1885 - Civic Holiday

“Civic holiday only comes once a year, and when it comes, it brings the annual games and demonstrations of the Caledonian society of Hamilton.”

“Auld Scotia’s Games : The Caledonian Society’s Demonstration”

Hamilton Spectator   August 11, 1885¹

Beginning in 1873, the Caledonian Society began organizing an annual special celebration of the Civic Holiday in Hamilton with a major event held at Dundurn Park :

“A round dozen of years have rolled by since this was inaugurated and each year sees a better programme of games, keener competitions, larger attendance, and in every way a more successful show.

“They are decided novelties to the average citizen. Novel because they bring out a host of barelegged and nimble laddies, resplendent in gay kilts, sahes, silver-tipped daggers, hosts of medals, and all the paraphernalia of a Scotchman in his national dress. They bring out, too, the weird and plaintive music of the bagpipes, the memory of which will haunt the ears of the ordinary listener for at least a week.”¹

Among the primary attractions organized by the Caledonian Society at Dundurn Park for the 1885 Hamilton Civic holiday demonstration were the athletic games.

While many were attracted to watch the sporting competitions, for many, just being in the beautiful Dundurn Park was fine:

“Scores wandered around the grounds, stood beneath the pleasant and welcome shade of the trees, listened to the very finest brand of Thirteenth band melody , rode the roller coaster, flirted, laughed, joked, smoked, and, in fact, did everything that is generally and popularly supposed to represent and include a first class time.”¹

The new baseball diamond and seating area beside it at Dundurn park were adapted for use as a location for the athletic and dancing competitions:

“A space in front the grandstand had been roped off, and spectators were compelled to keep outside the rope or het in the stand. The games came off inside.

“The stand was well-filled, and the rope was covered with human hands.

“In the center of the roped-off space, a small stage had been erected for the competitions, dancing etc., that could not well take place on the ground. Upon this the pipers and kilted lads and lasses stood and danced all though the afternoon, while the athletic competitions went on around them.”¹

During the supper, the stage was moved closer to the grandstand for the events to take over the area as the dancing and athletic competitions had been completed:

“The Thirteenth Band played on the stage in front of the grandstand. The attendance was large, and the eternal rumble of the roller coaster filled the air.”¹

As darkness descended, the moment arrived for much-anticipated appearance of a vice-regal visitor, Canada’s official head of state:

“Shortly after nine o’clock, His Excellency the Governor-General (Lord Landsdowne) came down from the castle, marshalled by the chief of police, pipers and a standard bearer. His Lordship took a seat in the grandstand directly in front f the portable stage.

“An excellent program of Scotch dancing followed. It evidently pleased His Lordship. A bright smile sat upon his face, and he vociferously applauded each performer.

Although the Govenor-General was not on an official trip to Hamilton but was just a personal guest of Mr. Donald  McInness, at McInnis’  Dundurn Castle residence, Lord Landsdowne was asked to share a few brief words with the crowd.

He said, “Hamilton owes so much to what Scotchmen have done for her and this part of the Dominion, that I am not surprised at the people taking advantage of an opportunity to witness the national games.”¹

1885 - Rowing Regatta

 “If the regatta committee of the Canadian Association of Amateur Oarsmen had selected the weather as well as the day for the annual regatta, it could hardly have been more propitious than that of yesterday”

          “Battle of the Oars : The Sixth Annual Regatta of the C. A. A. O.”

          Hamilton Spectator.    August 6, 1885¹

          If there is one sport that the geography of Hamilton favors more than any other, it is the sport of competitive rowing.

          Located at the west end of Lake Ontario, and with a large, sheltered harbor, there was plenty of space for training and for competitions.

          On August 5, 1885, a large number of rowers were in Hamilton for the 6^th annual regatta of the national organization, the Canadian Association of Amateur Oarsmen.

          A better location could not have been chosen for the event:

          “The sun shone brightly from a clear blue sky flecked with light, fleecy clouds which occasionally sailed lazily across his face and prevented him from imprinting his warmest kisses on the faces of the ladies.

          “A pleasant breeze swept over the bay, and rippled the surface of the water without making it too lumpy for the shells. In short, it was a fine day for rowing on the bay.”¹

                A straight course, one mile and a half in length, had been plainly marked out on the bay with buoys and flags.

          A crowd of spectators, estimated at over 6,000 mainly on the beach strip, filled every possible vantage point of the bay to watch the competitions. Many actually watched from one of the many boats on the bay:

          “It was worth travelling a long way to see a spectacle as animated and attractive as was presented yesterday afternoon. The piers were crowded with people, a majority of whom were ladies, and the majority of the ladies wore bright costumes,

          “Along the shore for half a mile below the Ocean House – opposite the finishing point – there was a great mass of humanity.

          “Steamers, large and small, moved hither and thither, decks covered and cabins full of spectators. Far and near, the creamy sails of yachts and small sail boats gleamed in the sunshine, and it seemed as if every row boat owned in or near the city was on the bay. Of course, these row boats persisted in getting in the way of the larger craft, and several venturesome rowers narrowly escaped having their boats swamped”¹

When the races were over, the winners awarded their prizes, the crowds began to go home, and the bay started to resume its normal appearance, having a less chaotic number of vessels on its surface.

The sixth annual regatta of the Canadian Association of Amateur Oarsmen was considered a rousing success by competitors and spectators alike.

A small group of merchants were particularly pleased with the event:

“There was enough beer sold to keep a brewery going for six months.”¹

1885 - Prof. Johnson's Machine

There was a member of Hamilton’s black community who was not only very well-known in his home city, but indeed his fame was much more widespread.

Assuming the title, “Professor,” C. A. Johnson, was an orator, writer and newspaper editor.

On July 20, 1885, the Hamilton Spectator reprinted an account of Prof. Johnson’s appearance in New York City as carried in one of that city’s newspapers, the New York Exchange :

“Johnson, the colored weather prophet and editor of the British Lion published in Hamilton, Can., who recently offered to give the Canadian government 200 colored volunteers to fight against Riel, is in town today.”¹

¹ “In a New Role : Prof. and Col. C. A. Johnson Announces a Startling Machine”

Hamilton Spectator. July 20, 1885.

Prof. Johnson was attempting to rent a hall to give a lecture, of course, charging a fee for all who would want to hear him speak.

To drum up interest in what he was going to speak about, Johnson gave an interview with a newspaper reporter from the New York Exchange in which he said:

“I have an aerial machine made to go at the speed of at least 200 million miles an hour, which I will exhibit at my lecture, and I will navigate by electricity. I shall startle the people. I propose to go from New York to Liverpool in a day and a half. I understand all about the wind and the air currents and have made my arrangements accordingly.”¹

The reporter asked Johnson the following question : “Would not such a rate of speed cause concussion of the brain?”¹

In reply, Johnson said : “Oh, not at all. I have provided for that. I understand all about quick motion and have made arrangements against such contingencies. I’m not in a position to explain definitely the principles of my invention, but I have not the slightest doubt it will succeed. People can’t help being impressed with it, and I believe in five years, instead of Jacob Sharp’s railroad on Broadway, we’ll have aerial machines which will transport us up or down Broadway in a few seconds, at almost infinitesimal cost.”¹

This was just one of the Professor Johnson’s many incidents designed to attract attention to himself, his newspaper and his public lectures.

1885 - Stutt's Mill Explosion

About 8 miles, north of Hamilton, and within the township of West Flamboro, Wentworth County, was, even in the summer of 1885, a historic area which progress had left behind.

In the early years of the nineteenth century, along the banks of the Spencer Creek, was a community known as Crooks’ Hollow, which was a thriving, prosperous commercial and residential long before Hamilton had started to made any significant progress.

Using the power generated by the stream, there were a number of mills, and a community of workers employed at them.

By 1885, the other major mill still in operation in the vicinity was then owned by James Stutt and Sons.

During the afternoon of June 8, 1885, about 4:30 p.m., a terrible accident took place at the mill:

“The boiler and engine house, a substantial stone building, stood some fifteen or twenty feet from the main building. The mill being run by water power as well as steam, the boiler had not been used for several months, and it was repaired recently to fit it for use again. It was decided to get steam up yesterday afternoon.

“In starting up, the dome did not work properly, and the flues became red hot before the water began to flow through them. Almost immediately after the water entered the flues, the boiler burst.¹

¹ “Fatal Explosion : A Boiler Bursts in West Flamboro and Kills Two Men” Hamilton Spectator. July 9, 1885.

The explosion was so intense that the huge boiler itself was hurled out of the building, while the dome was thrown over 250 yards into the nearby swamp:

“Some of the pieces were picked up 300 yards away by the old Brock road. A stick of timber from the roof of the boiler house flew high into the air over the tops of the houses and landed 75 yards away. In falling, it was driven straight into the ground, and still remains there, standing upright, a proof of the terrific force of the explosion.”¹

Sadly, it was not only the equipment which was devasted by the boiler explosion.

John A. Stutt, one of the Stutt sons, was a married man, with four small children. He was hit on the head by a piece of iron and died from a concussion of the brain.

Ed Maloney was the man charged with the firing up process. He was blown thirty feet in the air, landing in a nearby stack of straw. When found, Maloney’s body was entirely nude, all his clothing blown away by the force of the blast. Every bone in his body was broken, and as described graphically in the Spectator, Maloney’s head was “an unrecognizable mess.”

The Dundas True Banner was a weekly newspaper and so when it published its coverage of the tragic event, the coverage focussed mainly on the aftermath:

“On Sunday last, an immense number of people visited the scene of the late boiler explosion. Many women and children walked out from Dundas, to say nothing of the stream of men and boys, and in some cases so great was the curiosity to see the wreck that perambulators and their infantile contents were wheeled all the way from town and back by curious parents.

“The scene is truly one of desolation, the stone boiler house being levelled to the ground, the near half of the three story stone main building being torn to pieces, and the frame building in rear of it completely demolished. The boiler which created all this havoc was completely demolished. The boiler which created all this havoc was opened out as flat as a sheet of cardboard by the explosion and the flues were blown hundreds of yards away. The wreck and ruin was startling for those who visited the scene to see and the thought of the valuable lives sacrificed made all melancholy and sad.”²

²  “The Boiler Explosion” Dundas True Banner. July 16, 1885.