Saturday 15 December 2012

1908-12-19



My ! My! Here it is Christmas again, and it only seems to be the other day that we were celebrating the Christmas of 1907. How time flies! Away back sixty or seventy years ago, when we old stagers were boys and girls in Hamilton, it seemed so long between the Christmas anniversaries that we used to think that the next Christmas would never come. Happy days of childhood, when we laid awake on Christmas eve waiting for dear old Santa Claus , with his reindeer and his sleigh loaded with presents to gladden our hearts in the morning. The wiseacres were not then abroad to tell us that Santa was only a myth, nor did the learned preachers denounce from their pulpits parents who delighted to tell their children stories of the old fellow coming down the chimney and filling the stockings that were hung in front of the old-fashioned fireplace, for stoves were a rare comfort in Hamilton, except in the homes of the well-to-class. Old Hamiltonians will never forget those days. They may have more money now and live in better houses, heated with hot water or hot air, but that they are happier than in the old days is a question that will stand discussion. The Christmas gifts were not as expensive then as now, but they were usually confined to the family circle and represented the loving heart of the giver. Got into any one of the stores in Hamilton now and peep at the line of articles for children alone, and the wonder is, can the merchant possibly dispose of his stock between now and Thursday night. In the olden times, a child that got a cheaply-constructed rocking horse was the envy of all the children in the neighborhood; now a horse and carriage like they have in the George W. Robinson store, worth $20 to $25 is the least thing these twentieth century children expect. And when it comes to selecting for older children, the father and mother are at a standstill. Nothing less than a diamond ring for the oldest daughter, who expects, in the course of human events, to become a bride when flowers bloom in the spring, tra-la-la, and then all the other young ladies of the family must have something out of the common, or else their hearts will be sad when they see what Jennie, who lives next door, has received from her parents. A pair of skates, a sled, a pocket knife, or something of that kind used to make an average boy happy; but, on your life, such a present is not to be considered now. Poor old dad has to hustle around these Christmas times if he expects to keep up with the procession.

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          Probably the old stagers are but dreamers who think there is nothing now like it was fifty and sixty years ago when this blessed city did not have as much wealth or as many people. But times have certainly changed for the better or worse as you like to look at it. Hamilton was quite a musical town away back in the early fifties, and during the holiday week, the serenaders were out every night, making the air melodious with sweet songs and stringed instruments. The custom of waifs in the old country had been transplanted to Canada, and the night before Christmas, the boys and girls, led by their singing school teacher, visited their friends and out in the frosty air would ring the carols, While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night and kindred hymns from the Anglican book of prayer. Then the bright songs of the day, such as Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming, I Forget the Gay World, Larboard Watch. Ah! Those are days to look back to into pleasant memory, for we lived in the happy days of young manhood and womanhood, giving but little thought to the morrow. Our incomes were small, for labor did not receive as good wages then; but expenses were lighter, for in those days, the average child was educated in the school of economy. And talk about Christmas markets now. They are not in it with the two thousand pound steers rolling in fats, the juicy mutton, the little pigs harnessed up with links of sausage, looking as cute as a box of monkeys that the Wingalls, the Lawrys, old Dick Passmore, Bob Ramsey, Bill Tillman and other old-time butchers used to prepare for the Christmas market in the old market house that used to stand on the site of the present city hall. Then the turkeys, geese, ducks, chickens that one could buy so cheap that even the poorest family in the city could afford to eat poultry at the prevailing prices. Think of a fat goose for a quarter of a dollar, and as handsome a turkey as ever flew over a fence for forty and fifty cents. And they were tender and juicy. The raising of tender beef seems to be a lost art in Canada.

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          This is the season for jollity and mirth, and if we only use the blessings sent us and not abuse them, the year will end in happiness. The unfortunates who are so convinced that they want to patronize every one of the seventy or eighty barrooms, and join the song, We Won’t Go Home Till Morning, wake up late on Christmas mornings with heads too large for even half a bushel measure to cover, and with a taste in their mouths as though they had been feeding at a garbage barrel. Cut that part of the celebration out, and it might not be a bad idea to forget the past and turn over a new leaf. The poet tells us, “While the lamp holds out to burn, the vilest sinner may return.” The drinking habit is the curse of the present day and generation, and while we may flatter ourselves that the world is growing better and wiser on that line; statistics will not endorse the statement. Think of this, boys, as the year draws to a close and don’t wait till tomorrow to turn over a new leaf, give it a flirt now.

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          From far away out in Colorado came an ancient copy of a New York illustrated paper, and among the cuts was a picture that brought back to this old Muser a scene of more than fifty years ago. It was a picture of old Cataract fire company No. 2, taken on a holiday occasion shortly after the company came into possession of their new engine, in the year 1857, and surrounding the engine is a group of over one hundred members. At that time, Alexander J. Campbell was captain of the company, Richard Butler, first lieutenant, and Joseph Kneeshaw, second lieutenant. Charles Smith, the city messenger, had charge of the apparatus of the entire department, having been appointed to that position when Samuel Sawyer was chief engineer. The boys of No. 2 were proud of their new engine. It was made in Montreal by the Perry Brothers, and cost about $1,000. The Grand Trunk and the Great Western railway companies made a large reduction in the freight charges, as the engine was mainly bought by the individual subscriptions of the members, the insurance companies giving a little help. Hamilton was poor in those days, 1857 being the year of the panic, and the city treasury was very low in funds. Talk about overdrafts! In amount, the overdrafts of the present day are modest when compared with then. The city was then arranging to begin the construction of the waterworks and the city fathers did not want to invest money in fire engines when they expected that the pressure of the waterworks would throw a stream over the highest building in the city, which at that time was not over three stories in height. It was a great day when they brought the new engine up from the depot. The company engaged the artillery band, and invited the chief engineer and the officers of the department to join them in the parade. The engine was given its first test down at the Great Western docks, which was rather a failure on account of some defect in the plungers, but one of the Perrys came with the engine, and in a day or two, he repaired the plunger. They were a proud lot, as the company came marching up James street to the Gore, with the band and the department officers in the lead. Joseph Hoodless, who was captain of No. 1 company, was as proud of the new Cataract as if it belonged to his own company, and in his hearty and homely way, he complimented Captain Campbell and the officers of No. 2 for their enterprise in bringing such a handsome engine to the city, and especially because it was made in Canada. The city had bought for No. 3 company a new engine from Rochester, N. Y., and even in those days there was a feeling among manufacturers of Hamilton that Canadians should have the preference, all things being equal. That was in the old days of free trade, when Canada bought everything in the United States and the old country, and Canadian workmen chewed the bitter cud of idleness. Even in those long ago days, Joseph Hoodless was learning the lesson of protection for Canadian manufacturers, but it took twenty years before the protection plank was nailed on the political platform.

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          Of the more than one hundred members of the company who were on parade that day, only twelve are now living in Hamilton, and it is reasonable to presume that a large majority of the others have answered the last roll call. The survivors are : Joseph Kneeshaw, Richard Butler, Charles Smith, W. J. McAllister, George LeRiche, William Dicker, Thomas Mead, Wm. Gilmour, Robert Christie, Wm. McClelland, Wm. Syme and Colonel Stoneman  who was the company’s torch boy.  No. 2 company was organized about the year 1851 by members of the Sons of Temperance, and no one was admitted to membership unless he was a total abstainer from alcoholic liquors, and in its ranks were many of the leading businessmen of the city. Indeed, it was considered to be somewhat of an honor to be enrolled as a member. For the first three or four years, no one could be elected as an officer who was not a member of the church and, as a general thing, they had to be Methodists. Thomas C. Watkins, Alexander Hamilton, Robert Kneeshaw and William a. Shephard were among the leaders and when the company began to admit boys who were not of the church – but they had to be total abstainers – the four gentlemen named were placed on the roll of honorary members. Of the old boys, many drifted out of Hamilton during the next two or three years after the panic in 1857 and when the civil war opened in the United States, there enlisted in the ranks of the Union army, a number of members of the old Cataract No. 2 Captain Alexander J. Campbell was in business in the city of St. Louis in ’61 and served through till the close of the war. He died a few years ago in the city of Boston. His wife is now living with a daughter in Indianapolis, and is drawing a pension of $12 a month. The others enlisted in different states, and so far as the Muser knows, have long since mustered out.
          Tom Grey, better known as “The Dodger,” was then manager of the Times newspaper and a member of the city council. Tom’s great ambition was to be re-elected chief of the fire department, a position he had held some years before, but the members of the department would not have him. Hugh Boyd was their choice for he had been chief the year before, having succeeded  Sam Sawyer. As a member of the fire and water committee of the council, Tom Grey succeeded in getting a bylaw passed giving council the power to elect a chief for the fire department and thus Tom gained the coveted prize. The next day, after the council had elected the chief, the department held a meeting in the Mechanics’ hall, and the speakers gave the council all that was coming to it for its interference. It was then decided by a unanimous vote to disband, and each company went to its own engine house, drew the apparatus up to the market square and backed it up against the curb at the side of the old city hall. With three cheers and a tiger, the boys disbanded forever. Very few, if any of them, joined the new department under Tom Grey. At the time of the reunion of the old boys in Hamilton in 1903, an effort was made to organize the old volunteer firemen to take part in the parade. About half a dozen of the members of No. 2, and one here and there from the other companies in the sixties, making it about fifteen who responded. They all made quite a creditable turnout, and with the old-time hand fire engine made one of the features of the parade. An ancient fire engine of Moses and Robert Raw was bought by Chief Aitchison and Assessment Commissioner John Hall, and this has been preserved as a souvenir of the department that was organized in the forties. One afternoon, during the carnival, Chief Aitchison invited a few of the men who belonged before 1855 to have their pictures taken with the old engine, and the following responded : Joshua Phillips, Reese Evans, Moses and Robert Raw, Charles r. Hunt, Charles Hardy, Joseph Kneeshaw and Richard Butler. Two of that small number have passed away since that noted carnival day. When an old dreamer gets started telling the story of ancient days in Hamilton, he is apt to forget that it may not be as interesting to the present generation of readers as it is to him and those who lived in this dear old city away back fifty and sixty years ago. But we will bring this story to a close by wishing all readers of these Musings a merry Christmas.

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