2015 Tales of Our Town Articles
The following Tales were published in 2015
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December 2015
Remembering the Ice House by Libby McLachlan
Now in his eighties, Allan Gough enjoys recalling town life as he grew up in Strathroy through the 1930s to the mid-fifties. On a pleasant morning last June, he and I sat at a picnic table in Alexandra Park while he reminisced about the old ice house.
Allan recalled the days when a big circle drive entered the park near where the Scout House is now, going along the baseball diamond, around a large covered grandstand behind home plate, then back to the street near the current park entrance. If a batter had a solid hit along the third baseline it could end up on the roof of a weathered barn-board structure which stored blocks of ice for the town's iceboxes. Known as the ice house, the building was longer and higher than the Scout House, although both sides of the Scout House actually rest on part of its foundation.
In those earlier days the creek below the old high school ran beneath Caradoc Street into what is now Alexandra Park and curved south behind the ice house. When the park was redesigned and the Scout House built, the location of the creek bed was changed and straightened. Before that an earthen berm enclosed a huge area, so that when the creek flooded and froze in winter, a square pond was formed, two to four feet deep and large enough to accommodate several hockey games. One side of the berm went across behind the present-day playground and Scout House. A simple dam near where the creek entered the park controlled the water flow, allowing enough water to flood the pond for good skating by simply removing a plank across the top.
This pond had another use, which surely was in competition with hockey. In the dead of winter it was the scene of the annual 'ice harvest'. Allan Gough remembers watching a big circular saw, operated by a Model T engine, cutting the ice into strips and then into large square blocks cut 3/4 through. Pipe poles with spikes were used to steer the strips of ice blocks as they were floated toward the ice house. Here they went up a primitive chain elevator, driven by a stationery gas engine with its loud bangs, and dropped into the ice house. Truckloads of sawdust from local sawmills were waiting to be packed around the ice blocks as they were piled inside the ice house, which was double-walled to hold sawdust insulation.
The Pincombe family owned the ice business, including the land where the ice was harvested and stored, going back to at least 1920, when the ice house is listed on the town assessment roll. All year, right through the summer, sawdust-packed blocks from the ice house would be delivered throughout Strathroy. Over time 'Smokey' Moore, Albert Fagan and Harry Grundy drove the horse and canvas-hooped ice wagon. The 100 pound ice blocks were scored so that ice picks could break them into 25 or 50 pound chunks. After the sawdust was hosed off, ice tongs and a shoulder-slung canvas box were used to carry the blocks to iceboxes in houses or even up to third floor apartments. Many customers rented their ice boxes from Pincombes, and anyone wanting ice simply put a sign in the window. In summer the King Theatre found another use for ice blocks: a fan blowing over them was an early form of air conditioning!
Ice deliveries continued once or twice a week until the early 1950s, when most people had acquired refrigerators. For a few years Pincombes had discontinued the ice harvest, instead picking up ice at a plant in St. Thomas. At some point the ice house was torn down. In May 1957 the Age reported “Scouts to open campaign for $20,000 Scout House”, noting that the new building would be on land donated by R.B. Pincombe, on the former location of Pincombe's ice house. Two years later, the town took ownership of the Scout House and appointed a board to manage it. Today you can sit on remnants of the old ice house foundation at the rear of the Scout House and watch a ballgame from the third base line.
Now in his eighties, Allan Gough enjoys recalling town life as he grew up in Strathroy through the 1930s to the mid-fifties. On a pleasant morning last June, he and I sat at a picnic table in Alexandra Park while he reminisced about the old ice house.
Allan recalled the days when a big circle drive entered the park near where the Scout House is now, going along the baseball diamond, around a large covered grandstand behind home plate, then back to the street near the current park entrance. If a batter had a solid hit along the third baseline it could end up on the roof of a weathered barn-board structure which stored blocks of ice for the town's iceboxes. Known as the ice house, the building was longer and higher than the Scout House, although both sides of the Scout House actually rest on part of its foundation.
In those earlier days the creek below the old high school ran beneath Caradoc Street into what is now Alexandra Park and curved south behind the ice house. When the park was redesigned and the Scout House built, the location of the creek bed was changed and straightened. Before that an earthen berm enclosed a huge area, so that when the creek flooded and froze in winter, a square pond was formed, two to four feet deep and large enough to accommodate several hockey games. One side of the berm went across behind the present-day playground and Scout House. A simple dam near where the creek entered the park controlled the water flow, allowing enough water to flood the pond for good skating by simply removing a plank across the top.
This pond had another use, which surely was in competition with hockey. In the dead of winter it was the scene of the annual 'ice harvest'. Allan Gough remembers watching a big circular saw, operated by a Model T engine, cutting the ice into strips and then into large square blocks cut 3/4 through. Pipe poles with spikes were used to steer the strips of ice blocks as they were floated toward the ice house. Here they went up a primitive chain elevator, driven by a stationery gas engine with its loud bangs, and dropped into the ice house. Truckloads of sawdust from local sawmills were waiting to be packed around the ice blocks as they were piled inside the ice house, which was double-walled to hold sawdust insulation.
The Pincombe family owned the ice business, including the land where the ice was harvested and stored, going back to at least 1920, when the ice house is listed on the town assessment roll. All year, right through the summer, sawdust-packed blocks from the ice house would be delivered throughout Strathroy. Over time 'Smokey' Moore, Albert Fagan and Harry Grundy drove the horse and canvas-hooped ice wagon. The 100 pound ice blocks were scored so that ice picks could break them into 25 or 50 pound chunks. After the sawdust was hosed off, ice tongs and a shoulder-slung canvas box were used to carry the blocks to iceboxes in houses or even up to third floor apartments. Many customers rented their ice boxes from Pincombes, and anyone wanting ice simply put a sign in the window. In summer the King Theatre found another use for ice blocks: a fan blowing over them was an early form of air conditioning!
Ice deliveries continued once or twice a week until the early 1950s, when most people had acquired refrigerators. For a few years Pincombes had discontinued the ice harvest, instead picking up ice at a plant in St. Thomas. At some point the ice house was torn down. In May 1957 the Age reported “Scouts to open campaign for $20,000 Scout House”, noting that the new building would be on land donated by R.B. Pincombe, on the former location of Pincombe's ice house. Two years later, the town took ownership of the Scout House and appointed a board to manage it. Today you can sit on remnants of the old ice house foundation at the rear of the Scout House and watch a ballgame from the third base line.
November 2015
Growing up on Railway Ave. by Janet Cummer
There is a mellow look to Railway Ave. these days. A quiet street, close to the tracks and often overlooked, it stretches for only one block between Oxford and Richmond Streets in Strathroy.
In the late 1850s the Sarnia branch of the Great Western Railway had come through town, turning the small village into the area's thriving industrial and commercial centre. An 1873 map of Strathroy shows that by that time both Oxford and Richmond were completely developed to the north of the railway tracks. Between them was Railway Avenue, a grand name for such a small street, although in its earliest days it was known as Drury Lane. Here, three frame houses faced the tracks on good-sized lots. In the intervening 140 years, the trees have grown taller and the lots filled in, the houses have been given new siding and a porch or two added, but this area is basically unchanged. It’s a glimpse into old Strathroy, when living by the tracks meant you were close to factories and the train station, making the short walking distance to work and downtown a great advantage.
The Railway Ave. houses were frame, well-built, and roomier than they appeared from the outside. They would not have had hydro, central heating or indoor plumbing when they were constructed before 1873, perhaps by Christopher Corneil, the owner of the property and a well-to-do farmer from Melbourne. On fire insurance maps, they are described as 1 1/2 storey. According to property records these houses didn’t change ownership all that often. Kathleen (Smith) Butler, the youngest in the family of 8 children who grew up in the middle house, says that there were 4 bedrooms upstairs - 2 front and 2 back, plus one downstairs bedroom off the dining room. The street had a sidewalk which disappeared over the years, as well as a front yard surrounded by a fence.
Did Kathleen notice the trains going by their house? You were used to them, she says, all except The Flyer, a fast passenger train from Chicago that came through at 7 am without stopping, and that really blew its whistle. In the days before crossing gates whistles were vital, warning the public of oncoming trains. Even so, Norm Giffen recalls accidents involving this train at the Caradoc Street crossing. And Norm remembers working on the mail train when he lived at 177 Railway Ave. in the 1950s; his family could wave to him as his train went by. Kathleen points out that the trains, though more frequent than today were not as long, since the steam engines could not pull as many cars. Passenger and service (mail/newspaper) trains had priority, followed by freight trains. Cinders falling on clotheslines full of washing were a problem, although less so for residents of Railway Ave. because the cinders would fly over their property and land on the laundry of Albert Street homes. Ross Smith remembered falling asleep on the veranda of his house and waking in the morning covered in cinders - so not all the cinders landed elsewhere!
It was a small, close-knit neighbourhood. Kathleen Butler’s parents, Frank and Margaret Smith, were married in 1914 in St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, one block from their house. At that time, the street was known as Corneil Lane; it became Railway Avenue in 1923. Kathleen does not remember her father, as he passed away before she was born. He was a mortician who worked at W.H. Tanton Furniture Store and Undertakers on Front St. in the 1920s. In the winter of 1930, after taking a body to Strathroy Cemetery, he contracted pneumonia and died. As was the custom of the day, the funeral was held at the Smith residence. But the casket would not fit through the front door and a window had to be removed to get it into the front room for the service.
When Margaret Smith died in 1952, the family home passed to daughter Jean (Smith) and Don Lightfoot who lived there until Mr. Lightfoot died in 2000. Their daughter, Judy, bought it from the estate and resided there until recently. The Smiths certainly put their stamp on the history of this interesting street, living there for almost a century.
On a summer night, take a stroll through this charming area and return to an earlier time in the life of our town.
There is a mellow look to Railway Ave. these days. A quiet street, close to the tracks and often overlooked, it stretches for only one block between Oxford and Richmond Streets in Strathroy.
In the late 1850s the Sarnia branch of the Great Western Railway had come through town, turning the small village into the area's thriving industrial and commercial centre. An 1873 map of Strathroy shows that by that time both Oxford and Richmond were completely developed to the north of the railway tracks. Between them was Railway Avenue, a grand name for such a small street, although in its earliest days it was known as Drury Lane. Here, three frame houses faced the tracks on good-sized lots. In the intervening 140 years, the trees have grown taller and the lots filled in, the houses have been given new siding and a porch or two added, but this area is basically unchanged. It’s a glimpse into old Strathroy, when living by the tracks meant you were close to factories and the train station, making the short walking distance to work and downtown a great advantage.
The Railway Ave. houses were frame, well-built, and roomier than they appeared from the outside. They would not have had hydro, central heating or indoor plumbing when they were constructed before 1873, perhaps by Christopher Corneil, the owner of the property and a well-to-do farmer from Melbourne. On fire insurance maps, they are described as 1 1/2 storey. According to property records these houses didn’t change ownership all that often. Kathleen (Smith) Butler, the youngest in the family of 8 children who grew up in the middle house, says that there were 4 bedrooms upstairs - 2 front and 2 back, plus one downstairs bedroom off the dining room. The street had a sidewalk which disappeared over the years, as well as a front yard surrounded by a fence.
Did Kathleen notice the trains going by their house? You were used to them, she says, all except The Flyer, a fast passenger train from Chicago that came through at 7 am without stopping, and that really blew its whistle. In the days before crossing gates whistles were vital, warning the public of oncoming trains. Even so, Norm Giffen recalls accidents involving this train at the Caradoc Street crossing. And Norm remembers working on the mail train when he lived at 177 Railway Ave. in the 1950s; his family could wave to him as his train went by. Kathleen points out that the trains, though more frequent than today were not as long, since the steam engines could not pull as many cars. Passenger and service (mail/newspaper) trains had priority, followed by freight trains. Cinders falling on clotheslines full of washing were a problem, although less so for residents of Railway Ave. because the cinders would fly over their property and land on the laundry of Albert Street homes. Ross Smith remembered falling asleep on the veranda of his house and waking in the morning covered in cinders - so not all the cinders landed elsewhere!
It was a small, close-knit neighbourhood. Kathleen Butler’s parents, Frank and Margaret Smith, were married in 1914 in St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, one block from their house. At that time, the street was known as Corneil Lane; it became Railway Avenue in 1923. Kathleen does not remember her father, as he passed away before she was born. He was a mortician who worked at W.H. Tanton Furniture Store and Undertakers on Front St. in the 1920s. In the winter of 1930, after taking a body to Strathroy Cemetery, he contracted pneumonia and died. As was the custom of the day, the funeral was held at the Smith residence. But the casket would not fit through the front door and a window had to be removed to get it into the front room for the service.
When Margaret Smith died in 1952, the family home passed to daughter Jean (Smith) and Don Lightfoot who lived there until Mr. Lightfoot died in 2000. Their daughter, Judy, bought it from the estate and resided there until recently. The Smiths certainly put their stamp on the history of this interesting street, living there for almost a century.
On a summer night, take a stroll through this charming area and return to an earlier time in the life of our town.
October 2015
Strathroy's growing pains: 1850s-1860s By Bill Groot
Even in the early days, towns grew by surveying each new parcel of land, then approving a plan for its development. The early Strathroy survey maps contain a wealth of information regarding the growth of the village and suggest some of what the town planners hoped to accomplish. Plan numbers 93, 175 and 186 encompass the downtown core. They were surveyed in 1853, 1856, and 1863 respectively. These surveys show that twelve street names were added since Buchanan’s original 1837 survey: North, Centre, Carrodoc, County, Rail Road, New Market, Frank, Thomas, Maria, Emily, James, and George Streets.
The origins of some names are obvious: North Street is located on the north edge of the village, and Centre Street is approximately down the village centre. Carradoc (later Caradoc) Street leads to Caradoc Township and connects with County Road, later changed to Caradoc Street. Rail Road Street (later Oxford Street) is associated with the Sarnia Branch of the Great Western Railway (GWR) that was to pass through the village in 1856 and 1858. New Market Street (later Victoria) would lead close to “Market Square”, a large irregular-shaped lot (# 31) located almost at the end of what is now Sydenham Street.
The remaining six street names appear to be first names: Frank, Thomas, Maria, Emily, James, and George. It has long been known that Frank Street was named after John Frank who purchased this block of property in 1853. His home was at the foot of Frank Street by the river; the north section of Frank Street was actually his private driveway. None of John Frank’s children match the remaining street names. However the family of James Keefer, the previous owner of this property, did include family members whose names match four of the streets. Father “James” was married to “Maria” Cook and two of their sons were “George” and “Thomas” Keefer. There was no daughter named “Emily”, which remains the only street whose origin is still unknown.
One of the surprising findings on Plan 93 is that owner-developer John Frank wanted all traffic coming from the west along the fourth line south (later Concession Road, then Albert Street) to turn up Front Street. The remaining portion of Albert Street was surveyed into building lots, and James, Centre, Maria and Emily Streets continued south to the railway. Mr. Frank must have been unsuccessful in acquiring the established road allowance property from Adelaide Township, as Albert Street was eventually pushed through and all lots and streets to the south were resurveyed to the layout we know today. The aforementioned streets were cut off and George Street and Market Square disappeared. Probably none of the lots in this section had been sold and developed, which allowed the plan to be easily redrawn.
Plan 93 also shows the 100-foot-wide GWR corridor. This establishes that the railway had decided on the Strathroy route as early as 1853; however, there was no land indicated for a station and rail yard. GWR executives originally planned to build a station on the Rapley farm, a mile to the west. After John Frank donated land, Plan 175 (1856) shows that a resurvey was done, with a wider GWR corridor and land labelled “Depot, Sarnia Branch G.W.RY” for the station.
Another note of interest: in most of the downtown core, lanes behind the lots provided access to barns and garages. These were 16½ feet wide and were not named at the time.
Decisions made by early planners and real estate developers explain the many difficult intersections that exist today. The Sydenham River, its floodplains, and the railroad complicated the issues. And Strathroy sits on the border of two townships, one surveyed at 45 degrees from the other. Our current downtown layout is a legacy of all these challenges from the past.
Even in the early days, towns grew by surveying each new parcel of land, then approving a plan for its development. The early Strathroy survey maps contain a wealth of information regarding the growth of the village and suggest some of what the town planners hoped to accomplish. Plan numbers 93, 175 and 186 encompass the downtown core. They were surveyed in 1853, 1856, and 1863 respectively. These surveys show that twelve street names were added since Buchanan’s original 1837 survey: North, Centre, Carrodoc, County, Rail Road, New Market, Frank, Thomas, Maria, Emily, James, and George Streets.
The origins of some names are obvious: North Street is located on the north edge of the village, and Centre Street is approximately down the village centre. Carradoc (later Caradoc) Street leads to Caradoc Township and connects with County Road, later changed to Caradoc Street. Rail Road Street (later Oxford Street) is associated with the Sarnia Branch of the Great Western Railway (GWR) that was to pass through the village in 1856 and 1858. New Market Street (later Victoria) would lead close to “Market Square”, a large irregular-shaped lot (# 31) located almost at the end of what is now Sydenham Street.
The remaining six street names appear to be first names: Frank, Thomas, Maria, Emily, James, and George. It has long been known that Frank Street was named after John Frank who purchased this block of property in 1853. His home was at the foot of Frank Street by the river; the north section of Frank Street was actually his private driveway. None of John Frank’s children match the remaining street names. However the family of James Keefer, the previous owner of this property, did include family members whose names match four of the streets. Father “James” was married to “Maria” Cook and two of their sons were “George” and “Thomas” Keefer. There was no daughter named “Emily”, which remains the only street whose origin is still unknown.
One of the surprising findings on Plan 93 is that owner-developer John Frank wanted all traffic coming from the west along the fourth line south (later Concession Road, then Albert Street) to turn up Front Street. The remaining portion of Albert Street was surveyed into building lots, and James, Centre, Maria and Emily Streets continued south to the railway. Mr. Frank must have been unsuccessful in acquiring the established road allowance property from Adelaide Township, as Albert Street was eventually pushed through and all lots and streets to the south were resurveyed to the layout we know today. The aforementioned streets were cut off and George Street and Market Square disappeared. Probably none of the lots in this section had been sold and developed, which allowed the plan to be easily redrawn.
Plan 93 also shows the 100-foot-wide GWR corridor. This establishes that the railway had decided on the Strathroy route as early as 1853; however, there was no land indicated for a station and rail yard. GWR executives originally planned to build a station on the Rapley farm, a mile to the west. After John Frank donated land, Plan 175 (1856) shows that a resurvey was done, with a wider GWR corridor and land labelled “Depot, Sarnia Branch G.W.RY” for the station.
Another note of interest: in most of the downtown core, lanes behind the lots provided access to barns and garages. These were 16½ feet wide and were not named at the time.
Decisions made by early planners and real estate developers explain the many difficult intersections that exist today. The Sydenham River, its floodplains, and the railroad complicated the issues. And Strathroy sits on the border of two townships, one surveyed at 45 degrees from the other. Our current downtown layout is a legacy of all these challenges from the past.
September 2015
Blanche Westlake: Adelaide's Female Innkeeper by Brianna Hammer
Among the names of early landowners on an 1833 map of Adelaide Village, one stands out as distinctly feminine. At a time when women generally did not work outside the home, and even fewer owned land, Blanche Westlake was an exception.
Adelaide Village was surveyed in 1833 in preparation for the public sale of lots. Settlers had started arriving in the area in the summer and fall of 1832, and by February 1833 Thomas Radcliffe wrote that the village was already home to several houses and two shops, with construction of a hotel, a post office, and a church underway. Blanche Westlake is noted as one of the first arrivals in the newly surveyed village. Born Blanche Woolcock (or Willcock), she married Walter Westlake at Devonport, England in 1815. Multiple documents confirm that her husband died on the journey from England to Upper Canada, although it is unclear whether it was two sons or her two young brothers who had travelled with them. Regardless, Blanche was facing a very strange new world as a widow.
Surveyor Peter Carroll’s 1833 maps of Adelaide Village record Blanche’s name alone as the deeded owner of half an acre of former Crown land along the north side of Egremont Road (present-day Highway 22). In her book “In Mixed Company: Taverns and Public Life in Upper Canada”, Julia Roberts describes Blanche’s success: “Although only a fortunate few realized it, [tavern-keeping] offered one of the very few available routes to female economic success… A new immigrant and a very recent widow, Westlake took out a tavern licence in the London District in 1833 at the urging, according to historian J.K. Johnson, of the lieutenant-governor. Westlake invested sufficient capital to erect a spacious frame building and called it the Royal Adelaide Inn. This was no primitive backwoods tavern but rather one that offered solid standards of accommodation. Travellers complained it was cold and Westlake talked too much; nevertheless she succeeded and later, together with a brother-in-law, bought up adjacent lots and operated a blacksmith shop on her premises. Westlake became locally celebrated as perhaps the most really useful settler around.”
The 1842 Adelaide Township census records Blanche Westlake as having been in the province for ten years. J.K. Johnson writes about the growth of Blanche’s business in “In Duty Bound: Men, Women and State in Upper Canada”. With the help of her brother-in-law, John Hoare, she built a small empire that included her Royal Adelaide Inn, stables, a blacksmith shop, and adjacent farms.
Aside from her business sense, Blanche was known for her ability to hold her own in the rough pioneer society. The memoirs of early settler Peter Alison include a story about a cousin of his father, Captain Abraham Ingles, and his failed proposals to two young girls and a widow. Eleanor Nielsen in her book “The Egremont Road—Historic Route from Lobo to Lake Huron” wrote that the widow was almost certainly Blanche Westlake, who kept her house of entertainment about five miles from the Allisons. Ingles visited the house often, not only to get his mail but to indulge in his favourite whiskey. After his marriage proposals were turned down by two young ladies, Ingles was determined to try again: “So off he went to the widow, and after taking two or three horns of good Scotch whiskey he had the courage to pop the question. From what I know of the widow she was not to be trifled with. At first she thought he was only joking, but when he assured her he was earnest she walked into her bedroom and returned with an old blunderbuss and told him that if he did not quit her house instantly she would blow his brains out. No doubt he was disappointed at such a hostile reception of the greatest honour a man can pay a woman, but he decided that self-preservation was the first law of nature, made his best bow, and withdrew. We never saw him again after this. He put his land in the hands of an agent, to be sold, and returned to Scotland where he died within a few years.”
At a time when few jobs were open to women, Blanche was an entrepreneur with the feisty attitude needed to succeed. Nielsen notes in her book that Blanche’s “jovial” personality became well-known to travellers over the years, and that the Royal Adelaide Inn became a landmark. Early meetings of the Adelaide Township council were held at Westlake’s inn, as noted in the 1850 minutes. Blanche Westlake died on May 14, 1866 and was buried in St. Ann’s Anglican Cemetery in Adelaide Village. According to her tombstone, she lived to the remarkable pioneer age of 72 years and six months.
Among the names of early landowners on an 1833 map of Adelaide Village, one stands out as distinctly feminine. At a time when women generally did not work outside the home, and even fewer owned land, Blanche Westlake was an exception.
Adelaide Village was surveyed in 1833 in preparation for the public sale of lots. Settlers had started arriving in the area in the summer and fall of 1832, and by February 1833 Thomas Radcliffe wrote that the village was already home to several houses and two shops, with construction of a hotel, a post office, and a church underway. Blanche Westlake is noted as one of the first arrivals in the newly surveyed village. Born Blanche Woolcock (or Willcock), she married Walter Westlake at Devonport, England in 1815. Multiple documents confirm that her husband died on the journey from England to Upper Canada, although it is unclear whether it was two sons or her two young brothers who had travelled with them. Regardless, Blanche was facing a very strange new world as a widow.
Surveyor Peter Carroll’s 1833 maps of Adelaide Village record Blanche’s name alone as the deeded owner of half an acre of former Crown land along the north side of Egremont Road (present-day Highway 22). In her book “In Mixed Company: Taverns and Public Life in Upper Canada”, Julia Roberts describes Blanche’s success: “Although only a fortunate few realized it, [tavern-keeping] offered one of the very few available routes to female economic success… A new immigrant and a very recent widow, Westlake took out a tavern licence in the London District in 1833 at the urging, according to historian J.K. Johnson, of the lieutenant-governor. Westlake invested sufficient capital to erect a spacious frame building and called it the Royal Adelaide Inn. This was no primitive backwoods tavern but rather one that offered solid standards of accommodation. Travellers complained it was cold and Westlake talked too much; nevertheless she succeeded and later, together with a brother-in-law, bought up adjacent lots and operated a blacksmith shop on her premises. Westlake became locally celebrated as perhaps the most really useful settler around.”
The 1842 Adelaide Township census records Blanche Westlake as having been in the province for ten years. J.K. Johnson writes about the growth of Blanche’s business in “In Duty Bound: Men, Women and State in Upper Canada”. With the help of her brother-in-law, John Hoare, she built a small empire that included her Royal Adelaide Inn, stables, a blacksmith shop, and adjacent farms.
Aside from her business sense, Blanche was known for her ability to hold her own in the rough pioneer society. The memoirs of early settler Peter Alison include a story about a cousin of his father, Captain Abraham Ingles, and his failed proposals to two young girls and a widow. Eleanor Nielsen in her book “The Egremont Road—Historic Route from Lobo to Lake Huron” wrote that the widow was almost certainly Blanche Westlake, who kept her house of entertainment about five miles from the Allisons. Ingles visited the house often, not only to get his mail but to indulge in his favourite whiskey. After his marriage proposals were turned down by two young ladies, Ingles was determined to try again: “So off he went to the widow, and after taking two or three horns of good Scotch whiskey he had the courage to pop the question. From what I know of the widow she was not to be trifled with. At first she thought he was only joking, but when he assured her he was earnest she walked into her bedroom and returned with an old blunderbuss and told him that if he did not quit her house instantly she would blow his brains out. No doubt he was disappointed at such a hostile reception of the greatest honour a man can pay a woman, but he decided that self-preservation was the first law of nature, made his best bow, and withdrew. We never saw him again after this. He put his land in the hands of an agent, to be sold, and returned to Scotland where he died within a few years.”
At a time when few jobs were open to women, Blanche was an entrepreneur with the feisty attitude needed to succeed. Nielsen notes in her book that Blanche’s “jovial” personality became well-known to travellers over the years, and that the Royal Adelaide Inn became a landmark. Early meetings of the Adelaide Township council were held at Westlake’s inn, as noted in the 1850 minutes. Blanche Westlake died on May 14, 1866 and was buried in St. Ann’s Anglican Cemetery in Adelaide Village. According to her tombstone, she lived to the remarkable pioneer age of 72 years and six months.
August 2015
Our 4th Line Bridge by Anne Pelkman
The many users of the Albert Street bridge, and the homeowners on the usually quiet streets around the construction site, will breathe a sigh of relief when the new bridge opens at the end of this summer. Still, it was built in record time, in only about two months. This new bridge is actually the fourth one over the Sydenham River at this spot. While no records have been found to pinpoint when the first wooden bridge was built by Adelaide Township, it was in place in 1850. It was referred to as the Bear Creek bridge over what later became the Sydenham River. In the early days, this part of Strathroy was called 'the flats', a low-lying area that flooded every time there was a big storm, so the bridge must have been a great improvement for the early settlers coming into town from the west. The existing route over the Caradoc Street bridge was a long way around in the pre-automobile era. By 1880 this early bridge had been deemed unsafe for years, shaking and shuddering as loaded wagons crossed it. But as time passed and nothing happened people became used to its unsteady condition. Town council, trying to conserve money, continued to ignore the warnings until the spring day in 1880 when the bridge finally collapsed.
A lengthy article in the local Western Dispatch (May 18, 1880), described the dramatic story. A heavy wagon, loaded with 1250 to 1500 bricks, was heading west to the building site of the House of Refuge (now Strathmere Lodge). The team, wagon and bricks, belonged to D.A. Campbell and was driven by an employee at his brickyard, a Mr. Gaunt. It was immediately followed by another load of Campbell brick, driven by Charles Cooper. As the first wagon crossed the weak point of the bridge, the south stringer supporting the bridge deck broke, followed by the middle stringers; the north stringer stayed in place. The wagon, bricks, team and driver tumbled down the steep incline, crashing ten or twelve feet into the water below. The wagon turned over completely, leaving only one hind wheel visible. Fortunately, Gaunt seemed to have fallen clear of the load in the water, and although he received severe bruises from the falling planks, he was able to crawl out. The team of horses, entangled in the water, would have drowned had it not been for Charles Cooper, who stopped his team, gave assistance to Mr. Gaunt, then plunged into the water. Despite the risk of being drowned by the struggling horses, he cut their harness with a pocket knife, and the freed horses swam to shore, only slightly injured. Mr. Gaunt was able to walk uptown, where he was treated by Drs. Thompson and Nugent. It was truly remarkable that there were no serious casualties!
Teams entering Strathroy from the west now had to detour to the north past Mayor William Rapley’s property (today 336 Carrie Street), and enter the town either by Victoria or Caradoc Streets. So the road committee met immediately with town council and made plans to rebuild. They decided on a steel bridge, even if that meant raising the money by debenture. That bridge, opened in 1881, survived until it was damaged by the flood waters of the Sydenham River in 1937. Still known as the 4th Line bridge, it had been deeded to the province in 1929 as part of 'old' Highway 22, so the cost of re-building was borne by the provincial Department of Highways. Instead of re-routing traffic over the Sydenham on Caradoc Street during construction, a temporary bridge was built just south of the old one. The new span rested on piles driven deep in the riverbed, rather than on piers, and the riverbed was widened by 20 feet for some distance above the bridge to prevent undermining in any future floods. This bridge was 37 feet wide, with a 30-foot roadway and a seven-foot walkway on the north side. It was built by the Detroit River Construction Company of Windsor and has, amazingly, lasted almost eighty years.
This historic bridge has played a pivotal role in the development of Strathroy. Using the latest construction technology, our 2015 bridge is designed to accommodate the ever increasing traffic as the town expands. May it serve us into the next century!
The many users of the Albert Street bridge, and the homeowners on the usually quiet streets around the construction site, will breathe a sigh of relief when the new bridge opens at the end of this summer. Still, it was built in record time, in only about two months. This new bridge is actually the fourth one over the Sydenham River at this spot. While no records have been found to pinpoint when the first wooden bridge was built by Adelaide Township, it was in place in 1850. It was referred to as the Bear Creek bridge over what later became the Sydenham River. In the early days, this part of Strathroy was called 'the flats', a low-lying area that flooded every time there was a big storm, so the bridge must have been a great improvement for the early settlers coming into town from the west. The existing route over the Caradoc Street bridge was a long way around in the pre-automobile era. By 1880 this early bridge had been deemed unsafe for years, shaking and shuddering as loaded wagons crossed it. But as time passed and nothing happened people became used to its unsteady condition. Town council, trying to conserve money, continued to ignore the warnings until the spring day in 1880 when the bridge finally collapsed.
A lengthy article in the local Western Dispatch (May 18, 1880), described the dramatic story. A heavy wagon, loaded with 1250 to 1500 bricks, was heading west to the building site of the House of Refuge (now Strathmere Lodge). The team, wagon and bricks, belonged to D.A. Campbell and was driven by an employee at his brickyard, a Mr. Gaunt. It was immediately followed by another load of Campbell brick, driven by Charles Cooper. As the first wagon crossed the weak point of the bridge, the south stringer supporting the bridge deck broke, followed by the middle stringers; the north stringer stayed in place. The wagon, bricks, team and driver tumbled down the steep incline, crashing ten or twelve feet into the water below. The wagon turned over completely, leaving only one hind wheel visible. Fortunately, Gaunt seemed to have fallen clear of the load in the water, and although he received severe bruises from the falling planks, he was able to crawl out. The team of horses, entangled in the water, would have drowned had it not been for Charles Cooper, who stopped his team, gave assistance to Mr. Gaunt, then plunged into the water. Despite the risk of being drowned by the struggling horses, he cut their harness with a pocket knife, and the freed horses swam to shore, only slightly injured. Mr. Gaunt was able to walk uptown, where he was treated by Drs. Thompson and Nugent. It was truly remarkable that there were no serious casualties!
Teams entering Strathroy from the west now had to detour to the north past Mayor William Rapley’s property (today 336 Carrie Street), and enter the town either by Victoria or Caradoc Streets. So the road committee met immediately with town council and made plans to rebuild. They decided on a steel bridge, even if that meant raising the money by debenture. That bridge, opened in 1881, survived until it was damaged by the flood waters of the Sydenham River in 1937. Still known as the 4th Line bridge, it had been deeded to the province in 1929 as part of 'old' Highway 22, so the cost of re-building was borne by the provincial Department of Highways. Instead of re-routing traffic over the Sydenham on Caradoc Street during construction, a temporary bridge was built just south of the old one. The new span rested on piles driven deep in the riverbed, rather than on piers, and the riverbed was widened by 20 feet for some distance above the bridge to prevent undermining in any future floods. This bridge was 37 feet wide, with a 30-foot roadway and a seven-foot walkway on the north side. It was built by the Detroit River Construction Company of Windsor and has, amazingly, lasted almost eighty years.
This historic bridge has played a pivotal role in the development of Strathroy. Using the latest construction technology, our 2015 bridge is designed to accommodate the ever increasing traffic as the town expands. May it serve us into the next century!
July 2015
Civil Defence in Strathroy by Chris Harrington
The Cold War was an era of political and military tension that began shortly after World War II ended; the United States and its NATO allies confronted the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact. Since there was no actual fighting between the two superpowers it was known as a 'cold' war, but there were many close calls, standoffs, and threats from both sides, and a nuclear conflict seemed possible. I have very few memories of the Cold War era, but I do remember the front page photos of people tearing down the Berlin Wall between East and West Germany in 1989. Although I didn't quite understand the meaning of this wall, I knew that its removal was significant. A few years later, in 1991, the Soviet Union fell peacefully, signalling the end of the Iron Curtain. My memories are very different from the anxiety my parents faced at the height of this unstable period.
A look through the Age Dispatch in the 1950s gives an interesting glimpse into the town's preparations for the threat of nuclear war. Throughout the decade, travelling civil defence and emergency preparedness shows came to town to speak to interested residents on how to prepare for a nuclear bomb attack. Local emergency measures organizations tried to recruit volunteers to a citizen-led group that could assist the military if there was ever a nuclear war. Near the end of the 1950s, Middlesex County partnered with the City of London to form the London-Middlesex Emergency Measures Organization, which was headed until 1972 by co-ordinator Fred Reynolds. The EMO headquarters, located in London at 673 Bathurst Street, was used as a civil defence training base and a communications centre, as well as a warehouse to stockpile food and supplies.
By the 1960s, nuclear technology had evolved to test larger and even more destructive bombs. In a London Free Press article (October 26, 1962), EMO coordinator Fred Reynolds noted that citizens facing a nuclear bomb attack faced a hard choice. He commented that in the 1950s, when an attack would have come from atom bombs, the advice from EMO was “sit and take it or duck and cover”. But with hydrogen bombs, the advice changed to “don’t be there when it goes off”. Early warning detection systems were considered the only hope of survival. The front-page photo in the Age Dispatch on November 2, 1961 announced that three warning sirens were to be installed on North, Metcalfe, and High Streets in Strathroy. These sirens were a part of the National Survival Attack Warning System and would be connected to the central switch located at the EMO headquarters in London. Many long-time Strathroy residents can recall the high-pitched shrill sound of these sirens during training exercises.
No one will forget the fear produced by the Cuban Missile Crisis, brought into our living rooms by the arrival of television coverage. In 1962, the world watched as the United States and the Soviet Union approached the brink of a full-scale nuclear war. For thirteen tense days, President Kennedy and Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev negotiated the dismantling and removal of nuclear weapons from Cuba. A worldwide crisis was narrowly averted. Several months later, The Age (July 18, 1963) mentioned that Dr. C.H. Roder, Strathroy chiropractor and Chairman of Civil Defence for Strathroy Council, was constructing a fallout shelter in one corner of the basement of his home. The 12’ x 16’ shelter had enough room for Dr. Roder, his wife, and their five children. Although it is unknown if it was used for the construction, “Your Basement Fallout Shelter” would have been widely available at this time. This pamphlet, produced by the national Emergency Measures Organization, included building instructions and blueprints for a home fallout shelter. Museum Strathroy-Caradoc’s collection includes a copy of this iconic 1960 brochure.
Long-time Strathroy resident Steve Down recalls that as a SDCI student boys spent hours practicing military marching drills. If the weather outside was poor, they filled the shop wing at the school for the drills. Steve remembers wearing heavy uniforms and black boots which had to be shone to a mirror finish to pass inspection. He once marched with his classmates in a parade through downtown Strathroy with the sidewalks lined with cheering spectators.
Thankfully, the threat of nuclear attack began to dissipate after the collapse of the Soviet Union, and relations between Russia and the West improved. However recent events, such as the Russian annexation of the Ukrainian territory of Crimea in March 2014, have shown the thawed relationship beginning to ice over once more. One can only hope that we are not returning to the days of fallout shelters and nuclear bomb sirens.
Images below are courtesy of Museum Strathroy-Caradoc's Age Dispatch Negative Collection
The Cold War was an era of political and military tension that began shortly after World War II ended; the United States and its NATO allies confronted the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact. Since there was no actual fighting between the two superpowers it was known as a 'cold' war, but there were many close calls, standoffs, and threats from both sides, and a nuclear conflict seemed possible. I have very few memories of the Cold War era, but I do remember the front page photos of people tearing down the Berlin Wall between East and West Germany in 1989. Although I didn't quite understand the meaning of this wall, I knew that its removal was significant. A few years later, in 1991, the Soviet Union fell peacefully, signalling the end of the Iron Curtain. My memories are very different from the anxiety my parents faced at the height of this unstable period.
A look through the Age Dispatch in the 1950s gives an interesting glimpse into the town's preparations for the threat of nuclear war. Throughout the decade, travelling civil defence and emergency preparedness shows came to town to speak to interested residents on how to prepare for a nuclear bomb attack. Local emergency measures organizations tried to recruit volunteers to a citizen-led group that could assist the military if there was ever a nuclear war. Near the end of the 1950s, Middlesex County partnered with the City of London to form the London-Middlesex Emergency Measures Organization, which was headed until 1972 by co-ordinator Fred Reynolds. The EMO headquarters, located in London at 673 Bathurst Street, was used as a civil defence training base and a communications centre, as well as a warehouse to stockpile food and supplies.
By the 1960s, nuclear technology had evolved to test larger and even more destructive bombs. In a London Free Press article (October 26, 1962), EMO coordinator Fred Reynolds noted that citizens facing a nuclear bomb attack faced a hard choice. He commented that in the 1950s, when an attack would have come from atom bombs, the advice from EMO was “sit and take it or duck and cover”. But with hydrogen bombs, the advice changed to “don’t be there when it goes off”. Early warning detection systems were considered the only hope of survival. The front-page photo in the Age Dispatch on November 2, 1961 announced that three warning sirens were to be installed on North, Metcalfe, and High Streets in Strathroy. These sirens were a part of the National Survival Attack Warning System and would be connected to the central switch located at the EMO headquarters in London. Many long-time Strathroy residents can recall the high-pitched shrill sound of these sirens during training exercises.
No one will forget the fear produced by the Cuban Missile Crisis, brought into our living rooms by the arrival of television coverage. In 1962, the world watched as the United States and the Soviet Union approached the brink of a full-scale nuclear war. For thirteen tense days, President Kennedy and Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev negotiated the dismantling and removal of nuclear weapons from Cuba. A worldwide crisis was narrowly averted. Several months later, The Age (July 18, 1963) mentioned that Dr. C.H. Roder, Strathroy chiropractor and Chairman of Civil Defence for Strathroy Council, was constructing a fallout shelter in one corner of the basement of his home. The 12’ x 16’ shelter had enough room for Dr. Roder, his wife, and their five children. Although it is unknown if it was used for the construction, “Your Basement Fallout Shelter” would have been widely available at this time. This pamphlet, produced by the national Emergency Measures Organization, included building instructions and blueprints for a home fallout shelter. Museum Strathroy-Caradoc’s collection includes a copy of this iconic 1960 brochure.
Long-time Strathroy resident Steve Down recalls that as a SDCI student boys spent hours practicing military marching drills. If the weather outside was poor, they filled the shop wing at the school for the drills. Steve remembers wearing heavy uniforms and black boots which had to be shone to a mirror finish to pass inspection. He once marched with his classmates in a parade through downtown Strathroy with the sidewalks lined with cheering spectators.
Thankfully, the threat of nuclear attack began to dissipate after the collapse of the Soviet Union, and relations between Russia and the West improved. However recent events, such as the Russian annexation of the Ukrainian territory of Crimea in March 2014, have shown the thawed relationship beginning to ice over once more. One can only hope that we are not returning to the days of fallout shelters and nuclear bomb sirens.
Images below are courtesy of Museum Strathroy-Caradoc's Age Dispatch Negative Collection
June 2015
Elizabeth Greenaway: a sad story by Janet Cummer
Perhaps all librarians fade away after a time, but Elizabeth Greenaway’s long career ended on a sour note. Miss Greenaway was let go by the Strathroy Library Board in 1931 at the beginning of the Depression, after serving as Strathroy's librarian for 35 years. She had taken over the position from her father, Charles Greenaway, in 1896. The library was really Elizabeth's life. Little is known of her personal life. She never married, living alone on Saulsbury Street on the edge of town. Older residents would remember her in her later years as a remote figure who was strict and not too friendly towards children.
Miss Greenaway's career covered many changes in library service. At first she assisted her father in the old Mechanics Institute near the Queens Hotel on Front Street West. This early library, supported by membership fees, provided a lending library as well as educational courses. Until her appointment as librarian, the position had always been occupied by men. Now it became a ‘woman’s job’. (When I took over in 1970, Miss Thomson joked that being librarian was ‘the last refuge of the old maid’! Pay equity in the 1990s gave it more status and a better salary.) In 1909 a controversial plan to build a Carnegie Library in town was voted down, so Elizabeth spent most of her career in space rented in the IOOF Hall on Front Street East, the library's home from 1895 to 1928. Near the end of her career, it moved to the newly built town hall on Frank Street in 1928, occupying a large room at the back of the building.
In 1882 the Free Libraries Act had permitted the establishment of free library service in Ontario, supported by a municipal levy and governed by a board of citizens appointed by the town. However, free library service didn't happen overnight in Strathroy. A deputation to council requested the change in 1897, but it wasn't approved until the 1920 municipal election. Also in 1920 the Ontario Libraries Act brought changes that would impact Miss Greenaway: greater government support, increased regulation of services, and better librarian training. Letters in the spring of 1931, between the Strathroy Library Board and the Public Libraries Department of the Department of Education in Toronto, indicate signs of trouble. Perhaps the provincial library grant was at risk. An inspector, Miss Spereman, was invited to assess the condition of the library; she pronounced it suffering from years of neglect. Her reception by the librarian “was positively rude, saying that she would not accept instruction or interference with her work”. (Letter to the Board, October 22, 1931) The Strathroy Board proceeded to make changes. Borrowers were asked to return books and the library was closed for a month. Old books were discarded and a ‘new filing system’ instituted. Patron access to the bookshelves and a new checkout system signalled improved service.
In December Miss Greenaway was dismissed! Contemporary newspaper accounts portrayed her as both ‘rebellious’ and ‘pathetic’. She had been locked out of her place of work, wouldn’t give up her key, and threatened to sue. The Age Dispatch depicted her as “faithfully trudging down the dark and sparsely settled streets that lead from her home on the outskirts to Strathroy’s town hall. At night, often between ten and eleven, she made the trip past the end of the sidewalks and street lights.” (January 14, 1932) She had lived her entire life in Strathroy, was dedicated to the people of the town and had provided library service to the best of her ability. But change was not easy at the end of her working life, and perhaps she could not adjust to the different world that followed the Great War. In the end, her career was over and her few remaining years were spent in failing health.
Meanwhile, the library was swamped with applications for her position. Margaret McIntyre assumed the job and remained as librarian until 1945, followed by Miss Thomson, whom many will remember.
When Charlotte Rapley, well-known Strathroy native, was cleaning out her apartment to move to a retirement home about fifteen years ago, she presented me with a silver tea service that had belonged to Miss Greenaway. Charlotte’s father, a banker on Front Street, had tried to sell the tea service for Elizabeth by displaying it in his bank window. When there were no takers she offered it to Charlotte, who kept it for 70 years. I still have that tea service.
Perhaps all librarians fade away after a time, but Elizabeth Greenaway’s long career ended on a sour note. Miss Greenaway was let go by the Strathroy Library Board in 1931 at the beginning of the Depression, after serving as Strathroy's librarian for 35 years. She had taken over the position from her father, Charles Greenaway, in 1896. The library was really Elizabeth's life. Little is known of her personal life. She never married, living alone on Saulsbury Street on the edge of town. Older residents would remember her in her later years as a remote figure who was strict and not too friendly towards children.
Miss Greenaway's career covered many changes in library service. At first she assisted her father in the old Mechanics Institute near the Queens Hotel on Front Street West. This early library, supported by membership fees, provided a lending library as well as educational courses. Until her appointment as librarian, the position had always been occupied by men. Now it became a ‘woman’s job’. (When I took over in 1970, Miss Thomson joked that being librarian was ‘the last refuge of the old maid’! Pay equity in the 1990s gave it more status and a better salary.) In 1909 a controversial plan to build a Carnegie Library in town was voted down, so Elizabeth spent most of her career in space rented in the IOOF Hall on Front Street East, the library's home from 1895 to 1928. Near the end of her career, it moved to the newly built town hall on Frank Street in 1928, occupying a large room at the back of the building.
In 1882 the Free Libraries Act had permitted the establishment of free library service in Ontario, supported by a municipal levy and governed by a board of citizens appointed by the town. However, free library service didn't happen overnight in Strathroy. A deputation to council requested the change in 1897, but it wasn't approved until the 1920 municipal election. Also in 1920 the Ontario Libraries Act brought changes that would impact Miss Greenaway: greater government support, increased regulation of services, and better librarian training. Letters in the spring of 1931, between the Strathroy Library Board and the Public Libraries Department of the Department of Education in Toronto, indicate signs of trouble. Perhaps the provincial library grant was at risk. An inspector, Miss Spereman, was invited to assess the condition of the library; she pronounced it suffering from years of neglect. Her reception by the librarian “was positively rude, saying that she would not accept instruction or interference with her work”. (Letter to the Board, October 22, 1931) The Strathroy Board proceeded to make changes. Borrowers were asked to return books and the library was closed for a month. Old books were discarded and a ‘new filing system’ instituted. Patron access to the bookshelves and a new checkout system signalled improved service.
In December Miss Greenaway was dismissed! Contemporary newspaper accounts portrayed her as both ‘rebellious’ and ‘pathetic’. She had been locked out of her place of work, wouldn’t give up her key, and threatened to sue. The Age Dispatch depicted her as “faithfully trudging down the dark and sparsely settled streets that lead from her home on the outskirts to Strathroy’s town hall. At night, often between ten and eleven, she made the trip past the end of the sidewalks and street lights.” (January 14, 1932) She had lived her entire life in Strathroy, was dedicated to the people of the town and had provided library service to the best of her ability. But change was not easy at the end of her working life, and perhaps she could not adjust to the different world that followed the Great War. In the end, her career was over and her few remaining years were spent in failing health.
Meanwhile, the library was swamped with applications for her position. Margaret McIntyre assumed the job and remained as librarian until 1945, followed by Miss Thomson, whom many will remember.
When Charlotte Rapley, well-known Strathroy native, was cleaning out her apartment to move to a retirement home about fifteen years ago, she presented me with a silver tea service that had belonged to Miss Greenaway. Charlotte’s father, a banker on Front Street, had tried to sell the tea service for Elizabeth by displaying it in his bank window. When there were no takers she offered it to Charlotte, who kept it for 70 years. I still have that tea service.
May 2015
Middlesex County House of Refuge Cemetery by Crystal Loyst
When people think of a “House of Industry or Refuge” they might picture a poorhouse, a workhouse, a prison or a scene from a Charles Dickens novel. But in the 1800s, if you fell into any of the following categories - destitute, jobless, homeless, blind, aged, widowed, pregnant, alcohol 'intemperate' or abandoned by a husband or father - you could have been admitted to the House of Refuge.
In 1890 the House of Refuge Act was passed, allowing counties to receive $4000 to purchase up to 45 acres of land on which to build an institution. Middlesex was well ahead of that date. Support for a local House of Refuge began here in the 1840s, although it was almost 40 years before one was opened. Construction started in 1880 on a three-storey building located on present-day Napperton Drive, just west of Strathroy. The House officially opened on January 12, 1881 with four 'inmates'. James Keys was the first name found in the book titled “Register of Paupers, Vagrants, and Idiots received at the House of Industry and Refuge County of Middlesex”.
Today we associate 'inmates' with prison, but in the 1800s this described anyone living in a public institution, including a jail, hospital or asylum. House of Refuge inmates/residents were granted admission by the acting reeve or a local council member; they were classified as 'deserving poor'. There was a supervisor (or 'keeper'), a matron and a doctor on-site at all times. A component of each of the Houses was a working farm where, if capable, inmates were required to work to offset the cost of running the facility. Over the years the House of Refuge model slowly evolved as other institutions were opened for orphans, the homeless and people with mental health concerns.
In the late 1800s and early 1900s many residents died of common ailments recorded as la grippe (influenza), general disability, apoplexy (stroke) and paralysis, so Houses of Refuge often had a cemetery on site. The Burial Register for the “House of Industry and Refuge, County of Middlesex” indicates there were two cemetery plots, where approximately 180 people were interred. The location of the first plot is unknown, but about 90 former residents of the House were buried there. The first burial took place in February 1881, after a woman identified as 'Widow Cinnamon' died at the age of 77. She was admitted to the House of Refuge from Ekfrid Township only two weeks prior to her death. The last person to be buried in the first plot was James Smith from West Williams Township, who died on August 13, 1889, the same day he was brought to the House. The second cemetery plot was opened on October 10, 1889 with the death of Mary Bratt. It was laid out in the northwest corner of the farm, now marked with a cedar hedge and rows of trees. Although the cemetery closed in 1900, one more burial took place two years later. George Edwin Bratt, born to Lizzie Bratt, was just eight days old when he died.
In the years after the cemetery was closed the bodies of 93 people were sent to the London Medical School for research purposes. The Anatomy Act allowed medical schools to legally procure unclaimed bodies from government institutions to further the advancement of medical studies. This continued until 1931, when Middlesex County purchased plots within Strathroy Cemetery to bury those who either did not have a family, or whose family could not afford a burial. There is a gravestone in the Cemetery with the inscription “Middlesex County Home” to mark where some of these residents are interred.
All of this may sound like a grim and dismal way to live in the late 1800s and early 1900s. However, when a person did not have any family or could not afford help, there was no other option. Gradual improvements in senior care and social services grew out of these institutions, and by the 1940s all Houses of Refuge were renamed Homes for the Aged. Eventually the Middlesex County House of Refuge became Strathmere Lodge.
This article could not have been written without the initial research provided by Lindsay Bannister. Further research is being conducted on the House of Refuge cemeteries by Museum Strathroy-Caradoc, with names provided online on the Museum’s Collections Blog and soon in the local history area at Strathroy Library.
In 1890 the House of Refuge Act was passed, allowing counties to receive $4000 to purchase up to 45 acres of land on which to build an institution. Middlesex was well ahead of that date. Support for a local House of Refuge began here in the 1840s, although it was almost 40 years before one was opened. Construction started in 1880 on a three-storey building located on present-day Napperton Drive, just west of Strathroy. The House officially opened on January 12, 1881 with four 'inmates'. James Keys was the first name found in the book titled “Register of Paupers, Vagrants, and Idiots received at the House of Industry and Refuge County of Middlesex”.
Today we associate 'inmates' with prison, but in the 1800s this described anyone living in a public institution, including a jail, hospital or asylum. House of Refuge inmates/residents were granted admission by the acting reeve or a local council member; they were classified as 'deserving poor'. There was a supervisor (or 'keeper'), a matron and a doctor on-site at all times. A component of each of the Houses was a working farm where, if capable, inmates were required to work to offset the cost of running the facility. Over the years the House of Refuge model slowly evolved as other institutions were opened for orphans, the homeless and people with mental health concerns.
In the late 1800s and early 1900s many residents died of common ailments recorded as la grippe (influenza), general disability, apoplexy (stroke) and paralysis, so Houses of Refuge often had a cemetery on site. The Burial Register for the “House of Industry and Refuge, County of Middlesex” indicates there were two cemetery plots, where approximately 180 people were interred. The location of the first plot is unknown, but about 90 former residents of the House were buried there. The first burial took place in February 1881, after a woman identified as 'Widow Cinnamon' died at the age of 77. She was admitted to the House of Refuge from Ekfrid Township only two weeks prior to her death. The last person to be buried in the first plot was James Smith from West Williams Township, who died on August 13, 1889, the same day he was brought to the House. The second cemetery plot was opened on October 10, 1889 with the death of Mary Bratt. It was laid out in the northwest corner of the farm, now marked with a cedar hedge and rows of trees. Although the cemetery closed in 1900, one more burial took place two years later. George Edwin Bratt, born to Lizzie Bratt, was just eight days old when he died.
In the years after the cemetery was closed the bodies of 93 people were sent to the London Medical School for research purposes. The Anatomy Act allowed medical schools to legally procure unclaimed bodies from government institutions to further the advancement of medical studies. This continued until 1931, when Middlesex County purchased plots within Strathroy Cemetery to bury those who either did not have a family, or whose family could not afford a burial. There is a gravestone in the Cemetery with the inscription “Middlesex County Home” to mark where some of these residents are interred.
All of this may sound like a grim and dismal way to live in the late 1800s and early 1900s. However, when a person did not have any family or could not afford help, there was no other option. Gradual improvements in senior care and social services grew out of these institutions, and by the 1940s all Houses of Refuge were renamed Homes for the Aged. Eventually the Middlesex County House of Refuge became Strathmere Lodge.
This article could not have been written without the initial research provided by Lindsay Bannister. Further research is being conducted on the House of Refuge cemeteries by Museum Strathroy-Caradoc, with names provided online on the Museum’s Collections Blog and soon in the local history area at Strathroy Library.
April 2015
Ernest Home: Strathroy's "Grass Roots Poet" by Aileen Cnockaert
My summer job in 1975 involved doing research for my father, Ken Campbell, the editor/publisher of The Age Dispatch. Dad planned to publish a book of poetry by Strathroy resident, Ernest H.A. Home, known as the “Grass Roots Poet”. Mr. Home was a tall, white-haired, distinguished-looking gentleman whose whimsical writings delighted the people of western Ontario for over 30 years. Some said he was the area’s most widely read and respected poet. From 1945 to 1962 he penned “The Black Cat”, a weekly column in The Age which voiced his comments about anything that interested him. Since his column was written under a pseudonym he felt free to include poems he had written, crediting himself as the author. His writing appeared in other Ontario newspapers, among them the Ottawa Journal, the Goderich Signal-Star and The London Free Press.
Ernest Home was born in 1884 and grew up in Sussex, England. While an office employee in England, he began submitting pieces to various periodicals. In 1918, several of his verses were included in John Garvin’s Poems of the Great War and one of his humorous verses was used in Donald French’s Canadian Reciter. He continued to write after immigrating to Canada and farming in Oxford County, eventually retiring to a small home on Albert Street in Strathroy. His wife, the former Myrtle Edmiston, a teacher who also enjoyed writing, died in 1951.
When asked to explain his approach to writing Ernest said, “I write as the spirit moves me and usually begin well past midnight when I always feel at my best physically and mentally. Most of my stuff comes to me without conscious effort on my part. The first line or sentence suddenly pops into my head out of the blue, as it were. I scribble that down, sometimes getting out of bed to do so, and the rest soon follows as easily as water from an opened tap - as though it couldn’t help itself.”
An avid fan of hockey and baseball in Strathroy, Ernest rarely missed a game of either. Those were the heady days when the Strathroy Rockets were winning Senior “B” Ontario hockey championships and the town was on the route of touring international hockey teams. His columns showed both his passion for the home teams and his wonderful sense of humour. He treated other topics with humour, too, things like the liquor vote, parking meters and elections. Although his work required very little editing he enjoyed painting Dad as a heartless tyrant at the editorial desk. And Dad always regretted that their conversations were mostly one-sided as Mr. Home had been deaf since 1945.
Ernest's neighbour, Kay Conway, felt his column was like a conversation that allowed people to get to know and understand him by reading his observations each week. Another neighbour, Jack Joynt, recalled his children visiting Mr. Home. Jack’s daughter, Pat Griffith, remembers him as a “very nice old gentleman” who enjoyed children coming to his home and helping with his garden. She claims her love of raspberries came from the berries Mr. Home brought to her mother who turned them into jam and pies.
In 1962, Dad felt readers should know who The Black Cat really was, so Ernest Home’s byline was added and the column was renamed “The Grist Mill”. Dad was glad he had made the change as Mr. Home passed away a few months later. It was a day in late October when Jack Joynt realized something was wrong. Ernest had returned home from a hockey game, but his light remained on all night and into the next day. Jack and police constable John Justasin investigated and found the poet dead in a chair, with his coat and hat still on and a paper lying in his lap.
After Ernest died, no replacement was sought to continue his column. It was felt that his unique style would be hard to match. His writing often expressed his love for England and Canada, and many of his poems illustrated his gentle and optimistic nature. Fittingly, a line from his last submitted poem read “Ah no! the best is yet to be!
Strathroy's "Grass Roots Poet", A Collection of Poems by Ernest H.A. Home and Canadian Poems of the Great War are available at the Strathroy Public Library.
My summer job in 1975 involved doing research for my father, Ken Campbell, the editor/publisher of The Age Dispatch. Dad planned to publish a book of poetry by Strathroy resident, Ernest H.A. Home, known as the “Grass Roots Poet”. Mr. Home was a tall, white-haired, distinguished-looking gentleman whose whimsical writings delighted the people of western Ontario for over 30 years. Some said he was the area’s most widely read and respected poet. From 1945 to 1962 he penned “The Black Cat”, a weekly column in The Age which voiced his comments about anything that interested him. Since his column was written under a pseudonym he felt free to include poems he had written, crediting himself as the author. His writing appeared in other Ontario newspapers, among them the Ottawa Journal, the Goderich Signal-Star and The London Free Press.
Ernest Home was born in 1884 and grew up in Sussex, England. While an office employee in England, he began submitting pieces to various periodicals. In 1918, several of his verses were included in John Garvin’s Poems of the Great War and one of his humorous verses was used in Donald French’s Canadian Reciter. He continued to write after immigrating to Canada and farming in Oxford County, eventually retiring to a small home on Albert Street in Strathroy. His wife, the former Myrtle Edmiston, a teacher who also enjoyed writing, died in 1951.
When asked to explain his approach to writing Ernest said, “I write as the spirit moves me and usually begin well past midnight when I always feel at my best physically and mentally. Most of my stuff comes to me without conscious effort on my part. The first line or sentence suddenly pops into my head out of the blue, as it were. I scribble that down, sometimes getting out of bed to do so, and the rest soon follows as easily as water from an opened tap - as though it couldn’t help itself.”
An avid fan of hockey and baseball in Strathroy, Ernest rarely missed a game of either. Those were the heady days when the Strathroy Rockets were winning Senior “B” Ontario hockey championships and the town was on the route of touring international hockey teams. His columns showed both his passion for the home teams and his wonderful sense of humour. He treated other topics with humour, too, things like the liquor vote, parking meters and elections. Although his work required very little editing he enjoyed painting Dad as a heartless tyrant at the editorial desk. And Dad always regretted that their conversations were mostly one-sided as Mr. Home had been deaf since 1945.
Ernest's neighbour, Kay Conway, felt his column was like a conversation that allowed people to get to know and understand him by reading his observations each week. Another neighbour, Jack Joynt, recalled his children visiting Mr. Home. Jack’s daughter, Pat Griffith, remembers him as a “very nice old gentleman” who enjoyed children coming to his home and helping with his garden. She claims her love of raspberries came from the berries Mr. Home brought to her mother who turned them into jam and pies.
In 1962, Dad felt readers should know who The Black Cat really was, so Ernest Home’s byline was added and the column was renamed “The Grist Mill”. Dad was glad he had made the change as Mr. Home passed away a few months later. It was a day in late October when Jack Joynt realized something was wrong. Ernest had returned home from a hockey game, but his light remained on all night and into the next day. Jack and police constable John Justasin investigated and found the poet dead in a chair, with his coat and hat still on and a paper lying in his lap.
After Ernest died, no replacement was sought to continue his column. It was felt that his unique style would be hard to match. His writing often expressed his love for England and Canada, and many of his poems illustrated his gentle and optimistic nature. Fittingly, a line from his last submitted poem read “Ah no! the best is yet to be!
Strathroy's "Grass Roots Poet", A Collection of Poems by Ernest H.A. Home and Canadian Poems of the Great War are available at the Strathroy Public Library.
March 2015
Pioneer Lived Full Life by Anne Pelkman
On March 21, 1952, 63 years ago, a gentleman living in the Middlesex County Home (now Strathmere Lodge) celebrated his 100th birthday. It is fascinating to consider that those of us in our 60s or older could well have known someone who was born in 1852, fifteen years before Confederation! Frank Harvey had enjoyed a life filled with a variety of accomplishments, so coverage of his birthday party by local radio and newspapers was well- deserved, although he himself down-played all the fuss.
Frank was born in a log house in Melbourne, the second eldest in William and Louisa Harvey's family of eight. His grandfather, John Harvey, had been among Melbourne's earliest settlers. By the mid-1870s William owned the Royal Oak Hotel north of Middlemiss, a settlement about five miles southeast of Melbourne, on the border of Ekfrid Township and the First Nations Reserve. Frank began his working life in his mid-teens, skidding logs and clearing land in the Melbourne-Middlemiss area at a time when the road to Strathroy was only a trail among the trees. From a young age he took up hunting and competitive shooting; he recalled one rifle contest in the U.S. when he narrowly beat out the legendary Annie Oakley. He was also a recognized horseshoe pitching champion on both sides of the border, and continued to enjoy all these sports into his nineties. After his marriage to Eliza Lucas in 1877 Frank took up carpentry and, known as “Harvey the Builder”, constructed many houses in Strathroy, London and Byron. Eventually he and Eliza retired to Middlemiss, where she died in 1944. Frank spent the last year before his death, in October 1952, at the Middlesex County Home.
Before he was twenty, Frank had moved with his family to Strathroy. In 1877 his father, William, bought two lots at the corner of Frank and Centre Streets for $500, the previous site of O'Connor's Hotel, which, along with the adjacent town hall, had been destroyed by fire in July 1873. Here William built a new hotel, the Harvey House, probably with the $6500 mortgage he took on his Middlemiss hotel. When William's son-in-law, Bartholemew Roach, purchased the Harvey House in 1881 he re-named it the American Hotel. In 1904 it was sold to J.W. “Wes” Prangley and was known as the Prangley House. Herbert Mihell, an owner of the Middlesex Furniture Company, purchased it in 1919 and Frederick Ballantyne in 1935. When a group of businessmen bought the building in 1953 it was converted to apartments.
What may be interesting to older Strathroy residents is that the Strathroy Apartments we remember from the 1940s/50s, at the corner of Frank and Centre Streets, was originally the Harvey House. A solid yellow-brick building with verandas overlooking the street on each floor, it included the office for Dr. Marwood Fletcher. It was also home to a number of well-known residents including Muriel Smith, teacher at Strathroy Collegiate, and the Osborne family who operated a dry-cleaning business on Frank Street. Dark walnut woodwork, wide stairs and French doors with bevelled glass added a touch of luxury. But the early 1960s was a time of loss for town landmarks and the Strathroy Apartments was one of the casualties. This site became the new location for the Strathroy Post Office, opened in February 1964.
Frank Harvey was typical of our pioneers, ready to put their hand to many different endeavours. In so doing, they built our communities. Perhaps today the Strathroy Apartments would have survived, as we would appreciate its heritage value. However 50 years ago, the approach to old buildings was 'tear down and build new'. By the 1980s, this trend was beginning to change - too late to save the Strathroy Apartments.
On March 21, 1952, 63 years ago, a gentleman living in the Middlesex County Home (now Strathmere Lodge) celebrated his 100th birthday. It is fascinating to consider that those of us in our 60s or older could well have known someone who was born in 1852, fifteen years before Confederation! Frank Harvey had enjoyed a life filled with a variety of accomplishments, so coverage of his birthday party by local radio and newspapers was well- deserved, although he himself down-played all the fuss.
Frank was born in a log house in Melbourne, the second eldest in William and Louisa Harvey's family of eight. His grandfather, John Harvey, had been among Melbourne's earliest settlers. By the mid-1870s William owned the Royal Oak Hotel north of Middlemiss, a settlement about five miles southeast of Melbourne, on the border of Ekfrid Township and the First Nations Reserve. Frank began his working life in his mid-teens, skidding logs and clearing land in the Melbourne-Middlemiss area at a time when the road to Strathroy was only a trail among the trees. From a young age he took up hunting and competitive shooting; he recalled one rifle contest in the U.S. when he narrowly beat out the legendary Annie Oakley. He was also a recognized horseshoe pitching champion on both sides of the border, and continued to enjoy all these sports into his nineties. After his marriage to Eliza Lucas in 1877 Frank took up carpentry and, known as “Harvey the Builder”, constructed many houses in Strathroy, London and Byron. Eventually he and Eliza retired to Middlemiss, where she died in 1944. Frank spent the last year before his death, in October 1952, at the Middlesex County Home.
Before he was twenty, Frank had moved with his family to Strathroy. In 1877 his father, William, bought two lots at the corner of Frank and Centre Streets for $500, the previous site of O'Connor's Hotel, which, along with the adjacent town hall, had been destroyed by fire in July 1873. Here William built a new hotel, the Harvey House, probably with the $6500 mortgage he took on his Middlemiss hotel. When William's son-in-law, Bartholemew Roach, purchased the Harvey House in 1881 he re-named it the American Hotel. In 1904 it was sold to J.W. “Wes” Prangley and was known as the Prangley House. Herbert Mihell, an owner of the Middlesex Furniture Company, purchased it in 1919 and Frederick Ballantyne in 1935. When a group of businessmen bought the building in 1953 it was converted to apartments.
What may be interesting to older Strathroy residents is that the Strathroy Apartments we remember from the 1940s/50s, at the corner of Frank and Centre Streets, was originally the Harvey House. A solid yellow-brick building with verandas overlooking the street on each floor, it included the office for Dr. Marwood Fletcher. It was also home to a number of well-known residents including Muriel Smith, teacher at Strathroy Collegiate, and the Osborne family who operated a dry-cleaning business on Frank Street. Dark walnut woodwork, wide stairs and French doors with bevelled glass added a touch of luxury. But the early 1960s was a time of loss for town landmarks and the Strathroy Apartments was one of the casualties. This site became the new location for the Strathroy Post Office, opened in February 1964.
Frank Harvey was typical of our pioneers, ready to put their hand to many different endeavours. In so doing, they built our communities. Perhaps today the Strathroy Apartments would have survived, as we would appreciate its heritage value. However 50 years ago, the approach to old buildings was 'tear down and build new'. By the 1980s, this trend was beginning to change - too late to save the Strathroy Apartments.
February 2015
And the Band Played on ... by Libby McLachlan
Today, the upper floor of Strathroy's town hall is home to the council chambers, offices and meeting rooms. But for at least 25 years this was an open space, the site of hundreds of dances. The first dance was part of the new town hall's “Grand Opening” on Tuesday evening, December 18, 1928. There was a full program of formalities in the afternoon, including the flag-raising, speakers and selections by the town band and Laughton's 6-piece orchestra. The evening featured dancing and euchre from 8:30 pm to 3 am; admission 75c for gentlemen, 50c for ladies. One wonders if anyone made it to work on Wednesday!
One of the local groups that got its start by holding regular Saturday night dances in the town hall was the Casa Royal Orchestra, which over the years gained fame throughout southern Ontario. The Casa Royals were organized in 1938 by George Walker, who farmed on #22 Highway, west of #81. George wrote the first arrangements for the band, and was the only original member still playing when it folded in 1982. Lionel Thornton and several other members of a St.Thomas orchestra joined the Casa Royals in 1942; Lionel was their band leader and vocalist for the next 40 years. Over time the musicians changed but the music stayed the same. The orchestra played to a faithful following in all the major ballrooms, from the Stork Club in Port Stanley, Grand Bend's Lakeview Casino and the Rondeau Park Pavilion to Wonderland Gardens in London. For 26 years they played for the London Hunt Club's New Year’s Ball. On June 23, 1967 the Casa Royals were in town to help Strathroy celebrate Canada's centennial, playing to a huge and appreciative crowd on the ice surface of the West Middlesex Memorial Arena.
Soon after the demise of the Casa Royals, Laurie Hathaway (manager of Jack Kennedy's Music Centre in Kenwick Mall) and Ken Campbell (publisher of the Age Dispatch) thought it would be fun to get together for some music. Their jam sessions grew and evolved into another local swing band, the Strath-a-Royals, which played for dances in this area for about ten years until 1993. Laurie, whose brother Emery had been with the Casa Royals, purchased more than 500 Casa Royal arrangements to add to the Strath-a-Royal repertoire. Besides many gigs in Strathroy they played for the opening of the new Coldstream Municipal Centre in February 1988 and for dances in the Melbourne Agricultural Hall. For several years they entertained at the Tri-Township (Caradoc Delaware Lobo) Canada Day celebrations. One of their most memorable engagements was the Nurse's Dance at Strathroy Hospital's 75th anniversary celebrations in February 1989. Each year from the mid-1920s until 1982 the Nurse's Dance, sponsored by the Nurses Association, marked the opening of the Christmas social season. For many of those years the Casa Royals had provided the music, so it was quite fitting that their old arrangements were played by the Strath-a Royals for the 1989 event.
The Strath-a-Royals Orchestra was the last 'big band' in Strathroy, although some of its members went on to make music as the Red Suspenders Dixieland Band. Interest in the big band sound had been declining over the years, and a ten or eleven-piece orchestra was more than most local organizations or families could afford to hire, even for special occasions. But it was sadly missed by the many people who had happy memories of swinging to its distinctive music in the dance halls of the day.
Today, the upper floor of Strathroy's town hall is home to the council chambers, offices and meeting rooms. But for at least 25 years this was an open space, the site of hundreds of dances. The first dance was part of the new town hall's “Grand Opening” on Tuesday evening, December 18, 1928. There was a full program of formalities in the afternoon, including the flag-raising, speakers and selections by the town band and Laughton's 6-piece orchestra. The evening featured dancing and euchre from 8:30 pm to 3 am; admission 75c for gentlemen, 50c for ladies. One wonders if anyone made it to work on Wednesday!
One of the local groups that got its start by holding regular Saturday night dances in the town hall was the Casa Royal Orchestra, which over the years gained fame throughout southern Ontario. The Casa Royals were organized in 1938 by George Walker, who farmed on #22 Highway, west of #81. George wrote the first arrangements for the band, and was the only original member still playing when it folded in 1982. Lionel Thornton and several other members of a St.Thomas orchestra joined the Casa Royals in 1942; Lionel was their band leader and vocalist for the next 40 years. Over time the musicians changed but the music stayed the same. The orchestra played to a faithful following in all the major ballrooms, from the Stork Club in Port Stanley, Grand Bend's Lakeview Casino and the Rondeau Park Pavilion to Wonderland Gardens in London. For 26 years they played for the London Hunt Club's New Year’s Ball. On June 23, 1967 the Casa Royals were in town to help Strathroy celebrate Canada's centennial, playing to a huge and appreciative crowd on the ice surface of the West Middlesex Memorial Arena.
Soon after the demise of the Casa Royals, Laurie Hathaway (manager of Jack Kennedy's Music Centre in Kenwick Mall) and Ken Campbell (publisher of the Age Dispatch) thought it would be fun to get together for some music. Their jam sessions grew and evolved into another local swing band, the Strath-a-Royals, which played for dances in this area for about ten years until 1993. Laurie, whose brother Emery had been with the Casa Royals, purchased more than 500 Casa Royal arrangements to add to the Strath-a-Royal repertoire. Besides many gigs in Strathroy they played for the opening of the new Coldstream Municipal Centre in February 1988 and for dances in the Melbourne Agricultural Hall. For several years they entertained at the Tri-Township (Caradoc Delaware Lobo) Canada Day celebrations. One of their most memorable engagements was the Nurse's Dance at Strathroy Hospital's 75th anniversary celebrations in February 1989. Each year from the mid-1920s until 1982 the Nurse's Dance, sponsored by the Nurses Association, marked the opening of the Christmas social season. For many of those years the Casa Royals had provided the music, so it was quite fitting that their old arrangements were played by the Strath-a Royals for the 1989 event.
The Strath-a-Royals Orchestra was the last 'big band' in Strathroy, although some of its members went on to make music as the Red Suspenders Dixieland Band. Interest in the big band sound had been declining over the years, and a ten or eleven-piece orchestra was more than most local organizations or families could afford to hire, even for special occasions. But it was sadly missed by the many people who had happy memories of swinging to its distinctive music in the dance halls of the day.
January 2015
A Monument to Strathroy's Early Industry by Libby Dawson
One of Strathroy's earliest industrial buildings survives at 40 Thomas Street behind Strathroy Library. It sits on a small triangular lot made smaller by the widening of Albert Street several years ago. Now the home of Strathroy Monuments, the old frame factory building hides under modern siding.
The first industry on the site, “Ketchum's Mill”, was listed on an 1873 map as a “rake, snath and cradle factory.” It produced agricultural rakes and wooden handles for scythes, shovels and brooms. The curved handle of a scythe was called a snath; a wooden cradle was added to the snath to catch and lay grain in a row as it was cut, for later stooking. The 1873 pictorial map shows the mill as a collection of frame buildings with a tall chimney emitting smoke.
John Hambly, who had started a marble business nearby in 1872, bought the mill in 1886. His sons, Wesley, Frank and Lawrence, continued the business into the early 1950s. By studying the Strathroy fire insurance maps for 1885 (updated to 1913) and 1929, it is evident that at some point between 1913 and 1929 the Hamblys made several changes. A stone cutting shed and a stable were removed, and another section was added to the rear of the main building, creating the long narrow structure we see today. The roof line of the entire building was changed from a centre peak to a flatter sloped shed style, probably to accommodate the rails for a travelling hoist system which is still used to move stones within the building. In an age when nothing was wasted some of the outbuildings may have been repositioned on the lot, and construction materials re-used to update other buildings. Recycling is not a new idea!
Although the exterior looks quite modern, inside the building one can see the beams, hoist rails, bead board door, shelves and a stand-up desk from earlier times. The trolley rails set in the concrete floor, previously used to move heavy stones in and out of the building, are still there. Like many 19th factories built before electric lighting, this one was designed with a row of clerestory windows near the roof line and large windows at waist height to provide light for work areas. The current building has remnants of a common solution for lighting problems: paint or whitewash on walls and ceilings to reflect natural light into the dark corners. Since there were no air filters or ventilation systems, the stone dust problem was handled by opening doors and windows.
The business was still in the Hambly family in 1938, labeled on a map as “Hambley stone mason”. In the mid-1950s it was owned briefly by John Robinson, who sold it to James Hipple in 1956. By then the building had electricity but had changed very little from 1929. Each winter loads of slab wood were delivered for the pot-bellied stoves, which were eventually replaced by oil burners. The display room was unheated; in the winter, sunlight coming through the windows would provide a bit of relief from the bitter cold, but not enough to remove winter coats. Rafters which were damaged by heavy snow loads were replaced or repaired as the ceiling of the display area began to sag. The second floor was closed off and the windows closed in. But other than the roofline, the bones and footprint of the building were unchanged since 1929. Over the years, improvements such as plumbing, improved lighting, insulation, new windows and siding were added along with modern stone-carving and sandblasting equipment. Yet in the rear section the early beams and walls remain visible, along with the hand carpentry and joinery used in the original construction. Until the mid-1960s the tall 'mast and boom' hoist held pride of place in the yard. It met an abrupt end one day when a cable snapped while it was lifting a heavy granite block. Luckily, no one was injured.
The Hambley and Hipple families have owned this marble and granite monument company for all but two of its 143 years. Since 1972 Strathroy Monuments has been operated by Jim Hipple's son Doug and his wife Mary-Ann. Their son Brad has worked in the business for the past eight years, and may be the third generation in a building which preserves a piece of Strathroy's industrial past.
One of Strathroy's earliest industrial buildings survives at 40 Thomas Street behind Strathroy Library. It sits on a small triangular lot made smaller by the widening of Albert Street several years ago. Now the home of Strathroy Monuments, the old frame factory building hides under modern siding.
The first industry on the site, “Ketchum's Mill”, was listed on an 1873 map as a “rake, snath and cradle factory.” It produced agricultural rakes and wooden handles for scythes, shovels and brooms. The curved handle of a scythe was called a snath; a wooden cradle was added to the snath to catch and lay grain in a row as it was cut, for later stooking. The 1873 pictorial map shows the mill as a collection of frame buildings with a tall chimney emitting smoke.
John Hambly, who had started a marble business nearby in 1872, bought the mill in 1886. His sons, Wesley, Frank and Lawrence, continued the business into the early 1950s. By studying the Strathroy fire insurance maps for 1885 (updated to 1913) and 1929, it is evident that at some point between 1913 and 1929 the Hamblys made several changes. A stone cutting shed and a stable were removed, and another section was added to the rear of the main building, creating the long narrow structure we see today. The roof line of the entire building was changed from a centre peak to a flatter sloped shed style, probably to accommodate the rails for a travelling hoist system which is still used to move stones within the building. In an age when nothing was wasted some of the outbuildings may have been repositioned on the lot, and construction materials re-used to update other buildings. Recycling is not a new idea!
Although the exterior looks quite modern, inside the building one can see the beams, hoist rails, bead board door, shelves and a stand-up desk from earlier times. The trolley rails set in the concrete floor, previously used to move heavy stones in and out of the building, are still there. Like many 19th factories built before electric lighting, this one was designed with a row of clerestory windows near the roof line and large windows at waist height to provide light for work areas. The current building has remnants of a common solution for lighting problems: paint or whitewash on walls and ceilings to reflect natural light into the dark corners. Since there were no air filters or ventilation systems, the stone dust problem was handled by opening doors and windows.
The business was still in the Hambly family in 1938, labeled on a map as “Hambley stone mason”. In the mid-1950s it was owned briefly by John Robinson, who sold it to James Hipple in 1956. By then the building had electricity but had changed very little from 1929. Each winter loads of slab wood were delivered for the pot-bellied stoves, which were eventually replaced by oil burners. The display room was unheated; in the winter, sunlight coming through the windows would provide a bit of relief from the bitter cold, but not enough to remove winter coats. Rafters which were damaged by heavy snow loads were replaced or repaired as the ceiling of the display area began to sag. The second floor was closed off and the windows closed in. But other than the roofline, the bones and footprint of the building were unchanged since 1929. Over the years, improvements such as plumbing, improved lighting, insulation, new windows and siding were added along with modern stone-carving and sandblasting equipment. Yet in the rear section the early beams and walls remain visible, along with the hand carpentry and joinery used in the original construction. Until the mid-1960s the tall 'mast and boom' hoist held pride of place in the yard. It met an abrupt end one day when a cable snapped while it was lifting a heavy granite block. Luckily, no one was injured.
The Hambley and Hipple families have owned this marble and granite monument company for all but two of its 143 years. Since 1972 Strathroy Monuments has been operated by Jim Hipple's son Doug and his wife Mary-Ann. Their son Brad has worked in the business for the past eight years, and may be the third generation in a building which preserves a piece of Strathroy's industrial past.