2016 Tales of Our Town
The following Tales were published in 2016
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December 2016
Christmas in World War I: a Strathroy perspective by Libby Dawson
For Canada, World War I began on August 4, 1914 when Britain declared war on Germany. The first volunteer unit of the Canadian Expeditionary Force started recruiting and training for action. About 150 of the Strathroy area's young men enlisted and were soon on ships headed for England and France. Expecting a quick victory, all were certain they would be home for Christmas. The Age barely mentioned the war until November, when a letter from Major William Bethune Lindsay was published. He reported an urgent need for 1000 pairs of woollen mittens for the troops and hoped that Strathroy women would get out their knitting needles and supply at least 250 pairs; it was a hint that the war would last longer than predicted. The Strathroy contingent didn't get home for Christmas turkey, and work for “the war effort” by the people at home began in earnest.
During 1915 the fighting became a slaughter. In April the great trench battles using gas and artillery bombardments began. The Age noted the death of Capt. Arthur Lodge Lindsay, brother of Major Lindsay mentioned above, and the first Strathroy soldier killed in battle. A new local Expeditionary unit, the 135th Infantry Battalion, headquartered in Strathroy, began signing up volunteers. In December recruiters canvassed Middlesex County: almost 1000 men enlisted. The war had truly hit home; Christmas dinner debates pitted the call of duty against the instinct to keep the family safe.
1916 began with companies of the 135th encamped in their communities near their families. Training was mostly drills and long route marches. In the spring, the 135th began serious training at Carling Heights in London, then at Camp Borden, embarking for England in August. School friends, neighbours, and brothers had enlisted together, trained together and hoped to look out for each other. Sadly, shortly after arrival the 135th was broken up and the men were soon assigned to various units in France, as reinforcements replacing casualties. Their first Christmas day in the trenches was far from merry. Cold biscuits and bully beef were provided at the front, a hot meal to those in reserve behind the lines. At home, families and women's organizations packed Christmas gifts, warm clothing, canned food, baked treats and Christmas pudding to mail to the boys. Many in Canada wrote frequent letters which arrived intermittently and were one of the few comforts in the soldiers' lives.
In 1917 battles at Vimy Ridge and Passchendaele were won at great cost by Canadians, feats which allied troops had tried but failed to accomplish. Soldiers in the trenches and citizens at home felt a surge of pride. Strathroy was especially proud as the victories were lead by a hometown hero, General Arthur Currie. But the war was not yet won. The weather during Christmas was cold and snowy followed by a thaw, leaving the trenches from ankle to knee deep in icy water and mud. People at home kept knitting, canning, wrapping bandages, filling barrels with apples and shipping them in time for Christmas, trying to make life bearable in the winter trenches. The IODE ladies packed 125 parcels for local boys overseas, and the Geddes department store added a khaki handkerchief for each parcel.
1918 saw the crowning achievement by Canadian troops who, in the last 100 days of the war, broke through the German lines. In a series of battles commanded by General Currie they lead the pursuit of the retreating German army into Belgium until the war ended on November 11th . But most Canadian units were still in Belgium when Christmas arrived six weeks later. Casualty lists from the final battles had not yet reached Canada, so there was uncertainty and worry at home, amidst relief that the guns were finally silent.
Seven Strathroy soldiers from the first overseas contingent arrived home on January 23, 1919, greeted by the local Meekison’s Band. They came on the luxurious RMS Olympic, sister ship to the Titanic. Many other passenger ships were diverted to take American troops home, so most Strathroy soldiers returned in late spring to warm welcomes and the hope for happier Christmases to come.
For Canada, World War I began on August 4, 1914 when Britain declared war on Germany. The first volunteer unit of the Canadian Expeditionary Force started recruiting and training for action. About 150 of the Strathroy area's young men enlisted and were soon on ships headed for England and France. Expecting a quick victory, all were certain they would be home for Christmas. The Age barely mentioned the war until November, when a letter from Major William Bethune Lindsay was published. He reported an urgent need for 1000 pairs of woollen mittens for the troops and hoped that Strathroy women would get out their knitting needles and supply at least 250 pairs; it was a hint that the war would last longer than predicted. The Strathroy contingent didn't get home for Christmas turkey, and work for “the war effort” by the people at home began in earnest.
During 1915 the fighting became a slaughter. In April the great trench battles using gas and artillery bombardments began. The Age noted the death of Capt. Arthur Lodge Lindsay, brother of Major Lindsay mentioned above, and the first Strathroy soldier killed in battle. A new local Expeditionary unit, the 135th Infantry Battalion, headquartered in Strathroy, began signing up volunteers. In December recruiters canvassed Middlesex County: almost 1000 men enlisted. The war had truly hit home; Christmas dinner debates pitted the call of duty against the instinct to keep the family safe.
1916 began with companies of the 135th encamped in their communities near their families. Training was mostly drills and long route marches. In the spring, the 135th began serious training at Carling Heights in London, then at Camp Borden, embarking for England in August. School friends, neighbours, and brothers had enlisted together, trained together and hoped to look out for each other. Sadly, shortly after arrival the 135th was broken up and the men were soon assigned to various units in France, as reinforcements replacing casualties. Their first Christmas day in the trenches was far from merry. Cold biscuits and bully beef were provided at the front, a hot meal to those in reserve behind the lines. At home, families and women's organizations packed Christmas gifts, warm clothing, canned food, baked treats and Christmas pudding to mail to the boys. Many in Canada wrote frequent letters which arrived intermittently and were one of the few comforts in the soldiers' lives.
In 1917 battles at Vimy Ridge and Passchendaele were won at great cost by Canadians, feats which allied troops had tried but failed to accomplish. Soldiers in the trenches and citizens at home felt a surge of pride. Strathroy was especially proud as the victories were lead by a hometown hero, General Arthur Currie. But the war was not yet won. The weather during Christmas was cold and snowy followed by a thaw, leaving the trenches from ankle to knee deep in icy water and mud. People at home kept knitting, canning, wrapping bandages, filling barrels with apples and shipping them in time for Christmas, trying to make life bearable in the winter trenches. The IODE ladies packed 125 parcels for local boys overseas, and the Geddes department store added a khaki handkerchief for each parcel.
1918 saw the crowning achievement by Canadian troops who, in the last 100 days of the war, broke through the German lines. In a series of battles commanded by General Currie they lead the pursuit of the retreating German army into Belgium until the war ended on November 11th . But most Canadian units were still in Belgium when Christmas arrived six weeks later. Casualty lists from the final battles had not yet reached Canada, so there was uncertainty and worry at home, amidst relief that the guns were finally silent.
Seven Strathroy soldiers from the first overseas contingent arrived home on January 23, 1919, greeted by the local Meekison’s Band. They came on the luxurious RMS Olympic, sister ship to the Titanic. Many other passenger ships were diverted to take American troops home, so most Strathroy soldiers returned in late spring to warm welcomes and the hope for happier Christmases to come.
November 2016
A Sobering Tale by John Brennan
“Strathroy will close its bars on May 1st” proclaimed the headline on the front page of the Age on January 6, 1910. For a town whose very first by-law in 1860 had made Strathroy “Wet” by licensing taverns to retail “spiritous or fermented liquors” it was a remarkable victory for the local Temperance movement in what would become a century-long culture war.
The struggle had begun before Strathroy was officially incorporated as a village. As early as 1858 the Sons of Temperance, The Good Templars, and the Band of Hope - all community groups dedicated to removing the pernicious effects of alcohol from the community - boasted a combined membership of over 300. On an October evening that year the streets were thronged with abstemious supporters parading through the village streets behind their raised banners and a brass band. They marched down Frank Street, past the Town Hall to the Methodist Church (now site of a dance studio) where they were addressed by no fewer than four church ministers. In spite of their combined efforts to rid the town of liquor, Strathroy remained Wet.
It must have seemed a losing battle at the time. By 1872 Strathroy, population 3,000, had at least ten hotels. The Albion, Commercial, Farmers’, Union and Central Hotels were located on Front street. Hazelton House, along with the Britannica, Exchange, Western and Donley’s Hotels stood on Frank. Liquor and beer were being sold on practically every corner in the centre of town!
But the forces pushing for prohibition persisted. On March 25, 1909 Rev. J.H.Oliver of Sarnia visited Strathroy and spoke at the Presbyterian church, delivering a Temperance lecture in front of a large crowd representative of all denominations. “In pungent language he arraigned the church as the responsible party for permitting the traffic to exist, affirming that if the church did its duty they would speedily wipe out this terrible evil.” He gave many examples of lives blighted and besoiled. At the conclusion of the address a resolution to submit a local option to ban liquor and beer sales in town to a vote by electors was carried unanimously.
On January 3, 1910 Strathroy voters went to the polls to decide the fate of alcohol sales within their community. A 60% majority was required to eliminate the local trade in liquor and beer in town. It was attained by the slim margin of 5 votes - 476 votes for the abolition of sales, 310 votes opposed. Mayor Pope called for calm when he addressed Council on January 10th. “One hears of mutterings of revenge and boycotting and such like which indicate a condition of intemperance and intolerance . . . We hope that as the die has been cast and the matter settled, all will settle down, forget the past, blot out all grudges and grievances and work together for the good of the old town.”
But the Hotel keepers demanded a recount. So on February 1st Judge Talbot Macbeth of London was brought to Strathroy’s Town Hall where in front of 75 witnesses a mass of evidence was taken. Gross carelessness on the part of some deputy returning officers was revealed. On March 10th Judge Talbot rendered a typewritten statement at a meeting of Town Council. Five illegal and invalid ballots in favour of the local option were discounted and the final totals were adjusted and certified. The previous result was upheld, but by only 3 votes. By-law #642 was passed immediately, to become effective on Sunday, May 1st.
On Saturday, April 30th, the last beers were drawn and the final shots poured in town. “Almost ere the echoes of the last clang of seven had died, not only every bar was closed, but every light was out in the septet of licensed hostelries. In the brilliant tap-rooms where for hours all had been fevered excitement, where men had stood three deep waiting their turn to signalize the dying of old Bar Booze - all of a sudden had fallen darkness and absolute silence.”
The Age observed “No drunkeness or disorder of noticeable character marked the last hours of license. Strathroy is essentially a sober, quiet, well-ordered town.” There was no apprehension that the town would suffer either in morals or business, especially being surrounded by many nearby Wet communities. Weekend excursions to the ‘watering holes’ of Glencoe, Watford, Delaware and Parkhill would now grow in popularity.
In May of 1910 King Edward VII died, the Earth passed through the tail of Halley’s Comet and the bars in Strathroy closed. The town was Dry.
“Strathroy will close its bars on May 1st” proclaimed the headline on the front page of the Age on January 6, 1910. For a town whose very first by-law in 1860 had made Strathroy “Wet” by licensing taverns to retail “spiritous or fermented liquors” it was a remarkable victory for the local Temperance movement in what would become a century-long culture war.
The struggle had begun before Strathroy was officially incorporated as a village. As early as 1858 the Sons of Temperance, The Good Templars, and the Band of Hope - all community groups dedicated to removing the pernicious effects of alcohol from the community - boasted a combined membership of over 300. On an October evening that year the streets were thronged with abstemious supporters parading through the village streets behind their raised banners and a brass band. They marched down Frank Street, past the Town Hall to the Methodist Church (now site of a dance studio) where they were addressed by no fewer than four church ministers. In spite of their combined efforts to rid the town of liquor, Strathroy remained Wet.
It must have seemed a losing battle at the time. By 1872 Strathroy, population 3,000, had at least ten hotels. The Albion, Commercial, Farmers’, Union and Central Hotels were located on Front street. Hazelton House, along with the Britannica, Exchange, Western and Donley’s Hotels stood on Frank. Liquor and beer were being sold on practically every corner in the centre of town!
But the forces pushing for prohibition persisted. On March 25, 1909 Rev. J.H.Oliver of Sarnia visited Strathroy and spoke at the Presbyterian church, delivering a Temperance lecture in front of a large crowd representative of all denominations. “In pungent language he arraigned the church as the responsible party for permitting the traffic to exist, affirming that if the church did its duty they would speedily wipe out this terrible evil.” He gave many examples of lives blighted and besoiled. At the conclusion of the address a resolution to submit a local option to ban liquor and beer sales in town to a vote by electors was carried unanimously.
On January 3, 1910 Strathroy voters went to the polls to decide the fate of alcohol sales within their community. A 60% majority was required to eliminate the local trade in liquor and beer in town. It was attained by the slim margin of 5 votes - 476 votes for the abolition of sales, 310 votes opposed. Mayor Pope called for calm when he addressed Council on January 10th. “One hears of mutterings of revenge and boycotting and such like which indicate a condition of intemperance and intolerance . . . We hope that as the die has been cast and the matter settled, all will settle down, forget the past, blot out all grudges and grievances and work together for the good of the old town.”
But the Hotel keepers demanded a recount. So on February 1st Judge Talbot Macbeth of London was brought to Strathroy’s Town Hall where in front of 75 witnesses a mass of evidence was taken. Gross carelessness on the part of some deputy returning officers was revealed. On March 10th Judge Talbot rendered a typewritten statement at a meeting of Town Council. Five illegal and invalid ballots in favour of the local option were discounted and the final totals were adjusted and certified. The previous result was upheld, but by only 3 votes. By-law #642 was passed immediately, to become effective on Sunday, May 1st.
On Saturday, April 30th, the last beers were drawn and the final shots poured in town. “Almost ere the echoes of the last clang of seven had died, not only every bar was closed, but every light was out in the septet of licensed hostelries. In the brilliant tap-rooms where for hours all had been fevered excitement, where men had stood three deep waiting their turn to signalize the dying of old Bar Booze - all of a sudden had fallen darkness and absolute silence.”
The Age observed “No drunkeness or disorder of noticeable character marked the last hours of license. Strathroy is essentially a sober, quiet, well-ordered town.” There was no apprehension that the town would suffer either in morals or business, especially being surrounded by many nearby Wet communities. Weekend excursions to the ‘watering holes’ of Glencoe, Watford, Delaware and Parkhill would now grow in popularity.
In May of 1910 King Edward VII died, the Earth passed through the tail of Halley’s Comet and the bars in Strathroy closed. The town was Dry.
October 2016
John Kolstein: Strathroy’s Artist by Aileen Cnockaert
I grew up in a home where pictures by John Kolstein hung on our walls. My parents taught me to appreciate these works of art, and I was fascinated by the intricate detail in John’s portrayal of Strathroy’s important buildings. As someone who can barely draw a stick figure, I was in awe of his talent.
John was born in 1918, grew up in Holland and, in 1957, came to Canada with his wife Froukje and their seven children. Sponsored by the Ferwerda family, they took up residence in Strathroy. As they arrived in Canada; Froukje was pregnant with their eighth child; two more children were born later, making a family of 12. In the early years they took in foster children as well. After settling into their new home, John took a “Famous Artists Course” by correspondence to perfect his craft. He found employment with Herb Mann, doing home decorating. After a few years he started a custom sign-painting business which he operated until the mid-1970s. By then his wife had passed away and their ten children had grown up, so he devoted himself to his art full-time.
Early in his career John was commissioned to draw a number of businesses and homes in the community. His first medium was water colour. Over the years he perfected his technique, learning different styles and experimenting with various mediums, often working in pen and watercolour. He believed that “every technique and individual approach has its own personality; consequently, you can learn a great deal from the work of other artists - in addition to what you learn from your own mistakes, of course.” Regularly travelling with his 110 camera and a sketch pad, when something of interest caught his eye he would photograph the subject and begin a preliminary sketch. An 8 x 10 inch sketch would take about two weeks to finish, and he completed about 25 to 30 paintings annually. John preferred creating his art in his living room with the television on for company. He used a board on his lap and always drew with a Bic pen. He enjoyed drives into the countryside to look for inspiration. Barns were his favourite subject, the more dilapidated the better.
Part of John’s morning routine was going to Nywening’s Coffee Shop on Front Street (now Tang’s Village Restaurant), where he and Dick enjoyed coffee and a chat. Another source of pleasure was watching Saturday morning wrestling on TV. This passion, shared with his family, is amusing to me, as John was a pacifist. Although he had complied with conscription, as required of all men in Holland over the age of 18, he hated the army and the idea of war. His real joy was helping others, and he was willing to assist anyone who asked. Local artist Claude Peyaut is among those who apprenticed with him.
John is probably best known for a series of pen and ink drawings of Strathroy landmarks which he undertook as a Centennial project. The set includes sketches of the post office, the town hall, the train station and other iconic buildings in town. He was the first artist to showcase his work in the new art gallery at Strathroy Library and continued to display his work there each December, bringing along a box of chocolates for the library staff. He travelled to many art and craft shows in the area, including communities like Bayfield. As a supporter of the Strathroy Art Group, the library and museum John was actively involved in the community and left a significant legacy of paintings and drawings. Museum Strathroy-Caradoc has a number of these works in its collection. In 1990, Strathroy Library presented a retrospective exhibit of John’s work in the Gallery, bringing together both public and commissioned work over the years - not a moment too soon, as he died September 22, 1991 at 73.
In John’s words, “The technique I use appeals to people and brings me great pleasure. I just hope that when I’m gone people will remember me.” They will definitely remember him, as he recorded the changes in the town over time. Today his paintings must be sought out, as they are located in public buildings and private homes and their value is what they tell us about our community’s history.
My thanks to John Kolstein’s son and daughter-in-law, Max and Karin, for sharing their memories.
I grew up in a home where pictures by John Kolstein hung on our walls. My parents taught me to appreciate these works of art, and I was fascinated by the intricate detail in John’s portrayal of Strathroy’s important buildings. As someone who can barely draw a stick figure, I was in awe of his talent.
John was born in 1918, grew up in Holland and, in 1957, came to Canada with his wife Froukje and their seven children. Sponsored by the Ferwerda family, they took up residence in Strathroy. As they arrived in Canada; Froukje was pregnant with their eighth child; two more children were born later, making a family of 12. In the early years they took in foster children as well. After settling into their new home, John took a “Famous Artists Course” by correspondence to perfect his craft. He found employment with Herb Mann, doing home decorating. After a few years he started a custom sign-painting business which he operated until the mid-1970s. By then his wife had passed away and their ten children had grown up, so he devoted himself to his art full-time.
Early in his career John was commissioned to draw a number of businesses and homes in the community. His first medium was water colour. Over the years he perfected his technique, learning different styles and experimenting with various mediums, often working in pen and watercolour. He believed that “every technique and individual approach has its own personality; consequently, you can learn a great deal from the work of other artists - in addition to what you learn from your own mistakes, of course.” Regularly travelling with his 110 camera and a sketch pad, when something of interest caught his eye he would photograph the subject and begin a preliminary sketch. An 8 x 10 inch sketch would take about two weeks to finish, and he completed about 25 to 30 paintings annually. John preferred creating his art in his living room with the television on for company. He used a board on his lap and always drew with a Bic pen. He enjoyed drives into the countryside to look for inspiration. Barns were his favourite subject, the more dilapidated the better.
Part of John’s morning routine was going to Nywening’s Coffee Shop on Front Street (now Tang’s Village Restaurant), where he and Dick enjoyed coffee and a chat. Another source of pleasure was watching Saturday morning wrestling on TV. This passion, shared with his family, is amusing to me, as John was a pacifist. Although he had complied with conscription, as required of all men in Holland over the age of 18, he hated the army and the idea of war. His real joy was helping others, and he was willing to assist anyone who asked. Local artist Claude Peyaut is among those who apprenticed with him.
John is probably best known for a series of pen and ink drawings of Strathroy landmarks which he undertook as a Centennial project. The set includes sketches of the post office, the town hall, the train station and other iconic buildings in town. He was the first artist to showcase his work in the new art gallery at Strathroy Library and continued to display his work there each December, bringing along a box of chocolates for the library staff. He travelled to many art and craft shows in the area, including communities like Bayfield. As a supporter of the Strathroy Art Group, the library and museum John was actively involved in the community and left a significant legacy of paintings and drawings. Museum Strathroy-Caradoc has a number of these works in its collection. In 1990, Strathroy Library presented a retrospective exhibit of John’s work in the Gallery, bringing together both public and commissioned work over the years - not a moment too soon, as he died September 22, 1991 at 73.
In John’s words, “The technique I use appeals to people and brings me great pleasure. I just hope that when I’m gone people will remember me.” They will definitely remember him, as he recorded the changes in the town over time. Today his paintings must be sought out, as they are located in public buildings and private homes and their value is what they tell us about our community’s history.
My thanks to John Kolstein’s son and daughter-in-law, Max and Karin, for sharing their memories.
September 2016
Tanton’s Locker Service: early frozen foods by Libby McLachlan
The mention of 'locker service' often prompts a puzzled look. But for a few brief decades, between the commercial development of refrigeration and the advent of home deep freezers, it offered homeowners a unique food storage alternative. George Tanton of London recently recalled his family's business in Strathroy during this period.
By the l940s, thanks to electricity, refrigerators had replaced iceboxes in many homes, although hydro was still not always available in rural areas. While food could now be easily kept cool, the next step was to freeze it for longer storage. New businesses sprouted up in the 1940s to provide such freezer service, often in butcher shops. A large room behind the retail area would be equipped with a refrigeration unit that kept the temperature below freezing. Stacked rows of wooden or wire mesh 'lockers', each with its own padlock, filled the room. Families could rent a locker to store frozen food, usually meat, to be picked up and taken home as needed.
In Strathroy, locker service was provided by Cyril “Charlie” Tanton for some 21 years. At age 16 Charlie emigrated on his own from England to Port Arthur (Thunder Bay). At 18 he joined the army and served overseas in World War I; he was wounded in three different battles, including Vimy Ridge. His son, George, remembers seeing the scars on his chest and back from a bullet that went through his body. After the War Charlie returned to northern Ontario, where he met and married Myrtle Scott, a nurse. Like his father, Charlie was a butcher by trade, and the couple opened a butcher shop in Sundridge, northern Ontario. A year later they moved to Exeter and operated the “Ideal Meat Market” for ten years. In 1942 the family moved to Strathroy and opened Tanton's Locker Service at 14 Front Street W, with refrigeration and lockers installed by E J Wright Ltd. Charlie and Myrtle, with sons George and Jim, lived above the shop, not an unusual arrangement for the time.
Tanton's became the largest locker service in southwestern Ontario, with 535 lockers. For $8 per year you could rent one large enough to hold 250 pounds of meat. Most of the time, all the lockers were full and there was a waiting list of customers. The main freezer room was kept at 0 degrees F; there was also a 'sharp freezer' at -16F, and a cooler for hanging sides of beef or pork (or sometimes even venison). Tanton's was not a butcher shop (the McCandless Butcher Shop was across the street); they sold only sides or quarters of meat. Sides of beef were purchased from Canada Packers in Toronto, sides of pork from Coleman's in London. The meat had been inspected and graded as red, blue or commercial. After hanging in the cooler for several days, the sides would be cut into roasts, steaks, etc. as the customer wished, then wrapped, labelled, 'sharp frozen', and placed in the customer's locker. The meat was always wrapped in two layers of white waxed paper, with a red label for beef or a yellow label for pork inserted between the layers so it could be seen. Often, customers chose to keep their padlock key on a board in the store, for convenience. Tanton's also sold milk, frozen ('frosted') fruits and vegetables, and fish, including B.C. salmon which arrived in wooden boxes. Another big seller was ice cubes, at 50 cents a bag, made using regular ice cube trays.
In 1963 Charlie Tanton died after a massive heart attack while working in his store. His wife continued to run the business. Son George, who was living in London, came out to Strathroy each Saturday to cut meat for the lockers. After a year, his mother sold the store to Ovation Shoes. By this time, home freezers had appeared; as they became more popular, locker service gradually disappeared. But it had met a growing consumer need and provided business opportunities in the years between the coming of freezer refrigeration and the availability of the home chest freezer.
The mention of 'locker service' often prompts a puzzled look. But for a few brief decades, between the commercial development of refrigeration and the advent of home deep freezers, it offered homeowners a unique food storage alternative. George Tanton of London recently recalled his family's business in Strathroy during this period.
By the l940s, thanks to electricity, refrigerators had replaced iceboxes in many homes, although hydro was still not always available in rural areas. While food could now be easily kept cool, the next step was to freeze it for longer storage. New businesses sprouted up in the 1940s to provide such freezer service, often in butcher shops. A large room behind the retail area would be equipped with a refrigeration unit that kept the temperature below freezing. Stacked rows of wooden or wire mesh 'lockers', each with its own padlock, filled the room. Families could rent a locker to store frozen food, usually meat, to be picked up and taken home as needed.
In Strathroy, locker service was provided by Cyril “Charlie” Tanton for some 21 years. At age 16 Charlie emigrated on his own from England to Port Arthur (Thunder Bay). At 18 he joined the army and served overseas in World War I; he was wounded in three different battles, including Vimy Ridge. His son, George, remembers seeing the scars on his chest and back from a bullet that went through his body. After the War Charlie returned to northern Ontario, where he met and married Myrtle Scott, a nurse. Like his father, Charlie was a butcher by trade, and the couple opened a butcher shop in Sundridge, northern Ontario. A year later they moved to Exeter and operated the “Ideal Meat Market” for ten years. In 1942 the family moved to Strathroy and opened Tanton's Locker Service at 14 Front Street W, with refrigeration and lockers installed by E J Wright Ltd. Charlie and Myrtle, with sons George and Jim, lived above the shop, not an unusual arrangement for the time.
Tanton's became the largest locker service in southwestern Ontario, with 535 lockers. For $8 per year you could rent one large enough to hold 250 pounds of meat. Most of the time, all the lockers were full and there was a waiting list of customers. The main freezer room was kept at 0 degrees F; there was also a 'sharp freezer' at -16F, and a cooler for hanging sides of beef or pork (or sometimes even venison). Tanton's was not a butcher shop (the McCandless Butcher Shop was across the street); they sold only sides or quarters of meat. Sides of beef were purchased from Canada Packers in Toronto, sides of pork from Coleman's in London. The meat had been inspected and graded as red, blue or commercial. After hanging in the cooler for several days, the sides would be cut into roasts, steaks, etc. as the customer wished, then wrapped, labelled, 'sharp frozen', and placed in the customer's locker. The meat was always wrapped in two layers of white waxed paper, with a red label for beef or a yellow label for pork inserted between the layers so it could be seen. Often, customers chose to keep their padlock key on a board in the store, for convenience. Tanton's also sold milk, frozen ('frosted') fruits and vegetables, and fish, including B.C. salmon which arrived in wooden boxes. Another big seller was ice cubes, at 50 cents a bag, made using regular ice cube trays.
In 1963 Charlie Tanton died after a massive heart attack while working in his store. His wife continued to run the business. Son George, who was living in London, came out to Strathroy each Saturday to cut meat for the lockers. After a year, his mother sold the store to Ovation Shoes. By this time, home freezers had appeared; as they became more popular, locker service gradually disappeared. But it had met a growing consumer need and provided business opportunities in the years between the coming of freezer refrigeration and the availability of the home chest freezer.
August 2016
More Tales for Babyboomers by Steve Down
Growing up in Strathroy during the 1950s could be likened to TV's “Happy Days”. The magnificent, stylish cars of that decade are now treasured by collectors. Car dealers like Muxlows, Halls and the Pearson Brothers kept town folk mobile. It was an era when homes were often heated by coal, sent tumbling down chutes into basements. Energy was cheap and a clean environment was not yet an issue.
Downtown Strathroy had many unique shops during those years. Butler’s department store at the west end of Front Street had an enormous moose head that entertained children while the adults shopped. Most of the town’s business people gathered daily at the News Depot on Frank Street, across from the town hall. It was a coffee shop, complete with soda bar and counter stools, as well as a gift shop and general variety store. A cold bottle of Wishing Well pop was a special treat, along with New Era potato chips. You could even buy these chips in large tins, which found other household uses when the chips were gone.
The Lamantia family operated an old-fashioned store at the corner of Front and Frank Streets. Nothing fancy, just open, wooden bulk bins filled with assorted baking needs, fruits, vegetables and, of course, candy. Bulk candy was also a highlight at Pete’s Corner Variety at the corner of Metcalfe and McKellar Streets. It was amazing how much candy a nickel would buy! Strathroy also had the original form of a dollar store: the Chainway 'five and dime', located mid-way along the north side of Front Street between Frank and Caradoc Streets. Like Lamantia’s, Chainway featured wooden floors that creaked as you walked.
It is hard to imagine, but downtown Strathroy held an annual street carnival which drew people from all over the area. The merchants awarded their customers coupons that could be used to pay for rides, games of chance etc. at the carnival. The street was closed for the event and people packed the downtown late into the night.
Strathroy Library was a humble affair back then, located in the town hall. Next door was the Armouries with its imposing architecture, much like the one standing in downtown London (now part of the Delta Armouries Hotel). Unfortunately for future generations, this structure suffered water damage and was torn down to make way for the new library that opened in 1965.
No collection of random memories would be complete without musings about SDCI, our Strathroy high school. I can’t recall if it was because of the Cold War era, but boys at the collegiate were given full army cadet uniforms. (The town had air raid sirens in place at the time, in case a nuclear war broke out.) The uniform included heavy black boots which the students had to polish and shine. After endlessly practising marching drills, the cadets participated in a parade from the school to downtown. If the weather was poor in the days leading up to the parade, the boys had to line up the full length of the workshop wing at the school and perform the military orders. I also remember taking agriculture classes in a sort of lab room down in the 'dungeons' (basement) of the school. The old multilevel building was a labyrinth of halls and staircases; I always felt sorry for students on crutches trying to navigate the place. The day President Kennedy was shot, I was in Mrs. Wilson’s math room on the upper floor. The whole school came to a halt when the announcement was made. The cafeteria, too, was a storehouse of memories. One teacher, affectionately known as “Bugsy”, ruled the cafeteria, carrying a yardstick and slamming it down frequently for any misbehaviour.
In those days the Strathroy Fire Department was housed in the back of the town hall. When an emergency call came in, the location of the fire was written on a blackboard; the responding volunteers, summoned from sleep or work by the wailing of the fire siren, would check the board and head to the fire.
As the '60s came to an end, Strathroy experienced winters of heavy snow. Annual snowmobile races were held at the fairgrounds. It seemed like almost everyone owned a snowmobile and/or motorcycle.
Times have certainly changed since then, but memories stay with us for a lifetime.
Growing up in Strathroy during the 1950s could be likened to TV's “Happy Days”. The magnificent, stylish cars of that decade are now treasured by collectors. Car dealers like Muxlows, Halls and the Pearson Brothers kept town folk mobile. It was an era when homes were often heated by coal, sent tumbling down chutes into basements. Energy was cheap and a clean environment was not yet an issue.
Downtown Strathroy had many unique shops during those years. Butler’s department store at the west end of Front Street had an enormous moose head that entertained children while the adults shopped. Most of the town’s business people gathered daily at the News Depot on Frank Street, across from the town hall. It was a coffee shop, complete with soda bar and counter stools, as well as a gift shop and general variety store. A cold bottle of Wishing Well pop was a special treat, along with New Era potato chips. You could even buy these chips in large tins, which found other household uses when the chips were gone.
The Lamantia family operated an old-fashioned store at the corner of Front and Frank Streets. Nothing fancy, just open, wooden bulk bins filled with assorted baking needs, fruits, vegetables and, of course, candy. Bulk candy was also a highlight at Pete’s Corner Variety at the corner of Metcalfe and McKellar Streets. It was amazing how much candy a nickel would buy! Strathroy also had the original form of a dollar store: the Chainway 'five and dime', located mid-way along the north side of Front Street between Frank and Caradoc Streets. Like Lamantia’s, Chainway featured wooden floors that creaked as you walked.
It is hard to imagine, but downtown Strathroy held an annual street carnival which drew people from all over the area. The merchants awarded their customers coupons that could be used to pay for rides, games of chance etc. at the carnival. The street was closed for the event and people packed the downtown late into the night.
Strathroy Library was a humble affair back then, located in the town hall. Next door was the Armouries with its imposing architecture, much like the one standing in downtown London (now part of the Delta Armouries Hotel). Unfortunately for future generations, this structure suffered water damage and was torn down to make way for the new library that opened in 1965.
No collection of random memories would be complete without musings about SDCI, our Strathroy high school. I can’t recall if it was because of the Cold War era, but boys at the collegiate were given full army cadet uniforms. (The town had air raid sirens in place at the time, in case a nuclear war broke out.) The uniform included heavy black boots which the students had to polish and shine. After endlessly practising marching drills, the cadets participated in a parade from the school to downtown. If the weather was poor in the days leading up to the parade, the boys had to line up the full length of the workshop wing at the school and perform the military orders. I also remember taking agriculture classes in a sort of lab room down in the 'dungeons' (basement) of the school. The old multilevel building was a labyrinth of halls and staircases; I always felt sorry for students on crutches trying to navigate the place. The day President Kennedy was shot, I was in Mrs. Wilson’s math room on the upper floor. The whole school came to a halt when the announcement was made. The cafeteria, too, was a storehouse of memories. One teacher, affectionately known as “Bugsy”, ruled the cafeteria, carrying a yardstick and slamming it down frequently for any misbehaviour.
In those days the Strathroy Fire Department was housed in the back of the town hall. When an emergency call came in, the location of the fire was written on a blackboard; the responding volunteers, summoned from sleep or work by the wailing of the fire siren, would check the board and head to the fire.
As the '60s came to an end, Strathroy experienced winters of heavy snow. Annual snowmobile races were held at the fairgrounds. It seemed like almost everyone owned a snowmobile and/or motorcycle.
Times have certainly changed since then, but memories stay with us for a lifetime.
July 2016
Memories of Colborne School: the 1950s by Janet Cummer
As kids growing up after the War, we were beneficiaries of a number of improvements that gave our life a boost: the Lions Club swimming pool, the West Middlesex Memorial Arena with its artificial ice, and a new Colborne School, opened in 1949 to replace the old one.
One night in June 2013, as that school finally closed, I decided to visit it one last time. What struck me, seeing it through older eyes, was the luxury of the school. As a child, I had no other school to compare it with, as I had entered it in grade one in1950 and stayed until high school. I noticed the wide terrazzo halls, the beautiful woodwork, the availability of drinking fountains and the walls of windows that let in a huge amount of light. The windows did not survive, being bricked up later. But in our day, we could look out on the world from any classroom. And if the teacher had a green thumb, we had geraniums on the windowsills. The younger grades had their own entrance, cloakroom and washroom. The office of the principal, Mr. MacVicar, was a smaller version of the Oval Office in the White House: spacious and pale green, with more than one exit. His door had a window whereby he could look into the grade 8 classroom. Students could see him watching and were always well-behaved!
Strathroy's “handsome new public school” opened officially in April 1949 amid great celebration. It was estimated that 2,000 people attended the Grand Opening. In those days, there was probably a greater sense of community ownership. Local businesses donated flowers and money. Furnishings and playground equipment were provided by the Middlesex Furniture Company, and Lou Galloway, owner of an electrical repair shop on Frank Street, donated a stove for the school kitchen. Soon after, the old Colborne School was demolished. By the time I arrived, there was no evidence that it had existed. Seeing the schools side by side in this photo is almost shocking.
Life at Colborne was structured and low-key. I don't remember serious discipline problems. The teachers were older and experienced, the women were single, and there were probably more women than men. Maitland School, closed in 1949, was sold to N.V Morrison, a company making party favours, and was later demolished. Teachers from Maitland joined the Colborne teachers to make up the new school staff. Mr. MacVicar, our principal, was a big man who towered over us, not a man to trifle with.
Mornings began with God Save the King (or Queen, after 1952), the Lord's Prayer, and current events for the older classes. I remember Mr. MacVicar discussing the Queen's dilemma in allowing her sister, Princess Margaret, to marry a divorced man. We entered into the discussion quite readily and agreed that Princess Margaret should not be permitted to marry Captain Townsend. What little prigs we were!
Once a week, we had music instruction with Mrs. Johnson. For many children, this might have been their only chance to sing, and to sing 'on key', as Mrs. Johnson checked us on her pitch-pipe. Our songbook was based on songs of the British Empire. To this day, I can sing the words to “Heart of Oak” and “The Maple Leaf Forever”. Thursday mornings, we had religious instruction, provided by the Ministerial Association of Strathroy. A minister would be assigned to a class for the school year. I remember Rev. Trefry, but more than his teaching I remember how he would teeter on his toes as he talked. Fridays, after recess, was the best time of the week: art, painting and drawing, until time to go home. School activities continued through the school year. There were basket drives (collecting wooden produce baskets for a few cents, so they could be reused), soap drives for the hospital, Christmas concerts, Halloween parties sponsored by the Lions Club, and public speaking contests.
However, looking back on the past must be tempered with reality. The social services network was not there and it was a hard time for some. 'The strap' was part of school life, some children came to school poorly dressed, and there was no help for slow learners. Kids had to stay in school until the age of 16. Despite the best efforts of teachers, some students kept repeating grades until they were finally allowed to leave.
I left grade 8 in March of 1956. I needed back surgery in Toronto and I would not return to Colborne. However, I have a clear memory of that difficult time. Each day at Sick Kids Hospital, a letter of cheer from one of my Colborne classmates would be delivered to my bed. It doesn't get much better than that!
Thanks to Doris (Murray) Robotham for an enjoyable afternoon spent talking about her memories of teaching at Colborne.
As kids growing up after the War, we were beneficiaries of a number of improvements that gave our life a boost: the Lions Club swimming pool, the West Middlesex Memorial Arena with its artificial ice, and a new Colborne School, opened in 1949 to replace the old one.
One night in June 2013, as that school finally closed, I decided to visit it one last time. What struck me, seeing it through older eyes, was the luxury of the school. As a child, I had no other school to compare it with, as I had entered it in grade one in1950 and stayed until high school. I noticed the wide terrazzo halls, the beautiful woodwork, the availability of drinking fountains and the walls of windows that let in a huge amount of light. The windows did not survive, being bricked up later. But in our day, we could look out on the world from any classroom. And if the teacher had a green thumb, we had geraniums on the windowsills. The younger grades had their own entrance, cloakroom and washroom. The office of the principal, Mr. MacVicar, was a smaller version of the Oval Office in the White House: spacious and pale green, with more than one exit. His door had a window whereby he could look into the grade 8 classroom. Students could see him watching and were always well-behaved!
Strathroy's “handsome new public school” opened officially in April 1949 amid great celebration. It was estimated that 2,000 people attended the Grand Opening. In those days, there was probably a greater sense of community ownership. Local businesses donated flowers and money. Furnishings and playground equipment were provided by the Middlesex Furniture Company, and Lou Galloway, owner of an electrical repair shop on Frank Street, donated a stove for the school kitchen. Soon after, the old Colborne School was demolished. By the time I arrived, there was no evidence that it had existed. Seeing the schools side by side in this photo is almost shocking.
Life at Colborne was structured and low-key. I don't remember serious discipline problems. The teachers were older and experienced, the women were single, and there were probably more women than men. Maitland School, closed in 1949, was sold to N.V Morrison, a company making party favours, and was later demolished. Teachers from Maitland joined the Colborne teachers to make up the new school staff. Mr. MacVicar, our principal, was a big man who towered over us, not a man to trifle with.
Mornings began with God Save the King (or Queen, after 1952), the Lord's Prayer, and current events for the older classes. I remember Mr. MacVicar discussing the Queen's dilemma in allowing her sister, Princess Margaret, to marry a divorced man. We entered into the discussion quite readily and agreed that Princess Margaret should not be permitted to marry Captain Townsend. What little prigs we were!
Once a week, we had music instruction with Mrs. Johnson. For many children, this might have been their only chance to sing, and to sing 'on key', as Mrs. Johnson checked us on her pitch-pipe. Our songbook was based on songs of the British Empire. To this day, I can sing the words to “Heart of Oak” and “The Maple Leaf Forever”. Thursday mornings, we had religious instruction, provided by the Ministerial Association of Strathroy. A minister would be assigned to a class for the school year. I remember Rev. Trefry, but more than his teaching I remember how he would teeter on his toes as he talked. Fridays, after recess, was the best time of the week: art, painting and drawing, until time to go home. School activities continued through the school year. There were basket drives (collecting wooden produce baskets for a few cents, so they could be reused), soap drives for the hospital, Christmas concerts, Halloween parties sponsored by the Lions Club, and public speaking contests.
However, looking back on the past must be tempered with reality. The social services network was not there and it was a hard time for some. 'The strap' was part of school life, some children came to school poorly dressed, and there was no help for slow learners. Kids had to stay in school until the age of 16. Despite the best efforts of teachers, some students kept repeating grades until they were finally allowed to leave.
I left grade 8 in March of 1956. I needed back surgery in Toronto and I would not return to Colborne. However, I have a clear memory of that difficult time. Each day at Sick Kids Hospital, a letter of cheer from one of my Colborne classmates would be delivered to my bed. It doesn't get much better than that!
Thanks to Doris (Murray) Robotham for an enjoyable afternoon spent talking about her memories of teaching at Colborne.
June 2016
The Field House by Anne Pelkman
You may have noticed that old white farmhouse on Caradoc Street South, just past Henry Street, looking empty and forlorn, no longer fitting in with its surroundings. At one time it was elegant, with gingerbread trim and a wrap-around porch. Amazingly, the house hasn't changed much over its lifetime. Originally its farm property stretched from Henry Street to the end of Bella Street. There was a tool shed at the back, a small barn which burned down in the 1950s, and an apple orchard. Access to the farm would have been off both Ellor and Bella Streets. Eventually the house will disappear, and with it some of our town history. It's time to tell the story before we lose it.
The house, built in 1890, had two bedrooms upstairs; downstairs was a parlour, a dining room, and a kitchen at the back with a dumbwaiter that went to the earthen basement to keep food cool. In 1910, it was bought by George and Lena Field. George Field was born in Napier in 1869. As a young man he travelled West and invested in real estate, doing very well. When he returned to Napier he bought a general store in Kerwood, and in 1898 married Lena Truman. George and Lena’s only child, Lillian, was born in Napier in 1901. Later the family moved to Belmont and bought another general store.
When the Fields moved to Strathroy in 1910 and purchased this small farm on Caradoc Street, George worked in Grant Newton's Men’s Wear on Frank Street. He became one of Strathroy’s leading citizens, with a reputation for being “a very gentle man and a gentleman”. At age 40 he retired and enjoyed a comfortable life. The Fields were devout members of St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, where George was an elder and treasurer of the Missionary Society. He was an avid lawn bowler and won many prizes over the years. On occasion he and his buddies would gather at Sam Oakes’ garage on Frank Street to play cribbage. Daughter Lillian attended Teachers College in London and in 1927 married William Walker from Adelaide Township. Their son, George, was born in 1929 and lives with his wife Donna on Egremont Drive.
When grandson George came for visits, Lena and George Field would recall stories about the old days. Today it is hard to believe that the Field farm was located on the edge of town, but in those days there was a huge open field beside the house, stretching from Bella Street to the 10th Concession (now Carroll Street). It had a thirty to fifty foot high sand hill, part of a natural sand ridge called the “Carradoc sand dunes”, where neighbourhood children loved to play in summer and go sleighing in winter. That hill was sorely missed by the children when it was levelled over a period of three years, probably in the late 1940s.
When George Field died in 1939, Lena carried on in the house. Her daughter Lillian cared for her mother there in her later days, until Lena died in 1946. Lillian inherited the property; it is likely that at this point she subdivided it into lots and rented out the house. In 1948 veterinarian Dr. Allan Marshall and his wife Eleanor came to Strathroy as newlyweds and rented the Field house for some years. By then the orchard was gone, except for a few apple trees. The Marshalls bought the corner lot next door and built a house with an adjoining animal clinic. Lillian sold her childhood home in 1960, ending its connection to the Field family. She continued to live on her Walker farm in Adelaide Township until moving to 448 Victoria Street, where she died in 1982.
It is remarkable that this frame farmhouse from 1890 has continued to survive. But it is not in good shape. With the land more valuable than the house, its days may be numbered.
Many thanks to George and Donna Walker, Dr. Allan and Eleanor Marshall, John Zimmerman and Ron Linker for their memories and photos.
You may have noticed that old white farmhouse on Caradoc Street South, just past Henry Street, looking empty and forlorn, no longer fitting in with its surroundings. At one time it was elegant, with gingerbread trim and a wrap-around porch. Amazingly, the house hasn't changed much over its lifetime. Originally its farm property stretched from Henry Street to the end of Bella Street. There was a tool shed at the back, a small barn which burned down in the 1950s, and an apple orchard. Access to the farm would have been off both Ellor and Bella Streets. Eventually the house will disappear, and with it some of our town history. It's time to tell the story before we lose it.
The house, built in 1890, had two bedrooms upstairs; downstairs was a parlour, a dining room, and a kitchen at the back with a dumbwaiter that went to the earthen basement to keep food cool. In 1910, it was bought by George and Lena Field. George Field was born in Napier in 1869. As a young man he travelled West and invested in real estate, doing very well. When he returned to Napier he bought a general store in Kerwood, and in 1898 married Lena Truman. George and Lena’s only child, Lillian, was born in Napier in 1901. Later the family moved to Belmont and bought another general store.
When the Fields moved to Strathroy in 1910 and purchased this small farm on Caradoc Street, George worked in Grant Newton's Men’s Wear on Frank Street. He became one of Strathroy’s leading citizens, with a reputation for being “a very gentle man and a gentleman”. At age 40 he retired and enjoyed a comfortable life. The Fields were devout members of St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, where George was an elder and treasurer of the Missionary Society. He was an avid lawn bowler and won many prizes over the years. On occasion he and his buddies would gather at Sam Oakes’ garage on Frank Street to play cribbage. Daughter Lillian attended Teachers College in London and in 1927 married William Walker from Adelaide Township. Their son, George, was born in 1929 and lives with his wife Donna on Egremont Drive.
When grandson George came for visits, Lena and George Field would recall stories about the old days. Today it is hard to believe that the Field farm was located on the edge of town, but in those days there was a huge open field beside the house, stretching from Bella Street to the 10th Concession (now Carroll Street). It had a thirty to fifty foot high sand hill, part of a natural sand ridge called the “Carradoc sand dunes”, where neighbourhood children loved to play in summer and go sleighing in winter. That hill was sorely missed by the children when it was levelled over a period of three years, probably in the late 1940s.
When George Field died in 1939, Lena carried on in the house. Her daughter Lillian cared for her mother there in her later days, until Lena died in 1946. Lillian inherited the property; it is likely that at this point she subdivided it into lots and rented out the house. In 1948 veterinarian Dr. Allan Marshall and his wife Eleanor came to Strathroy as newlyweds and rented the Field house for some years. By then the orchard was gone, except for a few apple trees. The Marshalls bought the corner lot next door and built a house with an adjoining animal clinic. Lillian sold her childhood home in 1960, ending its connection to the Field family. She continued to live on her Walker farm in Adelaide Township until moving to 448 Victoria Street, where she died in 1982.
It is remarkable that this frame farmhouse from 1890 has continued to survive. But it is not in good shape. With the land more valuable than the house, its days may be numbered.
Many thanks to George and Donna Walker, Dr. Allan and Eleanor Marshall, John Zimmerman and Ron Linker for their memories and photos.
May 2016
The Bells of Frank Street by John Brennan
“The factory whistles calling fairly paid hands to labour, and again to rest; church bells ringing the thought of prayer; school bells reminding youth to study; the locomotive whistle speaking of progress….This is civilization” (History of the County of Middlesex; 1889, p.419)
As Strathroy entered the twentieth century, daily life in town was increasingly regulated by a rich, purposeful soundscape. The bustling activity of an emerging urban lifestyle required strict adherence to schedules and timetables. People had to be on time for work, school, and church. And over this period, before wristwatches and smart-phones, the ringing of three bells on Frank street helped impose social order.
When, in 1874, a new town hall was constructed with a 50 foot bell tower, the town fathers had not decided to buy a bell. This delayed purchase created some problems in town. “The only way many residents were aware of the noon hour was the blowing of factory whistles. However, those tending the whistles seldom agreed when it was 12 o’clock, resulting in much confusion. It was felt the town bell could be the official signal that it was noon and time to knock off for lunch.” (They Came Before Us, Ken Campbell, p.20) And a bell was needed to alert firemen in case of a fire. Prior to 1891 the town paid local churches for the use of their bells for this purpose on a fee for service basis, but someone had to gain access to the church to ring them. Conveniently located across the street from the town hall, the Frank Street Methodist Church had a very tall brick steeple erected in 1874. In 1886 Council received a bill for $48 from the Church trustees for fire alarm service over the previous four years; the parties eventually settled for $25.
The town hall bell tower was rebuilt in 1891 when the building facade was renovated. This time Council decided to install a bell! The bell was rung at noon and 1 pm to indicate the lunch hour, and again at 6 pm for factory closing. Since the town hall housed the firemen’s hall and engine house Town Council ordered that the bell also be used for fires. Its ringing could be heard for miles. Meanwhile, the post office was built in1889, but its clock tower was not completed with its bell installed until 1901. This 60 foot tower became Strathroy’s new public timepiece.
Inscriptions on the post office and town hall bells indicate they were both forged in Baltimore, Maryland. Peggy Duncan, a Strathroy resident from 1937 to 1942 and daughter of Peter Duncan who directed the Strathroy Boys and Girls Trumpet Band, recalls that the bell in the town hall had a higher pitch than the post office bell. She remembers the chiming of these two bells joining with the church bells in town to mark the coronation of King George VI in 1937. “It was such a lovely sound.”
When the old town hall was demolished in April,1928 the bell was saved. The Age Dispatch (April 12, 1928) reported that the “old bell” had rendered 37 years of faithful service, “its voice ringing out as regular as the rising of the sun…it has been the centre of many rejoicings, warnings and alarms and, many times during the war, it performed the sad duty of notifying the citizens that another of it boys had made the supreme sacrifice.” Later that year, the bell was installed in the new town hall belfry, and has been hanging there ever since.
The post office clock tower went silent in 1963 when the Department of Public Works declared it unsafe and employees shut off the striking mechanism. It was felt that the clock tower rocked too much when the bell chimed. For the first time since 1901 it no longer tolled the hours. Order was restored in 1964 when Town Council ordered caretaker “Casey” Boekhoudt to ring the town hall bell at noon and 1pm each day, and for fire calls.
In 2016 both bells are again in the news. The post office bell is ringing once more thanks to the efforts of Marc and Cathy Graham, owners of The Clock Tower Inn. Their loving restoration of the post office building was recently acknowledged with a 2016 London Heritage Award. The bell now rings on the hour between noon and 6 pm each day. And the current Town Council has voted funds for a two-year restoration of the 1928 town hall bell tower to begin in 2016. Perhaps that bell too will soon ring out again on Frank Street.
“The factory whistles calling fairly paid hands to labour, and again to rest; church bells ringing the thought of prayer; school bells reminding youth to study; the locomotive whistle speaking of progress….This is civilization” (History of the County of Middlesex; 1889, p.419)
As Strathroy entered the twentieth century, daily life in town was increasingly regulated by a rich, purposeful soundscape. The bustling activity of an emerging urban lifestyle required strict adherence to schedules and timetables. People had to be on time for work, school, and church. And over this period, before wristwatches and smart-phones, the ringing of three bells on Frank street helped impose social order.
When, in 1874, a new town hall was constructed with a 50 foot bell tower, the town fathers had not decided to buy a bell. This delayed purchase created some problems in town. “The only way many residents were aware of the noon hour was the blowing of factory whistles. However, those tending the whistles seldom agreed when it was 12 o’clock, resulting in much confusion. It was felt the town bell could be the official signal that it was noon and time to knock off for lunch.” (They Came Before Us, Ken Campbell, p.20) And a bell was needed to alert firemen in case of a fire. Prior to 1891 the town paid local churches for the use of their bells for this purpose on a fee for service basis, but someone had to gain access to the church to ring them. Conveniently located across the street from the town hall, the Frank Street Methodist Church had a very tall brick steeple erected in 1874. In 1886 Council received a bill for $48 from the Church trustees for fire alarm service over the previous four years; the parties eventually settled for $25.
The town hall bell tower was rebuilt in 1891 when the building facade was renovated. This time Council decided to install a bell! The bell was rung at noon and 1 pm to indicate the lunch hour, and again at 6 pm for factory closing. Since the town hall housed the firemen’s hall and engine house Town Council ordered that the bell also be used for fires. Its ringing could be heard for miles. Meanwhile, the post office was built in1889, but its clock tower was not completed with its bell installed until 1901. This 60 foot tower became Strathroy’s new public timepiece.
Inscriptions on the post office and town hall bells indicate they were both forged in Baltimore, Maryland. Peggy Duncan, a Strathroy resident from 1937 to 1942 and daughter of Peter Duncan who directed the Strathroy Boys and Girls Trumpet Band, recalls that the bell in the town hall had a higher pitch than the post office bell. She remembers the chiming of these two bells joining with the church bells in town to mark the coronation of King George VI in 1937. “It was such a lovely sound.”
When the old town hall was demolished in April,1928 the bell was saved. The Age Dispatch (April 12, 1928) reported that the “old bell” had rendered 37 years of faithful service, “its voice ringing out as regular as the rising of the sun…it has been the centre of many rejoicings, warnings and alarms and, many times during the war, it performed the sad duty of notifying the citizens that another of it boys had made the supreme sacrifice.” Later that year, the bell was installed in the new town hall belfry, and has been hanging there ever since.
The post office clock tower went silent in 1963 when the Department of Public Works declared it unsafe and employees shut off the striking mechanism. It was felt that the clock tower rocked too much when the bell chimed. For the first time since 1901 it no longer tolled the hours. Order was restored in 1964 when Town Council ordered caretaker “Casey” Boekhoudt to ring the town hall bell at noon and 1pm each day, and for fire calls.
In 2016 both bells are again in the news. The post office bell is ringing once more thanks to the efforts of Marc and Cathy Graham, owners of The Clock Tower Inn. Their loving restoration of the post office building was recently acknowledged with a 2016 London Heritage Award. The bell now rings on the hour between noon and 6 pm each day. And the current Town Council has voted funds for a two-year restoration of the 1928 town hall bell tower to begin in 2016. Perhaps that bell too will soon ring out again on Frank Street.
April 2016
John Buchanan - Strathroy's Founding Father by Bill Groot
John Stewart Buchanan was only seventeen years old when he settled in this area in the spring of 1832. Fourteen years later, in 1846, he sold his property and moved on, probably to London and then to Chicago. From his birth in Ireland in 1815 to his death in Chicago in 1875 he wore many hats and could claim a number of accomplishments.
An 1829 Order in Council granted 1200 acres of land to James Buchanan, as payment for services to the Crown. As British Consul in New York, James wasn’t able to follow up on his claim until 1831, when his son, John Stewart Buchanan, returning from two years in Kentucky, “made up his mind to devote himself to Agricultural Pursuits” and to perform the required settlement duties. In 1842, census records show that John produced 430 bushels of various grains and vegetables, as well as 43 yards of wool and flannel; he owned 21 animals and had 45 acres of ‘improved’ land.
Aside from farming, John Buchanan was a land developer and business owner. In the mid-1830s he built both a water-powered saw mill and a grist mill, and placed an ad in the Toronto Christian Guardian, encouraging “mechanics” to set up businesses in Strathroy under favourable terms. And he commissioned a survey in 1837, creating over 60 lots along Arthur, Front, Head, Colborne and Metcalfe Streets. It’s surprising that Buchanan would have had the energy to entertain during this time, but it is recorded that soon after he finished building his home in 1837, he held a ball to which the “then aristocracy of Adelaide” were invited.
Buchanan’s ventures provided full-time employment. He hired a Mr. Avery, Patrick Hoban and John Wells to help build and run the mills. George Buttery and William Benjamin hauled lumber to construct the grist mill. At the 1864 pioneer dinner, William Rapley claimed he “often worked for Buchanan for fifty cents a day”, and a poet wrote: “There was a time, I knew it well / No one kept store but Hiram Dell / Twas then we needed no gun or cannon / Our only boss was John Buchanan.” He was also known as a politician and community leader. During his years in Canada he served as a local magistrate (justice of the peace). While representing Adelaide Township at the London District level, he was chosen warden in 1845-1846 and elected treasurer in 1846. In Strathroy, he deeded eleven lots, nearly four acres, to be used for church and school purposes. St. John the Evangelist Church and Colborne Street School were built on these lots.
After years of living the bachelor life, Buchanan married Mabel Robinson in 1839 and started a family. They were the parents of the first child known to be born in Strathroy, but unfortunately also the first death, when that infant died at the age of one month. Of the ten Buchanan children, seven were born in Canada and three in Chicago.
So why did John Buchanan leave Strathroy? According to an 1864-65 Gazetteer he “suffered severely from fever and ague”, and his obituary noted that he had long been in failing health. Perhaps he had the will of a pioneer, but not the constitution. He may have been discouraged by the slow progress of the community, and other opportunities beckoned. Or, being a land developer, he decided to sell when he was offered a good price. (His father had developed two properties in Ireland and sold them both for profit.) Whatever the reason, Buchanan re-located his family to Chicago, where he established the firm “Buchanan, Carpenter & Co., Dealers in Coach and Saddlery Hardware”. He visited Strathroy in 1863 and in 1870 and saw for himself the thriving settlement his hard work had begun.
Together, a father’s dream and a young man’s energy established Strathroy. It was not due to coincidence, but rather to political influence that the Buchanan land grant straddled the Sydenham River, prime real estate in the 1830s. It was an ideal location that later attracted the attention of the railway. History has proven its success
John Stewart Buchanan was only seventeen years old when he settled in this area in the spring of 1832. Fourteen years later, in 1846, he sold his property and moved on, probably to London and then to Chicago. From his birth in Ireland in 1815 to his death in Chicago in 1875 he wore many hats and could claim a number of accomplishments.
An 1829 Order in Council granted 1200 acres of land to James Buchanan, as payment for services to the Crown. As British Consul in New York, James wasn’t able to follow up on his claim until 1831, when his son, John Stewart Buchanan, returning from two years in Kentucky, “made up his mind to devote himself to Agricultural Pursuits” and to perform the required settlement duties. In 1842, census records show that John produced 430 bushels of various grains and vegetables, as well as 43 yards of wool and flannel; he owned 21 animals and had 45 acres of ‘improved’ land.
Aside from farming, John Buchanan was a land developer and business owner. In the mid-1830s he built both a water-powered saw mill and a grist mill, and placed an ad in the Toronto Christian Guardian, encouraging “mechanics” to set up businesses in Strathroy under favourable terms. And he commissioned a survey in 1837, creating over 60 lots along Arthur, Front, Head, Colborne and Metcalfe Streets. It’s surprising that Buchanan would have had the energy to entertain during this time, but it is recorded that soon after he finished building his home in 1837, he held a ball to which the “then aristocracy of Adelaide” were invited.
Buchanan’s ventures provided full-time employment. He hired a Mr. Avery, Patrick Hoban and John Wells to help build and run the mills. George Buttery and William Benjamin hauled lumber to construct the grist mill. At the 1864 pioneer dinner, William Rapley claimed he “often worked for Buchanan for fifty cents a day”, and a poet wrote: “There was a time, I knew it well / No one kept store but Hiram Dell / Twas then we needed no gun or cannon / Our only boss was John Buchanan.” He was also known as a politician and community leader. During his years in Canada he served as a local magistrate (justice of the peace). While representing Adelaide Township at the London District level, he was chosen warden in 1845-1846 and elected treasurer in 1846. In Strathroy, he deeded eleven lots, nearly four acres, to be used for church and school purposes. St. John the Evangelist Church and Colborne Street School were built on these lots.
After years of living the bachelor life, Buchanan married Mabel Robinson in 1839 and started a family. They were the parents of the first child known to be born in Strathroy, but unfortunately also the first death, when that infant died at the age of one month. Of the ten Buchanan children, seven were born in Canada and three in Chicago.
So why did John Buchanan leave Strathroy? According to an 1864-65 Gazetteer he “suffered severely from fever and ague”, and his obituary noted that he had long been in failing health. Perhaps he had the will of a pioneer, but not the constitution. He may have been discouraged by the slow progress of the community, and other opportunities beckoned. Or, being a land developer, he decided to sell when he was offered a good price. (His father had developed two properties in Ireland and sold them both for profit.) Whatever the reason, Buchanan re-located his family to Chicago, where he established the firm “Buchanan, Carpenter & Co., Dealers in Coach and Saddlery Hardware”. He visited Strathroy in 1863 and in 1870 and saw for himself the thriving settlement his hard work had begun.
Together, a father’s dream and a young man’s energy established Strathroy. It was not due to coincidence, but rather to political influence that the Buchanan land grant straddled the Sydenham River, prime real estate in the 1830s. It was an ideal location that later attracted the attention of the railway. History has proven its success
March 2016
Patent Medicines: Snake Oil and herbals from the past by Libby Dawson
The earliest settlers in this area lived for several years without doctors, hospitals or drug stores. But some pioneers were skilled in growing medicinal plants and turning them into powders, ointments and tinctures to reduce fevers and pain. First Nations medicine men added their knowledge, including the pain-killing properties of willow bark. By the 1880s most towns had doctors, and drug stores dispensed medical prescriptions and manufactured their own concoctions. The practise of using locally grown medicinal plants began to decline.
Professional medical care was often expensive; patent medicines sold by travelling medicine shows or by drug stores were more affordable. The term 'patent' indicates that the formula was registered, but unlike most over-the-counter drugs today, ingredients were a proprietary secret. And the patent medicine industry was unregulated, so the effectiveness of the medicines varied greatly. Some were downright dangerous, containing ingredients such as arsenic, cocaine and opium. Many were based on plant derivatives such as the salicylates in willow bark (which led to the manufacture of Aspirin). Others were scams, referred to as 'Snake Oil' after one of the medicine show products created from edible leaves ground and put in a bottle of grain alcohol or cheap sherry. They sold well, not because they cured illness, but for the temporary alcohol buzz.
In the 1890s, every small town newspaper was carrying advertisements for patent medicines. Ads professed to cure everything from headaches to cancer and tuberculosis. The most popular ones vowed to cure diseases of women and to clean the bowel, kidney and liver. One product claimed it could be used externally as a liniment, internally for stomach complaints, and could even be used for horses. The ads often included testimonials, occasionally by Strathroy citizens.
In The Voice (Manitoba) in 1908: “Mr. Wm. Branton, Strathroy Ont. writes: My nervous system was all unstrung. I could not sleep, had no appetite, my digestion was poor and my nerves twitched. Twenty-four boxes of Dr. Chase's Nerve Food completely restored my health.” Dr. Chase's Nerve Food originally contained arsenic and strychnine in very low doses. Strychnine acts to 'turn off'' nerves (no twitching), which explains its use in this product. Even at low doses it is dangerous, accumulating to fatal levels if taken long term. To have consumed twenty-four boxes of Nerve Food without harm, Mr. Branton must have had the newer formula without the poisons. Dr. Chase's Nerve Food is still produced with a less risky formulation.
In the Enderby Press (British Columbia) 1909: “Mr. Samuel Martin of Strathroy, Ont., passed twenty years of his life in misery suffering from the tortures from Lame Back. He tried nearly all the advertised remedies and household recipes, but received no benefit from any of them. Some months ago, seeing Gin Pills advertised, Mr. Martin purchased a box. The relief which Mr. Martin experienced after he had taken one box was so great that he knew he had found the right remedy at last. He used two more boxes and is now completely cured.” Gin Pills was another product, marketed by Dr. Chase for the kidneys, which is still sold today. It originally contained the chemical methylene blue, which had the remarkable effect of turning the urine green. Today's Gin Pills are formulated with sodium salicylate (as in willow bark) and are advertised for relief of back ache, muscle ache, arthritic and rheumatic pain. The name “Gin” probably indicates the presence of juniper in the formulation.
Patent medicines still exist, and most have some useful medicinal properties. Exaggerated claims of their effectiveness have been moderated by 'truth in advertising' legislation. They no longer contain poisons or addictive drugs, but manage to avoid many of the regulations on prescription drugs by being sold as 'health foods'. And they still rely on personal testimonials in TV ads, conversations in hair salons and recommendations from friends.
The earliest settlers in this area lived for several years without doctors, hospitals or drug stores. But some pioneers were skilled in growing medicinal plants and turning them into powders, ointments and tinctures to reduce fevers and pain. First Nations medicine men added their knowledge, including the pain-killing properties of willow bark. By the 1880s most towns had doctors, and drug stores dispensed medical prescriptions and manufactured their own concoctions. The practise of using locally grown medicinal plants began to decline.
Professional medical care was often expensive; patent medicines sold by travelling medicine shows or by drug stores were more affordable. The term 'patent' indicates that the formula was registered, but unlike most over-the-counter drugs today, ingredients were a proprietary secret. And the patent medicine industry was unregulated, so the effectiveness of the medicines varied greatly. Some were downright dangerous, containing ingredients such as arsenic, cocaine and opium. Many were based on plant derivatives such as the salicylates in willow bark (which led to the manufacture of Aspirin). Others were scams, referred to as 'Snake Oil' after one of the medicine show products created from edible leaves ground and put in a bottle of grain alcohol or cheap sherry. They sold well, not because they cured illness, but for the temporary alcohol buzz.
In the 1890s, every small town newspaper was carrying advertisements for patent medicines. Ads professed to cure everything from headaches to cancer and tuberculosis. The most popular ones vowed to cure diseases of women and to clean the bowel, kidney and liver. One product claimed it could be used externally as a liniment, internally for stomach complaints, and could even be used for horses. The ads often included testimonials, occasionally by Strathroy citizens.
In The Voice (Manitoba) in 1908: “Mr. Wm. Branton, Strathroy Ont. writes: My nervous system was all unstrung. I could not sleep, had no appetite, my digestion was poor and my nerves twitched. Twenty-four boxes of Dr. Chase's Nerve Food completely restored my health.” Dr. Chase's Nerve Food originally contained arsenic and strychnine in very low doses. Strychnine acts to 'turn off'' nerves (no twitching), which explains its use in this product. Even at low doses it is dangerous, accumulating to fatal levels if taken long term. To have consumed twenty-four boxes of Nerve Food without harm, Mr. Branton must have had the newer formula without the poisons. Dr. Chase's Nerve Food is still produced with a less risky formulation.
In the Enderby Press (British Columbia) 1909: “Mr. Samuel Martin of Strathroy, Ont., passed twenty years of his life in misery suffering from the tortures from Lame Back. He tried nearly all the advertised remedies and household recipes, but received no benefit from any of them. Some months ago, seeing Gin Pills advertised, Mr. Martin purchased a box. The relief which Mr. Martin experienced after he had taken one box was so great that he knew he had found the right remedy at last. He used two more boxes and is now completely cured.” Gin Pills was another product, marketed by Dr. Chase for the kidneys, which is still sold today. It originally contained the chemical methylene blue, which had the remarkable effect of turning the urine green. Today's Gin Pills are formulated with sodium salicylate (as in willow bark) and are advertised for relief of back ache, muscle ache, arthritic and rheumatic pain. The name “Gin” probably indicates the presence of juniper in the formulation.
Patent medicines still exist, and most have some useful medicinal properties. Exaggerated claims of their effectiveness have been moderated by 'truth in advertising' legislation. They no longer contain poisons or addictive drugs, but manage to avoid many of the regulations on prescription drugs by being sold as 'health foods'. And they still rely on personal testimonials in TV ads, conversations in hair salons and recommendations from friends.
February 2016
Swedenborgians: not welcome in this town! by Chris Harrington
In the late 1850s, the people of Strathroy learned that a new religious group had come to town. The New Swedenborgian Church, or New Church, was based on the writings of Swedish scientist Emanuel Swedenborg (1688–1772). Swedenborg alleged that he received heavenly visions and that God explained to him the spiritual meaning of the Scriptures. Followers of the New Church believed that Swedenborg had witnessed the Last Judgement and that the Second Coming would take place spiritually inside each believer.
This doctrine arrived in Strathroy via local Methodist preacher Rev. Richard Saul, an early pioneer, who came to Canada in 1832 and settled on a farm in Adelaide Township with his wife Ann Ranby around 1838. Saul was a community leader, serving as a town councillor and school trustee. He became interested in the teachings of the New Church through his half-brother, Rev. John H. Miller of Ohio, who had left Swedenborgian pamphlets behind on family visits.
In 1858, the congregation of the Strathroy Primitive Methodist Church learned that Rev. Saul was preaching sermons containing New Church doctrines. He was soon excommunicated by the Methodist Church and barred from preaching. Town opinion on the issue was deeply divided: friends, neighbours, and even families became bitter enemies. Methodist minister Rev. Nelson Brown fanned the flames against the local Swedenborgians. At one church meeting, a protester tossed eggs at a Swedenborgian guest speaker. The eggs missed their mark, but hit Rev. Saul. The egg thrower, described only as a local photographer, was caught and later fined. Mr. Buttery (probably George Buttery), a farmer and prominent member of the Methodist church, reportedly offered to supply those wishing to throw more eggs with “all the stale eggs they needed to continue the good work of pelting the heretics”.
By 1860, Rev. Saul and his small group of followers officially formed the Swedenborgian Society. The congregation first met in private homes and later rented a room in the Mechanics Institute and town hall. By 1868, there were enough members to support a small church; a frame chapel owned by the Baptist congregation on Centre Street was purchased at auction. The building, which could seat 200 people, was moved to the corner of Caradoc and Metcalfe Streets and was given the nickname “Little White Heaven” by local residents.
Rev. Saul retired in 1875 due to poor health, and died two years later. The new Swedenborgian minister was Rev. Samuel Beswick, a colourful figure who came to Strathroy from the United States. Rev. Beswick was also a member of the Palestine Exploration Society and claimed to be an authority on the Holy Land and Egypt. By 1879 these claims were discredited and he was suspended by the New Church. In 1880, he gave up preaching altogether when he was offered the job of editor of the Strathroy Age newspaper. The Age was owned by Rev. John S. Saul, son of the late Rev. Richard Saul. Beswick worked as editor until 1886, when he returned with his family to the U.S.
The Swedenborgian church in Strathroy was unable to recover after Rev. Beswick’s departure. No official reason or explanation has been found for the sudden collapse of the church. It may have been owing to a lack of local church leadership. Perhaps followers began questioning the New Church teachings after their minister was exposed as a fraud. Or possibly the Swedenborgians grew tired of the religious persecution in town. Whatever the reason, by early 1880 the local church had closed. The “Little White Heaven” chapel was sold to the Free Methodist congregation in 1880, bringing an end to a time of religious turmoil in Strathroy.
Special thanks to Anne Pelkman, Crystal Loyst, and John Saul for research assistance. John Saul is the best-selling author of more than 30 suspense novels, beginning with “Suffer the Children” in 1977. He lives in Washington State and Hawaii, and is a direct descendant of the Saul family in this Tale.
Click on the images below for more information.
In the late 1850s, the people of Strathroy learned that a new religious group had come to town. The New Swedenborgian Church, or New Church, was based on the writings of Swedish scientist Emanuel Swedenborg (1688–1772). Swedenborg alleged that he received heavenly visions and that God explained to him the spiritual meaning of the Scriptures. Followers of the New Church believed that Swedenborg had witnessed the Last Judgement and that the Second Coming would take place spiritually inside each believer.
This doctrine arrived in Strathroy via local Methodist preacher Rev. Richard Saul, an early pioneer, who came to Canada in 1832 and settled on a farm in Adelaide Township with his wife Ann Ranby around 1838. Saul was a community leader, serving as a town councillor and school trustee. He became interested in the teachings of the New Church through his half-brother, Rev. John H. Miller of Ohio, who had left Swedenborgian pamphlets behind on family visits.
In 1858, the congregation of the Strathroy Primitive Methodist Church learned that Rev. Saul was preaching sermons containing New Church doctrines. He was soon excommunicated by the Methodist Church and barred from preaching. Town opinion on the issue was deeply divided: friends, neighbours, and even families became bitter enemies. Methodist minister Rev. Nelson Brown fanned the flames against the local Swedenborgians. At one church meeting, a protester tossed eggs at a Swedenborgian guest speaker. The eggs missed their mark, but hit Rev. Saul. The egg thrower, described only as a local photographer, was caught and later fined. Mr. Buttery (probably George Buttery), a farmer and prominent member of the Methodist church, reportedly offered to supply those wishing to throw more eggs with “all the stale eggs they needed to continue the good work of pelting the heretics”.
By 1860, Rev. Saul and his small group of followers officially formed the Swedenborgian Society. The congregation first met in private homes and later rented a room in the Mechanics Institute and town hall. By 1868, there were enough members to support a small church; a frame chapel owned by the Baptist congregation on Centre Street was purchased at auction. The building, which could seat 200 people, was moved to the corner of Caradoc and Metcalfe Streets and was given the nickname “Little White Heaven” by local residents.
Rev. Saul retired in 1875 due to poor health, and died two years later. The new Swedenborgian minister was Rev. Samuel Beswick, a colourful figure who came to Strathroy from the United States. Rev. Beswick was also a member of the Palestine Exploration Society and claimed to be an authority on the Holy Land and Egypt. By 1879 these claims were discredited and he was suspended by the New Church. In 1880, he gave up preaching altogether when he was offered the job of editor of the Strathroy Age newspaper. The Age was owned by Rev. John S. Saul, son of the late Rev. Richard Saul. Beswick worked as editor until 1886, when he returned with his family to the U.S.
The Swedenborgian church in Strathroy was unable to recover after Rev. Beswick’s departure. No official reason or explanation has been found for the sudden collapse of the church. It may have been owing to a lack of local church leadership. Perhaps followers began questioning the New Church teachings after their minister was exposed as a fraud. Or possibly the Swedenborgians grew tired of the religious persecution in town. Whatever the reason, by early 1880 the local church had closed. The “Little White Heaven” chapel was sold to the Free Methodist congregation in 1880, bringing an end to a time of religious turmoil in Strathroy.
Special thanks to Anne Pelkman, Crystal Loyst, and John Saul for research assistance. John Saul is the best-selling author of more than 30 suspense novels, beginning with “Suffer the Children” in 1977. He lives in Washington State and Hawaii, and is a direct descendant of the Saul family in this Tale.
Click on the images below for more information.
January 2016
When milk was delivered to your door by Robert Butler
Many people will remember the days of door-to-door milk delivery in Strathroy. There were several dairies in town over the years, but my memories are of Hunter Dairy, especially the delivery side of the business.
In earlier days the Hunter family owned a dairy herd. At some point they switched to buying milk from local farmers, first in cans, later in bulk. This included milk from Strathmere Lodge, where a small herd was looked after by the residents. The Hunter processing plant was originally Benstead's Dairy, purchased by Bert Hunter, and located just off Albert Street, near the current Bell telephone building at the south end of Carrie Street. In the early 1950s Hunter Dairy constructed a new building nearby, where the Dairy Case is located now; the loading dock was on the site of the car wash.
Milk was sold in various sizes of glass containers: three-quart jugs, one- and two-quart bottles, pints and half pints. Around the early 1970s, the three-quart glass jugs were replaced with a white plastic jug – a sign of progress. Eventually the bottling operation at Hunters was discontinued, and milk was brought from Silverwood Dairy on Bathurst Street in London, stored in Hunter`s cold room, then loaded onto trucks for delivery to local homes and variety stores.
Everett Crandon, with his horse-drawn delivery wagon, was our milkman when we first moved to Strathroy. His horse would dutifully draw the milk wagon up Adelaide Street; Everett would jump out with his bottle carrier and make deliveries to a couple of houses, head back to the milk wagon and continue on his way. Somehow that horse knew exactly where to stop so that Everett wasn't left stranded. Bob Hunter, Bert`s son, once told me that when a route was changed a different horse would have to be brought in to learn the new route.
When Everett retired, my father, Grant Butler, took over his route. This was around 1966, a few years after we came to Strathroy. The days of the horse-drawn milk wagon were a thing of the past, replaced by a white International delivery truck with a bright orange Hunter Dairy logo on the sides, purchased from Fred Griffith's dealership at the east end of Front Street. As a boy, I helped my father on Saturdays and through the summer. It was a great job in the summer, but cold in the winter.
Hunters had eight or nine employees, including five delivery drivers. Door-to-door delivery was on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Our route started early in the morning on Sydenham Street and we worked the south end of Strathroy, finishing on Queen Street. Some mornings we would see Mark Massey on Oxford Street, out doing his route for Mary Dell Dairy, which had taken over Strathroy Creamery. Recently I spoke with Norm Calcutt about his days delivering milk for Hunter’s. Norm's route was mainly in the north end of town. Today he still has his route books with customers' names and the amount of milk to be left with each, a metal bottle carrier and his hat and coat from Hunter Dairy.
Dad and I each wore a leather pouch strapped around our waist to carry coins and bills. I quickly learned basic math as we often had to make change. No calculators in those days! Many of our early morning customers left their doors unlocked and we would set the milk inside for them. Some homes here in town still have a milk box built into the outside wall beside a side or rear door. We would put the bottles in the milk box, and the homeowner would open the small door from the inside to get the milk. Frequently, customers would rinse the bottles with water and drop the coins inside to pay for the milk. This was not a problem during the warm months, but in winter the coins would freeze in the bottom and we would set the bottles near the truck's heater to thaw them out. Christmas always had us receiving gifts from our customers: cards, socks, gloves, chocolates, even the odd bottle of rye or wine.
The last door-to-door milk delivery was in December 1976 and personal contact with your milkman disappeared.
Many people will remember the days of door-to-door milk delivery in Strathroy. There were several dairies in town over the years, but my memories are of Hunter Dairy, especially the delivery side of the business.
In earlier days the Hunter family owned a dairy herd. At some point they switched to buying milk from local farmers, first in cans, later in bulk. This included milk from Strathmere Lodge, where a small herd was looked after by the residents. The Hunter processing plant was originally Benstead's Dairy, purchased by Bert Hunter, and located just off Albert Street, near the current Bell telephone building at the south end of Carrie Street. In the early 1950s Hunter Dairy constructed a new building nearby, where the Dairy Case is located now; the loading dock was on the site of the car wash.
Milk was sold in various sizes of glass containers: three-quart jugs, one- and two-quart bottles, pints and half pints. Around the early 1970s, the three-quart glass jugs were replaced with a white plastic jug – a sign of progress. Eventually the bottling operation at Hunters was discontinued, and milk was brought from Silverwood Dairy on Bathurst Street in London, stored in Hunter`s cold room, then loaded onto trucks for delivery to local homes and variety stores.
Everett Crandon, with his horse-drawn delivery wagon, was our milkman when we first moved to Strathroy. His horse would dutifully draw the milk wagon up Adelaide Street; Everett would jump out with his bottle carrier and make deliveries to a couple of houses, head back to the milk wagon and continue on his way. Somehow that horse knew exactly where to stop so that Everett wasn't left stranded. Bob Hunter, Bert`s son, once told me that when a route was changed a different horse would have to be brought in to learn the new route.
When Everett retired, my father, Grant Butler, took over his route. This was around 1966, a few years after we came to Strathroy. The days of the horse-drawn milk wagon were a thing of the past, replaced by a white International delivery truck with a bright orange Hunter Dairy logo on the sides, purchased from Fred Griffith's dealership at the east end of Front Street. As a boy, I helped my father on Saturdays and through the summer. It was a great job in the summer, but cold in the winter.
Hunters had eight or nine employees, including five delivery drivers. Door-to-door delivery was on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Our route started early in the morning on Sydenham Street and we worked the south end of Strathroy, finishing on Queen Street. Some mornings we would see Mark Massey on Oxford Street, out doing his route for Mary Dell Dairy, which had taken over Strathroy Creamery. Recently I spoke with Norm Calcutt about his days delivering milk for Hunter’s. Norm's route was mainly in the north end of town. Today he still has his route books with customers' names and the amount of milk to be left with each, a metal bottle carrier and his hat and coat from Hunter Dairy.
Dad and I each wore a leather pouch strapped around our waist to carry coins and bills. I quickly learned basic math as we often had to make change. No calculators in those days! Many of our early morning customers left their doors unlocked and we would set the milk inside for them. Some homes here in town still have a milk box built into the outside wall beside a side or rear door. We would put the bottles in the milk box, and the homeowner would open the small door from the inside to get the milk. Frequently, customers would rinse the bottles with water and drop the coins inside to pay for the milk. This was not a problem during the warm months, but in winter the coins would freeze in the bottom and we would set the bottles near the truck's heater to thaw them out. Christmas always had us receiving gifts from our customers: cards, socks, gloves, chocolates, even the odd bottle of rye or wine.
The last door-to-door milk delivery was in December 1976 and personal contact with your milkman disappeared.