To hear the outcry about poverty in Hamilton and other Canadian towns,
one would think the country was going to the damnition bow-wows. Did you ever
see midwinter months when there was not a scarcity of labor for at least a few
weeks, especially outdoor work? It may be a little worse in Hamilton just now
than is usual at this season of the year, but present conditions can be
accounted for to a measure by the extra immigration of the past year. A few
enthusiasts got up a boom for a hundred thousand population, and word was sent
broadcast that there was work for everybody – and more, too – and the fortunate
ones who had friends in the old country sent back tidings that Hamilton was the
desirable Mecca, where there was plenty and to spare; and the result was they
came cocking over by the hundreds just at the time when work was getting a
little slack for those already on the job. The government had its agents in the
old land, and they told such glowing stories about the great industrial city
that it looked to them as the promised land, that they used to read about in
Sunday school, flowing with hills and honey. And then the Salvation Army got
busy, and for a small bonus from the government, sent out to Canada its scores
and hundreds. So long as Hamilton had a job for every man, things were
prosperous and the world looked very bright; but when it got to the point that
there were two men for every job, the storm clouds began to gather. It is
always darkest before dawn, and let us hope that the sun of prosperity will
soon rise again and that no man who wants work will have to search in vain.
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When one reads the annual reports of Canada’s great banking institutions,
the question naturally arises why should times be hard when each bank manager
tells its stockholders of the wonderful increase of business during the year
and of the profits made? If we are not mistaken, we saw a statement the other
day in the daily papers that there was on deposit in the savings departments of
the Canadian banks and in the post office over one billion one hundred and
forty-one millions of dollars, drawing interest. Mind you, this is not the
money of the rich, for they have larger uses for their money than putting it in
savings banks at 2 per cent interest. Nearly every dollar of that immense sum
of money belongs to the thrifty middle class, who have cultivated the habit of
laying by a trifle each payday. You can see them any Saturday night even in
these days of money stringency lined up at the counters in the banks handing in
their deposits, feeling that when the rainy day comes, that pass book will be
the umbrella that will keep the home and the family comfortable till the storm
of hard times blows over. Just think what amount that $1,141,000,000 means to a
Canadian population of not more than eight million people! It requires a
pinching time to teach a lesson that in the days of prosperity, it is always
well to take a look forward and prepare for what might happen. The Hamilton men
and women who have a bank book to fall back upon when work becomes scarce have
the pleasure of knowing that a bird in the hand is better than two in the bush.
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It is not only the banks that have prosperous reports to make of the
past year, but every industrial and mercantile business has the same story to
tell. It is certainly not the scarcity of money that is responsible for the
present hard times, for the annual reports of all of the churches tell us that
never in the past have finances tooted up better. Gather the givings to
missionary purposes, as reported thus far, and it looks as if Hamilton has
managed to throw into the collection basket nearly $50,000 for missions alone
during the year 1913. For a city of less than one hundred thousand population
this is going some in the way of trying to convert the people to the belief
that our Hamilton way of getting to heaven is just a little the best way. Then
the churches have prospered so well that many of them have felt like dividing
up the surplus with the preachers by increasing their salaries. This certainly
was commendable, and ought to be a good indication that Hamilton has not a
grouch coming because of hard times. Indeed, it would not be a bad idea to give
a little more to the preacher, even if the congregations had to shorten up on
missionary giving. Then it is only a few weeks ago that Hamilton raised $75,000
within a few days toward making necessary additions to the Y. W. C. A.
building, so that greater work could be accomplished for the benefit of
homeless girls working in the city. Then the people are building new church
edifices, all of which cost a deal of money, and they seem to have had no difficulty
during the past year in raising all that was necessary to pay their way.
Indeed, one new church was completed and dedicated during the past year, at a
cost of $60,000, and Brother Gilroy, the happy pastor, rejoicingly tells the
world that the First Congregational church of Hamilton does not owe a dollar.
This is something new in church building, to dedicate one to the Lord, without
a mortgage attachment. And the Methodists down at Crown Point, who began to
worship in a small frame building in the year 1906, have so far prospered that
tomorrow (Sunday) they are going to dedicate a new church, which cost $25,000
for its construction, and they expect to have a grand time all day. The new
church was built during the past year, and the members of the congregation have
been contributing liberally toward paying the cost.
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Pass along King street any afternoon, and see the hundreds of
well-dressed men, women and children, and one would never dream that hard times
was holding a conversation here. Just about the time the Lyric and Temple are
letting out their afternoon audiences you will see hundreds of all ages and
sizes, and dressed in the height of fashion, streaming along King street, all
looking happy as though the afternoon program passed them. One would never
think that hard times were knocking at the doors of the houses of these people.
Every afternoon and night the picture shows, and the other places of amusement
are crowded, and if the managers could only accomplish it, they would have
crowded houses on Sunday. The drinking saloons and the billiard and pool halls
seem to be as prosperous as ever. It takes money to provide all these
pleasures. And yet we are told that there are from fifteen hundred to two
thousand families that cannot get work, and that they are in distressed circumstances.
The mayor and a committee of benevolent are trying to help tide over the
unfortunate ones till the spring of the year, when it is hoped that the
workshops will again fill up to their full quota, and furnish work to those who
need it.
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How many Hamiltonians remember the hard times of 1857 and the next three
or four years following? Talk about “hard times knocking at the door,” the
people of Hamilton and of all Canada had the full benefit of the panic that
closed up every workshop and sent thousands of its young men and women to seek
a home across the border into a land of strangers. Hamilton was not much of an
industrial town in those days, the factories being few and far between. This
muser had but recently joined hands with one of Hamilton’s fair daughters, and
not having a surplus of money to fall back upon, can testify that hard times
were knocking at every door. In those days, journeymen printers working by the
week were getting $1.50 per day, and out of that amount were compelled to save
a little every week as their pay envelope rarely ever contained the full week’s
wages. You got what the proprietors were able to raise and trusted to
Providence for the good time to come when you could go home on Saturday night
with a whole week’s wages in your pocket. And that was the condition in all the
workshops of Hamilton. In order to give as much employment as possible so that
no great hardship could come to any individual, every industry in Hamilton
except the daily papers were on half time, the idea being that half a loaf was
better than no bread at all. Some workshops closed down altogether as there was
no demand for their product. Hamilton did not really feel the depression very
much until the spring of 1858, and tghen it came like a cold blast in winter.
It was in the year 1858 that William Hendrie laid the mains for the waterworks
system, and hundreds of good mechanics were glad to take pick and shovel and
get down in the trenches for fifty and seventy-five cents a day. Mr. Hendrie
had not work for all that applied, so he divided up the time, and thus gave
employment to as many as were willing to take a share. During the year 1858, it
was estimated that not less than three thousand young men left the town in
search of employment. This old muser went out with the rest, and was fortunate
in getting work the morning he reached Cincinnati. For forty years we lived and
prospered, saving enough to keep the wolf from the door when age began to call
a halt in our earning powers. The people of the present day cannot realize what
the hard times of 1857 and the years following meant. Hamilton did not then
have millions of dollars of American money invested in great industrial
enterprises giving work to thousands of men and women at better wages than the
old-time Hamiltonians ever dreamed of
getting for a day’s work. Why, even in these days, which we call hard times,
the printers who operate the linotype machines on the daily papers make more
money in a week than this old muser did in a month, when he was working on half
time. Had it not been for the howlers who wanted at hundred thousand
population, and did not get them after all, there would little or no hard times
to complain of. It was the wild cry for more population that induced hundreds
of families to cross the sea to a land that was supposed to be flowing with
milk and honey; and these people coming to a new country, without any surplus
money, found the labor market full of idle men who had been laid off because
there was stringency in the demand for the output of the industrial
establishments. Cheer up! It is always darkest before sunrise, and already things
are beginning to brighten up a bit. Mayor Allan is doing his best to make the
burden lighter for the men who want work.
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Saving for a few days, this has been a remarkably mild winter and it has
come as a blessing to those who had to save and stint in the burning of fuel.
The thermometer did take a tumble for a few hours and the mercury took a drop
as low as eighteen and twenty degrees. But it soon over, and Hamiltonians were
again rejoicing in almost balmy spring days. How many of the old stagers
remember New Year’s day of fifty years ago? Down to almost the last night of
1863, the weather wabout as mild as it is now, and on the first day of the year
1864, it was so pleasant that overcoats really were a burden. Toward sundown
the thermometer began to show an unsettled condition, and before midnight, it
turned so cold that the streets were deserted and Hamiltonians were snuggling
up to the warm baseburners. A man from the country was sitting before a huge
log fire in the North American tavern, that stood on the corner of Main and
Catharine streets, kept by Ezekiel Post; outside his horse was tied to a
hitching post. Along after midnight, the farmer tore himself away from the
jolly company and the roaring backing fire, and went out to get astride of old
Dobbin, who had been shivering for hours while his master was enjoying the good
cheer. To the astonishment of the farmer, his horse did not whinny his usual
recognition, and when the farmer untied the animal, it never made a move. He
called to his companions in the tavern to come out and see what the trouble
was, when to their astonishment they found faithful old Dobbin frozen stiff in
death. That same night a mail carrier driving to his home on the Ancaster road
froze to death in his sleigh, and a number of belated wayfarers going to their
homes in the country from Hamilton were so badly frozen that it took heroic
treatment by rubbing with snow to give them relief. That cold blast covered the
whole country from Maine to California and from one end of the Dominion to the
other. The old soldiers who were on duty that night in the war between the
north and south will never forget it. This old muser was corporal of the picket
post about a mile out from the regimental camp, and there was neither shelter
nor fire to protect us from the cold blast we had to stand in until about
midnight, when the colonel of the regiment issued orders to relieve from duty
all of the men on the outposts. Talk about cold weather, that little spurt a
few nights ago was not in it with that New Year’s night fifty years ago.
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