crowbar.”¹

Pa went home to his family and had to face his wife who would not be getting that new hat he had promised her.

While Pa was at home as darkness descended, a huge number of people remained at Dundurn

“The fireworks were splendid. Prof. Hand and Co. never gave a better display. The grandstand was filled with people. Several strings of Chinese lanterns stretched from it to the ground, and the general effect was very beautiful. It was the generally expressed opinion that the day was one of the most successful that Hamilton has ever known.”¹

There was an estimated 13,000 paid admissions to Dundurn Park on July 1, 1886, and except for Pa, everyone had a very pleasant day.

1886-06-12 Toronto-Hamilton Baseball

The ongoing rivalry between Toronto and Hamilton became particularly pronounced when sports teams from each city were scheduled to face each other.

Such was the case in June 1886 when two professional baseball teams, representing each city met in Toronto, on Saturday June 12, 1886. Toronto and Hamilton were members of the eight team International League – other six teams representing the following communities in New York State; Syracuse, Rochester, Utica, Buffalo, Binghamton and Oswego.

It was the fourth meeting of the season between the Hamiltons and the Torontos (as they were called). Hamilton had won two of the first three. In the same way that Hamilton had outclassed on the diamond, so too did it far outdistance Toronto as regards the manner the game was described in the newspapers of the respective cities.

The Toronto Globe had a relatively brief account of the game, while the Hamilton Spectator’s coverage was not only much more lengthy, it also contained a lot of color and humour.

The Toronto Baseball grounds were near the Don Valley and some distance from the Grand Trunk Railway station, the train being the means by which a contingent of 350 ‘baseball cranks’ from Hamilton would use to support their team.

When the game started, the Hamilton fans had yet to get to the grounds, although the Spectator reporter was there, and he opened his coverage of the game with a description of the Torontos baseball facility :

 “The Toronto grounds are easy of access. The conveniences are all here, and everything is on an elaborate scale. The grandstand is very large; but on this occasion, there is little space room. The field is broad and level. The north sod, upon which play is made is sodded, and is still a little rough, but will be a magnificent ball ground in time. The south end is unfinished, and has a rubbish shot here appearance. It will be levelled and sodded when the batters get strong enough to make it useful.”¹

¹ “The World of Sport : The Game at Toronto”

Hamilton Spectator.   June 14, 1886.

The umpire, and there was only one, was a man whose assertiveness and manner of calling a game drew special attention from the Spectator reporter:

“The umpire is Hoover. He is small and is apparently principally composed of lungs. His pronunciation has been sadly neglected; but the audience soon learn that ‘wah boo’ means one ball, and ‘stk taw’ is intended for two strikes. He is a working umpire, too, and is always where he is wanted. His judgment on balls and strikes is perfect, and his whole work is sharp, decisive and satisfactory. He is a vast improvement on all umpires that have been here before this season”¹

The teams traded runs in the first inning and at the end of that inning, the Spec man noted that “the telegraph machine rattles away as it tells the waiting world that the game stands one to one.”¹

As the second inning began, the crowd of about 2500 Toronto fans was augmented by the arrival of the Hamiltonians:

“The Hamilton delegation – 350 strong – arrive just in time to see the Hamiltons make a blinder, and they find seats silently and somewhat sadly. The Torontos make a run – one of the bitter fruits of error, and the Toronto cheer is heard away back in the southern counties of the field.”¹

The score stood at 1-1 when the Hamiltons came to bat at the top of the third, and that half inning was when all the significant action of the game took place and the Spectator man covered it in detail:

“Now comes the fun. Obliging Mr. Smith, the gentlemanly third baseman of the Torontos fumbles a ball, and lets Rev. Mr. Rainey get his first. Artistic Mr. Kellogg takes a bat and poses. The umpire says things which, being interpreted, signify that Mr. Veach, the able and accomplished Toronto pitcher is pitching one, two, three, four, five bad balls. It is Mr. Kellogg’s desire that Mr. Veach shall pitch another of the same; but Mr. Veach sends one over the plate. Kellogg calmly adjusts his bat so that a foul tip shall result. It results. The Toronto audience laughs.

“Veach sends another over the plate. Again, the adjustment, and again the foul tip. And again the laughter – only louder. Again the ball over the plate, and again the foul tip. ; and the laughter is very loud.

“The fourth ball comes. Another artistic foul tip. The audience is silent. They think its gets monotonous. Another foul tip and the audience loses patience and shouts ‘Play ball,’ ‘no monkeying,’ and things like that.

“The sixth foul tip ensues. Kellogg is calm, smiling, confident. Veach looks warm, worried, wrathy. The audience hisses.

“The seventh ball comes squarely over the plate. But the foul tip spoils the strike. The audience shrieks wrathful things, and the hissing is tremendous.

“Another ball comes over the plate. Kellogg puts his bat in tipping position, but the ball misses it, and the little umpire tears his throat as he yells his peculiar synonym for ‘strike.’ The audience bursts into a prolonged and vigorous cheer, and artistic Mr. Kellogg is derided. But he remains cool, and the next ball being over the plate, he gracefully executes his eighth foul tip. And he immediately follows it with his ninth.

“The audience is wild. They do not understand this thing. They do not know that they are looking at the finest exhibition of artistic and strategic ball playing ever seen at Toronto. They think it’s child’s play, and their disappropriation is made loudly manifest.

“Pitcher Veach is also wild. That is what cool Mr. Kellogg is after. Veach fails to control the next ball and it goes by, wide of the plate. Strategist Kellogg carefully lays down his bat, and trots contently and smilingly to first.”¹

After that prolonged at bat, there were two Hamiltons on base and soon the bases were full after centerfielder Wright gets a single. The bases are loaded with none out when Hamilton’s ‘Chub’ Collins makes a hit, scoring two of the runners.

Wright, being a very fast runner, although he did not score on the play, did make it as far as third base. Hamilton left fielder McGunkin, the next batter, hit a hot shot to the Toronto second baseman who intended to force Collins out at second and then throw to first in time to get the second out. Unfortunately, in his anxiety to make a double play, he dropped the ball and no one got out:

“The Hamilton delegation, during this time, is vigorously demonstrating its lung power. “¹

The Toronto pitcher loses his composure and started yelling at his own second baseman for his poor fielding:

“Collins sees his chance, and makes a plunge for third. He is almost there when Veach is waked up. Veach turns and throws the ball at third, after the manner of a rifle ball. It is a little wild and the third baseman misses it, and the ball goes to the fence. Collins rushes home, and McGunkin legs it around the bases and adds the fifth run.

“Toronto people’s faces grow very long. Hamilton’s delegation is wild with excitement. Hats are waved and flung about, and grown men do and say things that they would never do or say again if they could but cooly sit and watch and listen to themselves.”¹

The Toronto scorekeeper charged with keeping the current score posted in chalk on a blackboard, according to the Spectator man tried “to make the 5 look like a three.”

The Torontos gets a run back in their half of the third inning, and another in the fourth. The score was 5 – 3 Hamilton when the Torontos came to bat in the bottom of the fifth. It seemed like the Torontos had tied the game on a particular hit that seemed to be a fair ball to the batter and the Toronto crowd, but umpire Hoover called it foul :

“(The batter) kicks quite vigorously, but the little umpire looks up at him and shakes his head. The Toronto partisans are sure it is a fair ball. The Hamilton partisans are willing to accept the umpire’s decision. He is in the best place to see. A Toronto reporter gets up in the box and shouts naughty names at the umpire.”¹

Nevertheless, the Torontos did manage to push two runners across the plate:

“And the big, hearty cheer echoes all along the valley of the Don, and scares the mudcats and tadpoles. The telegrapher works his key vigorously, and it is suspected that the ‘I-told-you-sos’ in Hamilton are swelling with self-esteem.”¹

To kill the Toronto rally, the Hamilton’s manager, and second baseman, Chub Collins, had seen enough of his starting pitcher:

“A pitching change by Chub Collins – “what is this? Can six thousand eyes be deceived ? Mickey Jones walks into the pitcher’s box, and picks up the ball. He passes a few practice balls to Jack Morrison, and the game is resumed. Jones doesn’t open up well. The umpire begins to call balls on him. The counts, one, two, three, four, five, six, and batter takes his first.

“The Toronto partisans laugh. They jeer Mr. Pitcher Jones, and say to one another, ‘We’ve got ‘em now,’ ‘What a pie!’ But they don’t have ‘em now, and there’s no appearance of the pie.

“ Jones’ good left hand begins to know what is expected of it, and his sharp curves and double-twisters follow each other over the plate in procession style. In the four innings, the newly-discovered southpaw pitcher pitches out such sluggers as Faatz, and Albert, and none of the Torontos make a hit. In the eighth inning, the Hamiltons score one and break the tie. The Hamilton delegation whoops it up with much sustained power.

“The ninth inning results in two blinders.

“ The Hamilton delegation elbow their way to the street, and are so happy that they don’t know to this day whether they rode up town in a K. of . L. street car, or a Frank Smith bus, or walked.”¹

The final score was 7 to 6.

The hero of the game was a first baseman turned pitcher, Mickey Jones. The Spectator reporter just had to laud the left-handed Hamilton player and conclude his account of the exciting game with the following poem :

 

          MICKEY OF CORK

Though bounded between us the billows of ocean –

   Though fate’s fickle fancy had pulled us apart –

Thy name wouldst still cause me the sweetest emotion,

   And though wouldst reign ever the king of my heart.

   Oh Mickey ! of pitchers boss pitcher thou art;

And though dost come from the precincts of Cork,

Thou canst strike out the sluggers in poor little York.

 

Yes, poor little York – let the mud go forever –

   Its pride, like a drunken man, sleeps in the dust;

Though the sluggers may slug, they can hit Mickey never.

   While their bats will corrupt with the ravenous rust

   Of comfort, old fellow, don’t give ‘em a crust –

You may give ‘em a crumb on the end of a fork,^*

But see that it stops there, of Mickey of Cork.

 

We boast of our bay, and our towering mountain,

   Of our cedar-blocked streets and our Thirteenth Batt. Band,

We brag of our Gore and its elegant fountain,

   Of our Beach with its willows and pillows of sand,

   But great above all these, great, yes, and grand,

Is he with long legs like the stalks of a stork,

But king among pitchers – our Mickey of Cork.”

^{*pitchfork  1}

1886-06-18 Windy Ball Game

June 17, 1886 was a windy day for a baseball game, and the game played on the diamond at Dundurn park proved to be a windy affair in more ways than one.

A team from Oswego, New York State was in Hamilton to play a local side.

The coverage from the Hamilton Spectator follows :

“The game at Dundurn yesterday was an atmospheric affair. The wind blew powerfully all through the game, in spite of the fact that the batters struck it some awful blows; the umpire used a great deal of wind to very good purpose, and anybody within a mile of the diamond could hear what he whispered; the long first baseman of the Oswegos kept up a continual shouting during the whole time his side was at bat; the Oswego team made a very effective chorus until the umpire intimated that he didn’t want no more of that ‘hollerin’ – altogether the game was quite windy.¹

¹ “The World of Sport”

Hamilton Spectator.   June 18, 1886